Night

I always feel like blogging late at night, when I'm almost ready to go to bed. Then I don't, because, well, I'm tired. And this bed of mine, wow, it calls to me so loudly.

But tonight, I am downstairs, on the comfiest couch in Seattle, looking out over the city, listening to Rosie Thomas' Christmas album. It's my "happy music." I listen to it in the summer--it's that good. She calms me.

Anyway, tonight, after a strange and crazy day of saying goodbye to my boss, I feel so peaceful and thankful and joyful. This last year has been so many things. I don't know where to begin, and am overwhelmed with emotion. I'll write more on that later, when I have had the space.

I love this song, because it repeats, "Christmas come, and please don't be late...Christmas come, can't stand the wait, so please don't be late...Christmas come, the world cannot wait, so please don't be late." I love these lines. For all the doubt and uncertainty and annoyance and anger and confusion I have about faith lately, I still love these lines. For their longing and hope and truth. I feel the ache of the world's broken longing so often. The longing of my own heart for more healing and hope and beauty. Not that this only comes at Christmas. I know it doesn't. Maybe I like it because I don't like being late...

I also don't post at night when I want to go to bed because I feel somewhat incoherent. Who says I need to be?! Okay.

I love Rosie. I love my house. And our view. And my new pizza stone. And my friends and brother and papa and family dinner and Farmor and headbands and comfy couches and late night peace and cozy beds and warm showers and kind words and laughter and Sophia and Hannah and walks and fall colors and really long sentences.

Goodnight! :)

Paradox

I haven't written in a while. Mostly, there seems to be too much to say, or not anything at all. Or I just can't put into words what I think and feel.

I've started a couple posts, only to erase them. I write something and then think, "is that true? Is that how I feel?"

My life feels filled with tensions.

I seek intimacy--yet am so fearful of being exposed.
I want time by myself--yet feel lonely.
I love my job one day--hate going to work the next.
I want direction in my life--yet don't want to commit to anything.
I desire change and stability.
Being with kids feels so joyful and exhausting.
I feel spread thin, and like I have nothing to do.
I don't want to be an adult, and want to be 10 again.
I love laughing and crying.

Ok. Some of these are Ok. There are more, and I can't think of them. But I don't blog because I feel like different Liv's, different days. And it stresses me out because I want to be congruent. I am. But I am not concise. Someone give me a topic--I'll blog about that!