ocho mule

stairwell accompaniment:Ben Folds

Ah, I just want to write! Write and update and allow the words to be my megaphone to this world that seems so hush-hush. So many thoughts to expand, so many questions to face, and oh, so many emotions to channel through these alphabet keys!
What I should be doing is studying, packing, lesson planning, cleaning. My attention span wanes even as I speak. A glittering second and it's on to something new. It seems to me lately that my compusive to-do-list-making has become like a thick, curly mullet upon my shoulders--weighing heavily. (that one's for you MH) And it's now in life that I sink so far into someone who is far from who I hope to be.
Obligation is that heavily armed enemy I face with my chinked armor and crooked sword and lately I've found myself frustrated by the commitments and ministries and do-gooding and...and obligations that have so long kept me from the actual, tangible, transparent relationship building my soul longs for! Where is the deep caring, the honest concern, the conversation over coffee, the dinner parties with wine and talk of our less-guarded hearts? Because the feeling that I don't have the time to invest in people is so disarming. I hate it.
And so my commitments will become less. My "ministries" will become individual. My obligations turn into desires. And finally, finally, finally I will pour it all into what will last.
I am Jack's early-20's awakening.

And I will bid a final, lackluster, and less that emotional adieu to the O-H and set sail for the South of Dakota. Rosebud Indian Reservation. And I leave with the hope that the road will change my sights, my companions will advance my transparency, my labor will shift my focus and that my God will break my heart. Brokenness with the expectation that He makes all things new.