inputs

i have so many inputs over the course of the day. some purposeful. some accidental. 

some i wish i could fully purge from my mind. 

some make me think. some should, but don't. and there are various things day in and day out that make me pause. 

better days happen when i don't just pause, but pause and process. pull out the bits that matter. understand the world through a different lens. 

and i realized over this past week that that is part of why i enjoy road trips. because i have to be present on a road trip. it makes me queasy to read or write or scroll for too long. planes don't bother me - give me a good book on a plane any day of the week - but driving i have to be. just be. 

nowhere else is that the case. so my husband and i have some of our most eye-opening and heart-revealing conversations on road trips. because we're all there. dialed in. 

i've listened to a couple of different podcasts over the last 24 hours. i've read bits and pieces of 3 or 4 books, and every single one has made me think. some have made me tear up. some have made me gain a better understanding of how i'm put together. some have made me analyze differently than i did before. some have given me insight into a world i've never known. 

this world is both ugly and full of beauty. it's black and it's white. 

so often i want to take the gray out of it. 

i want it to be something it's not. i want it to be clear-cut. 

i want to know who to hate and who to love, but the reality is that we're all just broken people and some of us are more broken than others. 

none of us are perfect. 

we're both black and white wrapped together.

we're wonderful and terrible creatures.

it doesn't make wrong choices right when you admit that there's some other motivation driving people to do horrible things. but in the midst of that i'm still reminded that God created us all in his image and with him all things are possible.

{though it doesn't mean all things are probable. and it very much means that many things are impossible without him.}

every time i slow down i feel a pull to write. but now that i sit down to do it i feel like i'm simply knocking the rust off and hoping for the best. 

but it's not supposed to be a finished product. it's a process. and this is my process. put it all down and see what sticks. see what keeps coming back and is here tomorrow. i start from the place that survives the day. 

----

i don't want to miss august. 

that's where i've landed. i don't want to miss it.

we're in this weird space of time where our older two are about to start school, but our youngest doesn't go back until after labor day. it's a mini-season unto itself. 

everything hasn't started, but a few things have. we're easing into fall when i'd much rather jump in with both feet and drag the temperature down with me. because that will always be true. 

i have so many ideas of so many things that i want to do. but the truth is, i have to choose. because no matter how many things land on my list, i only have 24 hours in a day and all the experts tell me i'm supposed to sleep for close to 8 of them every night.

i can make my plans, but the Lord determines my steps. 

i know, i know. i'm all over the map tonight. herky-jerky and touchy with the brakes. 

i don't know where i'm going either. 

isn't that the beauty of letting go? sometimes it's freeing to just go where you'll go and not have a set plan to land in any one place. 

because that's life. we have plans, sure. ok, not sure. of course we have plans. i don't do fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants very well. i'm not put together that way. i want to know the where and the when and the why too. but sometimes we just fly. sometimes we just run. sometimes we just open our eyes and look around at what's here now. 

we look at the beauty coming from the ashes we never wanted and we say -- only God could do that. only he could make it happen that way.

sometimes we have to hold on for what feels like forever to get to the moment when the sun crests the hill. when it pierces the ocean of inky sky.

but it's coming. it won't be how you thought it would be. 

some dreams do die. sometimes we have to let go of the things we always wanted. {as anne lamott says: all of the things i've ever let go of have claw marks on them}

but that light is coming. 

and what do i need to remember? 

to hold tighter to God than i hold to my plans.

xoxo