File Under: My Bad

For the five or six of you who regularly check in, you might have recently noticed a lack of regular posts. File under: My Bad.

So many incredible things are happening. Incredible in the great-big-awesome kind of sense of the word. And when these incredible things happen, I just want to write and write and write about them - sharing the little details with you in an attempt to let you see what's going on through my eyes.

Except, when I finally sit down to write it all out, the stories and thoughts just seem long-winded and flat. And I HATE that because that's not how they are at all.

Take Valentines Day. I've sat down to write that at least three times and it still doesn't feel like I've really captured it. Not to mention I only took one picture, so I can't even speak through those.

Take Kaunas. Great weekend of exploring another Lithuanian city, or just kind of hopping from coffee shop to cookie shop back to coffee shop. Except, we did wander through Old Town and we did step into the most beat up old church only to see pews still lining the sanctuary and crayon-colored pictures strung up on the walls. Incredible.

Take my 'merican night. Dropping 21 litas on one meal never felt so good. I hadn't eaten beef in 6 weeks, and I cannot express how delicious that thick burger and fries tasted. Chalk that one up to simple things in life.

Take volunteering at the Baby House. How can my heart feel so beat up but so full of love at the same time? I can go from near tears to gut-busting laughter with those littles...stories to come.

Or take today. Going into Old Town to do homework only to spend at least half of the time if not more in an incredible conversation. A conversation that made me feel about 100 different ways and challenged and gave hope and food for thought. Top tenner for sure.

Take that last thing, today, and bring it back to that first thing I talked about...how it's so difficult to make these things come alive for you as they are for me but how badly I want that to happen. I try and type like I see and talk, but lately it seems like a different language. A roommate of a friend remarked that when she speaks English, she doesn't feel like she can be herself. That's how I feel with this little space...at least recently.

I wish I could sit with you and just talk about it. Have my pictures all lined up in a cute little Prezi and flip through them like I did with my church after coming back from Nepal. Or better yet, lay them all out on the coffee table with hot mugs and have all afternoon to catch up. Some day.

While writing, this song and this song and this song played.