On how I learned God is merciful.

I spent the week away from my family starting on a Sunday and ending on a Saturday. I didn't plan anything really. I only wanted to go and see my best and drink tea and turn twenty-two and make galettes and read Beatrix Potter. Instead I ended up barefoot on a sidewalk, holding hands with a sobbing K as she watched her husband kick doors down to wake people up, and fire ate away at everything they had.
Not but thirty minutes after I arrived, I watched with my best friend as we thought she was losing everything.

Peace.

K and I are making decisions together but apart. To stay or go. And to go or go. Somehow after tonight, with tea and short conversations, I feel better. Like the pressure is a little lighter on my chest.
Like I'm not alone anymore.
I'll confess, it has been so hard these past few weeks, to pretend like all my praying and lists and more praying and hopes is getting me somewhere, is getting me an answer. It's not. I can't choose. And I was somewhat desperate this morning, but tonight, tonight K told me things.
Noah. Noah and his illogical ark.
And I told K things. She has a way of making me say the things I need to hear to her.
And now, peace.
That sweet, pleasurable taste in your mouth when you breathe out and feel your small back muscles relax and it all comes to a stillness. Peace.

Sometimes two decisions can be right decisions. Maybe one is righter, maybe they are the same, but whatever their weight, so long as you have the smallest portions of faith, heaps of blessings will fall on you. Whatever you decide. Whatever you choose.

I'm telling myself that, currently. It is the most savory thing I've said on my lips in a long time. This calls for an 11pm cup of tea. As I finish my French homework with eyelids half shut and sketch out the best parts of this weekend for future painting.