Dislocated Toes

I have a new blog spot where most of my writing has been going lately:

www.annavaughan.theworldrace.org

I have missed this, however.  This space where I can come and write about anything and everything... without regards to the Race.  Even though that does seem to be what everything revolves around right now.

The fact that I am leaving.  For a year.

I've tried to leave so many times before.  So many times.

That fact that in just a little over five months, it will be real, it will actually happen (God willing).  Well.  That just blows my mind.

The past few days I've just spent processing some stuff.  I'm getting ready to move.  And I quit my job.  I'm getting ready to start a few new jobs too.

But I haven't cried.  At all.  This month long process of getting started.  Of letting the idea sink deep, deep into me.  I've just accepted it.  Embraced it, even.  Thrown myself wildly into the process.

And there had been no tears.

Until yesterday morning.  When I got a text message from Olivia.  She told me she thought she had dislocated her big toe.  The text made me laugh.

But a few minutes later, something cracked inside of me.  The dam, which had been holding back all of my tears so effectively, suddenly sprung a leak.  Just a small one.  But a tear trickled down my cheek as I thought about how, this time next year, if Olivia wakes up one morning wondering how in the heck she had dislocated her toe... I would not be the one to get the silly text message.

Funny.  The things that set me off.

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Today I'm thinking about how I'm kind of lonely.  About how I really just want someone to love, who loves me back.  Someone to cuddle with on the couch.  Who will adopt Ethiopian babies with me.  A man I can trust to hear the voice of God... to lead and provide.  There are days when I don't even think about it.  Really.  There is so much else going on.  But some days I wake up and I just wonder.  I am just overwhelmed with the fear that this will never happen for me.  Washed by this deep, cutting fear that no one could ever love me like that.

Think about it for a second.  For those of you who are loved and do love: how precious is it that out of a room (a world) full of people, you have been chosen?  Above all others.  You are desired.  And seen.  Someone thinks you are beautiful.  This thought just blows my mind sometimes.

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Also.

I am ready for spring.

Winter has overstayed her welcome and I am not-so-hospitably showing her the door.

I am being teased.  By warm days and thunder and lightening.

I sit, willing the trees to start turning green.

Come, spring, come.  This girl is only happy in the sun.