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I’m headed down to Nashville next week. I’m hoping for a week to catch up with friends, do a lot of writing and to visit St John’s. And it’s an interruption in momentum. Stupid momentum.

I’m hoping to visit one more community before I go. This one is very small, much like St John’s. I’m a little wigged about it. Small crowds make me nervous. I can hide in big crowds, in small places I feel exposed. They don’t require me to wear a skirt. That’s a plus.

And I’m frustrated that I’m not closer to chrismation. I’d hoped to be invited to the table by Christmas. I’m not sure that will happen now that I’m re-rooting in a new place. I don’t know why I have such an attachment to a time line or to an event. Perhaps it means progress. It’s a meaty thing I can wrap my hands around. Practice is physical, I need the tectonic plate shifting in my spirit that’s been happening, certainly, but I need the practice.

I’ve been pressing my face against the store window for a year now. I’d like to come inside.