I’m writing in a journal today and just a year ago this day I was doing the same thing, writing thoughts down hoping they might hit the ground. The difference between these days being, last year I was sitting on a broken stool deep in the recesses of the Grandville mall just before the place flooded with middle-aged moms on their daily quest for more shoes. It was a dark day.
Not only had I not turned on the lights in the store in which I was working but I had just written words on my notepad that didn’t align with my situation. The words were hopeful and heavy while the times where marked by still shadows and cheap talk. I had lost a friend, I was wondering about life and coming to terms, once again, that it took me an extra season or two to ‘get with it’. Its not that I am behind the curve-its that people seem to feel the need to tell me there is a curve of which I was previously unaware. If I am honest, when made aware of this reality, I think, “screw the curve, its made up anyway.” At which point I get hacked at the knees.
But this time I knew I didn’t want to be where I was. It was as if God had led me by a chain away from the ecclesial type expression that had used capitalism as a template (I turned down a job) only to plant me day after day in a mall. The odd thing that morning was coming to terms with this while remembering I used to have an office in a mall turned church, literally. And these buildings were literally a half mile apart. Which led me to ask God a whole set of questions, all of which I was left wondering about. It was like God had just told a parable with my life and then left it open for interpretation.
