fall arrived after winter this year, but isn't life like that? we strain and strive, shiver and screech out our niche, claiming territory with fervor and blind determination, and then one day we stop. it is typically something monumental - a death, a new life, a betrayal, a union, that forces us to halt our rudimentary madness and take a look around. do you see the leaves? do you taste the air?
running, i can almost capture the season in my lungs. it's the real reason i started, and the only reason i continue. with ragged breaths i soak up wet leaves, grass clippings, and long shadows. they become the spongy material inside of me. it was the insulation i never realized i needed.
so i take these little pieces, these gifts that get me by, and i stack them up. my writing, my running, my family, my fiancee, those sunday night conversations that break past the surface with all the joys and sorrows our hearts can hardly bear. but i still find myself looking around every corner with anticipation. i still believe there is something great, and i get itchy with curiosity and hope for MORE.
is it foolish to dream for so much at twenty-five? is it foolish to crave a life with more suffering, more community, more poverty, more discomfort, more prayer, than i've ever known? when i say 'here i am, send me,' do i know the weight of my words? and is it fair to rope the love of my life and my unborn children into this potentially dangerous existence? i pray my motives are never selfish. i know i've been given everything and more in this time of waiting. i'm astounded by all the answered prayers in these lonely 2 years home. i will keep waiting... but i think i'm ready.
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