"You're gonna miss this...."

Lately I have been thinking about the next stage of life... What it might look like, how I am going to get there, what I am going to do... And I have been restless.

Restless because I can't see myself doing what I am doing forever and have no end in sight.

Restless because I want a place to call home... That doesn't include being a hallway away from my parents.

Restless because I know what I want, and don't have it.

I think God can use the most peculiar things to convict, remind, and rebuke us if we are ready and listening. For me... It was a country song.

The lyrics were simple, but cutting.

"You're gonna miss this... You're gonna want this back.
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by quite so fast.
These are some good times,
So take a good look around.
You may not know it now, but you're gonna miss this..."

How many times have I looked back on circumstances that in the moment I was wishing away and yet, now seem more than ideal?

I want to live life in the moment. I want to be overwhelmed with gratitude now...

For the solitude of a cubicle...
For walks to the coffee shop...
For two paychecks a month...
For healthy parents...
For Saturdays on the farm and Mondays in the city...
For independence...
For friends around the globe...
For a quiet life...
For dates that end leaving me wanting one more...
For evenings spent in Proverbs...
For time to journal...

Because this is a good time. And I don't want to miss it.

Yes, there are things I want answers to and somedays I'd give anything for some definite plans.. But when I really think about it... Maybe I don't want to know the end of the story. Maybe it would ruin the plot.

Because these are some good times,
And I dont want to miss a single one...

Say what?

Some days it happens when I least expect it. I think I hear it... And I turn into a crazy stalker until I can definitively decide whether or not that foreign language is the one I love and miss.

Friday was my low. I noticed three people, and they looked Portuguese. Instantly, I was intrigued. Then... I heard them speak, and my heart started beating faster when I knew it wasn't English. I stopped, mid aisle and darted directly to where they were standing. I instantly became fascinated by a hideous display of Bath and Body Works wannabes. Every word felt like it was tempting me. It sounded so similar... So much like it could be Portuguese. I kept inching my way closer until I realized I was literally touching one of the women.

And then... It was clear. It wasn't my language. I quickly tried to exit without drawing more attention from them then I already had. I walked away disappointed.


Every now and then my heart just wants to hear it. To be reminded of what the foreign that became familiar sounds like. To feel a connection with a place that was my home.

I walked out of the store, got in my car, and drove away. Somewhere between the store and my home, I started having a conversation with myself in Portuguese. Asking myself questions, seeing if I could still remember how to answer, and trying to determine how much language I have lost.

It's odd how my life there seems so incredibly distant, so long ago, and so removed from now. I don't understand it. But, I guess I don't have to...

But there will always be a piece of my heart that leaps when I hear anything that sounds remotely like Portuguese.