I’m in a cafe in a city the south of Sweden. They serve specialty coffee, todays special has a citrusy hint to it or something. And they’re surprisingly kind about my big backpack and the suitcase I’m dragging around, letting me take up space in their clean, modern cafe.

I’ve been staying with a friend for a couple of weeks, and I left her place this morning.

Now I’m in the middle of nowhere. People keep calling me and I keep not answering because I don’t want to explain that I have nothing to explain. There is not a lot to my life these days. A lot of things have been taken from me. And it’s fine. But I have nowhere to stay. No job. Less and less money left. No set path for my future. Whenever I want to start something, I feel God uprooting it. I have left a lot of things and not entered a lot yet. 

But also, here’s the thing: this evening I’m taking the night train to stockholm. In the morning I’ll head to the airport. And then I’ll fly to Greece. I booked a cheap hostel, and a friend is coming with me. Im going to walk the streets and swim in the oceans and read the letters to the Thessalonians in the actual city of Thessaloniki.

I’ve been in a time of not having a lot. But at the same time I have had, constantly, just enough of everything. The lack is not actually a lack at all. I have had food for every day. A place to rest my head every night. My life will become a bit more stable, and I will like it, and I will be grateful for it, and I will rest. But I also rest here. In the sun shining into this cafe. In Greece, tomorrow. Everywhere. Everyday, is fine.  

The dichotomy of it makes me think of one of my favorite poems, We were emergencies by Buddy Wakefield. The last line goes like this:

You call 9 – 1 – 1.
Tell them
I’m having a fantastic time.