I spent last Friday night in the Las Vegas.
This Friday night I’m in Chicago.
Next Friday night I’ll be in California (Lord willing).
The Friday after that I’ll be in Longmont, Colorado (again, Lord willing).
For all of these places and the situations they represent, I am blessed. But right now, in the middle, I’m lost in the confusion of boxes and boarding passes and goodbyes.
You’d think I’d be used to it by now: the imminent moving, perpetual transition, constant change, a reality I am well acquainted with. But I am not.
I feel the tension in my shortened breaths. When will I finally land?
I see the weariness in my tired eyes. Is there a place to rest my bones?
Perhaps it’s more difficult to ignore the chronic sense of being a wanderer,
when your physical reality matches the steady, same feelings.
This May, they are one in the same.
So I’ll pack the suitcases again, gathering notes and shoes and papers and strength to keep walking, and thank God for the change in scenery.
I’ll turn of the computer, and visit the roof as often as needed.
I’ll fill the storage bins, buy the tickets, and take it one thing at a time.
One conversation at a time,
one morning at a time,
one breath at a time.
In Vegas, Jesus.
In Chicago, Jesus.
In California, Jesus.
In Colorado, Jesus.
Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change He will remain.