(xaris and shalom)

Today, after church, we loaded the trailer and locked it up, like we do every Sunday.  And then I took my key off the key ring and handed it to Chris M. It was a bit of a sad moment for me.  I've gotten to be a worship coordinator, helping to make sure that everything (set up, tear down, and during the service) goes smoothly, for about a year and a half. I remember when Cruz started training me, back in the middle of winter, back when we met at Harmony rather than the Convention Center.  There have been a lot of Sundays in between that one and this one -- a few that were really memorable. Some were memorable because things went wrong.  Minor things, like when the grape juice was all frozen and we needed it for communion.  (Hazards of leaving everything in a trailer).  Serious things, like when Ruby slammed her thumb in the door (hello, compound fracture), or right after we moved locations and it took so long to tear down that I called my family afterwards, nearly in tears f

This girl, man. She showed up in my kitchen on Saturday, jumping out and surprising me for about .8 seconds before my mind reconciled itself with the fact that she was in Bloomington and not in PA as I thought.  Because it feels pretty natural and right to me that my sister is where I live.   And then I got a weekend of showing her around Bloomington, of introducing her to some of the people who I love so dearly, and they loved her too.  (Of course.) We ate soup and ice cream and drank wine and root beer.  We walked around town and played with the cats and watched a movie and checked Facebook together.  We stayed up late and told stories and went shopping and laughed a lot, like always. Abbie and I -- we are completely different people, completely dissimilar in so many ways.  I think it's fair to say that if we weren't sisters, we would not have been friends, because we would have been unaware of each other's existence, running in different circ

I have the curious sensation, this summer, of all of these gears spinning and moving, needing to fit together so that the machine runs smoothly.  Classwork.  Paperwork.  Fundraising.  Travel logistics.  Finding homes for all of my stuff.  Crumble.  Time with friends and family.  Impending goodbyes. Having set dates does not, necessarily, make that easier. But when my heart flails and protests at how quickly time is passing, I remind myself that really, I would not be happier if I had two extra weeks in Bloomington.  I hate just about any type of transition, and it's okay to be sad. So that's the one part of how I'm feeling.  To steal Imagine Dragon's words: ... I been living in the fast lane Can't slow down, I'm a rolling freight train... I am the color of boom. I feel like the color of boom.  (And I kind of want to start packing right now too.   Not until June , I tell myself.   Wait. ) On the other hand, I feel like I am getting to stand still