A Good Life
What is a good life, anyway? I eye the couple at the beach and make my assumptions. Gaze on them, playing god. If we say a thing is “good,” we deem it so. If we say a thing is “bad,” we deem it so. My worst days are when I make a god in my own image. They never told me about all the other things I could choose to make a “good life.” Should I marry? Be into art? Will friendships make for a good life? A family and a white-picket fence? Taught to forfeit the American dream, though I’ve never figured out what’s so wrong with it, especially if my life is devoted to God anyway.
I’m not the warmest woman in the world. I have and I am tempted to withhold I love you when I am angry. Not really because I want to withhold a good feeling, a good thing, there I go calling things good again. But because sometimes I’m just trying to figure out if it’s true. I am sure someone with a good life wouldn’t do something like that.
I can’t help but study women’s rings when I’m out and about. Wonder if the size matches the love, wonder if she’s happy, wonder if she has this “good life.” Women wear 5 carat marquise diamonds all the time and are miserable. Women wear 5 carat marquise diamonds and are jubilant. Woman in the Trader Joe’s aisle, I just can’t parse out the answer for a good life in studying your hand.
Christ/eternal life/eternal life that starts now/good friends/good family/good love/spring season/being in and out of art museums/tea/warm lighting/a writing life/comfy jeans/boot season/bills are paid/letting myself cry as hard as I please/beach days/late night writing/early gym sessions/Tuesday Bible Study/ Sunday naps/ living honestly/quality over quantity/thinking often/thinking deeply/not letting my brain drown me.
Say, do I have a good life?
I am writing you love letters from Hilo.
I pray you read this with hope and love. With joy and expectation— knowing Jesus loves you but more importantly He needs you to grow up— in your word reading, praying, believing, hoping, looking for His return.
All my love,
G.
