Day 7 - Who knows, really.

(I frequently take pictures of books I want to buy someday (after I read the 100 I've already got). Thought I would share some of them on here.)

Today was emotionally exhausting. I'm not going to get into specifics, but I will offer up a few rambling sentences as a way of healing.

I'm not so good at the romantic writing. You know, the kind of writer that can make picking your teeth sound beautiful? With me it just sounds like picking your teeth. I'm not entirely convinced that's a bad thing.

I feel so young sometimes. And that scares me. Most of the inspiring memoirs I read were written by older people who seem so much wiser than me. They've loved people. They've lost God. And they've lived so long that they found him again. Their sentences begin like, "When I was ordained twenty years ago, I was far more surer of those things than I am now . . . "

What actually scares me sounds a bit chuffed, so please forgive me. But it's that I feel I've already lived so much. My life has been so full - of both intense beauty and scarring ugliness - when I begin to ponder what's next, I become seriously freaked out.

I know that all of my older friends and parents reading this are chuckling to themselves, thinking, 'Aw, the kid's got so much to learn'. And they're right, I'm sure. The equation that's been playing on repeat in my head all day: if I live to be 100 then in 20 more years I won't yet have experienced a full one half of my life. And 20 years is a LONG time!

I was in arguable company with some folks that have at least 25 years on me today. I seriously respect these people. And I felt that I must seem silly to them. The things I care about. The things I dream about. The things I fret about. Daydreamy kidstuff really. I felt they were thinking that once I grew some more I would come to my good senses.

But here's the thing I keep coming back to: Jesus only lived to be 33.

A lot of people I know, young and old (myself included) seem super concerned about security, safety, stuff and saving face. But Jesus didn't care about any of that. And so therefore, the question that plagues me more than any other is: How do we live in this materialistic, self-obsessed world and try to follow Jesus without being a jerk?

I was thinking today that Jesus would probably hang out with celebrities and slaves if he came back.

I met a beautiful and wise woman a couple of weeks ago who remarked that one of the blessings of turning 50 was that you were released from fretting sillily about what others think of you. I don't want to wait until I'm 50. I would like to accept that present at 29.

I have had a very difficult time articulating what I mean to say today. I know what I am thinking. But when I try to find the words to explain, they just don't come. This happens often. Sometimes I struggle to find them, but more often than not, I just give up. Silently yelling at myself for being so inept. And all these feelings of inadequacy (How can you even think of being a pastor, a writer or a homeschool mom??) bubble up inside of me. Jermaine says that these feelings mixed with the strong sense that I am called to these vocations is a good sign I'm headed in the right direction.

I hope so.

I was watching a skateboarding show on TV today and toward the end one of the guys said something like, "If you've watched this far, then I thank you, I pity you, and I invite you to join us for the rest of the adventure." That completely embodies what I want to say at the end of all my posts. So I'm going to steal it. Good night.