Tonight the sky looked like a peach tea bag that had just hit hot water. Oranges and pinks melted into the Puget Sound and a row of wood pilings sprouted from the water creating vertical silhouettes that lined the Tacoma waterfront. Ruston Way is just a short distance from my sister’s house in the old Proctor district. Tonight I ran over hills, down to the waters’ edge. When I run, I tend to process. I venture into introspective realms, linger in thoughts that are deep, and some that are not so deep. I think. I pray. I recount.
This evening India was on my mind. Typical for me. Especially since I leave in just twenty four days. There is so much to ponder. It is strange preparing to return to an area with such a drastically opposite culture. Tonight I found myself enjoying a Northwest summer evening and not really wanting to leave the Northwest. I’ve been confused on why I’m returning to India, and yet, uncomfortable with the thought of staying put. So I keep moving forward, the days snapping quickly by, each one shorter than the last. Days lately have been question-filled and absent of answers. I have asked God so much, but heard so little in return. Last week, my good friend, Sarah, felt prompted to pray that I “would have peace about the unanswered questions.” I recognize that they are not something to fear, but simultaneously they are also worthy of consideration. Right now I am reading The Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster, a believer who stresses this idea of what he refers to as “contemplative prayer”:
"We must be willing to go down into the recreating silences, into the inner world of contemplation. In their writings, all of the masters of meditation strive to awaken us to the fact that the universe is much larger than we know, that there are vast unexplored inner regions that are just as real as the physical world we know so well. They tell us of exciting possibilities for new life and freedom. They call us to the adventure, to be pioneers in this frontier of the Spirit." (Celebration of Discipline, p. 13.)
This evening on my run I didn’t despise entering the realm of unanswered questions—I let myself stew awhile in the unknown, the undiscovered, the unveiled. As the sun dipped further into the ocean’s edge, I found hope in God’s faithfulness. His close and present touch. His protection over my present and my future. I soaked in a Northwest sunset on a Northwest beach on a Northwest summer evening. I ran back to my sister’s house and laughed hysterically with her as we cooked a delicious dinner of chili topped with fresh avocado cut into little moon-shaped slices. We sipped iced tea at her backyard picnic table and talked until the sky was navy blue. Then we wandered inside to watch a movie on her couch with giant stuffed cushions. India doesn’t have couches with giant stuffed cushions, but for now I am enjoying this moment, sitting close to my sister, one of my dearest friends in the world, breathing deep and finding peace in this place where I’m at.
This evening India was on my mind. Typical for me. Especially since I leave in just twenty four days. There is so much to ponder. It is strange preparing to return to an area with such a drastically opposite culture. Tonight I found myself enjoying a Northwest summer evening and not really wanting to leave the Northwest. I’ve been confused on why I’m returning to India, and yet, uncomfortable with the thought of staying put. So I keep moving forward, the days snapping quickly by, each one shorter than the last. Days lately have been question-filled and absent of answers. I have asked God so much, but heard so little in return. Last week, my good friend, Sarah, felt prompted to pray that I “would have peace about the unanswered questions.” I recognize that they are not something to fear, but simultaneously they are also worthy of consideration. Right now I am reading The Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster, a believer who stresses this idea of what he refers to as “contemplative prayer”:
"We must be willing to go down into the recreating silences, into the inner world of contemplation. In their writings, all of the masters of meditation strive to awaken us to the fact that the universe is much larger than we know, that there are vast unexplored inner regions that are just as real as the physical world we know so well. They tell us of exciting possibilities for new life and freedom. They call us to the adventure, to be pioneers in this frontier of the Spirit." (Celebration of Discipline, p. 13.)
This evening on my run I didn’t despise entering the realm of unanswered questions—I let myself stew awhile in the unknown, the undiscovered, the unveiled. As the sun dipped further into the ocean’s edge, I found hope in God’s faithfulness. His close and present touch. His protection over my present and my future. I soaked in a Northwest sunset on a Northwest beach on a Northwest summer evening. I ran back to my sister’s house and laughed hysterically with her as we cooked a delicious dinner of chili topped with fresh avocado cut into little moon-shaped slices. We sipped iced tea at her backyard picnic table and talked until the sky was navy blue. Then we wandered inside to watch a movie on her couch with giant stuffed cushions. India doesn’t have couches with giant stuffed cushions, but for now I am enjoying this moment, sitting close to my sister, one of my dearest friends in the world, breathing deep and finding peace in this place where I’m at.
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