It could have been the french fries. But I don’t think so.
I can’t sleep.
I’ve just gotten in from a Remnant (www.theremnantwebsite.com) project, it’s after midnight, I’ve got outside air clinging to my pores, I need to remove my contacts, and instead I’m here on my couch typing in the dark because I’m so jazzed about life.
Funny how a four-letter word can pack so many years, emotions, victories, lessons, shame, renewal, rainstorms and traffic jams. I’ve accidentally cut myself too many times to remember. I’ve pumped gas more than I can figure. I’ve hugged more than my share.
And I have no idea how many hours of my life has been spent washing dishes, going through the mail, changing my vacuum bag, folding towels, or brushing my hair.
It’s all just snug between those four letters.
But there’s a few gaps, no matter how tight you squeeze that word. There is open space, unwritten program, untapped eternity between the “l” and “I” the “f” and “e”. And a lot can happen with just a little breathing room.
Once it was just an idea. Then it was a concept. Eventually it became a gathering. Now it’s where I go home. To me, it means friends.
I drove home, after a hearty meal of Salmon and fried potatoes, thinking about all the people I had seen that evening, all the beautiful faces in my life, and some incredible new ones I just met. I drove home thinking about the laughter still whispering in my ear. I drove home thinking about a chance to do something not about me, all about Him. I drove home thinking about how I was still smiling.
I drove home loving my life. And I told God so.
This isn’t where I imagined being, even months ago. Jobless, alone, 30. Not my description of what I wanted to be when I grew up. In fact, good thing God doesn’t tell us our future. I’ve crossed too many bridges between here and there. I may have jumped off one.
And this isn’t what my family dreamed either. I remember, even at an early age, people telling me I’d marry young. My mother married young. My grandmother married young. I’d find someone. No problem.
It was said so often I actually believed it. Life was predestined to be a repeat of the women before me. And at the time, it’s exactly what I wanted.
Tonight, driving home in my seven-year old Jeep Jillian (whom I love and pray for often, “Lord, don’t let that sound be the suspension”), heading to my quiet little home, tiptoeing inside so I don’t awaken my roommate, kicking off my Wal-Mart shoes and dropping everything in the middle of the floor because I can, energized by spending the evening with great friends, I realized I had exactly what I wanted. I had a GREAT life. It was perfect for me in every way. And God knew that long ago.
So thank you Father. Thank you for a beautiful life, complete and joyful. It’s just what I wanted.