How about this: It’s 2012. And that, my friends, is real talk.
You want to know how it makes me feel, don’t you? Here’s how it makes me feel.
“Because your compassions are before my eyes, I have walked in sweetness.” —Psalm 26:3
I feel like a bird who has found the most splendid tree in the sunshine, who has the most exquisite view of the sky. I hope you do, too.
As if one wasn’t enough. There’s two. And yet, this is our God—more beauty than we could ever possibly drink up, right there for the taking.
Of course, life is busy. That happens, doesn’t it? I find myself running around, jumping from here to there: literature class, a desk job, coffee with a friend, game night, an interview with a source, a brilliant sentence, roommate dinner, a phone call with Mom. Trying on new faces and going to the same places; it’s brand new sparkles and a worn-in comfort all at the same time.
And so, it’s been a whirlwind already. And I don’t mean there’s been snow; no, there’s been plentiful sunshine. And for that I am ever so grateful.
It’s been challenging. 6 a.m. kicks my butt. Deadlines make me want to squeeze 4.3 tons of bubble wrap. Homework elicits groans and moans and I-don’t-wannas like you wouldn’t believe. And somewhere between the rent and the library books that I keep forgetting about is a small nugget of my sanity. At any given time, I am perched on a stool at a dining hall, gracefully shoving a turkey sandwich in my mouth while I marvel over Wordsworth before I sprint to work, leaving at sunset, often covered in the telltale red pen strays that a hefty dose of editing delivers. And just now I realized that doesn’t sound so bad. Besides, you guys know me. I always stop to smell the flowers and win national championships.
What else is there to say besides that?
I could tell you that on New Year’s Eve I walked the city of Atlanta over in sparkly heels, but that wouldn’t be as important as the those who rode the Marta beside me. (If that’s not poetry, I don’t know what is.)
I could tell you that I experienced being stuck in crowds of thousands as we constantly tried to get somewhere else, but that wouldn’t be as important as trying to describe the cry of 45, 000 college hearts seeking the Lord.
I could tell you that I have been in a season of offering, that I’ve seen life before 6 a.m. for many mornings now, but it wouldn’t be as important as telling you I’ve come confidently to the throne of Jesus; I’ve tasted, and He is good.
I could tell you that I begin to sweat whenever things start to shift, that my sea legs are slow to adjust, and that sometimes I have to be coaxed into the next best thing kicking and screaming. But you know that; what’s sometimes more important is that some things never change.
It’s a big life. Bigger than I could ever imagine, and that happened when I stepped back and whispered, “Show me Your beauty.” So He has.
“Arise! Shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD rises upon you.” —Isaiah 60:1
Wordsworth says this:
“Love betters what is best.”
Here’s to fantastic possibility, immeasurable hope and unfailing love. The best, my friends, is yet to come.
*This post is dedicated to Jonathon Fisher and Gracie Renfroe, who don’t just read my words, but miss them when they’re gone. Wordsworth said, “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” That’s what I’ve done—thank you for loving it so.