I like... comfortable. Take, for instance, my small group. It is. Comfortable. Which I find delightful. I was reminded of what a rare gift it is to have a group of people that for all intents and purposes are truly family and you can just "be" with when I was in a new group. And. The awkward one again.
Talking too much. Talking not enough. Did I get that answer right? Um. Jesus! 42! Aw. Sheesh.
I sometimes wonder if I don't perhaps need two guardian angels. Or three. If, before I get to enter the pearly gates I have to take like months, years, decades? of "remedial" training. Which is why I like to make the joke that I'm going to just be glad to be in heaven even if it means I'll be sweeping the gutters. They will be golden gutters, right? (What? There are no gutters? Does everyone know this but me?)
My thirties seem to be just as awkward if not more so then my twenties. It's just I'm getting used to awkward me. Maybe that's a good thing? Maybe someday I'll stop trying to be someone else and let the One who made me fashion me into what He wants me to be instead of the horrid thing I revert to on my own. Until then I guess it's probably best if I keep my mouth shut. Or at least try to. Or maybe I'll just go with the whole awkward thing and wear a funky wig next week.