Living More

Since uprooting and traveling across half the country from my beloved Oklahoma to the unknown coast (which I still have not gone to see the ocean; I should get on that), starting my first ever paying full time job, and slowly unpacking the numerous boxes in my room...I feel like I do a lot more living.

I come home tired and so ready to be home. But when I think of all that's happened in the day, and then what I can still do after dinner (tea party with my niece, perhaps, or emptying several more boxes and tidying my fantastic room, or cleaning, or a Doctor Who marathon to name a few possibilities), the feeling is a not-quite-formed word of a good thing.

I think it could be... a little less defined by Other.

Obviously some days are more difficult, and sometimes I wonder why on earth I'm on the path I've chosen. At least those are good for reality checks. Yes, I am where I want to be. No, it's not perfect, but...

I'm becoming more myself.

That's what I needed.

I'm exploring. And that's something I've wanted to do for years and years, even before I could imagine having the determination and the guts to actually, positively, this is no longer in my imagination only step out. I'm exploring the world around me, including my new city. I'm exploring the friendships I have, and getting to know new people. I'm exploring who I am. And I believe that this will lead me toward exploring who God is.

But that is a step for another time. For now, this babe out of the womb just needs to know how far her fingers stretch.

I feel more actively involved in life. I don't entirely like being gone from the house for such a long stretch of the day, nor having limited time and energy to pursue my other interests and desires (sigh, writing fiction). But I do like trying on this purpose, the service I provide.

I meet a lot of people every day. People are different. Each one. They are Not Me. And I am Other Than Them. As it should be. And this is teaching me.

And I feel involved in life.

Isn't that a good thing?