there is so much to say, and i don't want to say it
somehow in the saying the said becomes real

"Oh, if life were made of moments,
Even now and then a bad one!
But if life were only moments,
Then you'd never know you had one."

-from "Into the Woods"

A gaggle of perhaps 10 or 12 geese has taken up (hopefully temporary) residence in the creek behind my parent's house, where I currently live. They are impressively loud, even during the wee hours of morning. As I sit in my room reading or watching TV after arriving home from work, I can hear them. Their nighttime calling strikes me as somehow surreal. I think they should be sleeping.

He paces in rough circles in the atrium in front of my desk. As he passes his cellphone restlessly from ear to ear, his muscles strain visibly against the loose gray long sleeve t-shirt that hangs off his broad shoulders. He wears a pair of worn black sweatpants that sag ridiculously at his hips, revealing beige plaid boxers. This probably seems a clever fashion choice, as if being able to see his underwear somehow attracts people to him. And maybe it does. He also sports a ball cap, another fashion statement that has never appealed to me. The only parts of his conversation that I overhear are the occasional bursts of vulgarity.

She, on the other hand, has a voice pitched perfectly for carrying across the atrium and into my ears. Sitting on a couch some ten yards to my right, she ignores the laptop illuminating her face in favor of incessant conversation with a friend (or rather, another woman that I assume is her friend). The details of her chatter, as is the case with the details of much of what we say to each other in the course of a typical day, are trivial at best. She has left now, presumably for the restroom, unaware that her departure has cut short my 'sketch.'

Need

I was thinking tonight about how very much I need my God. Intellectually, I know that he is love and grace, peace and hope, joy and mercy. I know that he is my most basic need. In one sense, there are many things here on earth that I really do need. But I know that in the end, he is the only thing I really, truly need.

I need him so much. I need him more than I need a friend or lover. I need him more than a good job or a comfortable home. I need him more than a cozy bed and nice clothes, more than a car that works or a reliable cell phone. I need him more than wonderfully distracting books, TV shows, and films. I need him - only him.

But I think that actually live that, fully believing it, will be a life-long pursuit. I spend so much of my fleeting life substituting one person or thing or habit for him. But maybe that’s what this life is all about: learning to need him. Maybe I’ll never really get it right. I’m pretty sure I won’t ever get it all straight during this life, and it’s very possible that I will never fully realize that knowing him and being loved by him is enough. And all too soon this will all be over. And I’ll look into his eyes, and he’ll smile and remind me again that he really is all I need, that he really is enough. And it won’t be too late.

remember when

For me, changes in weather often spark strong feelings of nostalgia. The past two days have been the first truly spring-like days around here, and with the (relative) warmth and sunshine has come these random pangs of what I can only call nostalgia.

Nostalgia never ceases to intrigue me. I have a love-hate relationship with this bizarre phenomenon. On the one hand, I relish the feeling of re- experiencing or even simply recalling good from the past. On the other, nostalgia carries with it a sense of something lost. For me, nostalgia is most often a barely tangible twitch of longing for some good moment from the past. These are not usually well-defined moments. In fact, they may never have actually happened. I will simply feel a breeze or smell that springy wet-earth smell or the scent of burning leaves in autumn, and that sensory trigger creates a simultaneously satisfying and dissatisfying memory. I am both happy that I was once so happy and a little sad that things never seem quite as good now as I think they once were. (This happens a lot at Christmastime.)

Today, however, I recognized something new. I think that I sometimes have feelings of nostalgia directed toward the future. Today, while I was searching for missing books, I experienced the most overwhelming feeling of delight and longing for that time I took my boys trick-or-treating. It took me about 3 seconds (which is really longer than it sounds) to realize that I don't have children. I was feeling a sentimental desire to relive something that I may someday live but have certainly never lived up to this point.

Before I go on I should mention that I have no idea where trick-or-treating came from. I know it's spring, not fall. I guess the mind works in mysterious ways.

Anyway, this got me thinking, and I'm pretty sure that I've felt this before. I feel definite pangs of nostalgia over things like driving my kids to a soccer game or sitting by the lake reading with my spouse. And I know that you're probably thinking this sounds a lot like just wistfully imagining future possibilities. But it's different. It carries the same complicated, paradoxical emotions that come with typical past-oriented nostalgia. It's as if something triggered longing for a future that cannot ever come to pass or one that might but probably won't.

I honestly have no idea what to think of this. I'm just observing my experience. I'm a little curious whether anyone else has ever encountered such a feeling. But mostly I am just musing.

{Totally unrelated side note: Some one just handed me a pair of scissors blade first. I thought every one learned in preschool that you don't hand anything blade first; apparently not.}

Take a Leap

Tomorrow, as you surely know, is a leap day. Last leap year I was a second semester freshman. I was taking lit analysis and American lit survey and a couple of horrendously boring communication classes.
I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with myself - what I wanted to be. I determined that I wanted to be an English major and ditch the inane com classes. Other than that, I haven't come very far. I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. But I finally have some options for the short term future. I have been accepted to a couple of grad programs. Now I just have to decide which path to choose and when to start. That will give me a plan for the next few years. And I like plans.

Anyway, back to leap day. One of my favorite episodes of one of my favorite television shows, Fraiser, is entitled "Take a Leap." It's about leap day and the various risky decisions or leaps of faith that Frasier, Niles, Daphne, Martin, and Roz decide to take. They decide that since leap day is like an extra day of life, they should celebrate by living life to the fullest. All these leap day leaps end, naturally, in disaster. I don't plan to take any big leaps tomorrow, but I do plan to enjoy the day. I have to drive to work in the snow, spend nine hours at work, then drive three more hours down to Cedarville. That all adds up to a rather mediocre day. But that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy it. Right?

Sometimes it's good to remember that life is made up of these little days all strung together. I probably sound like a broken record these last few posts, but I really do want to try to enjoy my life as it comes. There's no sense living in the future. Tomorrow is an extra day, and I will live it to it's ordinary day fullest.

So
much
snow.
I should be used to it. I've lived in Michigan amidst the drifts basically all my life. I love the way the snow makes everything look. I do not love these massive storms we've been having: storms that turn a 40 minute commute into a 2.5 hour commute.

I've decided to try to be less generally frustrated. My hope is that such an effort does not prove to be a source of frustration.

The future is just a concept. It cannot be lived in, no matter how hard you try. You can change or enjoy or waste or redeem only the present.

O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and
light riseth up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all
our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what thou
would have us to do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save
us from all false choices, and that in thy light we may see
light, and in thy straight path may not stumble; through
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.