I know it’s okay to cry.

And still I don’t want to.

I miss my community.

God filled in the hole a teeny bit today, with a request that didn’t come from me. I felt like I had been holding my breath for two years now and today was a slight exhale.

Sometimes love looks like friends who feel like family, a warm fireplace, an orange cat, and the willingness to physically and emotionally be laid bare in front of one another. 

I keep feeling the urge to cling to what is good.

1. Friends and their fireplace

2. A pan of cinnamon rolls

3. My dog on a luggage tag

Cling to what is good.