Reflections of the final day of classes, the day before Nora's birthday, the day I felt so far away from being inside my life because it was happening so hard.
And I needed a quieter music, one that would unwind the knot that's been in my left shoulder. Relax. Relax.
(Try harder to.) Relax.
And I am reminded that I tiptoe on the edge of wanting to be perfect, failing, suffering the lost footing miserably. Get over yourself, Smith.
Christ lives in your heart. This alone is perfect.
More growing pains. How to be a haven, a house for the Son? It seems so hard sometimes because of who I am and how much I rely on my head rather than the Spirit. Lean not on your own understanding, stubborn child.
I need Spirit. Less speaking. A presence that holds me still when I think I should be running. A hand that stills and breathes and summons. A note sustained.
At the end of the semester, saying goodbye to these good people, all of whom I'll miss. The time we spent working through all of it: the writing, the giving, the sharing, the reading. Leaving each classroom for the last time, I turn around and touch my lips with my fingers, a silent "thank you" for the space He created for us. And then, it's time to move on.
He will continue to find new ways for my life to be made and lost, this rolling over, the drowning and the recovery. That hand extended as the lips slip below the waterline. Speaking silently, a kiss for the water.
I apologize. I think I'm heavy tonight with change. So be it. Help me understand, Lord.