Just Hours Away

Sometimes life is concrete, and sometimes it’s more like nebulous clouds. Most of life is mundane waiting. Few times in life are there big moments that you know will change your life before you hit them. Sometimes you know they’ll change your life, but while in the moment, they feel like nebulous clouds.

This past week was a very concrete week. I actually had an intellectually stimulating conversation about concreteness with one of my coworkers. A director in Alabama told him once that concreteness is the key to real interest. A fellow actress had said that her biggest desire was to perform in Les Mis on Broadway. The director told her flatly that her desire was a huge waste of time. A better desire would be to get home at 5:00 and take an ice cream sandwich out of the freezer. That type of desire changes you: it changes the way you act and how you think.

Tomorrow at 4:45 in the morning, I am catching a plane in Charlotte and going to Boston. From Boston I will be flying to London by way of Iceland. I will be in London for a grand total of seven days. I will be in Paris for three. I am the only person in my immediate family to ever travel overseas. I think I should be giddy or nervous or maybe a mixture of both. But I still feel like my concrete life will happen again tomorrow like it always does. I will wake up at 6:40, arrive at work by 7:55, and sit at my desk until 5:00.

As I look forward to tomorrow and look back at this past week, I realize that this week has been one huge “first” for me. On Monday night I discovered that my project on Tuesday was going to flop. The “art performance piece,” as it was called, relied completely on the Internet and a projector. Monday night revealed that the Internet did not work, and my computer could not hook up to the projector. Miraculously, I did not freak out. That would be my first first of the week. Tuesday night I went to my friend’s theater in Greer and brought a new friend with me. We were there to learn something new, and learn we did, but not without great pain and humiliation. Tonight I finished moving all my stuff into my new apartment. And all of a sudden, I realized that I am happy. Genuinely. However many months ago when Fishie swam away, I never thought I could be completely happy again. I thought that even if I had a moment of happiness, the moment would still be clouded by pain and fear. But today I am completely happy. I am going to a new world, and when I come back I will have a new home. A few months after that, I begin a new job. And I have already made a new friend–one who I think will stick with me no matter how rotten I am.

For the first time in a long time, I feel the love of God. I feel the hope He gives. I feel His presence. Feelings come and go, but God never changes. He is my friend who will stick closer than a brother.


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