28it’s Sunday again
It’s Sunday again and I’ve skipped church today. My bedroom is about 80 degrees all night because in the room across the hall is a pellet stove that blazes out blessed winter heat. To stay alive through the night, I must balance the sweating I do with frequent water breaks mid-sleep. But I’ll take that over freezing my toes off any day.
I visited grandma with my parents, and upon my inviting myself along my dad said, “No! This is our time to visit my mommy!” Okay, Dad. Simmer.
It is good to know good people. I am reminded of how good it feels to be human some days- to be able to taste licorice, and talk about weddings, and smell candles, and feel the pinching winter on your fingers as you walk into a home filled with warm faces. And on the dark drive home with you and other people’s tail lights, you know there are more good people waiting on the other end of the trip, too. That is blessing.
I’m reading “Bittersweet” by Shauna Niequist. What a redemptive book full of treasures about real life. I long to write that way. To live as she does, fully aware of all the humanity we’ve been both blessed and cursed with, and to write it down in words that feel like they’ve been bled right from her heart.
