Wrong Exits

npr replayed a terri gross interview with stuart murdock of belle & sebastian. terri played murdock's lyrics . . .

if you find yourself caught in love / say a prayer to the man above / thank him for everything you know / you should thank him for every breath you blow / if you find yourself caught in love / say a prayer to the man above / you should thank him for every day you pass / thank him for saving your sorry ass . . .

You talk of freedom / don’t you see / The only freedom that you’ll ever really know / Is written in books from long ago / Give up your
will to Him that loves you / Things will change, I’m not saying overnight / But something has to give / You’re too good looking not to live . . .

i was supposed to drive straight home to denison tonight from lewisville after the movie. so i pulled out of the theater and headed toward 121 and turned right. when i found myself almost to dfw airport, i realized i had gone the complete opposite direction of home. tat had to be in bed by 9:00 tonight because she's opening at work at 5:00 in the morning. so i stopped for gas, put the ethanol kind into my dad's car instead of the premium, and proceeded to take 114 to dallas instead of 121 back toward denison. i was so irritated with myself . . .

i was supposed to be heading home to bed because i was tired and i knew tat was tired . . . and then i saw a 747 fly just a few hundred feet in front of me right over the freeway. "wow!" i said outloud. i had forgotten how much i had wanted to watch the planes land sometime while i was home. so i slowed down on the freeway and waited for the next one to head in. i watched it from the rearview mirror as i missed my exit to 121 again. i realized it twenty minutes later as the dallas skyline appeared over the curve of the superhighway. "crap!" i shouted to my dashboard. and then i looked again at the neon green building that had been in the opening scene of every imax movie i had seen as a kid on school field trips to the dallas museum of natural history. and i held my breath for a moment, remembering how beautiful the dallas skyline at night really is.

after this lovely little moment, i promptly took the next exit and turned around heading north again, away from the skyline, back to my sister and my bed . . . and my computer -- because at this point i just wanted to write. interviews with murdock and with radiohead's tom york (and with two mothers of mentally-retarded sons who have published their letters to one another about their lives) have been circling in my brain and pummeling my fear of writing, my fear of creating. i just had to get home and get at least some of it out of me.

it's not enough. i keep thinking something's going to be enough. i have been made aware during this trip of my constant, nagging desire for more, something better, something that will make me enough. each new book on the subject or cup of coffee with a friend, i think i've finally grasped it, finally come to realize that God really is enough. every time my heart gets broken, i think, yes, this time i've got it--this time it hurts enough for me to say with permanence: My God is sufficient.

but over the past days, i've come to abhor the phrase, "this is my friend--she lives in germany" simply because i like to hear it so much. living and working in europe, in part, has been just one more pursuit of my heart to be enough. to have done enough. to have it said of me that i am enough.

staring into blinking ruby taillights tonight, i faced the familiar realization that even this, even this part of my life that i have given away, even this is not enough.

he really is -- he really is -- he really is -- enough. sufficient. complete.

and i feel my striving, trying, tired muscles relax once more into sweet sleep.