This is not an apology.
My last post was about bringing my mattress from home to the Dwell house in Atlanta. Since then, my sleep has improved dramatically. I traveled to Johnson City for Easter, went on a regional retreat with the other YAV sites (more on that later, I hope!), wrote an article for The Lookout, began an online grant writing class, participated in the MARTA scavenger hunt, went to the zoo, and applied for 16 jobs.
The days fly by. Monday turns to Friday, and the weekend is over before I can turn around. It’s almost July, and soon this year will be over. My tagline for this blog is, “I’m home anywhere, if you are where I am,” a quote from Rich Mullins, one of my fathers in the faith. Atlanta does not feel like home.
I ache for Johnson City, for the faith community I left there, for the men and women who nurtured, taught, and loved me. I was learning, growing, teaching, creating; I felt like myself there.
I don’t mean to sound melodramatic. All the skills and abilities I thought I had to offer, all the things I was good at and learned in seminary–I haven’t used them. It seems like no one wants me to.
I am doubting my call. My silence is full of anxiety and I am alone.
I do have other news to share with you, friends. I’m planning to go back and fill in the blog with some stories from my adventures: the MARTA scavenger hunt, the regional retreat to Americus, GA. Until then!