The dry spaces

Midnight on a weekend and I listen to a thunderstorm coming from my ipad. The sound therap-izes me into my cozy little bed after a long day cooped up in my sewing cave - I left only to breathe outside air on my way to the recycling bin at 11pm. No flashlight required; I'm in Minneapolis - perma-orange lights the alley sky.

Thunderstorms remind me most of my dad and the house I grew up in. We could see the whole sky through our east and west windows.

I found myself at a missions conference - talking about 'millenials' (google it) and ministry. We crave relationship, we crave significance, we crave validation, mentorship and love. I crave it. Being 24 and single in America ain't so awesome sometimes, it's straight up lonely. Where's my tribe? It's the great post-grad diaspora. But we keep pluggin through the dry seasons and I call my out-a-state BFFs twice a week to and from work. There are beautiful things in the growing up-ness of life. Whoever says they've got it figured out is a thick slice of balogne ... is that how you spell it?