I was at the lake on Saturday night.
Where it was hot. Well, it was hot everywhere, but especially in the cabin.
It had been closed up for a week, so when I entered it was like a furnace blast of hot air hitting me upside the head.
Last night I lay in bed, dripping with sweat. Despite two fans and my window wide open, I could not cool down my room. (Tonight, I'm back in Surrey in my mom's air conditioned mansion, and my toes are like ice.)
I was OK with the heat.
It felt like summer is supposed to feel.
It's a novelty to be uncomfortably warm, so I embraced it.
Twas a scorcher today.
I didn't go down to the water, though, because I'm a moron.
Every cabin/cottage/residence up here was overflowing with people. Everyone had family or friends spending the day with them. The shore was dotted with happy people (and their dogs) of all ages. It's hard to walk into something like that all by yourself.
So I stayed on the deck and then in the yard.
And it was lovely.
I am a lucky girl.
By 9 pm I was on my way back to Surrey.
But it doesn't feel like home.
I don't miss my Murrayville house, but I miss the feeling of 'home'.
I hail from a Mennonite tribe, yo? I was raised to be a home-maker. From the time I was 14 til I was married, all of my birthday gifts were packed away in my hope chest, for my home, 'someday'. I had one and a half sets of formal china (2 different patterns) 3 styles/colors of linen placemats and tablecloths, I had hooked rugs, decorative glasswear, Tiffany glass vases and jugs, decorative plates, everything a person would need to make a house a 'home'. Hahah.
Everything I own (except my laptop, camera, clothes and makeup) is currently packed away. And I don't miss any of it. There is nothing in those 200 boxes that I'm dying to touch. But my life is in there, eh? Photo albums, books, my pandora charm bracelet, art work, memories...
I'm at a weird place in my life.
I met with my banker/financial advisor on Friday and he was like, "Dude. You're having the best life EVER. What an amazing opportunity for you to be able to live this way..."
And yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.
Miss my kids.
Miss living in a house full of my people.
Miss the connection that comes from seeing the people you love more than once a month.
Miss pulling into the driveway and seeing cars in it.
Miss opening the front door and hearing voices and seeing a mess.
(I'm whiney. Ignore me.)
Anyway, like I was saying, I left the lake at 9.
And as I drove along those winding roads through the forest beside the lake and then down to Yarrow, I chatted with God:
I don't know how to pray today.
Do you want to hear me say all those same things again?
Should I list all 'my' people one at a time? And talk to you about them?
You've been with me all weekend, you already know how I feel, what I'm struggling with, what I'm thankful for, who I miss, what I long for, who needs help ....
Then I pulled into the gas station in Yarrow to fill up.
I had the nozzle in my tank, and was leaning back onto my truck when I finally lifted my head up and looked at the sky.
It was glowing.
It felt like I was inside an orange mist.
That, plus the 27 degree air? Was MAGICAL.
I finished my fill up and moved on.
Why don't you just carry on doing what you do?
OH MY GOODNESS WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?
I turned the corner and was at the entrance to the freeway when I found myself in the middle of this:
I had to stop driving.
I was in the middle of something ehrrrrmmm, spectacular. Like seriously stunning and wild and big and uh, holy?
And while I sat there, in that parking lot, I remembered something I'd heard earlier this week at work. One of the guys I work with was sharing his story. And he said he'd been wrestling with God for a while, not really wanting to 'become a Christian', but the more he investigated it all, the more he couldn't deny the truth. So one night, he got in his truck and just started driving. And while he was driving he was just talking/ranting to God. Finally after a few hours, he stopped moving. He was out in the middle of nowhere. (His starting point was Edmonton.) He just looked up at the sky and said, "OK FINE. I'll believe if you'd just show me a ..." and before he could finish, a shooting star lit up the sky from one side right to the other.
That was enough for him. No other signs needed.
And that's what tonight's sky felt like for me.
He's got this.
He hears prayers.
You need a sign.
Will this do?
He loves you.
And he hears you when you pray.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Cotton Candy skies.
2. My mom's house with it's cold air.
3. Second chances.