not one single thought

The past few days have been a bunch of randomness and I haven't been able to find a single thread to grasp and blog about.

Last night I went to a pub for traditional Irish music. Exposed black beams supported the low ceiling of a dimly lit cozy of a room and we walked on a creaking wooden floor splashed with drink. Was crowded, relaxed, and smelled of smoke and sweat. Quite the scene. I enjoyed the experience but when I took a mental step back realized how crafty Satan is to have interwoven a moral sin (specifically, excessive drinking) into the tapestry of Irish history and culture. Many of their beloved songs and stories - oral traditions passed down through generations - centers on this activity. For Christians or others to condemn the practice of intentional drunkenness means coming up against a deep-rooted national pride hundreds of years in the making. I'm not saying it is the solitary fact of Irish history, just that it is so interwoven that it is now hard to separate the sin from national identity. Not sure where I'm going with this. But even after being here for a week I forget to allow my heart to break about it because the prevailing attitude is that it's harmless fun. Drinking looks so much different here than at home. So many people on all nights of the week intentionally drinking to a state of illness.

I leave for Taize on Tuesday but haven't had much time to think about it. I can see that God is preparing my heart for the experience but still really don't know what to expect.

A quiet Sunday afternoon. I went to church this morning with Jenni. A beautiful service but my mind and heart are currently so distant from the book of Ezekiel that it was hard to connect with the sermon. Hoping to take a long walk with God this afternoon, gaze at old stone houses and delight in each step taken on pavement so far from home, remembering whenever I feel lonely that my friends and family love me from across the world. Only this, and remembering that Jesus is present, gets me through the empty moments.

Tomorrow I'm catching up with two friends from my last visit - one, an older woman who has sacrificially given up almost everything to serve full time at a ministry called The Way In. The second is a woman a few years older than me who has a cute apartment, went to university in Scotland with Prince William, and teaches ESL with a Belfast accent to a whole host of foreigners in the area. Will undoubtedly be great conversations.

A thought from my journal yesterday:

Feist is an excellent band to listen to in Europe. Grey half-light of a rainy midmorning in Belfast brightens the room but does not invite me out of a warm bed. Deep under covers, arms tucked in to keep away the chill. Blogging, quick emails, reading Jane Eyre. So nice to be here.