try, try again

I have a small, nagging hatred in my heart for "my" blog. Something must be wrong if I feel disinclined to write on it, or if I get a little taste of throw-up in my mouth when I look at whatever last post I wrote. Part of that has to do with the fact that I rarely know what to write about, that each post is wildly different from the last, with the only common thread being somehow me.

I will now attempt not throwing up in my mouth the next time I try writing one.

Well, no time like the present!

I need a quiet night at home. I wish most of my nights were quiet nights at home. The kind of quiet nights at home that older people have. I always like doing young adult stuff when I do it--going to concerts, dinner, people's houses, staying out late, that sort of thing. I'm just tired; that's all. A little socially spent. I could go out with friends tonight, but it's delightful to spend time in my room, to take a long shower, to listen to more of the Bros K audio book. To ruminate.

I am so tired. "These people" (Tim and Karen, Bill and Carrie, Byron and Gina) are keeping me sane. A little talk with the a-little-bit-older-than-thou people in my life sheds so much light, grace, perspective on the road ahead. I really do believe I am here to be taken care of, to learn how to take care. This church community has a hold on me. They are better at taking care than so many I've known, because (and this is the difference) I am letting them. I let them hold on and I don't slap away their open, extended hands when they reach for me. I sometimes let it be known that I need them. I let them see in through the cracks of my dirty room and they give me a broom. I let them see the empty storehouse and they give me bread... or teach me to bake. The older-than-thou's are so lovely, so necessary. I need 'em.

How often do I give my soul the nourishment it needs when it needs it? That sounds a lot like a sign of maturity to me. If I truly had an old soul and acted like it, I would find meat for the day and bread for the night. Sometimes I go out looking for it, sometimes I buy it, sometimes I make it for myself from the ingredients around me, and sometimes I am given it. Daily there is a giving hand. And an open, receiving one.

And tonight there is also chocolate.

P-S-Grocery Outlet. I went to this one for the first time last night, and I am satisfied.