where waves grow sweet

In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You, Lord, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust. Psalm 4:8

I’m on a flight from Baltimore to L.A.  Next to me, almost lying on my shoulder, is a woman wrapped in an enormous floral towel, sleeping deeply. The woman in front of me is fully reclined, pushing my laptop against my body and causing me to type like an old lady with bad vision and curved hands. The flight attendant is walking down the aisle with a three-year old helper and a trash bag chanting, “reduce, reuse, recycle.” The Office is playing on the row of TV’s above the seats, each with the same picture but a different hue, like an Andy Warhol painting. I love to travel.

Fairest Karen & Katherine

Gino & grown-up Elisabeth

The time with Gino and Karen in Maryland was so good for my soul. The conversations were rich and real, as always. I met my four-month old niece, Katherine, held her chubby body, and rubbed my lips on her chicky fuzz head. I laughed with my four-year old niece, Elisabeth, as we made up funny, unflattering stories about her daddy and read silly library books. We drove to Annapolis, ate crab chowder, and took a “beach” trip to the Severn River just a few blocks from the house. The trees were everywhere, wrapped up in leaves and vines, causing everything to be as green as I picture heaven. I was tempted, if ever so briefly, to pack up our stuff and live with them in their lush, humid land.

Ten days away from home has seemed like a long journey. It’s almost as if I’m a different person than when I left. I feel old and kinda worn, like Mickey Rourke in the Wrestler. Not because of hard living, excessive tanning beds, and steroids. More because of a working out of my faith, wrestling through the things that have kept me from the kind of trust I want to have and the freedom that goes with it. But peace is coming to my heart and I’m ready to go home. Which is good, since I’m almost there.