Over the last six months, I think I’ve gone from being an extrovert to an introvert. I just want to be away from people for the most part, it seems. Which is weird for me, because I used to go to the mall during Christmas just to be around people.
But when I think about it, it makes complete sense. I now live in a house with three other gals, one bathroom. I share a room with someone who is several years younger than me. At my former house, there were three of us, but they were often gone and I had the house to myself. Now it seems I can’t get away from people.
I am perfectly content to be alone over Christmas this year. I’ll be with family for a bit, but my parent’s house is huge, and I can hide out when I need to. Then Nashville. I’m staying with friends, but they work. The prospect of wandering through Nashville alone — visiting the places I want to visit without anyone else complaining about me dragging them everywhere — is absolute bliss.
The next five months of my life are settled, but after that, who in the world knows. Well, God knows, but yeah.
I have all these pieces that are currently floating up in the air that have yet to land. One thing I do know: I’m most likely leaving my current do-gooding position at the end of April to go do more do-gooding elsewhere. It looks like that place might be Los Angeles. But before I land there, I have an opportunity to work with the global communications department of my organization in England. But for how long? One month? Two months? I have no earthly idea.
Will any of this actually take place? Well, that’s what I’m praying about. Please join me in praying as I seek God’s face for the future. The one good thing in the middle of all this chaos: I’m really OK with it. I feel that wherever I land, it’s all going to be OK. I know I’m going in the right direction today, and for now, that’s all that matters.
At one of the coffee shops I frequent, the bathroom has one of those indicators letting people know the facilities are in use. Of course, that doesn’t stop people from careening around the corner and yanking hard on the door.
One of these times, I want to whisper in a creepy voice:
“The way is shut.
It was made by those who are Dead.
And the Dead keep it.
The way is shut.”
Paw Paw, playing Cupid. And goofing off, as usual.
I stopped in to my local coffee shop for some Joe this morning, so I could work and watch the rain outside through the paned glass. And now I’m tweeeeking on caffeine. Not quite sure how this happened. I think my barista may have put two shots of espresso in my drink. Hooboy.
But yeah, it’s raining. In California. My cousin got me this keen-o umbrella for Christmas, for which I am entirely grateful at the moment. I so infrequently get to use said umbrella. It’s a treat to break it out today.
It cracks me up that every one of my California friends has Facebook updates like, ‘I love the rain,’ or ‘Watching the rain fall.’ It’s all anyone has talked about since Sunday, when the rain was forecast. I even had a friend bail on lunch plans because it was so nice and cozy at home, and she didn’t want to get out and drive in the spitting, driving deluge. Californians are enamored by the ‘novelty’ of rain. If only they knew what it was like to get rain for weeks on end, with no sign of sunshine. Californians, I find, start to change their tune when there are more than two days of consecutive rain. They are sunny creatures by nature, and have a hard time driving, walking, and generally functioning when they can’t be outside soaking up that dazzling California sunshine. They start to grumble, then whine, about trying to get from Point A to Point B with soaking feet and flat hairstyles.
Sorry California. I have no sympathy. I lived 26 years with “weather,” and I survived well enough. Put on a hat, break out your barely used umbrella, and wear thick socks. It’s going to be a few wet days.
Long time, no chat. It’s been the craziness lately. Check out Hope Ink to see where all the craziness has gone.
Have no fear, though. I have plans to write here, very very soon.
I’m an honorary aunt to four children (the kids of my fellow missionaries) which means I often come home covered in something after a visit with them.
Today, thank goodness, it was stickers.