Benjamin is important.

I have been reading lots of Stephen Dunn. There are words in his pieces that are residual. I like it. Especially "bluesy." I think if I wrote the word bluesy in an essay though, I might get in trouble. Sometimes I don't like school. Sometimes I like to sit and read copious amounts of Tyler Knott Gregson and Stephen Dunn.

I am reading a book about a woman who was Jewish and then decided she wasn't Jewish anymore but believed in Jesus. But she couldn't not be Jewish, if you know what I mean. She loved everything about it. The songs and dances and traditions. They were all very special to her and she couldn't let them go. So she ended up in the middle, tight-roping two faiths. But I'm still yet partway through. I think she gets off the tightrope.

I wondered this morning if we really know what we're doing. I think it has to do with the wanderlust in my soul that I have tripped over lately. I have been mapping out ideas and dreams, and I often find myself actually looking at maps lately. There's something nestled in the small corner of my heart screaming: France, Italy, Holland. But the bigger corners of my heart host other things: floral dishes, wooden boxes, vintage combs, and screenplays. So I don't really know what to do. 

The best way I can think to describe it is this. 

I feel like there are too many things I should do. It's that bird thing again. Flighty. Ungrounded. Bluesy. It's like trekking up a mountain and I only brought one backpack, but everything is spilling out of it, and yet I still demand that more small blue stones and white branches be shoved into the pockets. Even though they don't fit.

Even though they aren't important.

My Bible reading is all over the place. I am almost done with Ezekiel.  I will admit that the thought of Daniel is pulling on my heartstrings, but I have become enraptured by Joseph's story. My hands have a mind of their own and keep leafing back to Genesis. Joseph is such a good story. I never really thought about it before, but most of Jacob's sons were half brothers. They probably loved each other, but still. They had different mothers, and so they had different relationships. Joseph only had one full brother. His Mother died when she gave birth to him. His name was Benjamin. 

I read the whole thing yesterday and started crying. Especially at this part.

Genesis 45

14And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

Can you imagine? All those years and finally seeing him again. I think Joseph saw his Mother in Benjamin. 

I also think that if I was a Jew, I would have a hard time converting too. There's something beautiful about an old faith. And committing spiritual infidelity is never easy. Especially if you're leaving behind something so covenantal and antique as Judaism. I'm realizing that that faith is full of promises that are really gorgeous. 

I am also realizing that in my faith, those promises are fulfilled.