Damn Swede

I spent last weekend in Missouri - Springfield to be exact.  A former colleague was getting married and my friend and I were to attend.  As I was walking out the door to head to the airport, I received a call saying she was unable to make it.  After a few minutes pause, I decided to make the trip by myself.

In my rented Chevy Malibu, I cruised the highway.  I oddly at home, even though I haven’t spent a lot of time in Springfield specifically.  Dillard’s!  Kum-n-Go!  QuikTrip!  Oh my.  Now if only I could find a Sonic.

True story.  I drove around looking for a Sonic for lunch on Saturday to no avail.  I even called my friend from the area for directions but ended up running out of time before the wedding.  On Sunday I tried to go to Dillard’s before I headed to the airport, but the mall is closed until noon because church.  (And all God’s people said, “Amen!”)  Instead I followed the instructions given to me the day before and - lo and behold - I found Sonic.  It was just as delicious as I remembered, which made me a little thankful they aren’t in Chicago.

I headed back to the airport and returned the rental car.  I approached the security line that had all of five people in it - I was second in line.  “Good afternoon,” said the woman, calling me by name.  “How are you doing today?”  She looked at me, waiting for an answer.  “Um, fine, thank you,” I responded and then she looked down to check my id.  This same exchanged happened twice more before I made it through security, each person pausing for an answer before letting me through.  I forgot that people are friendlier, but security is tighter.  Both my purse and my luggage were inspected at the Springfield airport.

I miss it a little, if I were being honest.

A large part because of the friends I made, a small part because of the carefree (read: irresponsible) days of my mortgage-free, easily-accessible-credit-cards, boy-kissing, three-dollar-big-ass-beer-drinking mid-twenties.   But those days are in the past and I prefer them to stay there.  I am content in Chicago, which is something I never really was in Kansas City.

But there is something just a little thrilling about starting a night with no idea how it ends.  And true to form, Missouri did not disappoint.

Something has been bothering me for a while, since May. In fact, between it and all the traveling I’ve been doing, this summer has been a blur. I only just woke up to realize that the start of school, marking the end of summer, is a mere two weeks away. So much for those summer plans.

But the thing that has been bothering me was mostly resolved on Friday. Enough for me to feel a massive sense of relief. Instead of feeling like a weight was lifted, I felt drained. The tension I’ve been living with for the last three months left and only then did I realize how taxing it was physically. At church last night I was not confident that I would be able to stand through the entire service, even though it was a “short” one.

After church today, I came home for my post-Liturgical nap. Usually this is more of a rest, since I rarely fall totally asleep. Not today. My head barely hit the pillow and I was out - for three hours. I had to tear myself awake. And it hurt. I just think my body is thankful for a reprieve from the stress.

Yesterday I left work at 3:00 and hung out at church until Vespers at 6:30. For about an hour or so I practiced being still. I didn’t read the book I brought, I didn’t engage in conversation, I didn’t fidget in my chair. I simply sat; taking slow, deep breaths, quieting my mind and my heart.

It was really hard.

The sheer act of it made my heart race. I felt nervous and crazy; desperate to reach for anything to distract me from being alone with myself. After a while, though, I was able to stop. To breathe. To be still.

It sounds like a crazy thing to practice, or more over, to need to practice. But it definitely does not come natural to me, as someone who likes to do at least two things at once. My godmother posted a quote on her blog that reminded me of why this was a worthy exercise. “…hush your tongue that your heart may speak, and hush your heart that God may speak.”