My Longing

I felt like I returned to a land I lost. A place I once lived with hope high while brokenness drained away down river. The river rolled over my cheeks flowing off of me. While I well, I embraced the new creation. Catching glimpses of the me I was meant to be -- and as the layers were peeled ever so delicately backward, I saw more clearly. Hope flooded my heart with new possibilities. But unknowingly, I entered an almost darker time than before.

Thankfully He stood there to greet me in the midst of it and I knew Him better here. Soot from the past turned white pants to black. He was speaking the ash off of me. But I'd have to climb through the garbage heap to arrive at a new destination, leaving the stain on my back behind. Even as I climbed I thought I'd remain there... I never understood leaving as the point of the picture.

Until now.

Tonight it registered... I bid farewell to what it had become, not what it meant to me at the beginning. And as we sang songs in my sleepy hamlet, windows wide encouraging the succulent breeze of springtime to lavish us with life, I remembered the thing I loved. Here I was low, against the wall, inviting my voice to hold steady the lyric while tears rushed out once again.

This. This is what it used to be. Simplicity and fervor and light. Fellowship and creativity and hope. Intimacy and longing and joy. And these words, they fail me now as the memory was captured in my feelings. But, I felt it. The same feeling which existed then was present now. How? What does it mean to return when I've relinquished my longing for the very space in time when this similar stirring delivered me into a landscape so grand that I physically held my breath? (I couldn't believe how lovely it was.)

But it was real for a few fleeting moments. It was real and true and good. And it mattered, regardless of what anyone may tell you otherwise. It mattered to me.

And I grieve it.

I wonder about tonight though. My curiosity peaked as I encountered the familiar feeling. His presence evident in a small thing, that thing. He reminds me not to despise small beginnings.

Perhaps this is a foreshadowing of things to come. By design, my deepest hopes for what once was are now enveloped in what is to be in the not so distant future. What a beautiful thought which becomes my prayer. And maybe, just maybe, this particular story hasn't reached it's own potential yet.