Life On The Other Side

Right now I’m sitting in the basement with a China Baby, a married brother and his, um, excited dog and Daddy-o watching Shrek the Third on a screen that renders a life-sized ogre and a Puss in Boots the size of a Great Dane.

Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.

Life at home is a far cry from life on Maryland Ave. Case in point, this is my new room:



See, my parents moved about three weeks ago and I’ve been demoted from my so-called Shrine (as my brothers called my room in the old house) to the baby’s old room. Actually, I don’t mind at all. It’s happy, and happy is exactly what I need right now. As much of it as I can get.

Highlights so far:

#1. Our drive home was pretty easy, almost enjoyable. We did DC to Omaha the first day and when we tried to stop and sleep at the typical roadside fare, we like Mary and Joseph, were repeatedly denied room at the inn. We, however, did not end up in a barn. Quite the opposite actually: the Omaha Hilton, probably one of the nicest hotels in the city. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months for a mere $110/night. Definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Chad and I only had one minor tiff in the course of the drive, which was really my fault. I was allotted 10 minutes to sing each hour. In Nebraska, our ninth state, I went over the allotted time because I made sure to sing the new Katy Perry single (you know the one I’m talking about) in each state. I guess he just doesn’t like the song as much as me and tried to throw the CD out the window. Luckily the windows were down and it landed in the backseat. No harm, no foul. And I shut up, til Colorado at least.

#2. Today Grandma and Grandpa stopped by when Eric’s dog, 7 month old Moby, happened to be here humping another dog in the neighbor’s driveway. The conversation went like this:
Grandpa: There’s something wrong with your dog there, E.
Eric: Yea, it’s about that time to get him fixed.
Grandpa: That or you could get him some p*&?#.
Epic Grandpa comment. Wow.

#3. Kickboxing. I haven’t exactly worked consistently for a while, which is a big deal for me. DC’s soul sucking humidity made eating rocks sound better than going for a jog. But I’m back and given the fact that working out is my coping mechanism for life, kickboxing couldn’t be a more fitting for this chapter. Hitting stuff, hard, has proven to be the best kind of morning quiet time on the planet.. It’s a spiritual experience. And it makes muscles I’ve never known I had hate me in the best way. In the last week I’ve probably doubled my lifetime pushup total.

#4. Job searching. Still. Same activity, different state. Only this time, I don’t have to wear a suit in said soul sucking humidity. Enough said.

#5. Suburbia. Swim meet on a Thursday afternoon. Little girls in baggy swimsuits with “Eat my bubbles” sharpied all over their tan little bodies. Poorly (or perfectly) timed sprinklers in the parent section. Cameras. Yelling. Participation ribbons. Awesome.

I’ll be honest, this has been a different kind of homecoming for me. Normally I either come home for a holiday/event. I’m not home for anything in particular and am mostly just figuring out how I fit into summer’s routine in the Colby house, a routine that takes some getting used to for sure. Normally I come home on the tail end of some venture- school, camp, travel- where I’ve accomplished something Now I come home with nothing to show for myself but an alarmingly emptier bank account and some slightly used suits. Although I’ve been assured otherwise, it’s hard to not see the past couple months as a colossal failure. I mean, I didn’t actually let anyone down, I didn’t fail to fulfill a given responsibility, no one died, no one is waiting on me for anything. It could have been a lot worse. But still, maybe for the first time in my life, I failed to do something I set out to do: love DC, obtain gainful employment, create a new life for myself. I didn’t. And I couldn’t.

I don’t really have a clean wrap-up for this post. Life doesn’t seem to have any sort of clean wrap-ups ever, does it? It’s messy. And beautiful. And excruciating. And fairly monotonous sometimes. Right now, I’m ready for the overarching theme of transition to be over. It seems like it’s been a year of uncertainty and semi-homelessness. Maybe it’s an overarching theme of patience. Still, not that fun, really.

Psalm 40 is one of my top three favorites (and #1 favorite U2 song):

I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the LORD.

There will by a crying. There will be mud and mire. But there is always solid ground and a new song. How many times have I been through this cycle before? How many more times will I find myself in the midst of it? And how often will I forget that ultimately, I am not the point? Don’t answer that. As we were reminded in church today, wait for it, my friends, wait for it. What else is there to do? Wait for the new song, the hope that we profess to manifest itself in our lives and the lives of others. It will. Until then, wait for it. I am.

Your-
LC