Time Traveler

Early Sunday morning. Early morning cool air infused with oleander blossoms. Freshly brewed cup of coffee. Classical piano on stereo. What's wrong with this picture? That I'm writing this and not immersed in final touches on a sermon, not filled with the anxious anticipation and intensity of preparing to lead and teach. Today, all I have to do is prepare myself to worship, dragging along another set of rejections, more negative baggage.

Tomorrow I begin work as a consultant with another organization, so that will be a new kind of busy - learning as much as I can as quickly as I can - the nature of the interim specialty. And working on search. And working on projects for family. And... and... but all with my life on hold, unsettled, as if I'm about to set off on another journey, just don't know when or where and can't keep bags packed because still using them.

This photo was in my grandmother's brag book. Mom says it's me. I recognize the suitcase but not the porch. I look so serious. Am I going home or going away? That's still the question.