Limbic spaces

I don't do well with being in-between. I'm crashing tonight at the home of friends in Olympia, and will drive to Seattle in the morning. I'd thought of asking them if I could shower here anyway, and then my endurance ran out before I reached Portland. If I'd had any sense of time, I'd not have tried to drive through the redwoods on the way up here. That's something to do when you're not trying to make time, and you're available to appreciate and enjoy them. They were beautiful, but I was really not in the mood. Next time, I'll go there with friends, and be there when I am there.

I left Stockton yesterday way later than I meant to. The Apostle in Exile and I got talking with people at her church, then it took me longer to pack my far-flung laundry and load the car than I'd thought it would. (Meanwhile, she made us lunch, picked berries to go with ice cream, and packed me road food--leftovers, fruit, and truffles.) Her neighbor came to show us that one of the Apostle's cats had nestled on my towel, in the open back of my packed car. And we--really I--took forever saying goodbye.

Two weeks ago, she was a friend I was going to stay with between school and summer internship: a limbic space of her own. She became truly family. She taught me so much about presence, love, and absolutely intentional friendship. She accepted my joy and my fears with equal readiness. She gave me time. And she, and God, taught me how to turn that outward to the world. I needed to learn this. I'd have liked to have gotten it before now. But now, I know that I can give this kind of love to people who need it as much as, or more than, I did. Really, we all need to be loved into ourselves. I still need this. I know enough now, to see the ways I am being fed, and to help feed other people.

I'm picturing this now:
"What did you do on your summer vacation?"
"I broke my friend's dishwasher and found God."

Oddly enough, it's true: and just in time to go start my internship, start figuring out how to live this out with my head, my heart, my body, and my time.

I woke up this morning in Garberville, California. I'll wake up tomorrow in Olympia, where I'm lying on a futon on the floor right now. I'll drive to Seattle, meet the woman who's hosting me for the summer, and go to the church to get started on all of this. I'm nervous and scared. And I can't wait to be there.