so the question still remains. whats next? its nearly been two years since i got to texas. can you believe that? two years. and in some ways ive flourished, and in others, im lost wandering the land of always winter.

ive found myself, feeling very lost at times. wondering what im supposed to be doing. why i am here. where the ‘connections’ are that i seem to be missing.

april talked in her blog about the blessing her brother was coming into. the connections he had made. he was finding his place. discovering who he is. i yearn for that.

not to long ago someone said that without a vision, we die. i think it is especially true for guys. we need a goal. a vision to hold the randomness of our lives together. without a goal… without a goal we lose ourselves. we lose our ability to look up, to look beyond ourselves. and we begin to wonder if all we see around us really is all that there is.

its scary when you start to ask those questions. but if youre brave, you allow yourself to face them. althought i must say, i dont always like the answers. answers that tell me i live much of my life in fear. fear of not being good enough. of losing my job. of being the wrong person. of saying the wrong thing. of being unloved.

now i can stand here and point to specific times in my life when each of those fears were birthed. i can tell you how i logically attacked each one. how i developed very intricate strategies and defenses in dealing with them… but honestly, none of it matters.

im hungry. so desperately hungry. hungry for a church to call home. hungry for worship like bethel. to sit behind a sound board again. im hungry for a friend to just be with. hungry for the phone to ring with an invite for some coffee. its the desire to be wanted. to feel valued. to find hope in what one can offer.

we’re all born with the desire to love and be loved. we’re all born with dreams woven deeply into the very core of who we are. and when we allow ourselves to be the most real, those cries are what we hear. cries to worship. calls to dream again.

playing with a thunderstorm, the name of this blog. the name comes from the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. in the part of the book where Aslan has just sacraficed himself to save the prodigal son, the two daughters of eve find Aslans body lying on the stone sacrificial table…. and, well, i’ll let you read it.

the stone table was broken into two pieces by a great crack that ran down it from end to end; and there was no Aslan.“oh oh oh!” cried the two girls, rushing back to the table. “oh its too bad” sobbed lucy; “they might have left the body alone.” “who’s done it?” cried susan. “what does it mean? is it more majic?”

“Yes!” said a great voice behind their backs. “It is more majic.” they turned around. there, shining in the sunrise, larger than they had seen him before, shaking his mane (for it had apparently grown again) stood Aslan himself.

“oh Aslan!” cried both of the children, staring up at him, aslmost as much frightened as they were glad. “aren’t you dead then, dear Aslan?” said lucy.

“Not now” said Aslan.

“you’re not-not a-?” asked susan in a shaky voice. she couldnt bring herslef to say the word ghost. Aslan stooped his golden head and licked her forehead. the warmth of his breath and a rich sort of smell that seemed to hang about his hair came all over her.

“do I look it?” he said.

“oh, you’re real, you’re real! oh Aslan!” cried lucy, and both girls flung themselves upon him and covered him with kisses. “but what does it all mean?” asked susan when they were somewhat calmer.

“it means,” said Aslan, “that though the Witch knew the Deep majic, there is a majic deeper still which she did not know. her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. but if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and darkness before Time dawned, she would have read there a different incantation. she would have known then when a willing victim who had commited no treachery was killed in a traitors stead, the table would crack and death itself would start working backwards. and now-“

“oh yes, now?” said lucy, jumping up and clapping her hands.

“oh, children,” said the Lion, “i feel my strength coming back to me. oh, children, catch me if you can!”

He stood for a second, His eyes very bright, His limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the table. laughing, though she didnt know why, lucy scrambled over it to reach him. Aslan leaped again. a mad chase began. round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautifully velveted paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy laughing heap of fur and arms and legs. it was such a romp as no one has ever had except in Nanria; and wether it was more like playing with a thunderstorm or playing with a kitten lucy could never make up her mind….

so, the rest of the story remains to be written.

im going to dream.
im going to be someone.
im going to find my place.

and i will overcome.

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