Here I am, on the eve of moving out of the apartment that housed me for the past year.
Something about buildings that has always fascinated me is their forgettable stability and structure. I lived in this apartment with way too many people for a year, and many other people came in and out, but this house just stayed the same. In just a few days it’ll be a new place for someone else, and they will call it their house. All the motions they will go through, the stories and situations, will all be different, but the house will remain.
Everything is different since I moved in last August, from the very first night where I slept on the floor, to tonight, when I am actually sleeping in someone else’s house, all my things packed and ready to move on.
I am different, and therefore everything is different.
I don’t have a great relationship with the Bible as of this past year, which is probably going to make some of you feel itchy, it’s not you, it’s me. There is just too much that has gone wrong with people misusing it to “help” that I’d rather keep the big things big, and little things….you get it. I still like it, though.
I have accepted that there are people that I hate, there are people that I irrationally prefer, and there are people that for no reason I can analyze, are of utmost importance for me to pay attention to, and most importantly, care for deeply and unconditionally. Sorry in advance if you don’t fall into the last two categories, and even then, for those of you that I love: I’m still sorry sometimes. I haven’t figured out selflessness yet.
I will never be on salary at a church. I would rather be homeless or prostitute myself. Fortunately, for now, there are more options.
Technology is addictive and equal parts useless and useful, and basically has ruined mankind. But, I am infatuated with it.
I found this year to be equally as delightfully life changing as it was a waste of time, which is a bit funny out loud, but in my bones it makes sense. I’m grateful, and apathetic, and bummed.
I’m leaving to go overseas for two months, and if there was ever a time in my life that I was ready to do so, it’s now.
I’m convinced that everything in me is on the brink of something, and whatever that something is, it keeps me up at night and is the truest thing I know. It’s the sensation of that word that’s on the tip of your tongue, the thing that sums it all up. I’m there.
I have reconsidered and reevaluated who I believe God is, and for now, I haven’t seen at Him church in a while, which actually disables and paralyzes me, and yet:
I have seen Him, and friends, honestly, He is much bigger than I had thought before. The fact that He’s there at all, is enough for me to be sure that this madness is worthwhile. I know that I can be happy, I know that I can be sad, I know that I can be restless and tired and passionate and whole, because He’s there.
And that gives me all the life I could ever ask for, so I’m taking it, and I’m running.
I know now, more than ever, that the mysterious King that we are still trying to configure a way to give proper praise to is alive and moving and calling us to that life that we are so desperate for.
So, join me, let’s go lay out under the stars and talk about what could be and sing songs and reminisce about the parts of us that are still out there somewhere. We can even fall asleep and keep each other warm, we can all be shitty people who just have resolved to know it and keep our eyes up. Until we’re better, isn’t that all we can do? At least we wouldn’t be alone. In those moments, we’ll remember Him, and He’ll be with us.
Goodbye to another year, farewell to another season of doubts and certainty and the little things that make it all true. All in all, I know what it is to be home, and to belong, wherever I am laying my head. Oh, and thank you to the apartment building that gave me the stability to roam all year. I may not ever see you again, but if so, see you suddenly.