passing fancies.

I'm too exhausted to put one thought in front of another. But here's a couple all jumbled up.

I wondered, when I was partying with friends, how anyone had fun when they weren't drinking or messing around. It seemed so impossible that you could have fun without all of that. But I've had more fun with new friends over the last year than I've quite possibly ever had, and there's no booze involved. No dramatic walks of shame. No sordid details. No shame. That feels good.

For maybe the first time ever, tonight I felt anger at my parents for not raising me with even a passing knowledge of Christ. I understand. I get that they were not with Him, so though they'd both been raised to know Him, they couldn't help me. But in a moment, the anger flared, and I thought, "How could they have known the story, have heard the Gospel, and not have told their own daughter?" The anger passed to shame, a new and different kind of shame, as I realized how many people to whom I don't tell the story.

Encountering thousands of Christian women is still overwhelming. Within a couple of months of first moving here, I attended the Designed for Life Conference. I had never seen so many Christians, nor so many women, in the same place,and I remember, very well, ambling into the bathroom at the end of that first night. I stared into my own eyes in the mirror, the disorienting chatter of female voices all around me, wondering if I was drunk. I felt drunk. I knew that I hadn't been drinking. But I didn't know if I was okay to drive home. Somehow, the combination of so many women, and so much Jesus, all drenched in pink glitter, had hit my system like a half-dozen shots of Patron. I've come to love the women's ministry, but sometimes, I can't lie, I still want to hide in the bathroom.

More some other time. Exhaustion great. Must sleep.