drawing a blank

I know that I don't have to write here. It's a space. open for my words when they need a place to dwell. but silence is ok and I try to respect that when I need to. Sometimes I want to write, but I worry about leaning in one mood too often. So, I draw back. let things marinate awhile. Sometimes my heart is just full of criticism and I try, perhaps not well, to not make this a dumping ground wherein I share about all the things that annoy me about people and how ultimately nothing really ever meets my expectations. I read blogs like that, and my heart tightens- and I just wonder what good it does. There is a place for being real, and I certainly champion that, but sometimes restraint is good. especially when you are mad. That happens a lot here. I get the words down. I read them. My heart feels more heavy than when I started. and I press delete.

When one feels as sick as I have been feeling, one has the time to think a lot. And I have been grieving some about our life here and how it goes so slow sometimes. How our choices don't always seem to line up with our commitments, and I just feel lost as to how to make that better. I give myself some grace as we wade through this "valley of the diapers" phase of life- but I just have this nagging sense that I might regret not trying harder.

So, here I am, in this nice middle class neighborhood, and I hardly know my neighbors. I drive to church on a main road, with no foot traffic at all. I wonder how accessible such a place is to the wanderer. I crave history and liturgy and community, and somehow feel like we have found none in the pursuit of all 3. I feel, often, less identified with a group that I have always felt so secure in. The Church. When dusk arrives and the nausea seems to triumph, my prayers are weak, and I feel inspired by little.

and I think, this is not my best season.

but I have hope, despite it all.

a good husband, who prays well.

and we have Jesus, which I hang on for dear life. or maybe it's the other way around.