While on vacation last week I happened upon a little store in this tiny little town somewhere. I cant tell you what the store was even called, but I can tell you that it was exactly where I was supposed to be. I happened upon a huge box of prints by the artist Brian Andreas. He creates what he calls story people. I loved them immediately. Theyre strange images, childlike in nature with quirky little sayings on them. I stood there for the longest time reading them until I happened upon this one.

I felt like at that moment that it’d been written for me. I forget sometimes how true it is. It affected me so much, I proceeded to sit down on the floor and cry. I guess I just needed to be reminded. I’m a happy person. Truly happy. I’m also lonely. There’s a part of me that I so desperately want to share with someone. And I know it’s not time for that yet. I thought it was, not long ago. And to be completely honest, even though I’ve accepted it wasn’t, and I’m ok with that being over, I’m still a little angry with God over it. You pray for something for so long, and then you think He answers you, only to find it’s another object lesson. Sometimes I get tired of object lessons. Right now, I’m really tired of object lessons.

But if I close my eyes really tight I remember a long time ago. I remember what it felt like to love someone, and for him to love me. And I can wait on that. I can also remember that He gave me the stars and the ocean and the grass at my feet. And that’s enough for now. Maybe it’s enough for always. Who knows.

I hesitate to even write about this on my blog sometimes. B/c I am not discontent just lonely. There is a big difference between the two that most people just don’t understand. And it’s something I just don’t think I can explain. Sometimes I’m tired of being around people that I have to use the statement “This won’t make sense but…” when referencing how I feel. But oh how I treasure those few that I don’t have to use those words with. I had a conversation the other day with one of my very best friends. In the middle of the day, as we were both supposed to be working, we were sitting around talking about the people in our lives, and how rare it is to find someone who just really gets you. Sometimes I feel so foreign to my life. I guess it’s just b/c of the big difference between really knowing me and even beginning to get me. And most people are on the knowing side, if they get that far. It’s something that at one point in my life I probably would’ve tried to teach someone, but the older I get, the more precious it is to me when I meet someone who just gets it from day one. Who I don’t have to try to explain myself to, b/c truth is, they’ve felt it and thought it themselves. Whether that’s with someone who’s known me just over a year, or 7, it gives me peace when I’m with them. I open my mouth and I tell them things that I have yet to admit even in my head. Or sometimes they tell me exactly what I’m feeling b/c they know it just hurts too much to give it my own words. How I love those friends. They are as much my family as the ones I’m related to. They to me are a little glimpse of God here on earth. And since I have them, I can handle lonely. They’re lonely too I know. And I know that when the day comes when I’m not lonely anymore, they’re going to be right beside me listening to me admit the things I haven’t admitted in my head, and telling me the things that I’m afraid to give my own words to. And when the day comes that they’re not lonely anymore, I’ll be the first one in line to smile with them, and cry with them, and just get it.

"They know how to live
Oh, so much sorrow and so much love to give."
~a. lee