Why, Georgia, why?

It strangely occurred to me tonight as we played poker that all I really want are answers.

I want to have them.

I want to share them.

No.

I want to throw them around like candy.

I want to make sure they don’t go anywhere and that they don’t change.
I want the people I love to have them and keep them and give them away, too.

Nothing ginormous has happened in my life that begs an answer that I’m dying for.

But something, something deep down, something beyond what I can express, simply wants there to be a reason for everything. I think humanity really thirsts for this too.

One thing I’m learning that I’m passionate about is to provide insight on things that I’ve learned, in hopes that others can benefit and be better. It’s one thing fueling me to do some sort of counseling. However, things can far too quickly become self-congratulatory, pride sets in and things can go downhill. Shoot, one of the main reasons I started blogging was to separate the thoughts in my head from what is real and true and what is not…and how to encourage others with my experiences.

Which is why I realized that so much of my life is spent wanting to do the right thing, say the right thing, basically be all-around “right” and still be relevant and cool. While simultaneously trying to maintain a certain amount of “right” in my life, I find that I really know a whole lot of nothing. For as much as I want to give good answers and say awesome things, I usually find some way to botch it up, have the wrong tone or leave something out.

All of this comes from legalism. Right, wrong. Black, white. Yes, no.

But what about the hell about center, grey and maybe? I want to know about those, because those places are all over my life and the lives of those around me and nothing fits in a pretty little fancy box.

Perhaps it’s the stirring in the soul or the quarter-life crisis that John talks about, but something happens in a 20-somethings life that makes them think they have all the answers, experiences and goals that no one else has, and then question all of it. What’s real and what’s not. Why did this happen to me? Why do I have this habit? Why do they do that? Why am I here? How am I supposed to love God more? How can I make a difference in the people around me? Am I living it right?

These questions will never cease to plague us. Ever. Which sucks, but at least it keeps things spicy.

All I’m sure of right now is that

I’m sunburned and tired.

I’m sunburned because of a day at the lake with my family.

The room I’m in is filled with a tuckered-out husband and four brothers that I love dearly.

There is much deep hurt in my family, church and soul that I don’t have any answers for. I genuinely wish I did.

I don’t know why I do the things that I do. Much reminiscent of Paul.

My 20-something self does want to change the world, but I can’t seem to change my contacts, so it might be a stretch.

I’m glad that I don’t have to rely on my self to have all the answers.

God is taking care of all the things I can’t. That we can’t. That you can’t.

That’s the best answer I’ve heard all day.