Sometimes I wish I didn’t feel the urge to write because normally what follows it is the unbelievably annoying nagging feeling that I cannot give up until I put words to a page that aren’t backspaced or deleted.
Writing is something that comes so naturally to me when my brain is working in the proper creative way that it is supposed too; but then again when I just let my mind and fingers directly colliding with each other with the middleman of an outline I find that I get the truest words out.
I’ve been in Bellingham for 13 days now. Thursday starts week 3. And I don’t think–outside of emails– I’ve written anything. A friend asked me today what I needed prayer for in this transition and I said “a creative space”.
But I realized a little later, after cooking dinner and folding clothes that I need to start realizing that I create all the time. That just by my spirit being in this place it is a “creative space”.
It’s difficult to realize that sometimes. It’s difficult to realize that our presence in a room brings something to it, that who we are changes the atmosphere. I think that it has been the most difficult for me in this place because for the first time in about 3 years I technically do have ownership over a place. My name is on a lease.
That’s a hard thing to wrap my mind around. That this place, that I wake up in and come back after work, this place that has already been flooded with Holy Spirit and laughter and food and joy, is mine.
I’ve missed that. I’ve missed laying my head down in a place that I can call my own. I’ve missed feeling ownership over a place.
And I think all of those things is why it took me a moment to realize that I’m no longer in a place where I am preparing to leave.
We move through our high school, college and post college life mostly preparing to move. Preparing to change schools, go to grad school, get a raise. We are so quick to get out of a season and go to the next.
I’ve always grab the phrase that was spoken to me so many times by the wise Betsy “present over perfect”, but now the hit me because in all honesty there is nothing my mind is grappling with outside the everyday (family, friends, work, etc.).
I’m not preparing to leave.
I’m just living.
Living in my own space, with my people.
That’s a big word, that has rolled around in my head more then I’d care to admit.
I think I had forgotten how to just live.
Bellingham is different then any other place I’ve ever laid my head for an extended period of time.
And that’s wonderful.
And I think it’s perfect for me to begin to live in this way, in this place, as who I know I am to be.
I’ll never forget the first time I met someone who would end up being a college roommate of mine. I was in the elevators in Catalina Hall during music camp and I gleefully introduced myself to Deanna. Because I had chosen to be outgoing and put a new foot forward.
But here, I don’t have to put a new foot forward.
I just have to put myself.
This has been a ramble, an attempt to hit the things that have been circling in my mind.
Bellingham is good.
I’m realizing it’s for me. I’m choosing to live.
And I’m me.
2 responses to “so, I can store the suitcase?”
I’m honored to do this with you, friend. You are creative space. You are home and peace and whimsy and life. I have nothing right now but gratitude that I get to wade through this water with you and watch this thing get built. You’re words are full and alive. Keep on!
Little chick emoji. Alien emoji. Always.