the second morning


I awaken early, again.

But only less so, my body starting to acclimate to the time zone. It’s only 7:24a at home.

It is dawn; the sun illuminates the foggy bay to right of my window view. The sound of industry begins to buzz around me. Everyone else in the radius seems to be asleep.

I assess my progress: I’ve made good use of the space, I think. Bed arranged and aptly pillowed. Curtains up, blowing in the breeze. Photos out making me feel a little less lonely. Clothes unloaded and crammed into their space. (I brought way too many but I’m relieved to find I packed more sweaters than I thought.) Fridge plugged in (tho what will I do without immediate adjacency to ice?!) and snacks organized.

  

Settling in myself, however, is coming much more slowly. I want to be here. But I want to be at home, too. That is the conflict. But preparing my mind for what lies ahead is the purpose for being here now, though I would have loved to have soaked up another week at home.

I feel alone, disoriented–what the hell am I doing here at 47 years old in a freaking dormitory with chex mix snack packs and a mini-fridge?!

Yet, the morning is ripe with promise and in these words i find great comfort:

Do not fear, for I am with you,
    do not be afraid, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
    I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.

–the prophet Isaiah

I am not alone. Never have been. (Todd: re-read your series of those 60 folks who got you here!)

And as the hot water for my morning tea rolls to a boil, I commit myself to completing the settling-in process and getting out into the city a bit, embracing the possibilities that lie ahead and holding closely the love that sustains me.

This is the path before me. Might as well blaze the trail.

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