cause there are no hammock lines in heaven...

...this is what I was thinking... (really, almost thought for thought)
Man, I really need to be at the beach
I could go visit my sister in Florida!
I have no money with which to fly to Florida
I wish I lived at the beach
and had a hammock by the beach
I have a hammock!
But no beach
Someday, I will live at the beach and have a hammock!
No I won't
I will never get my husband out of Indiana
And I will never have enough money to live beach-front, with a hammock...

God, (actually praying, not swearing) can my heaven be a beach, with a hammock?
And since it's heaven, there would be no bugs, and no sunburn, and always a cool, but gentle breeze, and you wouldn't get those little hammock lines from your skin squishing through like a playdough fun factory, and your drink would never get warm, and you would always sway gently back and forth, unless of course you wanted to be still, and then you would...is that okay? Can that be my heaven? And I know, it will be a million times better than that, cuz you are God, and amazing... and that fact, my friends, is what will sustain me, while I am still Midwest, stuck in the middle of Indiana, with the great sun and humidity, and a hammock...but no beach (and for that matter, no two trees or anything really to hang my hammock from...)

The smells of my street remind me of a hunger...

I was outside again today (afterall, it was finally nice and sunny) and I was taken back to thoughts I'd had before...and this lead me to search my Xanga til I found the post I was looking for...so to you dedicated readers- sorry, this is a repeat. But the feeling is still there and the mindset still holds true and I wanted a chance to remind myself yet again of where I'm going.

"The smells of my street remind me of a hunger. It's sad that the sewer makes me long to be somewhere else. A smell that I walk by every day robs me of all rational thought and pulls me to another country. Every time I pass the corner of 5th and Central, I can hear the laughter in Hounduras, I can feel the mixture of sweat and dirt on my skin. My heart breaks anew for the girls in Nicaragua. When I'm floating on the cloud of suburbia that I have here, in my home and college, I don't remember these people. Countries away it's easy to push them from my mind. And yet the sewer- the smell of a sewer on a warm day- takes me back. The smell smacks me, breaks me, tears at my comfort. It's interesting. Our filth reminds me of their need. Our "excess" screms to me of their desire. My laziness screams to me about a need to do more. Learn more Spanish, train myself in ways to grow and help, more importantly. . .Cling and pound on the heart of God. Seek His will and learn about what he has in store for me. Explore His excess in order to fill my desire. I can't do it all, but He can do all. Admire and praise the only One worthy of my attention. My Lord and God, don't ever let me become so secure that I don't hurt for those who need."