Wild, Wonderful Things

It's November 4th again.

Except this time, I'm 21.

And I'm searching for something profound to say —

something important —

but there's nothing particularly poetic about

a regular Wednesday afternoon.

Maybe that's what I learned this year:

to celebrate the ordinary moments too.

Praise the quiet car ride to my house.

The way the moon looks on a clear night.

Drinking peppermint tea before bedtime.

Sitting on the porch and watching the seasons change.

Praise the mundane, mild, silent things. Praise the waiting.

. . .

Today I woke up in the Appalachian foothills

and thought about how I am a tiny dust speck

in a universe of exploding supernovas.

All this vastness

and I am still trying to find my place.

. . .

It's November 4th again.

I bought a six pack of beer at Kroger.

Looked at myself in the bathroom mirror

and forgave my old self.

Sat by the fire and finally let go of him.

This is me, trying to be brave with my life.

Saying "yes" to the things that terrify me.

Every day a million of our cells die

and our body replaces them with new ones.

Maybe change is a good thing.

I'm asking God that this next year would be

about knowing him intimately.

I want more softness, vulnerability, and humility.

It's November 4th again

and I'm blowing out birthday candles

and crying in the car

and trusting that 21 will hold even more

wild, wonderful things.