The alarm clock went off and I woke up, reeling from vivid dreams and startled to remember that I wasn't sleeping in my own bed. I turned it off, awash in several feelings all at once: not wanting to get up, but to bury myself back under the covers in pleasant warmth and sleep, recalling what I had to do today and why I had to get up at that time, and trying to grasp the dreams which had been so sharp and clear but quickly scattered and became small pieces, like a plate that is dropped on the floor and broken.
Thirty minutes later I was in thick traffic, getting on the highway and squinting against the bright morning sun. It was rising right in the eyes of everyone driving towards the south, and there certainly was a good number of people all in the same place at the same time. I lowered my visor and turned my head so that the glare was as minimul as possible. My phone rang: the ring tone right now is the classic "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" by Creedance Clearwater Revival. It was Joy calling to tell me that she had locked her keys in her trunk. She would be late for the first day of the first semester. I was driving to meet her at school and watch her infant for her, since daycare wouldn't take him for another month it looked like. In bumper to bumper traffic I couldn't do much but tell her that I'd be there as soon as I could while she called a locksmith. What a way to begin the day.
I was still driving in the direction of her apartment when she called me back and told me that she had found the keys in her toddler's pocket. The little sticky fingers was upset when mom took the keys away from him. I changed course to meet her at the school as originally planned.
The sounds of Ingrid Michaelson singing on a CD soothed me, and I hummed and sung along to what is maybe my favorite CD of hers: "Slow The Rain", her first one.
The rest of the day had small ups and downs; wireless internet connection down at the office, baby sleeping when I wanted him to, trying to reach my boss in Brazil, and other things that kept the time rolling forward in an interesting not unpleasant way.
I brought the baby back safely to his mom and went to Bible study at 7 p.m. I said goodbye to a good friend; Ben is moving about four hours away to work with a homeless ministry. I know it's not really goodbye, since we'll keep in touch and I would like to go volunteer there again, but it's still a curious feeling, not knowing when you'll see someone next, not being in the weekly circle of church and Bible study and other times of fellowship with him.
Corey followed me to the church office. Corey in his mini cooper. The first time I asked if the cooper parked outside was his and he said yes I said, "It's cute! I mean, in a very many way," as Andrew laughed at his friend's bemused look, like, "Yes, you just called my car cute, not the thing a guy really wants to hear but okay." I have been blessed in the last couple of years to develop friendships with some good Christian men. Andrew is like a brother to me: we can tease each other on and on, but can trust each other too. He trusts me with finances, and we trust each other when it comes to one of us going out of town, each leaving our usual duties to the other and knowing they will be taken care of.
Corey came with me to get the deposit ready for tomorrow. We talked and joked and I felt comfortable and happy. I haven't known him for very long but he has an easy way like Andrew and we get along well.
I'm rambling and it's sort of fun. I write like this in my journal, when I keep a journal, which is not often enough. But blogging helps. I always enjoy looking back on things like this: bits of days and thoughts, pictures of friendships and feelings. Maybe it's a letter to myself for when I am years older.
I feel young, with so much ahead of me, yet satisfied for the most part with what I've already done. I've been to three other countries on mission trips. I feel a conviction about what I do for a living. I have so many things that I do on the side: wedding cakes, jewelry, evening things like babysitting and donating plasma that give me that much more purpose to exist, and quiet things like writing and singing, things I think that may take me somewhere, someday ...
I've realized that I'm the kind of person whom people trust with their money and their children. It's flattering and flabbergasting, the latter not because I don't think that I'm trustworthy, because I try to hard to be, I want to always be, but because people would see that and do trust me. It's an incredible thing to be trusted. Trust is beautiful. Yes, I think that many things are beautiful. But I also know that many things are painful and terrible as well, as one can see in my writing. Hope and faith are the cords that hold someone up and allow them to live in the bad and the good and everything inbetween.
Thirty minutes later I was in thick traffic, getting on the highway and squinting against the bright morning sun. It was rising right in the eyes of everyone driving towards the south, and there certainly was a good number of people all in the same place at the same time. I lowered my visor and turned my head so that the glare was as minimul as possible. My phone rang: the ring tone right now is the classic "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" by Creedance Clearwater Revival. It was Joy calling to tell me that she had locked her keys in her trunk. She would be late for the first day of the first semester. I was driving to meet her at school and watch her infant for her, since daycare wouldn't take him for another month it looked like. In bumper to bumper traffic I couldn't do much but tell her that I'd be there as soon as I could while she called a locksmith. What a way to begin the day.
I was still driving in the direction of her apartment when she called me back and told me that she had found the keys in her toddler's pocket. The little sticky fingers was upset when mom took the keys away from him. I changed course to meet her at the school as originally planned.
The sounds of Ingrid Michaelson singing on a CD soothed me, and I hummed and sung along to what is maybe my favorite CD of hers: "Slow The Rain", her first one.
The rest of the day had small ups and downs; wireless internet connection down at the office, baby sleeping when I wanted him to, trying to reach my boss in Brazil, and other things that kept the time rolling forward in an interesting not unpleasant way.
I brought the baby back safely to his mom and went to Bible study at 7 p.m. I said goodbye to a good friend; Ben is moving about four hours away to work with a homeless ministry. I know it's not really goodbye, since we'll keep in touch and I would like to go volunteer there again, but it's still a curious feeling, not knowing when you'll see someone next, not being in the weekly circle of church and Bible study and other times of fellowship with him.
Corey followed me to the church office. Corey in his mini cooper. The first time I asked if the cooper parked outside was his and he said yes I said, "It's cute! I mean, in a very many way," as Andrew laughed at his friend's bemused look, like, "Yes, you just called my car cute, not the thing a guy really wants to hear but okay." I have been blessed in the last couple of years to develop friendships with some good Christian men. Andrew is like a brother to me: we can tease each other on and on, but can trust each other too. He trusts me with finances, and we trust each other when it comes to one of us going out of town, each leaving our usual duties to the other and knowing they will be taken care of.
Corey came with me to get the deposit ready for tomorrow. We talked and joked and I felt comfortable and happy. I haven't known him for very long but he has an easy way like Andrew and we get along well.
I'm rambling and it's sort of fun. I write like this in my journal, when I keep a journal, which is not often enough. But blogging helps. I always enjoy looking back on things like this: bits of days and thoughts, pictures of friendships and feelings. Maybe it's a letter to myself for when I am years older.
I feel young, with so much ahead of me, yet satisfied for the most part with what I've already done. I've been to three other countries on mission trips. I feel a conviction about what I do for a living. I have so many things that I do on the side: wedding cakes, jewelry, evening things like babysitting and donating plasma that give me that much more purpose to exist, and quiet things like writing and singing, things I think that may take me somewhere, someday ...
I've realized that I'm the kind of person whom people trust with their money and their children. It's flattering and flabbergasting, the latter not because I don't think that I'm trustworthy, because I try to hard to be, I want to always be, but because people would see that and do trust me. It's an incredible thing to be trusted. Trust is beautiful. Yes, I think that many things are beautiful. But I also know that many things are painful and terrible as well, as one can see in my writing. Hope and faith are the cords that hold someone up and allow them to live in the bad and the good and everything inbetween.
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