if you find the key, would you set me free?

How do I speak of today? I choose...

an email. Sent to my sweet friend, Andrea.

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Hi, ma'am.

It is high time we hang out. This is getting ridiculous. I feel like I haven't seen you in 6 years. And that's just way too long. Seriously.

I've been thinking about what books I need to send you. I haven't been reading as much recently as I probably should. I'm just so worn out. The driving back and forth to this job is about to kill me, though it is the only real "alone" time that I have. It just doesn't seem to cut it, you know? Plus I have SO much more going on in my life right now that sucks my bubble, I constantly wake with one half full and just try to keep it above par. I hate that. But I guess it's just the way it is right now, you know? This is the part of the story that gets hard to read. Like, maybe something's going to happen after this, maybe it's not. Will it just fade out? Will there be a surprise plot twist? Will a hero return? Or die? Or will there be a hero at all?

*shrug* Yes, I've begun to think of my life as this long, detailed Austen-novel-meets-creative-

non-fiction story. It's really quite fascinating. And who knows, maybe a book will come out of it after all... What can I call it? It has yet to be determined. Maybe that's a title in itself: TBD.

I wish you had taken that Theology and the Literary Imagination course with us with Dr. Mitchell. I'm still living under some of the unbelievably profound things that he said at least 85 million times per class period...one of them being that our eternal life has already started, "We're just carrying around our death on us right now."

Never in my life would I have truly felt that to the marrow of my bones. Not even then. I got it, in my head, but it didn't resonate and bounce around my imagination and my understanding and my emotions until this part of the story. And who would think that letting go of the death that you're just damn near sure built you would be such a daunting and grievous task? Because in comparison to the death I've been carrying, Life should feel so liberating. It should be something that calls me at my core and dispells fear and doubt without any effort. But it doesn't. It calls, yes. But it calls from so far it seems...it seems it's not even for me at all. You know?

Point of my long, drawn out story - - Jesus and I are going through times. Feels a little like marriage counseling, if I'm being honest. Makes me tired. Makes me sad, too. Because sometimes I am consumed with such fear about analyzing and cleaning out these parts of myself that have been so...wounded... I'm so consumed with that fear for a number of reasons, but the most are so easily out-rationalized. Which makes me more miserable. I should know (and I do, rationally and theologically) that all I have to do is approach and ask Him for help. To save me. To remember me. To breathe into me. To find me...

But I can't seem to bring myself to do it.

And of course, I feel ridiculous for not being able to do it. But when it comes down to the core reason why I just can't... it's simple unbelief. I can't bring myself to ask...because I could not bear for Him to tell me no.

What if He doesn't come for me? What if I just float and sink or fall between cracks, as I have in nearly every other aspect of my existence? What if there is no story at all?

What if there is just this wandering character... with no direction...no plot...no development. Just a space filler. An accident.

I know it's not true. I do. In my heart, I know that I carry a ring. It's my job to take it to the end...to throw it into that fire. To be rid of it. To do something important for the course of redemptive history... I know He wills that for me.

Sometimes I just can't feel it... I can't feel anything but how oppressively heavy this ring is.

And those are hard days.

*sigh*

Anyway, that's pretty much my little bruised heart these days. I am seeking rest. I never thought I'd be too tired to even believe Truth...as I do love Truth so. But I am too tired to believe.

And here's the sweetest part of this entire experience.

I don't even have to. Because He will do it for me. All who wander are not, in fact, lost.

How He loves us so...

So, in happier news, I visited a church in Birmingham this past weekend that was maybe one of the greatest experiences I've had in awhile. I HIGHLY recommend you looking up David Platt (from The Church at Brook Hills in Birmingham, AL) and listening to the past 4 messages (I think the first starts with The Mystery of Mercy or something like that). He does a 4 week series on the book of Ruth. And it was...

unbelievable.

I wept through all 4 messages. It took zero music, zero atmosphere. Sitting on my bed with my Bible open and listening to him teach. Weeping. It was so encouraging. You will love it. I can promise that.

I know you feel "up in the air." I know that feeling. I believe the great philosopher Dr. Seuss calls it "The Waiting Place." Not easy. And there's not really anything that I could say to you that would shed light in that place, I think. At least there aren't any words for me... but I do know that while your in that little patch of darkness, I may not be standing right next to you, but I'm out there. So consider this an official waving of my tiny candle "I'm over here!! You aren't by yourself!" And you by no means are failing ANYTHING.

No such thing. Go on and cut that chord.

I can't wait to see you.

I'll bring the tea.

-meg

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Just trying to find a home.
Take me home.
Cause we're tired of changing.
Our heartbeats are fading.
Our days are numbered.
The clocks, they keep ticking...

...We look in the mirror
It shatters with shame...

...I have seen Who You are
I have seen what I am
And we are desperate, we're desperate, we're desperate

Lay me down on
Shores of the widest sand
Soft like that woman
With the fight of a thousand men