The poster child for 'Nothing Comes Easy.'

Rosemary and I were enjoying a simple picnic in the park and I let my mind wander to The Longing. The Longing has been a part of me for as long as I can remember. Always wanting something else, something different. And up here in the middle of nowhere, The Longing grows.

Can't stop the wrecking ball from coming through our home.

My cell phone rang, and for some reason I answered it. Who it was isn't important, other than it was a call to feed The Longing. We talked until it wasn't conducive anymore (it's not always easy to talk on the phone while a 3-year-old is running around a park) and when we hung up, I didn't feel right.

There are a lot of things I don't understand.

Rosemary and I ran, climbed, teetered, swung, and twirled until it was time to go. My uncle's funeral was the next day and we had a long drive ahead of us. It's difficult to say what kind of mood I was in. Pensive, I guess. But it came to me, it was in the air, the music, the phone call ... God, if you will.

Can't stop the hands of time from taking what we've known.

To be honest, I'm not sure what I believe these days about God and how he speaks to me. There was a time in my life when I had it all figured out. I knew the right and the wrong, the black and the white. I had some very naive and pretentious world views, and they are crashing down.

There are a lot of things I don't understand.

But I still believe. And while I haven't 'heard' the voice of the Lord loud and clear, I still think he's there; he's at least listening, and hopefully once in awhile, he'll speak. So there I was. There was music and driving and a feeling that wasn't right.

Can't stop a troubled mind from speaking to the soul.

I am a runner. Not physically (though I'm working on it). At every moment in my life, I am looking to the next thing. Sometimes it doesn't affect me too much, and sometimes it takes over. I rarely feel I'm doing enough. I rarely feel satisfaction in the moment and I am always looking for the thing that is more right, while missing the thing at hand. It's like a disease.

There are a lot of things I don't understand. But I won't let the darkness in.

It's not that I want to recreate the past (dear God, I don't), or that I have an unreal amount of optimism for the future. I simply don't sit in the present. I don't take the moment - any moment - for what it is. I think I miss a lot.

I will find a way to feel again.
And the voices in my head will finally learn to sing.

So here I am in the great unknown, in a house that lacks character, a place where the mailbox is far away from my house, the neighbors are nowhere to be seen, a sidewalk can't be located, with a list that could go on. And it's all right. It's comfortable. It will do.

And I throw my arms around the place that I'm found.

I'm not going to focus on whether or not it's temporary or permanent. I'm just going to stop. Stop trying to change things. Stop trying to control it. This is my life, it is what it is. If I don't embrace it, I'm going to lose it: all these precious moments that are good. Never mind the struggles and hardships involved; the rest of it is good and I'm missing it.

Won't let the light and sound fall to the ground.

And I feel so much when my eyes are open.

Never mind how deep I sound, whether or not I'm repeating past revelations, or the music that's playing. There are people and lives in these walls - good people and lives. I don't want to miss what I think I've already missed too much of. I don't care about being happy at every moment. I want to stop, and be, and embrace. Good and bad. Loud and quiet. This is my life and I intend to stop running from it.

And my greatest love is the one I'm holding.

By the way, thanks to Greycoats for their song which has become mine. And hopefully they don't mind my reprint of some of their lyrics from their phenomenal song La Résistance.