Where I go to be alone

In my search for balance, I have come across a spot on campus that I am particularly fond of. It is a calm place next to a common building. Most people don’t know that two big tables sit there, but I do and I go there to focus in on what I need to do or be. In this place I can relax and not be distracted by the many friendly faces around school. The area is outside but covered so rain or shine, I can always go there to catch my thoughts. I have only seen one other person sit there before, but I feel like they shared the same desire of solitude as I did.

Silence is a beautiful thing. In my spot I can experience this truth in a very tangible way. Without televisions, radios, or electric instruments to fill my ear I am left alone with the world. The bugs are loud, much louder than back home and the wind moves as if it is only speaking to me. On a sunny day I am in awe at the way the leaves reflect the light differently. Angles and shapes create my own kaleidoscope so only I can see them. But the rain is my favorite. There is something about the way it falls, each drop hitting the ground harder than the one before, each hit defining the earth in a new way. The thick air hangs in front of my face, wrestling with the loose hair I hadn’t noticed fall from my bun. I am warm, whole and wondering here. I feel smaller, like I can see the world as the enormous adventure it is and not be fooled into thinking it follows my lead. This table holds up a fresh perspective and a new way of thinking for me. My chair overwhelms me with comfort as I rest my head, close my eyes and appreciate the simple things like silence and rain.

This place is like a secret, told once but never forgotten. And surprisingly, it is here where I feel the most presence. Here I can take a step outside of time and catch a glimpse of eternity, a piece of the knowing. Through my kaleidoscope of fallen leaves and drops of rain, I see what matters and I know who I am. This is my place where I go to be alone.

Restless

My soul is restless, yet here I stand in a sea of calm, unsure how one could contradict another while simultaneously providing some kind of parallel to remind me of a lost face, a face I left behind so many years ago. This face has a warmth deeper than the dark eyes it holds, seeing through my rich shoes to give me something lasting, some kind of wholeness, but not a false satisfaction like this sterile room with four walls. The face here is white, full of purity or some kind of worth as it searches my complex soul for a sign of revelation, waiting, hoping to read my mind and give me his word that everything will be okay. But his okay is defined by a full stomach and a blanket to keep his head warm in his over-conditioned two-story home. My home is back by the red floors of Uganda, beneath a blanket of stars hidden by the mosquito net around my head. The room speaks for itself, no decoration or end table necessary. This water is dangerous because it hasn’t been filtered through a man-made system of security. The food is unsafe because we wash dishes with that water and the people are uncivilized for consuming the only form of physical nourishment they can and I, I am fuller here than I am in any sanctuary. Where is my god? Where is your god; hiding backstage afraid of what the crowd will say when he reveals the truth they don’t want to hear? Is your god willing to lay down fierce words in a place of refuge? Or is that him, cowering in the face of opposition, whining with the wolves, crying at the rain, whispering something sweet into an innocent ear and all with a composed sense of accomplishment, like nothing in the world is wrong. He is safe if they can’t see him shaking. I saw Him, and He wasn’t wearing white or walking down a road paved with gold. His hair was disheveled, His body bone dry. He was on His hands and knees talking lightly, weeping with the empty case of a lost child in the slums, His tears falling down the face of one of His own. His hands mirrored what I already knew. He didn’t reassure me that everything was all right. He didn’t try to carry me away because He knew I was broken, and that in that brokenness there was something to learn. There is always something to learn. We just sat there, He and I. His silence told me more than any word and in that moment, I knew that my heart had found its home, amidst gun shots and red eyes, trash-filled streets and rainy summers, in between diseases, among hungry mouths, aching for a change within the breath of the Earth, surrounded by the only hope left for this world, the children who give it something to mourn over. Even when morning breaks, He recites their prayers. He remembers everything. In the short amount of time that I spent in that beautiful, restless world of the less fortunate, I knew that this man was not just my god, but the real god, the only god, the One who patiently sits back and waits for us to let go of the white walls holding up a building with air conditioning and a man waving a book in the air, giving us time to forget the senselessness of it all and get into the real heart of this world. Can we let go of the rest?

Switchfoot sums it up.

"Souvenirs"

here’s to the twilight
here’s to the memories
these are my souvenirs
my mental pictures of everything
Here’s to the late nights
here’s to the firelight
these are my souvenirs
my souvenirs

I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you smiling, you’re so alive
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had no idea
that life was just happening
life was just happening

here’s to your bright eyes
shining like fireflies
these are my souvenirs
the memory of a lifetime
we were wide-eyed with everything
everything around us
we were enlightened by everything
everything

So I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you smiling, you’re so alive
I close my eyes and go back in time
you were just a child then, and so was I
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had no idea
that nothing lasts forever
nothing lasts forever
nothing lasts
nothing lasts
you and me together
were always now or never

can you hear me?
can you hear me?
I close my eyes and go back in time
I can see you smiling, you’re so alive
I close my eyes and go back in time
you were wide-eyed, you were wide-eyed
we were so young, we had no fear
we were so young, we had just begun
a song we knew, but had never sung
it burned like fire inside our lungs
and life was just happening (nothing lasts, nothing lasts forever)
and life was just happening (nothing lasts, nothing lasts forever)
I wouldn’t trade it for anything
my souvenirs.

