There are just some feelings that no matter the effort, cannot be replicated, such as the feeling of being home.
Now I admit, come Janurary 7th when everyone else is back at school, I will mostly likely be half bald and ready for my small, slightly disheveled dorm room. But for now I'm soaking in the joys of being back in the Burbs.
The little rituals I became accustomed to now draw me back in. Some families have dinner together, others have family game night. My family does coffee. For years now, every Saturday and vacation day has been spent sitting in a Starbucks around their little round wooden tables, or if we're lucky the slightly overused, purple velvet "comfy" chairs (which sadly, recently have been replaced). Such as it is, this was one of those mornings. I find a peace that comes from being around someone else's busyness while enjoying my own idleness. Armed with my bag of books and a non-fat zebra mocha with whip, I sit and embrace the flurry of people bustling in and out, attempting to reach their destinations on time while still making time for a triple-shot, extra foam, venti vanilla latte that will give them the boost they need to make it through.
For some, home is a hub, a stopping place to grab food and rush out the door again, for some it's a place to do laundry and get free food, but for me, it is rest incarnate. A place where I can throw on my leggings and oversized sweatshirt, and ignore the real world for a little while. To sit, think, rest, and be without the weight of expectations smothering me into a half-witted blob.
This break is needed. A respite from the harsh reality of life, a chance to get my feet underneath me so I can fight through those last three weeks, and make it to the Big Daddy of breaks--Christmas. I know I'm not alone in this. Four months of classes, social events, intramurals, all-nighters, and busy weekends take a toll on a person. The icing on the cake being the change that has happened this semester. It's been my ever-present companion
I suck at change, I'm probably the worst ever at handling it. Coming home I thought I would get a break from that, only to find it inescapable. I don't think I get to just let this one blow over. It seems to be one of those deep-seeded issues refusing to leave, which means the only way out is to dive in and find the root. Only, I'm tired. Even the concept of resting in the Lord sounds tiresome and heavy to me. Maybe that's disbelief in the rest He can provide, maybe it's a striving mentality, either way, it doesn't sound appealing. So I'm at my wits end. Telling Him I don't see it. I don't see how the end all will somehow make this beautiful. I don't see a richness coming from experiencing such ache. I'm holding on to is the phrase, "This too shall pass". I'm praying that's true.
The Truth I'm grasping has everything to do with Him doing big things and absolutely nothing to do with me. It's comforting to be able to just be at a lost. I'm overwhelmed, knee-deep in hurt and confusion, but there is something in me that can grasp the thought that He is fighting for me (Exodus 14:14) and that He will somehow use all this for good (Romans 8:28). It involves knowledge I don't have, and experiences I've yet to go through, but for now I'm holding on to the slight hope that He is bigger than I and that's all that matters. And then leaving the rest to Him and others to believe for me.
That's where I am this break. Needing more than sleep and coffee, needing rest that settles beyond earthly ability. Forgive my rantings and incoherent thoughts. I know I don't always make sense, but neither does the Lord, and somehow that's comforting. Maybe the most beautiful and rich things don't make sense to us, and that's why they're beautiful and rich. Just maybe we don't have to have it all figured out and wrapped in a bow. Maybe there's something to be said about just letting things be hard.