You need you some home.

I left my job and went home to New York.

Stayed for two weeks, without a care or a worry in the world.

 

I'm at a place in my life where things are changing.

I'm changing.
My heart is changing.
My dreams are changing.

Everything, everything is changing.

Ever feel like that?

Home is good for when life changes. Whereever home is and whatever it looked and still looks like.

Home shows you who you've been. It celebrates how far you've come.

Home is the root. It's the depth of you. The place that made you, sprung you round in piles of dirt, only to grow the tall flowering soul that you are now.

Home is the catching up with old friends. The sitting around familiar tables.
The crossing over of old bridges, driving across memorized streets that etch pathways in your heart and soul.

 

Home is nestling your head into Mom's chest.

It's the hidden pathway to your main street.

It's digging up memories late into the night with your younger brother who remembers more than you do.

Home is knowing where the pots and the pans are. It's grandma's living room stacked with moving boxes, as you reminsence about christmas trees with tinsel memories.

 

Home is the hurt and the wounds and the rage and the pain.

But it's also the healing and the mending and the becoming and the wholeness.

 

Sometimes it's good for leaving, sometimes for styaing. It's always good for visitng.

We're all bruised and beaten.
Lost on account of many reasons.
But only love would make you understand.
Home.


Oh I love me some home.

You're not crazy. You just care.

You're not crazy. You just care.

We were at a local coffee shop and we were talking about life...And I was telling her about some things that I've been working through. Things that, really, I've been grieving through. Not praying, not seeking through. But shaking my fist up at God through. That kind of working through. I told her I didn't want to hear anyone else's thoughts on what I believed. Told her. . .

Stop & do the wild thing

 

Had wanted to write lots of fluffy, funny, filling words for you. . .but every syllable I typed felt forced and forged. So I figured:

 

WHAT THE HECK

WHY NOT?

STRAIGHT TO THE PUNCH LINE

SHORT & SWEET

 

What's the stop & what's the wild thing?

 

For me? Plain & simple: I need to stop avoiding my times of journaling, reading my Bible and praying. Long story short, I've avoided doing these intimate things because I've been scared to face my own heart.

Jesus Christ has always been my wild thing; has always been the wonder, the adventure, the root that's kept me grounded and, yet, free. And I miss that. I miss Him. And I WILL stop running away and I WILL do the wild thing of pursuing His untamable mysteries.

 

And you? I do enough talking & typing around here. It's you I want to hear—your words I want to see on this screen, these pages. 

 

Crack your heart, split it wide and make it LOUD right here in the comments. What is one thing you need to stop doing in order to be able to START doing the wild thing you know your soul is craving?