Snap your fingers.

Sometimes it unsettles me when things click into place: when no fighting is required.

When your heart is tuned to calamity, stillness can throw you off. I learned a lot about brokenness in high school. Now I am learning a lot about wholeness. But it's not easy. Contentment scratches against something deep inside my heart. And every few days, I get the itch to run. To purposely fail when things get too easy. To distance myself from people for fear they'll walk out on me. To abandon friendships that are growing too close.

I don't know why.

Lately I've been instructing my heart to pay attention to the little still moments of the day, reminding myself that, yes: I like this life I'm living. Doing laundry. Making coffee for my roommate. Editing papers. Checking off assignments. Studying alone and paying careful attention to the words strung together like a spiderweb. Better: studying with a good friend in a quiet library at midnight, punctuating the silence with low-voiced questions and answers. The silence between our individual prayers on Wednesday afternoons in the basement of Lane. Falling asleep to the sound of my roommate and a friend of ours laughing on the floor of our dorm room. Meticulously peeling oranges and the lingering citrusy smell on my hands. Index cards signed "Love" at the bottom.

All these things tell me to stay.
All these things keep me from running.
After all, perhaps God is holding me in this peaceful place for a reason.