My moon.

"Take it slow
Take it easy on me
And shed some light
Shed some light on me please."
My Moon, My Man- Feist


"It's so many miles and so long since I've met you
Don't even know what I'll say when I get to you
But suddenly now, I know where I belong
It's many hundred miles and it won't be long."
Train Song- Cover by Feist and Ben Gibbard
 
 
"So why'd you fill my sorrows
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known?
And why'd ya sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to you?
Why'd you sing with me at all?"
Delicate- Damien Rice


"She said, 'Leave me alone but just don't leave me here, all right?'"
Arms of a Thief- Iron and Wine

"Hundred years, hundred more
Someday we may see a woman king,
Sword in hand, swing at some evil and bleed."
Woman King- Iron and Wine

The Waiting Place

…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting

"Oh the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss

Venturing from my cave *blinks in the sunlight*

In Sunday School this past Sunday, we discussed community. I was sitting at my table with my Bible cracked open to Acts 2 and I chuckled slightly to myself. Oh ho ho. Community? Really? I've got friends, I tell people my stuff, I'm not an antisocial shut-in (though this is debatable at times). Anywho, I was listening to the minister talk and he made some good points, but then he made a great point. He was talking about how this generation, my generation, is more connected than any of our predecessors...but we're also the loneliest. Like one of those perky, yappy dogs, my ears pricked up.

I gripe alot about pseudo-country. Many of the people who proclaim they detest country music have only been subjected to the odd hybrid that drives the cursed phrase "Need you now" into your skull and then hammers it mercilessly until you run screaming into the night. As Aaron Watson said, "Nashville is making music that sounds like a dadgum disco." Well, ladies and gents, we have on our hands a pseudo-community. Texting, twitter, blogging, the morning glory that is facebook, and the list continues. Through these venues, I can successfully talk to people without ever seeing their face, heck, without leaving my cave. I am as guilty as anyone about perpetrating false community. A prime example comes from this morning in my Eastern European government class: I was sitting next to a girl I had seen Sunday morning. I thought, "I should ask her how she liked Central!" In the next moment, I dismissed this thought and decided to find her on facebook and friend her. It's easier to ask virtually. As the prof babbled on about Hungary's bitterness from being the little bro in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, I chastised myself. Why shouldn't I just turn to her after class and ask her how she liked church? What is so hard about that? She'd probably appreciate it more if I asked in person. Besides, by the time I found her and friended her on the almighty FB, the moment would have passed and it would just be plain weird. As a result, I would never ask.
So, I put satan on notice and talked to her after class. It was nothing life changing, but it was a step in the right direction. The direction where I touch people and they touch me. The one where I experience.

If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get some Vitamin D. I hear it makes you happy.

I'm coming with what I do not have.

Alright Father. I'm going to be real. I've been hanging on to this ache. I keep it, I nurture it, I treasure it. This is completely and utterly...WRONG. I pick it up, because I think You won't relieve me of it. I clutch it to my chest because in some weird way it validates me. I can't do it anymore. You've brought me to the precipice and I can linger no longer. I trust You. I trust You. I trust You. No matter where I look, I can feel you tugging on my heart. No matter how much I question, all I can hear is Your quietness. "But I said, 'I have labored in vain; I have spent all my strength for nothing at all. Yet what is due me is in the Lord's hand, and my reward is with my God.'" Isaiah 49:4 I'm done with this toil, this vain struggle. I trust that my reward is with You and You alone: not in men.
I've prayed for You to free me of my burden and save me from my pain. Even if You don't, consume me. I want to go deeper with You.