lights will guide you home and ignite your bones

It's not who I am underneath.

Just a doodle I cooked up at dinner. Think nothing of it.

I’ve discovered cardigans this week. You don’t care. I do. They’re some of the most comfortable things I’ve ever worn.

I’ve started to wonder why I don’t celebrate my own progress. I still don’t know why, but I’ve decided to. I’ve decided to be at peace with the fact that, until I shuffle off of this mortal coil, I am a work in progress and I need to treasure every step forward I take.

It’s been a year since I left Life Church – 25 years old with a minimum-wage part-time job at the only growing video rental store in the entire country. I want to say the year flew by – and it did – but it almost feels like I’ve been here forever. Time limbo.

Goodness. And before that, I’d already given up. On everything. Everything. It’s hard not to wish that I could go back in time and talk to my past self and say, “Hang in there. It gets so much better.” And there would be proof and I’d have something to shoot for. Think of all the depression, self-pity, and brooding I wouldn’t have wasted my time on.

24|25-year old me could have used a pep talk from today guy. I’m 26 with two great jobs (well, one great job and another job that is easy and pays well enough that I really can’t hate it), living on my own in a bustling (read: noisy) college town doing all the things that I love except for disc golf. Because the courses here suck. For the first time in so very long, I’m happy and I’m at peace. God is good, and has never not been good in my life. It’s not that I never knew that – it’s that I believe it so unabashedly now when I see what He did for me in such a short time.

To think that every single thought, idea, and choice, led to this moment.

This moment, sitting in a Starbucks, listening to “Fix You” and trying to drown out the obnoxious college freshmen girls sitting in front of me.

For the love of all that is good, shut up. I can’t hear myself think.

i am iron bat duh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuuh nuuhh nuuhh nuuhh

Are Viking funerals legal in the United States? It just sounds like something I’d want for myself.

Time.

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