I want.

September 30, 2013


I want.  I’m human and some days I want.  Most days I can look at my pile of wants and shake my head while laughing and saying, “Oh ye of little suffering.”  I live a pretty charmed life- and I don’t take that for granted but there are moments, fleeting as they are, that I. Just. Want.  This is one of those moments.

I want.  Is it wrong to want?  Is it wrong to just look up every once and a while from the work at hand to glance at the pile of wants and let one’s thoughts linger?  Is it wrong to crave even just a little taste of satisfaction of sinking one’s teeth into the very center of a want?  Is it wrong to give up precious time and energy to the daydream of wants?

I want.  It has been a long time since I have had the luxury to want.  It feels foreign and familiar all at the same time.  I want for big stuff, for worldwide stuff, for small stuff, for impractical stuff, for stuff that isn’t even real yet and for stuff that I can never have- no matter how much money or prayer or longing I try to offer- some wants will never be facts.

I want.

I want to take a ride on the Skyline Drive, through the mountains, breathe in that sweet familiar scent of autumn away from the smell of the city and the sound of I-95 that is ever present in my awake hours, behind me, lending its rhythm to the sermons I write, the plans I make, the risks I take.  On the parkway, on the skyline drive, there is no hurry, only meandering north or south, having one’s breath taken away by the view, the beauty, the reminder of how big this world is, continues to be.

I want.

I want to share in the bliss of a good night’s sleep.  To drift lazily into a dream state, closing the book, turning out the light, giving my sweet Ella dog a pat goodnight and drift, drift, drift.  And to fall asleep without medication.  Without worry.  Without being awaken from or stalled by pain.  Oh to know real sleep again- if only for one night.

I want.

I want the violence in this city to end.  I want to stop reading about loved ones being shot by other people’s loved ones for no rhyme or reason- at least none that make sense.  I want to throw my arms around this city and hold it close to my heart and rock, rock, rock until the pain goes away and love is restored.

I want.

I want to see my family.  I see them in pictures and they are growing up so fast.  I see them in pictures and I can recall the laughter and the joy in celebrations of birthdays, holidays, and simple Saturday afternoon college football get togethers.  Where two or three are gathered there is always food- not just the kind you eat but the kind that you soak up and carry in your bones and in your blood- the kind of food that is present when you are with your family.  I knew moving here would put even more distance between me and my family- some days that is painfully clear and I want.

I want.

I want to stop feeling like I have to apologize for being a Christian- for having faith, for believing in God and working to reveal the Kingdom of God here on Earth.  In order to stop feeling like it is something to apologize for I need others to stop screwing up what it means to be a Christian.  Maybe that is what I really want- I want people to stop hating other people in the name of God.  I want people to love each other, even if they can’t like each other, to still look at the other and see the face of a brother or a sister in Christ.  If we loved as much as we hated this world would be very different.  Yeah.  I want that.

I want.

I want breakfast in bed complete with a mimosa.  I want the energy, time and ability to spend the night dancing, dancing and laughing.  I want the scars on my heart to mean something, to be the lessons learned, gratitude shown for the journey and the appreciation that forgiveness comes in many, many ways.  I want to live in this day and not spend too much time worrying, planning or living in tomorrow.  I want my dog to learn how to fold laundry and put it away.  I want.

I want.

I want for so many things and most of them come from a place of privilege.  I know this.  I want to never forget that it took years, generations and generations of people, of women, of believers, of holy men and holy women, of risk takers, of fighters, of dreamers for me to arrive at this day, with my somewhat petty list of wants, to give that list of wants a little air time, and to then return to the work that I have been called to- as a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a partner, a priest, a child of God.


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