Soup and games.

I was strongly tempted to stay home today and do the work I should have done a month ago which is now upon me with fury. Instead, I followed the people down to Camarillo and found blessing and grace in this family that is my own.

What I hope I will remember years from now is a conversation about nothing important with a friend I've known for two weeks who is now a Christian, is a comedy told by brother and sister with hands and quip across the table, is arms akimbo kung fu flying subverted identify the father's band, is sunshine catching with my sisters down the lane, is the past tide repetition of holy holy holy stars crescendoing in the space of two and one.

To be broken at the day's end frightened me. To not have what I want, to want what I cannot have--wanting and having frightened me. But the Lord is merciful. Love is not self-gratification, is not idolatry on a plastic cross, is not digging graves for death without resurrection. Love is patient and kind. Love bears, and believes, and hopes, and endures. Love strives even if striving comes in an unfamiliar shape. This is what I hope I will remember, hours, days, years from now.