Processing

I sit underneath a tree at the park. A circular fountain ahead of me beautifully sprays into the air, intentionally spraying into itself. My imagination makes the sound of the highway below into the roaring waves of the ocean. The sun warms my feet.

There’s no wifi here. I could turn my data connection off, but decided not to. Headphones on but I’m not listening to anything. Or maybe I am. My security to choose to decide if I want to interact with those walking the path before me or not. Either way, I’m listening.

I’ve had so many thoughts and experiences over the past several months. I’ve had stories formulating in my brain as to how I wanted to ink them for you. My journals tell some of the story, but not nearly all. How could we possibly document everything even within one single day? All of our senses: taste, touch, hear, smell, feel; what about the thoughts that come from the information we take in through those senses? And then I wonder: how does God manage it all with just me, let alone the other 8 billion people in the world? How does He divinely orchestrate each little detail, always calling us back to Him and His love for us?

I don’t have the answer. You should ask Him yourself. He is amazing. Amazing isn’t even the word. It’s beyond my comprehension today. And I wonder, will I ever completely understand? That is the grand adventure of life – learning more and more about the orchestrator of it all, who He created us to be, and what He created us to do.

It’s the best adventure there is.

No earthly destination can capture it. No single earthly experience can hold it. Our lives become journeys to understand the One who created us, who we are, and what we are to do.

I know. That was redundant. It was intentional.

I opted for not bringing my blanket to sit on, and now I regret it. My tree’s roots are not comforting my behind. Oh well.

I believe I obtained another piece of my puzzle today. “The man becomes the message.”

What the f does that mean.

Consider this: our lives each tell a story (God is the BEST storyteller, ever). Our lives each contain a message. Probably multiple messages, if we want to break it down! Then, we each bounce off of/encounter one another and in the proper timing and circumstances, help one another along in our journeys.

I’m moving trees. The sun is getting too hot here. I knew I shoulda picked the first tree. But I wanted this one instead. Now I have to move.

I’m fighting off some nasty upper respiratory gunk. My left foot is swollen from a copperhead attack a few weeks ago. My heart has battled and broke through some deep-seated lies. I want to go to bed. I am fatigued.

Yet, I write.

I write because I was told at age 13 that my experiences would help others one day. (Do you know that this applies to you, too?) I write because at that time, I was also told that others are going through worse than I was and will. (I know I am not alone in this!) I write because my God has graciously given me victory after victory after victory and I know in my heart like I know I am sitting under this tree that He has the same thing for you, too, dear reader.

So, THANK YOU for reading and listening. You make this momentary discomfort, and the momentary afflictions I have ever passed through worth it. I do this for you because my God has a heart that deeply longs to commune with you.

My writing to you refreshes me.

In my half-delirious, half-asleep state, I am deciding to become a storyteller. In the stories that come, I am writing them into story form for you, changing names and places. The stories and experiences will remain true. It is my prayer that they cause you to slow down, stop, and think.

Be blessed!