Coming home

Adequacy.

A concept and feeling we've been inculcated since young never to identify with.

"Not bad, it's a good attempt." Good job. You can do better though." "If you try harder next time, I'm sure the result will be different."

This week was a test of resolve in all aspects. It's 5.58pm on a gloomy Sunday afternoon-turned-evening, raindrops pitter-pattering dully beyond the glass walls of this warmly lit cafe.

There was a time I liked the rain.

Now it only means memories I want to leave behind. Also cathartic hike or run forgone. And hilariously - having to carry an umbrella on drizzly lunch breaks. It's funny how we only remember the good things. But then my mind strains a little harder and everything else comes rushing back and a little voice pipes, there you go.

Jon and I went out for supper last night. He drew imaginary circles on the table at McDonalds: family, relationships, work, church. Then he repositioned the imaginary circle representing church in the middle of the other three, he said it should be God in the middle of it all, who determines the rest of the spheres.

I thought of the perpetual debate between predeterminism and our free will, and how little control we have over our lives. How we aren't given instruction manuals on how to live life or how to love people or the sure path to successful relationships or careers or raising children or asking for help, or any of the things that can only be learned with time and many, many mistakes made in between the good parts.

In the midst of these messy, humdrum weeks that flow into one another, never seeming to end, I find myself questioning and waiting for answers