I have had what feels like no time to myself this week. No time for writing, blogging, reading, anything. Which doesn’t bode well for another weekend of travel, does it? Or does it?
Mr. S. and I are traveling this weekend to Kansas City, where I lived before getting married. Where I called home post-college, pre-wedding. I’ve alluded before to the rough transition it was from there to here. In the roughness of it all, I lost relationships. I lost community. Simply because I couldn’t take a simple phone call without bursting into tears . . .
You know the darkness that we see peripherally when looking back towards darkness . . . it is crushing, to be honest. I travel this weekend in faith — faith that there is a big purpose in each facet of life. Faith that there is a big purpose in my screw-ups, my mess-ups, my dropping-the-ball. Faith that there is a purpose in life’s less-than-awesome. Faith that there is a purpose in tears and sadness and frustration and desperation.
Choosing connect for my 2012 word has many aspects to it. And I chose it in part because I want/need/crave to rebuild those destroyed bridges. Want/need/crave to try to rebuild those destroyed bridges, I should say.
Through God’s amazing grace, there are a few friends who still hold on tight. One of those few is getting married, which brings the two of us there.
Marriage. God knows it is a roller-freaking-coaster. It’s the closeness of it all. When any relationship gets close, there’s this beautiful/awkward/funny balance. A balance between expectations met and unmet. A balance between death of something and vivid, breathing life of something. A balance between pain and joy.
It feels a little bit like that balance, one of pain and joy, preparing for the return this weekend. One of those who didn’t let me run away said the sweetest thing in a phone call a few weeks ago. She said she couldn’t wait for me to come home. And my eyes pooled with tears, overflowed and spilled out.
Home, here, yes. And a bigger, Heavenly Home? Now that is where the tears really pour. I can’t wait to go Home. It’s a beautiful life here, a treasured life here. An inspiration-driven life, at that. But someday, bridges can’t be burned. Someday, I won’t have to rebuild them. Someday, I’ll look with simple joy and no more pain.
In celebrating the present, I yearn for the future. For the whole-ness of it.
Maybe we celebrate the present because of the future. Because of what we believe, what we anticipate, what we hope for.
And at the same time, maybe we celebrate the future because of the present. Don’t the two just rely on each other?
It’s exciting, honestly. It’s beautiful. Redemptive. The pain here and now, the pain then and there, the pain of tomorrow . . . it will be redeemed. Richly, graciously redeemed.
Mixed emotions before traveling. Blessed to have homes all over the map, because of the welcoming, open arms that await.