It's the last week of the Write 31 Days Challenge, and I have pondered quitting many times today. But there are five more days left of writing, and I don't want to quit now. So here I am, on a Tuesday evening at 8:43 pm, typing this blog post before I run off to bed. Maybe I go to bed at 9. Maybe I like to protect my voice.
What I wanted to write about today is how I'm learning to savor where I am. I'm learning to appreciate the place I'm in right here, right now. A lot of times I'm incredibly bad at it. But I want to learn to recognize adventure where I am in this moment, in this apartment, in this school, in this music, in this company. That's the entire purpose of this blog: to remind myself (and you!) that I am surrounded by adventure, and that I need and want to take a moment to appreciate it.
Part of the way I'm learning to savor where I am is by paying attention to the things that bring me joy. Noticing those things reminds me of the bigger picture, and that I am wrapped up in something grand and gorgeous. Another way I'm learning to appreciate my current place is simply by acknowledging it, by pausing to say, if only to God, "This is where I am. This is what I want." I may not have the best or holiest desires; nor am I always in the place I would choose for myself. But what God wants is me -- all of me. As I am. He knows where I'm at -- why don't I just talk to Him about it?
When I do that -- when I pour out my heart before the Lord, like it says in the Psalms (my favorite book of the Bible) -- then I am inviting Him to enter all my moments. He's already in them, but when I start to notice that He's in them, the moments become more beautiful to me, by the sheer presence of the God of my life.
And as His light beautifies my life, I notice -- I'm adventuring.
As I acknowledge where I am, but remember that He is with me, I realize that I've been on my own epic journey this whole time and I didn't even know it.
As I begin to savor the places I'm in, in the moments I'm in them, I notice the silk threads of gold and silver woven throughout the tapestry of my life, tying all the wool together into one grand and glorious theme of redemption and beauty from ashes. I notice the way He's working in my life, and I see that all along, I've had the adventure that I craved.
If I had only had eyes to see it.
May we have the eyes to see. May we invite You in, and when we do, may we see the way You're weaving and working. May we finally notice that You've been with us the whole time. May we realize that You've given us adventure, if we only notice.