three stages of a weekend in progress

Friday:
welcome home stress; i thought you were gone for good. the water feels so good on nerves. the words echoing through the room, as i repeat them, verbatim: you're the hope of all men, you're the marvel of angels. this is what love is. this is what i get to experience for the rest of my life. i am trying to walk, and you are carrying me. stress has moved on to the guest apartment, and it only comes out when i am not trusting. it moves all the way out when i leave the house. i am alone on a stage. the sound is loud, so loud. everything sounds okay, even with four people that are so different. meet the masses and try not to throw up before God and men. prayer in a cold room is always such a beautiful thing. it does wonders for a nervous soul. the lights are low, and the crowd of three becomes a crowd of almost 200 souls. the set is over in record time, and it feels so good to be alive. we are been sanctified, slowly, painfully, but surely, as sure as anything else i have ever seen. one more song, and it feels like a community. amaretto gelato on a freezing night; undeniably God is good. best friends stick around for david bowie, and junk food, and even 2:30 when you just want to sleep.

Saturday:
sleeping in past 9:30 is such a foreign thing. hot chocolate and snow are a welcome addition to the evenson household. the world is so bright, we open the blinds to see it in all of its glory. the world is in need of more commercials, too, so we all head to the church and forget about jerry lewis. here comes the ipod, and caleb's screaming leaves the group unable to breathe, for a good 3 minutes. sometimes best friends really do have to go home, so we drove up to salt lake and said our goodbyes over chipotle. cabela's was close by. we stopped by and saw all of the dead animals on the walls. hundreds of men with flannel shirts that want nothing more than the coveted red rider bb gun of sorts. it's a mystery to me. home is where the heart is, and it's also where you make soup and pasta. life doesn't happen fast enough. the snow keeps people slow, so at 11 there is a knock on the door, and johnny comes in with wendy's for all. frosties and robot love are a good ending to a good day.

Sunday:
and then there was rest. and baseball. and art. and planning for faithwalkers. we baked muffins and stirfry. oldies were always playing in the background. LOST was never too far off from the real thing, if you catch my drift. eh eh.