empty

This past Saturday was moving day. May 21^st, 2011: instead of the world coming to an end, my own little world was sorted through, packed up and shipped to Wheaton, Illinois. I was also very sick this weekend. I felt as though I had been emptied of almost everything previously swallowed up the week prior. It’s funny when life parallels itself like that. Funny, and in this case, terribly inconvenient. I would gather strength to stand up, pack a couple boxes, and lie down again drowning myself in Gatorade and saltine crackers. Even though this soon turned into a grueling process, it meant so much to me to pack up the things that made 3958 E. Cat Balue Drive home. Packing with my own hands, listening only to the quiet murmur of my thoughts; remembering, going overboard with sentimental imagery, and continually thanking God in soft prayers for the ways he molded us in that house. As boxes piled up, the walls grew bare, I began to feel as hollow as the house. Feeling, noticing, and running on empty.

If you’re a fan of Meg Ryan in RomCom movies, chances are we’d be good friends. There is a scene in You’ve Got Mail towards the end where her character, Kathleen Kelly, gently glides her fingers along the shelves of her emptied bookstore. As she narrates, the scene fades into her apartment. With a bowl of cereal in hand, she walks through her sunny bedroom- furnished beautifully with a cozy bed and several nice-looking chairs and chooses a seat on the floor in the corner. What I always thought was a silly, unimportant scene suddenly resurrected itself in my mind in a nourishing, relatable way. I feel like sitting in the corner to think a little bit deeper and a little bit longer about the past eighteen months. Why? Because they were good. These months have shaped, stretched and even scolded me more than any other in my twenty-five years.

I have been humbled by a job that doesn’t always have a black or white solution to problems. I have been shocked by several of my own issues that would have only been brave enough to surface if secured by the covenant of marriage. I have prayed for people and have had people pray over me. I have learned from teenagers, taught adults, and studied people in a way that leaves me convinced God not only made us, but he loves us enough to make us different. I have been poured into time, and time, and time again. I am filled up to my brim. And that is precisely why I feel empty.

My life is ‘pinch-me’ good. It rocks. Not gonna lie. And though I am on the edge of my seat awaiting this next chapter, I feel so honored, so grateful, so moved that God allowed me multiple years in this place. Desert often gets a bad rep. But the tapestry of my life in Arizona is living proof that time spent well in the desert soaks up more fruit-bearing, river-flowing life than perhaps anywhere else.

So if you know me from Arizona, and you know who you are: thanks for the sweetest bites of life I have ever tasted. Even though there will never be an end, the time seems right to say thank you from the bottom of my full and hallowed heart.