these are my people
Winter masquerades as Spring today and the wind is blowing rivers through the blue sky as I drive around Kyle. I am so grateful I call this home.
I've really adjusted to living out here, and I look forward to the long drive home from the city every day. These are my people, as the song goes. This is where I come from, now.
So how does a city girl adjust to the country? And don't tell me I don't live in the country now, because I won't believe you. Yeah, I may miss out on the occasional chocolate croissant from Texas French Bread, but I can kraft a pretty good one in my microwave with a HEB croissant and a Hershey's Special Dark miniature. It's dang good.
The best part of living in the country is the way it feels like I'm on vacation when I'm home. There is peace. Sitting on the fishing pier with my family, a breeze is blowing and the sun is shining down on the water. Bruce Springsteen's in my iPod, and it's a little bit of heaven on earth. At night the stars are so bright and clear in the open night sky they take your breath away.
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there? I'm so grateful for the friends I've made in Plum Creek and for the circle of women in my life now that is geographically much wider than that. Close by enter in Michele Gilliam, a neighborhood friend who goes to the Stone and is famous for her scones and English tea, at least one day she will be when she stops burning them.
Then there are the Cherrys, whose cats I've gotten to know pretty well. (An aside here: Steve has this habit of waking up at night, telling me random things, then going back to sleep.) "Hey," he says the other night around 1, "there was a giant bottle of Mexican vanilla on the Cherry's piano when I went over to feed their cats." This keeps me up, as I'm wondering who is swigging vanilla in their house and playing the piano. The next day I find a vanilla candle in a mason jar on the piano, one that's obviously been there a long time.
Downtown Kyle is undergoing renovations, a hospital will soon be built and strip malls will be next, cutting through the wide fields I love full of tall grass and goats and cows. There are pockets of poverty that wind through the city and suburbs and when I go to the HEB I look for a little boy who is wearing a coat we gave him. I don't know his name or his face, just that he needed a coat and I brought him one to his school one day. It's a very small thing but I won't stop looking for ways to be Jesus here.
FIRE.
I've really adjusted to living out here, and I look forward to the long drive home from the city every day. These are my people, as the song goes. This is where I come from, now.
So how does a city girl adjust to the country? And don't tell me I don't live in the country now, because I won't believe you. Yeah, I may miss out on the occasional chocolate croissant from Texas French Bread, but I can kraft a pretty good one in my microwave with a HEB croissant and a Hershey's Special Dark miniature. It's dang good.
The best part of living in the country is the way it feels like I'm on vacation when I'm home. There is peace. Sitting on the fishing pier with my family, a breeze is blowing and the sun is shining down on the water. Bruce Springsteen's in my iPod, and it's a little bit of heaven on earth. At night the stars are so bright and clear in the open night sky they take your breath away.
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there? I'm so grateful for the friends I've made in Plum Creek and for the circle of women in my life now that is geographically much wider than that. Close by enter in Michele Gilliam, a neighborhood friend who goes to the Stone and is famous for her scones and English tea, at least one day she will be when she stops burning them.
Then there are the Cherrys, whose cats I've gotten to know pretty well. (An aside here: Steve has this habit of waking up at night, telling me random things, then going back to sleep.) "Hey," he says the other night around 1, "there was a giant bottle of Mexican vanilla on the Cherry's piano when I went over to feed their cats." This keeps me up, as I'm wondering who is swigging vanilla in their house and playing the piano. The next day I find a vanilla candle in a mason jar on the piano, one that's obviously been there a long time.
Downtown Kyle is undergoing renovations, a hospital will soon be built and strip malls will be next, cutting through the wide fields I love full of tall grass and goats and cows. There are pockets of poverty that wind through the city and suburbs and when I go to the HEB I look for a little boy who is wearing a coat we gave him. I don't know his name or his face, just that he needed a coat and I brought him one to his school one day. It's a very small thing but I won't stop looking for ways to be Jesus here.
I'm driving in my car..
I turn on the radio...
Because Jesus when you're near,FIRE.