There are some months where I feel keen nostalgia, deep in the hot-pink heart of hearts. Especially this season, I've seen very little sun and too much fog. Seeing the sun this glorious week is like being in summertime skin: chlorinated, bleached, pristine, rested.
My desktop is an image of a rutted path leading around a copse of ivy-laden trees. In the background is a brownstone with a shiny metallic roof. I stare at my computer screen too often daydreaming that I'm goin' up around the bend in search of a close friend. Sometimes, when I can't fall asleep, I think, Will I find that friend around the bend? I certainly am not daydreaming about Jesus. I'm dreaming of red paisley quilts and when I can say "fare thee well" to singleness. I certainly didn't intend for me to be here, in 2018, at the place I am at. Single. The Same. Standing. Sometimes I feel people make decisions for me. I get rejection letters and future choices written by other people. I get frustrated by my lack of "going" because I'm tethered to the ground. I am not lashing out rebelliously (well, I guess I am), but sometimes I doubt "like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind" (James 1:6). It is hard to relinquish control when I believe the worst about His good for me. I wrestle like Jacob, trying to understand an infinite God in my peanut brown brain. But sweet nostalgia. She brings me a dry blanket for my weeping shoulders. She reminds me of my yellowed cameos and antique shops. She's a gift from God. He tells my gift to keep dreamin', to tuck away in my hope chest. I can save those rejection letters as a token of His faithfulness. I want to remain steadfast in these light, simple trials that my heart dramatically grieves in. So to all you Bob Dylan fans, don't think twice, it's alright. I'm not singing to anyone in particular but my heart. I ain't saying you treated me unkind You could have done better, but I don't mind And you just sorta wasted my precious time But don't think twice it's all right (Bob Dylan, Don't Think Twice, It's Alright [1962]) Heart, I'm not mad at you for wishing away 2016. I'll pat the side of my chair for you to sit beside me in 2018. Because we're centrally located in the pulse and rhythm of a Lifeblood. Coursing through, steeplechase, Camptown race-track five miles long. Taking that Greyhound bus to an unfamiliar destination but a familiar ending. "I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul. Where I'll end up, only God really knows." - Cat Stevens (1971)
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