Coming home.

It's been too long since I've written in this blog. It's been too long since I've written at all. And writing used to be my life.

So it's time to come home.

Lately my head has been a jumble of words and phrases and places and mistakes. Not a day goes by that I don't find myself frantically writing something down, be it 2 in the afternoon or 3 in the morning. I've got an ever-growing collection of tiny scraps of paper -- strips of tests and homework assignments and receipts and restaurant napkins -- folded and double folded with a few senseless sentences written within.
I can't wash clothes without finding more thoughts and feelings than I know what to do with.
My desktop is a maze of untitled TextEdit documents just waiting to be opened and sorted through and ripped apart to be reassembled into another document, only this time, titled.
I'll continue to edit and re-edit that piece too.

But is editing about perfection, or about censorship? Aren't the original mistakes within a work part of it's beauty? Those mistakes tell you more about the creator than any amount of afterthought can. But this, coming from a die-hard editor and over-analyzer. I've backspaced and rewritten more than half of this entry already. I guess the only people who can really appreciate the beauty of a work are the people who have seen it grow from a tangled mess to something sensible and tangible and real.

I wonder if that's how God sees us. These visible messes who have fully grasped our free will and continually progress from what we once were to whatever we have chosen to be.

That's one beautiful mess.

And what if that was God's big plan for us all along?
God doesn't have a grocery list of ingredients for each of our lives. He has an ultimate goal, happiness, reached through a single means, love. What if he doesn't care how we attain that happiness, as long as we do it with love at all times? Love for Him and for others and for ourselves. An honest, passionate and forgiving love.

Let love be sincere.

And I've spent the past two years of my life trying desperately to wring purpose from the words and intentions of the people around me. I've begged God for direction, and gotten full scale silence. Or at least, what I thought was silence.
But it was just me brushing off his response, and making things more complicated than they are.
Happiness. That's the bottom line.
Happiness at all times.
Overflowing joy.
And now I'm ready for that.

So I'll begin by going back to where it started for me.
I'm going back to my love of language, both written and spoken.
Back to my love for people and their continuous, surprising ability to both break my heart and complete it.
I'm coming home to my love for words worth writing, and days worth living.
These days are always worth living.
And I love that, too.