Red High Heels

Tuesday is my long day of the week with classes and meetings and RA stuff. I have classes from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm with a one-hour break for lunch and another for dinner. I also have a meeting from 9:00 pm to 11:00 pm. Like I said, Tuesdays are long days.

First, I want to say something here. I wish there was a way I could transition you back to Chicago from Reheboth. I honestly wish there was a way to transition to Chicago from Reheboth in my own life. But there isn't. Namibia is a world away, spanned by oceans, language, cultures, and time. It was just under a month ago that my feet landed on US ground. But it feels like ages ago. And I don't like that. I'm starting a new chapter in my life on this side of the ocean; I've turned the page and find myself in a new adventure. But it doesn't feel that way. It feels like I'm starting a whole new story, like the worlds are disconnected and keep flipping back to find the "to be continued" at the end of the previous journey. But it's not there. I know these adventures will be woven together like the threads of the knit blanket wrapping me on this brisk, fall night. I just don't feel it right now.

Either way...here's to this chapter.

When I get out of classes on Tuesday, I have one hour until my RA meeting. What I've done the last two weeks is gone to Starbucks, gotten a Pumpkin Spice Latte with soy or a Calm tea with soy, and sat alone for that hour. Tonight, I got my tea and decided to walk around the city. The breeze brought the smell of fall coming. Like those moments when words escape you, the smell came and went as it pleased. Never lingering long enough to be fully appriciated, but long enough to stir a craving for the delights of the beloved season.

I came to a closed store front and sat. Alone. Quiet. Pensive.

I watched people come and go from the 55 bus stop and in and out of Walgreens. I listened to the roar of the El Track overhead, and sometimes caught glimpses of those on board. The people of Chicago night are beautifully mingled. There are buisnessmen in commute, high school cheerleaders coming home from practice, homeless individuals looking for a spot to lay for a time, and women in red high heels.

I watched for some time, rolling thoughts over and over in my mind.

I'm looking for peace, to be honest. I'm looking to be at peace with who I am - the mind I have, the body I'm in, the friends I love, the ugliness I hoard. I'm looking for a means to say, "Amy, it's okay. You're okay." Petty it seems. Shallow and inmature. No, I'm not questioning God's definition of me or His definative value of my person. I'm just wondering. Seeking. I'm a wanderer hoping for peace.

I'm not alone. As I squinted at the lights and drew in each noise, I realized we're all on this journey for peace. We're looking for silence in the clammor or a voice of companionship in the silence of our lives. We're looking to numb the pain of yesterday's or this morning's or right now's tragedy. We're looking for tradgedy to wake us out of the numbness of our emotions. We're straining to see promise on the horizon, but tired of holding out hope that tomorrow will be different from today. We're looking for peace.

All of us. You. Me. The woman in the red high heels.

And we're on this journey together.

Isaiah 26:3
"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee."

I've found peace because I found Him because He found me.

Peace.