i wrote a sentence in here, and then my mom came by to say goodnight. after reading it, she seemed worried about me. i told her it was meant in a good way. hmm.

the sentence was "my life is slipping past me."

i don't mean this in the smudged existence hopeless wallowing flower sense of the word. i mean this in the anxious eager hop to it sense of the word.

i'm itching out of this skin. i need to feel like i'm not sitting in idle puddles. my life is an echo of a call to rise up. get up. get out. break through.

i need to know that i'm not breathing air only. i want to get dirt under my fingernails. i'm sick of a timid existence. i want to rough the water. things are a little too comfortable for my tastes.

i want to be exhausted at the end of my life.

i want to be exhausted at the end of tomorrow.

there's a stirring deep within me. could it be my time has come when i'll see my gracious savior face to face when time is done? is that his voice i am hearing? come away my precious one. is he calling me? is he calling me? i will rise up, rise up and bow down and lay my crown at this wounded feet.

i love that song.

do you feel the darkness tremble when all the saints join in one song?

that one too.

jesus, write me into your story.