Tonight I am home alone with no TV. We haven't had a TV for almost two years now. I rarely miss it. I do tonight. I don't have the physical energy to do the dishes, nor the mental energy to read one of the books I'm in the middle of (mostly books about parenting or faith, or both). I don't have any fiction to pick up and devour. I can't go for a drive because Bright is asleep in his room and Daniel is up at Heritage preparing for tomorrow's sermon. I don't have the peace of mind to go to sleep. I don't have the emotional energy to journal or work on my book. I haven't the room in my very pregnant stomach to eat. I don't even have anything to say in a blog (though blogging is what I've finally conceded to do, after listening to K-Love radio and crying my way through a few songs. Every pregnant woman needs a good cry now and then). Daniel and I have realized that we are in the middle of a test, or rather he is, and I am being tested at my ability to support him, come heck or high water. Our dream - the one we've been chasing for six years - seems to be constantly eluding us. We find ourselves yet again in another "transition," waiting on the next step. Waiting on our REAL life to begin. Meanwhile, life is happening, and we are at a great risk of missing it. Will we ever be what we thought we would be, back in college when I was planning our wedding and Daniel was planning our part in changing the world? Maybe. But I have a feeling we are going to have to learn about changing ourselves first. And that is the test we are taking now, the test I am taking tonight, in this tiny apartment, alone. Wish me luck.
