Many thoughts. His heart.

Home. If you are a visual person, and I quite frankly think we all are, something came to mind. And maybe along with it a smile, or honestly, maybe not. Being a student ‘’studying abroad’’ I’ve had the blessing to call several places home. Several places to love and be loved. Five, if you want an actual number. And in Uganda; my best friend's house, my neighbour's and my parent’s house are all home.  Or maybe for you home rings a very special bell and the idea of having more than one doesn’t make sense to you, or in fact sounds like it would be great, better. You know, that’s okay too. Before I try to make everyone in some way, relate let me drive my point home .  I was having a conversation with a  lady I look up to in this walk of faith, who is growing  very dear to me, and we were talking about silence and solitude; a spiritual discipline that is one of the hardest and rarest, so much so that there is a big chance you have no idea what I am talking about. A ...

               I saw a tweet today, a couple thousand likes. a couple ten hundred retweets. It was a tweet on vulnerability. "You're the only person I am vulnerable with." With a clown as the image. two clowns actually, maybe, I think. Anyway, it's funny how much the people relate. So we like being vulnerable? We like letting guards down? We simply pick and choose?                Someone pulled the rug from under Lewis Capaldi and now we have a song for ages. But we still pour ourselves out?  A girl on instagram posted a video saying she, ''ain't got no favourite colours left to give.'' And it is not hard to go from favourite colour to soul ache. Anyway, vulnerability. Earlier this year, I listened to a song called Sails. Hard to be honest, keep our hearts open, to  be who we truly are. the lyrics continue with a great but; here in your love, Lord, there's no pretending.      ...

Picture an onion. A brick fence. Layers right? there's purple, then a lighter purple, then a lighter, then white. At least the onions in Uganda. There's a foundation we don't see, then brick and then brick and then brick. Layers. Picture your life. Layered. I was telling a boy I sit next to in one of my classes how deep we are without even noticing. That's just how we operate. We develop coping mechanisms that become engraved in our personalities, we develop hobbies that become part of our life style, don't get me started on the ''things we can't do without.''  Everything is almost a reflection of something else. There's more echoes than we realize. Nothing is just just. Fine, rarely are things ''just.'' We only have tomorrow because we get through today.               Shadows. That's what the past dares to act like. A shadow that lingers subtly behind. Deep without even noticing. I said and thought that because...