five minutes of freewrite

Today is one for recovery. To the south, my neighbors are returning to their homes, cringing with what they might find. Do I have any idea what that would feel like? No. And I pray I never do. Hopefully, Mitch's grandparents' home is okay. I would never want to see the looks on their faces if it was badly damaged.

Crying is such a natural thing and it is good. I know God's thoughts are higher and more eloquent than this, but I can just imagine him creating mankind and thinking, "They must have some way to shed their excess anxieties and sadness. Some natural catharsis. Some satisfying release when life breaks their heart. Some act that postures them toward repentance and reconciliation. Something that keeps them real."

Today I will go to church at Incarnation, after a brief reading stop at Crooked Tree Coffee House. Alone, I am still great company, but I do wish for Mitch, as well. He enhances every activity. He makes things more beautiful. Yet, for as little wisdom as I do possess, I know for sure that this period of letters, phone calls, and long distances is sweet, sweet indeed. How he reminds me of the steadfastness of the Lord. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.