I still remember the night I stood here watching the sun paint all those glorious colors into the sky. It was breathtaking and I felt such peace. I was holding my flip flops and my sweater in my hand, digging my toes into the soft, cold sand. It was one of those perfect moments of just being, where there was no need for talk. Such a little oasis in the center of a crazy busy place, where entertainment can be found around every corner, in every nook and cranny, and long past daylight. And yet it was here.. where I wanted to be. In this quiet place full of waning light and color. That is so representative of my being. Of who I am at the core. I find solace in solitude. I need it, in order to function in any kind of healthy fashion. But I am coming to understand that there is a very fine line between seeking solitude in order to recharge and reconnect more meaningfully, and self imposed isolation whose only design is to separate. One is full of light and peace. The other is wretchedly dark and dismal.
I received two letters this week from women I have come to deeply respect and admire. It's ironic you know.. After a very frustrating couple of months, in my anger, I had just finished telling someone that Christians (myself included) are some of the most self absorbed, miserable people I know. How incredibly self centered (and totally wrong) that was. Those letters were proof and they were a balm to my heart. I'm quoting the last words of one here, not only out of respect for the woman who spoke it, but so that I will remember them, later this year, when I will undoubtedly need them again.