I‘m not even going to pretend that I didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes reading blogs.
It’s Monday morning, just past 9 a.m., and I’m at work, again. Don’t get me wrong; being at work isn’t a bad thing. It’s just not the best thing. I could think of so many better things this morning, and I guess that’s the reason for the gloom. Either that or it’s the fullness of the love and longing inside my heart.
So after getting the office ready for the day, I opened up all the blogs (my live-update toolbar folder now keeps me simultaneously connected to 21), and I scrolled down the list, hoping to at least hear about the living of the people I love because clearly I can’t be as much a part of it as I wish to be.
Sara Groves sits on the corner of my freshly clean and sparse desk, crooning, “Sometimes things change, sometimes we’re waiting. We need grace either way. Hold on to me; I’ll hold on to you.”
Debbie walks in at twenty-some after 9, and I lazily minimize Firefox and any evidence of non-office work before I walk to her office door to chat. We share our weekends. We discuss midterm grades and what the best way to get the info to advisors will be, trying to not have to print four copies of 80 reports. We analyze the stairwell with its tall empty ugly and its bookshelves, and we make plans for redecoration.
Back in my office, Sara sings, “Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces, calling out the best of who we are.”
I set out the books and papers for the project I was working on last week before I left for Kentucky. I riffle through the pages, trying to focus and make sense.
“I believe you’ll outlive this pain in you heart. And you’ll gain such a strength from what is tearing you apart,” sings Sara.
I want to believe her. I want to be strong.
But I’d rather be put back together again.