Pretending

Well, I've enjoyed a completely unplugged week to celebrate the holiday.

We celebrated Thankgiving (multiple times).

We celebreated Isaiah's First Communion.

We ran in a Trail Stomp. What is a Trail Stomp? Weeeeell, it involves lots of mud, biting wind, poorly marked paths, and me- with a 30 pound toddler strapped to my chest, getting lost and ending up on the "Extreme Trail." To top it all off, I lost my camera and couldn't photograph the evidence- several pounds of mud caked on my butt.

Nice.

And I've gained 2 pounds.

Now I am sitting on my 2nd favorite chair, in our 'old house,' trying to decide exactly how much I miss Kansas. I'm glad the house hasn't sold so I could come back and feel it again.

If I pretend we never left, it feels suffocating. If I pretend we never come back here again, it aches. If I pretend we come back here for good once we're done wandering, it feels just a bit restless.

And I'm reminded of the words of St. Therese in Story of a Soul, 'This life is nothing but endless aching and sorrow; so many chains of bittersweet goodbyes.'

Er, she wrote something like that. My library is a thousand miles away at the moment, so I can't look up the exact quote.

I suppose it's a special privelege for a Christian, to feel oneself as never-quite-at-home. It keeps one hyper-aware of the fact that this world never will be our True Home.

Good for the soul, but kinda hard on the psyche...


"How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one goes they hold you - you leave little bits of yourself fluttering on the fences - like rags and shreds of your very life."
~Katherine Mansfield