Day 220: July 19

What do you write after you’ve written the one thing you set out to write? What do you say when there aren’t any words left because the world is a place where planes crash and grandmothers die and there’s nothing you can do about any of that?

What new things do you have to offer the world when God has you in a place that doesn’t make sense and yet He says stay. Stay. Stay here. Right here. I’ll be back soon.

And you know He’s not really gone, but it kind of feels like He is. It feels like He’s absent from your days. And He’s definitely missed at night. And when planes fall from the sky, it feels like everyone is absent and gone and your dreams start to blend with your life in uncomfortable ways.

But you know enough to know that’s a little melodramatic. Still, that’s how it feels.

You confess this to people you still aren’t sure you can trust and they say, it sounds like the Matrix, Man. You say you haven’t seen it, and the conversation digresses: How are you 25 and haven’t seen the Matrix?

Translation: Twenty-five is trying to reconcile a God you believe in and planes falling from the sky and trying to connect with people on a deeper level than references to the Matrix.

It’s probably also seeing The Matrix if only to understand why everyone references it when you start talking about the complexities of the world and the ways it confuses you.

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Writer’s Note: This post is part of a larger series called “Learning Twenty-Five.”