Hmmm... I feel like I need to write. Like I want to write...and yet nothing comes.

The fish tank's water is low so the gentle trickle is more like a giant river rushing. It makes for an atmosphere that is, at the same time, really relaxing and stressful and loud.

I've been joking a lot lately about my "mid-life crisis" which isn't so much a mid-life crisis as an "after the storm settles and I adjust to my new reality" thing. It's not even a crisis. It just really looks similar.

I feel like God wants to take me somewhere, but I don't know where so I keep sticking my hand, or heart, into a new desire or idea. I decide to run marathons, play the drums, dye my hair, plant a garden... a whole lot of non-sequiters, just bouncing around in my head.

And I am torn between hating them and being excited by them. Torn between fearing falling into a cycle where I busy myself to avoid feeling things or establish some feeling of self-worth, or just jumping in and expecting God to catch me.

I honestly don't know which is more honest or more accurate.

I'm trying to remind myself to enter into the stillness. To sit and listen and feel. To truly allow God to envelope me and love me. I know I have been keeping Him a bit distant, and I really don't know why. Except that, maybe, I'm just a little tired of feeling so much.
I have been a fan of the Calvin & Hobbes comic strips for, well, I think for as long as they have existed.

The way Watterson uses the vivid imagination and simple, yet profound, logic of a six year old boy to impress the hearts and minds of adults amazes me.

There is one strip that has moved me as a parent, and as someone who has lost someone I love... I was reminded of it today...

The Raccoon...get your tissues.
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