our god, heaven cannot hold him

I begin this blog on Sunday morning before dawn, day 3 of my being back in my "real" life. I don't know yet if I'll share it with anyone or not yet- at the moment, I just need to talk to someone about what this has all been like.

I feel as though I'm in mourning. Not the sort of weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth mourning, but the kind that comes later, the divorce from the things and people around you, the inability to explain thoughts or feelings, and the longing for someone to hear pushed up against the knowledge that no one will understand.

Nothing in my "real" life seems real right now. I fell asleep in my chair last night, and when i woke up, I was completely disoriented for a good little while. I had to sit there and try to recognize the things on the wall, to figure out where I was and what I was doing there. That moment was more extreme, but every day is a little like that.

Where am I, and what am I doing here? What is this tiny apartment with crammed with stuff and infested with ants from the rain? Who are these cats who yowl for food? What are these application deadlines, and why am I supposed to care about them?

Jenn, my roommate and buddy, where are you? Stephen, come tell me what we're doing next. Jill, are we all here? Peter, are you hiding? Shouldn't you be telling a story? Phil, there's a great photo right over there, you'd better come take it. Brother David, will you lead us in a song?

Where has everyone gone? and why am I all alone?