moments

Today, Beth told me about meeting her husband during college at a party and how within six months they were married. That man is kind. I've known so few men with this attention and thoughtfulness, I think as he sets down warmed cornbread on the table between his wife and I. Beth didn't skip a beat in what she was saying to bow down with thanks, it was just the way things are, that act of service. I want a man who will bring warm cornbread to the table and that will be the way things are sometimes.

Living in a liminal space is quiet and fuzzy, but it's growing on me. I feel lucky to by-pass the missing obsession, because for all the ones I love in DC I can't say I miss it. I love those nights on the leather couch and Paul's coffee and the sometimes-quietness of the streets and the sun slipping behind the Potomac and so many beautiful things but I don't miss them. I'm right where I am here, where the city is bathing itself in green and white and pink blooms decorate the streets better than Christmas ornaments ever could.

Amber and I talked this week, an hour of texting that felt almost like a night at the ranch spent giggling and crying together and when she rambled about what God was teaching her I stopped to ponder what God is teaching me and felt frustrated that I couldn't really think of anything specific.

This is where I am.
3/28/2014