The creative juice is running low. Not that it’s essential to this blog but it makes me feel like I have something worth writing and in your case reading.
Small town America. Where my roots began. It’s the setting for the American dream where Dad works, Mom raises the kids, and you grow up and raise your own family in the same manner. My hometown has all those intangibles.
But yet there’s something amiss. Not all the pieces fit together. The very place where I used to find peace under the shroud of my innocence no longer has the same vibrant color it did when I was a child. The trees are still green, the water is still blue, and the air is still fresh but I cannot take in their magnificence. A sliver of their fullness is all I’m allowed.
People are that way too to me. I know no one completely. If there is one thing that I crave more than anything else it is that. To see someone be completely vulnerable so I may have the courage to do the same.
I’ve wrestled a lot with the question of whether or not there is a God. I look at my life as I have lived it as one who believes and I wonder if I’m insane. Then I picture myself going forward as if I was an atheist and I conclude that I am sane.
This deep gnawing feeling of not being able to experience the fullness of one thing or all things that are beautiful in this life is the very thing that tells me there is a God. If our finite being alive was an accident then we would never crave the infinite.