being

I left you yesterday at my mental breakdown of sorts. I said that I had tried to force the jigsaw pieces. That's not true. No, I hid pieces. They slid between sofa cushions, beneath the fridge, under the candy dish on the TV.

My jigsaw puzzle picture was incomplete.

Every Friday night, I went to the Dallas Symphony (the seminary provided free tickets through some donor or something). And every Friday night, I left full and empty at the same time. Full of music. Empty because it wasn't me anymore. I wasn't up there playing.

As I sit to write this, I don't know where it will go. I don't know how the threads of the story will weave. I admit, it'll be rough. But stick with me as we figure out from whence came this imaginative, female theologian who loves the arts and how she came to accept that.