Writing when I have nothing to say

It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything new...well, “awhile” by my standards. These late spring days have been full of work, rushed evenings of exercise, bills, grad school details, and periodic evenings of rest. I have been able to carve out some time to begin to tackle books that have long been collecting dust in my “need to read pile”. Writing has taken a backseat while I’ve also been processing a lot of strong sensory memories-feeling like “I’m there”—back to walking the dirt covered sidewalks, alleys, the maze of Kibera, and in equal poignancy—chatting in the mid-summer breeze, fingers chilled as they grasp a cool drink in contrast to the warm fire smiling and laughing—I alternate between snapshots of my friend and cousin who are no longer here.

                Tonight as I cleared my head—cooling off as I briskly walked around my block, squinting into the sunset—I was struck that my writing doesn’t always have to be profound—it has to be transparent and real. Wearing my heart on my proverbial sleeve means I don’t hold in the ugly, the hurt, the confusing reality of life, death, hunger and plenty. Every life, each day, matters.  Yesterday, in the midst of the bustle of the classroom; the distinct sounds of laughter, swings squeaking as they swayed, and balls bouncing—I looked into the deep chocolate eyes of a very special young man—one whose laughter lights up a room and whose care-free running causes contagious smiles—and for a moment our eyes locked. In that instant I had the rare assurance that I was exactly where I was supposed to be and doing exactly what I am called to. Each day, the people I am with—they are what make life profound because each moment has eternal meaning.

                Finally, the last of my reverie passed in long shadows behind me, I looked up from the sidewalk, inhaled the fresh sun-filled air, and as  I turned toward home I realized that the confidence in my faith and where I am at has quietly dawned and settled in my soul this week. I knew that today I brought and received joy. I shared in victories and danced with kiddos as we hopped over concrete lines and appreciated the warm sunny day. Today, and every day, I have a life worth writing about.