tick-tock, tick-tock

Time is ticking. Berkeley will soon be the place I used to live. The place I'll probably come back to, though precisely when holds a tinge of mystery. For now, San Mateo will be my home.

Why on earth have I been sent to San Mateo?

Honestly, I think God is telling me it's ok to go toward love. There are two baby girls on that peninsula, waiting to once again pass out on my chest. There's a mama mustering all her strength just to reach through the waves and clasp an outstretched hand. There's the ocean. And bright light on the hills. There are family dinners and quiet mornings and projects slated for Saturdays. There's a cloud of a bed in my room, three enormous glass doors to the decks and the oaks, and a bathroom all my own. There's a park nearby for soccer with the boys and hiking trails for me. There's Royal Donut Shop, Mercy Center and more to love on that little swath of land between the bay and the sea.

Hardly tent living, I'd say. No doubt to your great relief.

But don't you see - the tent was the initial step. It was a flash during prayer that stuck, the image of living with deeper quiet and sturdier support. Nancee's backyard would have been a cocoon of care for this Urban Love Monk. Instead, her yard has blossomed with its own new and verdant love, love that shuffled me right back out into the unknown. That vision of the tent dislodged me from the Bermerkely Triangle, then shockingly shot me like a canon toward San Mateo. Toward structure and solitude. Toward family and babies. Toward a God who is laughing, watching me walk straight into the heart of battle - the battle for freedom every day, for creativity and gratitude, for unbounded love amidst the landslide of this thing called life together.


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