LIONHEARTED LANDLOPER

    Hospitals are peculiar places. Each day in a hospital feels incredibly long -- yet somewhat like it only lasted around four hours. It feels like you entered some other dimension where the outside world just pauses until you leave.  The only way to occupy oneself and escape from the tormenting thoughts demanded by your surroundings is to stare blankly at a small table in a waiting room nearby and lethargically put together a puzzle that is most likely missing pieces.  I met a woman in that waiting room. Her name was Lily. Lily was beautiful and alone. She spoke broken English and had a broken heart. She told me about her husband who either had cancer, a stroke, or both (it was hard to understand some of what she said). Either way, she was obviously afraid. I asked her if I could pray with her, and she let me.  ~let's rewind~ Everything started when I was at a conference playing the cello in the band. I got a call that my mom was taken to the ER in Seattle (she

        Something inside of me is starting to feel restless. Partly because I don't feel very "Beccca-y" anymore, and partly because I miss the short, refreshing adventures that gave me a break from the humdrum of daily life last year.        I feel like I don't get to be myself. I feel slightly too common. All I do is go to school, do homework, go to work, and sleep. Markers, dictionaries, and journals are collecting a little too much dust. There's not any free time to set up a hammock and spend an hour doing Beccca stuff like I'm so used to. Part of that is okay and just necessary in this season of life. But also, having that time to fully be myself is very important. The lack of it leaves me feeling slightly unfulfilled and unsatisfied. I need some sort of outlet to express my manymanymanymany thoughts, opinions, and feelings. I need time to draw pictures and play with cardboard and sing as loud as possible. But I also need to understand that right now