The other day I was filling out yet another "about me" form, an exercise which can be quite frustrating for someone to whom words are important (me). How can I fit my soul into the confines of a tiny black and white box? If I wrote forever, I still would feel like I hadn't accomplished it. So each new "about me" holds a small portion of my soul and, were you to put them all together, you might get a glimpse...
This one asked for some of my favorite things/places/food/whatever. The favorite places one really got me thinking, and this is part of what I wrote:
"Places full of life and love...and places needing life and love..."
Images crowd in for both. Home, church, friends' houses, Barkley Starbucks, etc--full of life and love, and for that I appreciate and love them. Yet the second thought strikes more poignantly.
Tonight, after Skid Row, we drove back the slow way. Through LA, into Hollywood, up Sunset Boulevard, down Santa Monica...can your heart break for a place? Because I think mine did tonight. This whole city, so vast and needy, thinking that it is full of life and love, yet seeking so desperately for it at the same time. The life it offers sparkles while it is far off, but close up shows its true gruesomeness. The love it offers turns out to be not love at all, but power and position and lust and jealousy and a thousand uglinesses. If only they could see how close the true love and life is! But their eyes are so blind to all save their seeking...they don't see the cure. And it's terrible yet majestic in this glimpse given of God's justice and holiness. And, tonight, my heart aches for LA.