it was a week of… fullness. what other word can i use to describe long hours spent at an office, coming home to only grab a bag and promptly run out the door to the next scheduled thing? but despite all that fullness i managed to spend two entire evenings at home. this is quite good for me. but i’m not saying anything about my full week — i’m not saying it was bad or good. i’m rather indifferent right now as i sort through things.
i complain about being busy and i complain when i’m not busy. i just complain too much.
part of me knows that i’m discontent and i tell myself that whenever i move on to the next season everything will change. i’ll be happy with whatever i’m doing, i’ll never complain, i’ll be okay with whatever state of fullness my weeks are.
but mostly, i know that if i don’t learn to be content now, to not complain, to be thankful with whatever i’m given, then i’ll never have those things. no season is ever perfect — is never exactly what you wanted or dreamed it would be. although i’m itchy to get the move on, to start something new, i’m also starting to realize that i could grow just as bored of whatever it is as i am now.
“there is a reason the verse says, i have ‘LEARNED’ to be content and not just i have ‘become.'” my friend from tennessee reminded me of this the other day. there’s a process to becoming content, a growing of character, a pruning of immaturities, and it doesn’t just happen.
growing. i’m a bit tired of all the pruning and shaping that’s been taking place. it’s rather exhausting to be constantly realizing where one falls short and working on all the growing up stuff.
but it’s good for me. and it’s the season i am in. i will learn to be content.
i’ve been thinking of warm wool sweaters, candles, and apple desserts recently. but there’s more to fall than just that.
maybe it’s that it’s september or maybe it’s that i rather wish he was around for me to talk to, but i’ve been missing him. so much. recently i’ve had so much in my head, so many wonderings in my heart and i wonder who would want to sit by my side for a few hours and listen to the sporadic nothings that are always there. but i know he would’ve — he always did. there were countless times where we’d sit on the steps at church and talk about what was important and talk about nothing at all. it never did matter that i was years younger and that at one time the only interaction we had was when he’d make fun of my speech impediment in front of a group — he was my friend.
yeah. i miss him.