so many thoughts in my head

this is what happens now that I don't have schoolwork to occupy my time.

1.) last week was a bit discouraging at work. I felt like I was disappointing my boss, etc., etc. The Housemate gave me a rousing peptalk and said, "well, emily, at least you aren't delinquent."

right. as long as I just keep showing up. just keep going, I told myself. no feeling is final. and wouldn't you know, both The Housemate and Rilke were right.

2.) sometimes I despair of ever being as wise as the family I come from. when I was home the other weekend I was talking with my dad about some of my questions and thoughts and fears about money, power, growing-into-a-person-I-won't-like...

I think Bethesda is so weird, sometimes; driving along River Road down to the C&O Canal is weird. I've got no other word for it. I think about what River Road means in Lancaster, that drive down to the Susquehanna; "trailer trash," banks of weeds, the muddy waters of the Pequea running sluggishly with kids floating in inner tubes. Here, River Road means wealth, the kind of money that buys you thousands of square feet on each floor, turrets and gated driveways and double rows of pine trees planted between your property and everyone else.

I say these things to my dad, and he says, "don't paint with too broad a brush."

he says, "it's like what Paul wrote, about being content when you have little and content when you have much."

is it really so easy? I thought, jiggling my leg anxiously under the table. the thought's been sticking in my head these pasts several days. it can't be that easy. but yes, maybe - it could be -

Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. 

(Philippians 4:11-14, The Message)

3.) ...and man, I love when thoughts about God and how to live and this really important stuff intersects with art and poetry. 

Our hands full or not:

The same abundance.

Our eyes open or shut:

The same light.

-Yves Bonnefoy

4.) I also despair of ever being as awesome as my grandparents, who have, for a time, extended a very generous helping hand to some folks in need. Oddly enough, one of the things that's been banging around in my head in regards to this (quite interesting) development in my family's life is a quote from Tolkien's The Two Towers. Funny, how those books stick with you.

"One who cannot cast away a treasure at need is in fetters."

I am constantly having this feeling that I am almost seeing what God is saying about the kingdom being at hand. It still doesn't quite make sense; it still is hazy, like far-off mountains on the day of a summer storm. 

But it is coming in to focus, and the bits I am seeing keep hinting that it is like what Linford told me, one time on cross-cultural, maybe even on the streets of Damascus (oh, unreal city, may peace visit your streets). That  abundant life is found in giving things away, giving your life away.

...In the re-creation of the world, when the Son of Man will rule gloriously,

you who have followed me will also rule...and not only you, but anyone who sacrifices home, family, fields - whatever - because of me will get it all back a hundred times over, not to mention the considerable bonus of eternal life. This is the Great Reversal: many of the first ending up last, and the last first.

(Matthew 19:28-30, The Message)

5.) Sometimes at the end of a day of work I remember a little sticky note I saw tacked up on the Redmond House fridge. "Everyone wants to start the revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes."

Ah, adult life. How tedious and boring you can be! May I learn patience and perseverance in the midst of this dryness. 

6.) "I'm feeling like it's time for a blog post," said The Housemate. 

"Yes," I said, "I think so, too."