One by One

It’s been rather a long while since I came here to write. This is mostly due to the fact that I went to WOW Camp, Guatemala, and California in nearly consecutive weeks, leaving me not only with limited time in which to write, but also too few moments to think about all the many things that I could write about, tell you about.

I sometimes come to a quiet moment, a time that seems made for writing, a time when I pull my computer onto my lap and open the WordPress page. But I don’t go farther than that, often, because I can’t remember what I told you about WOW Camp, and I know we’ve barely spoken about Guatemala, and then there was California, and I’m not even sure what was important, what I loved, what I want to tell you, about each of those unique sets of seven days.

Seven days WOW.

Seven days Guatemala.

Seven days California.

Twenty-one days with hours and hours inside each day; hours to live and breathe and see and work and learn and grow and wonder.

And I’ve no idea what to tell you.

I’d like to know. I’d like to know what was important, what I’ll return to again and again; what I’ll come back to these pages to read over once more.

But I don’t. Yet.

That takes reflection, I suppose. Time to sit and think, scribble notes in the notebook of life and thoughts and dreams and prayers that I’ve carried to each place, tucked in my backpack, yet not opened.

And maybe, after this week of second grade Vacation Bible School, after another seven days in Michigan, I’ll have the stories and the pictures and the words will take shape in this WordPress box, forming the shapes and the grooves, the bumps and the corners of the days I’ve lived.

Maybe, after yet more days, I’ll shake the dice of all these trips, roll all the days and the words and the scene out before me, and they’ll come out arranged, aligned, in order; a large straight.

Or maybe they won’t.

Stories might appear one by one, disordered, jumbled together yet clear in their own. And I’ll consider them, carry them around with me like the pennies I keep in my coat pocket. I’ll turn them over and over in my hands, weigh them, think about them.

And piece by piece, I’ll write them here. For me, and for you.



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