I go to the hills
When my heart is lonely.
I know I will hear
What I’ve heard before.

– The Sound of Music

I haven’t blogged much this summer.  Do you remember how, last fall, I wrote that I could feel myself bursting inside, like who I was becoming was bursting against my old skin?

This summer, I have changed so much inside that I hardly recognize myself.

I have gone to the mountains with my children again and again.  Their minds come to life in a way they can’t anywhere else.  While they have explored and dreamed and found themselves, I have sought heaven.

I have felt huge, rough edges break off of me.  It has hurt.  Change is at times a very painful experience.  Much like the forming or breaking of mountains.  But what is left in that raw place is a softer, more beautiful thing than ever existed before.

I have felt the tugging of two opposing forces in my heart, and I have felt them keenly.  I have had to decide which voice to listen to, and when one is insistent and loud, the softer one can be hard to find.  But the more I go to where I can hear it, and the more I close my eyes and listen, the more distant the other voice becomes, until I can barely hear it.

I am a child of God.  Not the “universe.”  God.  My Father, and yours.  I am loved.  My life, my tiny little life, is not tiny to Him.  I matter.  What I feel and think and dream matters.  I am not alone, and I just needed so badly to write that tonight.

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