I need you. Like the rain needs the clouds to hold it till its ready. To protect it till its time. And im inconsistent in my passions and I wonder if the things that are meant to be get rooted deep within so they run away with me. You always let me run. And im stubborn in my wantings that leave me scratching and trying and building my lighthouses attempting to guide all my own ships. You always shine the stars. And im desperate in my love that I will write and I will listen and I will mimick the ways the waves stay faithful to the shore. I need you. Like the rain needs the clouds… to come back to everytime.

“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you never think about anything as much as I think about you.” - Jonathan Safran Foer

One of my favorite lines from one of my favorite books from one of my favorite authors.

I haven’t been able to shake off the thought of Psalm 84 since last night. I grew up around this chapter. I know it by heart. I’ve read it. It’s been read to me. I’ve circled its word and highlighted its verses and I’ve built thoughts and pictures and stories around it. But I don’t know… last night it kinda just knocked on my door like an old friend and I’ve been thinking about it differently.

I can picture the guys who wrote this… history tells us that they were gatekeepers. They stood and worked and dwelled by the gates, guarding and watching those that were able to enter in. And I picture them looking at high priests and looking at people of statue and virtue and positions, all being able to go inside the temple. And I picture them yearning, and longing for it to be them. And I picture them seeing the sparrows, and I picture them thinking about how those foolish birds don’t even have a clue where they’ve laid their nests. They have no idea where they’ve been spending their time. And I picture those guys writing down, “my heart and flesh cry out for the living God… even the sparrows have found a home.”

And I picture us… you and me… and our hearts, and all the undeserving things that have somehow found a home in there. All the things that dwell and build nests and freely enter without a clue of our value. All the people and words and moments that snuck in and lay at the brim and unworthily have found a place to stay. All the while there is a God and people and a present and forgiveness and an embarrassingly amount of good tomorrows and promises that are standing by the gate whispering, “how lovely is your dwelling place. my soul longs and even faints to enter in…”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZD_H5KfbaM&feature=related

Zac Brown Band covering Ray Lamontagne’s Jolene? Are the heavens opening wide? Was a baby just born? Why am I so happy? Newest obnoxious obsession until I end up hating the song? I think yes.

listen.

and while you’re at it, listen to “be still my heart” by him too. you’re welcome :)

I havent felt or been myself the last few weeks. Ive been getting mad easily, losing my patience, critical….everything I dont ever want to be. I dont know. I cant stand myself lately. Ive been listening to chris browns “next to you” on repeat and how I managed to get toothpaste in my eye this morning is beyond me. Ive even been falling asleep before 12 which is ridiculously rare. I dont even know what to do with myself anymore except fuel up on caffeine and how I met your mother reruns and pray to god everyday that I go back to normal before everyone around me slowly start changing their phone numbers.

So on Monday I was doing what every other middle class American was up to… cleaning out my humble abode and throwing out/organizing a years worth of junk I’ve managed to collect. Put brand new white bed sheets, did all my laundry, yadiyadi. I even gathered a bag full of old clothes I want to get rid of (um, HELLO ex hoarder?!) and managed to finish in time to watch the game. BOOM.

While putting all my books in plastic bins to store away, i found a bunch of my old journals dating all the way back to ‘04. Embarrasing? No. Awkward. I started reading them and wanted to go back in time and punch 16 year old me in the chin. I’ve never read a single word in there to another human being, and my brother kept telling me why don’t I just throw them away and pretend those years and cheesy letters never happened… but I can’t. The thing is, they did happen. That was me. And I thought about all the things in life we try to shove under the rug or put under bandaids because we want to pretend that they never happened. We want to move away, not move on. We want to forget, erase, deny. But why?

I was in the chess club in the 4th grade and have been writing about love since I was 12. I have nights with regrets that have dates written at the top of the page and milestones no one ever knows I crossed. Letters written to people who never got to read them and picture of days taken with words. Everything. All those tiny, sometimes shameful, but real moments have made me up.  They are a part of me. And just because we look back and feel like we’re remembering a stranger doesn’t mean we should try to forget. It doesn’t mean we should be ashamed. Everything, all those moments, all those grains of sand, are building the massive incredible ocean that is your life. Remember them. Keep them. Wear those scars like badges on your arms. Wear those summers like frames hanging on the walls of your heart. Re-read those pages every now and then and remember where you came from and how you got to where you are. And keep them like memoirs.. that you once lived here. That you once loved here. That you once dreamed here.  And if you ever find someone you trust enough to share them with, do. Please do. Because you’ll be one of the lucky ones ;)

There are only enough nights where you can leave the porch light on and the key underneath the mat until every car sounds the same and the bulb begins to flicker. There are only enough summer days before the cold brings you inside. Its not to say that the ocean will ever get tired of chasing the shore but sometimes, things just need to end. Books reach their last page and songs hit their last note and we might not ever know where some things end up, like fallen leaves and loose change and those things you prayed for years ago that seem like time wasted right now. But we cant be afraid. We cant be afraid to read it till it ends and hear it till its quiet and pray until it changes. We cant be afraid of letting go. Of moving on. Of wanting something different. Of being something different. Of knowing whats in front of you and knowing how you got there but knowing where you want to go. Dont be afraid. Its never too late. Its never too early. And the bus might not wait for you to arrive and the rain doesnt wait for lazy days but today waited so long for yesterday to be done with. Be over and be brand new.