oh messy life

You wouldn't know it from the pink skies of yesterday, but they say something is coming that will flood, destroy. We have been told we need to evacuate, and then told we don't. So we stay, with sandbags sitting outside our building, and pray. For those who are praying, thank you so much! (We're totally overwhelmed with how many people have asked about us!)

On with my thoughts for today . . .

He was sleeping happily last week, our poor little car when he was jolted awake in a 5 car smasheroo. We came back from a Yankees game to find him bumped into the street.

Last week, our washing machine ran only hot cycles, the toilet filled hot, and there was a mention of tearing out our walls. Thankfully, it was just a loud afternoon of clanging and sawdust.

And there is the job search. Calls and interviews and cover letters and so often I just want it to be over. I don't want just any job, but I want the searching to be over. I want to be done with all this messiness. And yet I look around the corner at myself and wonder---what would I do without messiness? These are life. Life is pieces of dream and fix and break and create, and yet I still long for everything just to be, perfect.


My head knows this world is broken, but my heart still goes on dreaming. I try not to, but no matter how heavily I try to imagine the worst, in deeper places, my heart floats and I cannot stop it. I grumble that the subways aren't clean and efficient, because something in me thinks they should be. I dream that people are perfect and time is endless. I dream that things should work a certain way, the right way, and when they don’t, I am still surprised and often upset. The world I expect is unreal.


In Scotland we dreamed of being settled somewhere with our stuff. We are here, and I am finding completely settled is something humans will never be. Our heart will always long for something more---more beautiful, more permanent. And that longing, I find today, is good. That longing shows us who we are, and why on earth we’re on earth. Longing means I know something isn't quite right, puts me in my place.

There is always something more to desire, but joy, I am finding, is living with the longing, being comfortable in the not-yet. Because in this not-yet, there is so much already. Sun glints and cotton-candy sunsets and conversations, the perfect chair for a nook, and the way the light points ahead.


One of my friends, an artist and I once talked about art, and she explained the most beautiful things are an order with a slight bit of chaos. A square of trees in a straight line is not as beautiful as the natural arrangement of a forest. Progression in music requires dissonce for that satisfactory ending chord. And so life. There is no reunion without missing. It is in messiness that joy appears.

Off to find some . . . indoors! I'm relishing an indoor weekend with Walker. We have a new couch (!) and it smells like fresh granola. Praying you have a safe, joy-soaked weekend.