Out.

Its good to get out again.
It took six hours of slowly overheating in a room of farts, poo, bad music, and barking, but finally, finally, some weight was lifted from this satchel of grey area in the back of my head.  Its not to say that anything is less stressful, besides friendships, which actually, I think I promised with not one, but two fingers, to be more committed, but if anything, someone gets it. Someone knows. Someone can be here when no one else is.

Although I was barely conscious for any single sermon given during Grace, mostly because I have certain reservations about speakers who script their casual and formal speech, the one session that was mentioned frequently during testimonials was that of Job, the man who grieved and suffered despite his innocence. For all the arguments and convincing his friends tried to employ, the most precious comfort they gave Job was 7 days of silence, simply out of respect for his mourning (although I think there were times they just didn't know what to say). And so it is silence, now, that brings me the most expansive peace. God is so good. I am so in debt.