All year I've been looking forward to my fourth of July pancakes. Even though I'm gluten intolerant, even though I have a massive headache now, there's nothing like lining up on the sidewalk in downtown Boulder Creek early in the morning for the volunteer fire department's annual pancake breakfast.
After savoring golden pancakes with syrup and real butter (no wonder they taste better than any I've ever made), my family waddled to a balcony and watched the parade. Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, random people in red, white and blue, local dogs, and the Jazzercise class pushing patriotic shopping carts. I knew I was home.
I need to be home, to catch up with the laundry and myself after two weeks of being filled to the brim with stories of people and churches in ministry, with soul-sparked writing, with ideas for leadership, ministry and bringing hope into this world so in need of Good News.
Tonight I will sit in a parking lot with my husband and watch fireworks explode and cascade from the sky. I never imagined my life would be so vibrant, filled with light and color!
Here is one of the pieces I wrote at last week's Amherst Writers and Artists training, dedicated with gratitude to all of you sharing this life journey with me.
“To become one's self is so exhausting.” --Henri Cole
It’s the best kind of exhaustion, knowing that we are listening to the leanings of the universe, the desires of the creative force that surrounds and sustains us. I call it God because that’s what I do—name things, and in doing so, name and claim myself.
Woman––Wife––Mother––Daughter––until recently, Granddaughter––Writer––Writer––Person in Ministry––Writer––Writer––now, Leader, specifically AWA leader.
There are moments when I ask, “Can’t I take a break from the journey, sit on a rock by the side of a trail, eating gorp?”
The answer is, “Yes.”
But then, because the world conspires for good, someone walks toward me. I rise and begin walking again. This time, I have a companion. We lead. We follow. We learn. We rest. We become who we were born to be.