A Work in Progress

It’s funny, this constant jumping back-and-forth. The two points are so similar and yet so different, and I find myself using language that makes it all the more confusing.

Where’s “home?” Who am I talking about when I say “our?” What am I referring to when I say “my?” Am I searching for kindred spirits or do I already have a family and all this uncertainty and isolation is just… temporary?

My belongings, too, have taken on an identity of their own. Living out of a seal-able box doesn’t seem normal. Closets are half-empty (or half-full). Humidity variances force me to see “65 degrees” as many different things in many different places. Not to mention the whole Celsius thing. Ahem.

I think I can safely say that at the very least, I’m building my world. My heart is expanding to contain more of beauty, of knowledge, of friendship, and of Jesus. I’m learning how to push out the polluted stuff in favor of fully cherishing that which sanctifies.

As a writer, world-building can come as one of the most exciting parts of sketching a new story. But it’s also super stressful, this being the foundation for which all else will rely upon for strength and stability. In the same way, I find I’m building that foundation now in real life.

I recently heard a speaker say something along those lines. For now, we need to seek out heart-connections. We need to build our faith, polish our armor, and sharpen our swords. That way, when true trouble hits, we’ll be ready, and there will be people around us to help us in our fight.

The armor of God is a powerful thing. In donning it, I’ve only just begun.

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