heaven breaks

It’s 8:30 p.m. and it is definitely a lazy Monday. It feels a bit like my day has consisted mostly of cuddling on the couch and eating cookies and frozen waffles—the best kind of day. I’ve been trying, and failing, to talk myself into doing my history reading; it’s all very interesting, but other things seem to be capturing my attention.

My apartment is perfect. Perfect, perfect, perfect. We have a whole shelf full of games, and wicker baskets and lots of colorful mugs and vases and pillows; there are little trinkets here and there, including mason jars and a cute little set of giraffes. I love giraffes. We have coffee table books and tea-a-plenty. It’s home. It’s home and I love it. My bedroom is even better, with my card collection pinned up and constantly inspiring me, and my do-it-yourself stained shelf with flowers, and all the other little things that make a room a home. By the end of the week, my roommate and I will have matching forts under our beds. We also both wore blue colored contacts and make weird sound effects, often. It’s going to be a good semester.

We’ve been back for only a few days now and have already shared so many laughs, played our newly invented card game and eaten lots and lots of food together. We have bedtime talk and it feels so good being back in the same city, the same school as some of the greatest people I know. I am so excited for what the next weeks and months hold. Classes and game nights and dinners and friends that are so much like family. It’s been so good for my soul.

And I need it to be good for my soul. I need it because making a new home, starting over, resettling and rebuilding, can be exhausting; change is not my strong suit. Change makes me anxious and nervous and weird. It’s these times of big change where God seems to do a ton of work, where He seems to bring up things that I had lodged in the deepest crevices of my heart. And I feel like I’m learning Him all over again and maybe even, in some ways, for the first time. Cool, but exhausting. The kind of exhausting that makes me want to cuddle up on the couch with hot chocolate and listen to “Needle and Thread” on repeat and watch the fan blades spin. In my cozy apartment. Just because I can.

It’s days like today, when I come home from class and wrap myself in a blanket and listen to the wind outside that I want to pick up the phone and call someone. To tell him to come over and watch the fan blades spin with me; to sip hot chocolate and enjoy the cozy ambiance; to sit in silence and just listen to Sleeping at Last bring that song directly to my soul; I want to invite him to hear about my crazy heart that beats four times as fast as it should and makes me feel like a phony human being, instead of the real me, made of flesh and blood. I want him to just listen, or pretend to listen, to my word vomit, and somehow, be the kind of contagious calm that I need. And then I wouldn’t need to say another word. Maybe we could play team solitaire or war or Scrabble. It’s days like today when I wish I could just call and invite him over for dinner. I could make spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, or Mac 'n Cheese with hot dogs, or maybe I could try my grandma’s pancakes with chocolate milk or orange juice. It’s a breakfast for dinner kind of night. We could sit on the couch and tell stories and talk about history and politics, or not, because I hate politics, or we could talk about our favorite spots in the whole wide world. We could make plans. We could share life together as our lives weave around each other. Life is always better when it's shared.

It’s days like today, when I make myself comfortable on this couch and leave the phone in the other room; days like today make me thankful for my new home. It’s days like today where I watch the fan blades spin and dream about this guy who will sit with me and hold my hand on days where I just need to watch the fan blades spin. It’s days like today when I find myself wandering the campus, ending up in the breathtaking chapel, on my knees, praying for Heaven to break. And even if today was a “watch the fan blades spin” kind of day, I’m eternally grateful that my fan is in this room, at this school, with these people, and that God speaks while the fan spins.