Day 220: July 19

Plane at night

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.

Day 252: August 20

You failed.

You set out to learn something new each day of your twenty-fifth year, recording the details for the world to know (even though no one asked for this information), and you didn’t do it. Well, I should say, you didn’t record the details as you promised, it’s clear, even if only to you, that you’ve done the learning part.

But you failed to report it. To name it. To translate it into a takeable, buzzfeed-like list. And this bothers you. You think you can still do it. You think that this failure somehow matters to a larger audience. You’re thinking, yes, but…

Yes, but I can still piece it together.

Yes, but I can look at my instagram, my twitter, my facebook, and my email.

Yes, but I can get the details together. I can finish this project. I can catch up on over 200 days of living and learning and wrap it all up in the next 100.

Yes, but why?

Seriously, Dude. What’s your deal here? What is it you’re really learning from the day-to-day operations of your quiet, albeit lovely, life that the world needs to know?