As an introvert, I often choose to be alone. Don't get me wrong, I love being with people, but sometimes I need time to myself to recoup a bit. I'm sure some of you can relate.
These past few weeks, however, I have found myself alone not by choice, but because I don't know anyone here in Saint Louis to be with. Sure, there are a few people here who I spend time with - my roommate, Jen, and Crystal whose home we are currently invading. But there is a great deal of my time spent pointless and alone.
The sense of being alone by circumstance rather than by choice - it is profound. It is a sort of deep ache to be with people who are familiar, people who I know, people who know me.
And even here, the Lord meets us. In my crying out for a friend, He brought me to a church where a familiar face from college found me. A few hours of tea and good conversation after church filled this deep need that I have felt for several weeks. The Lord provides in ways that we can not predict. I am thankful.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
transition.
Yesterday I bought groceries. Real, I-have-a-kitchen-and-a-life-of-my-own groceries.
Over the last 16 months, I became accustomed to either eating whatever is already prepared or scrounging through leftovers in a commercial kitchen that feeds 70+ people every meal or getting take-out. It gets tiring.
A lunch of fresh peppers and carrots with spinach and artichoke hummus, with a side of blueberries? It tasted like freedom. Cheesy, I know, but somehow our experiences are tied to the tastes by which they are accompanied. This season will be one of raw foods and iced coffee, and I am excited to explore it.
Transitions are complicated, aren't they? There is a strange mix of sadness, grieving even, over what was left behind, and an excitement for what is to come.
I start my new job this Friday. On the 20th, I can move into my new place - it's a garden studio with an open floorplan. It has a back deck and a yard, an artist's touch, and the feel of an island home. Then I can settle into a life here that is quiet. For it is in quietness that we hear the Lord's voice, is it not?
Over the last 16 months, I became accustomed to either eating whatever is already prepared or scrounging through leftovers in a commercial kitchen that feeds 70+ people every meal or getting take-out. It gets tiring.
A lunch of fresh peppers and carrots with spinach and artichoke hummus, with a side of blueberries? It tasted like freedom. Cheesy, I know, but somehow our experiences are tied to the tastes by which they are accompanied. This season will be one of raw foods and iced coffee, and I am excited to explore it.
Transitions are complicated, aren't they? There is a strange mix of sadness, grieving even, over what was left behind, and an excitement for what is to come.
I start my new job this Friday. On the 20th, I can move into my new place - it's a garden studio with an open floorplan. It has a back deck and a yard, an artist's touch, and the feel of an island home. Then I can settle into a life here that is quiet. For it is in quietness that we hear the Lord's voice, is it not?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)