one hundred. ninety two.

When things get confusing, I often think of running.
Not necessarily away from
or towards
but just running.

I try to reach my hands out & hold on to too many different things
which gets confusing.
Plus
when you are holding on to things in all directions
you don't make very much progress in any of them.
you know?

There was a weary man in the shop the other day.
He lost his job.
His voice was chipper when he ordered his coffee
Oh,
he'll make do.
He'll get by.
He sat down in the leather chair to read his book.
Ahh.
Relaxation.
Unemployment isn't so bad.
But his eyes weren't reading.
they were watching
and staring.
He was focusing on everything
& nothing all at once.
I smiled at him on my way out the door.
He didn't smile back, lost in thought.
Middle-aged, alone and jobless.
This isn't how it's supposed to be.


She gets giddy when she thinks of him
when he calls
when he walks in the door.
He returns none of her affection
and shrugs off her touch.
When she is driving
she is sad.
she takes long drags off cheap cigarettes
smoothing her hopeful skirt
hopeful that he will for once take notice.
He doesn't.
One more cigarette while she waits for his call.
Young, spirited and lonely.
This isn't how it's supposed to be.


At times I am struck motionless and near thoughtless by the sheer, overcrowding JOY of life. Those moments hold too much, I am nearly lifted off the ground, they carry me.

Other times I am struck by the weight of things decidedly...askew. It can be unsettling. They catch me off-guard, like the man in the chair who suddenly seemed to be the saddest picture in this world, sadder than hungry children in Africa you see in those commercials.

When I end posts like this I often feel like I should end with something "Christian," like - "good thing I find my hope in the Lord." or some Bible verse or inspirational quote. And even though these are all very good and true, I don't want to use it as a band-aid. Some little affected tidbit.
I know, innately, where my hope lies. I recognize longings as restlessness searching for Him. I see that my desire to see things right is not chance and it's not my doing.
But I also know that not all thoughts end in Bible verses. It doesn't always seem genuine, or fitting, to close off as such. The weight needs to settle in a little. It makes the joy in the morning that much more joyful. Moments of grace are truer and more beautiful. This, I am thankful for.