Anything is possible.

My friends often make fun of the extreme optimism that I tend to shove on to everyone I know or meet. Often times I have been teased for over-using one of my favorite and most cliche quotes, that "anything is possible if you just believe". That, or someone will just counter my efforts to be encouraging with a sarcastic remark, but as I learn more and more about the love of God and the power that He holds, I realize that no matter how many people try to pull down a person's optimism, the truth still remains that all things are possible.
Pretty much everyone who knows me these days knows that I absolutely adore the youth that I work with. I have been blessed to be a youth leader at my church for the past two years, but it wasn't until just last summer that I realized how incredible and important they are to me. I find my optimistic self challenged by the hardships they face, questioned by the blunt innocence they possess and even more surrounded by the love of God then I was before they were in my life. They exhaust me physically and emotionally, but in the best kind of way. And every time they talk to me about something they are going through, or if there is just a lull in our conversation, I happily share my "go to" Bible verse, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" (Phillipians 4:13). At first, it was just an easy one to remember and seemed to fit my glass half full kind of personality, but as I use it more and more I am beginning to discover just how powerful those words are. Maybe it is the books I have been reading in the past year (like Radical and Kisses Fom Katie), but with the belief in an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God is it really that far-fetched to believe that anything is possible? Or even more, is it so crazy to actually expect the impossible?
What if those old miracles that we read about, like Moses parting the Red Sea and Noah building an arc or maybe a mere human walking on water are still happening today? What if the reason we don't see miracles all the time is not because they aren't happening, but because we are too distracted to be aware of them?
That was too many questions, I know so I want to share a part of what makes me so certain that anything is possible.
If anyone has read any of my posts on this blog, I think it is pretty clear that I had my heart broken once. I talk a lot about the healing process and my mission trip a few months after it happened, when God used a beautiful brown face to show me that His grace would never let me go, but I rarely talk abut the time before that, the time when I wasn't as joyful as I usually am.
I am blessed in that I never went through a depressive stage during my middle or high school years. It's sad that I even have to say that, but I know that so many young girls and guys fall in to that temptation early on. I am also blessed that even though I felt like I was depressed that first month after he was out of my life, God didn't give up on me and the joy that I was trying to hide. It went something like this... Wake up. Drink coffee. Ignore my stomach rumbling for some food (I was also convinced that not eating and somehow getting thinner would help the situation, which it didn't and did not happen). Go to work (I was doing temporary part-time, mind-numbing office work for a construction company). Come home. Avoid talking too much to my family. Avoid smiling. Avoid any ounce of patience for the people that cared about me. Eat something (even trying to starve myself wouldn't stop my love of food). Spend time alone in my room, probably checking Facebook to figure out what he was doing or who he was with. Shower and go to sleep.
I look back now and wish that someone would have just shaken me out of it, told me the things that I tell my youth kids now, maybe even thrown some optimism in my face, but that was not God's plan at the time. The truth is, I stayed like that for a month, faking any smile to keep my parents from suspecting my unhappiness. It wasn't until I started school that fall, met new friends and fell into the routine of a student that I started to remember what it felt like to love life. Slowly but surely I spent more time with people, each one struggling with their own trials. I stopped letting myself think that life was unfair and horrible and that I would never be happy again. I said no to the temptation of forgetting to have faith and just as God does, He made His presence known in a way that restored my hope. Maybe this story isn't grand enough to be placed next to Moses parting the Red Sea, but when I reflect on each minute detail of that time in my life; the people I met and the stories they shared, each one expressing their passions in a different way and giving me the exact words I needed to hear
to live that day with a little bit of joy in my heart, I know that God gave me a miracle in healing me of my heart break.
I am only eighteen (and a half!) but my life has come way too "full circle" to not trust that God is in control of my life. As I watch young adults struggle with a lot of the things I faced last year, I try to encourage them to appreciate the blessings in their life and to seek after the loving perspective that God has when He looks at this world. I have learned that it isn't just about being optimistic. It's about recognizing that anything is truly possible. Whether it be walking on water or just getting over a first love, God is there for it all and nothing is too big or too small for His love. Sometimes it is hard to see past the hurt that is right in front of us, but Jesus Christ gave his life to give us ours. That, if nothing else, is something to rejoice in.

March 12

Today is your birthday.
A spring baby with the temper of a Leo, bound to be broken.

I wash my hands again, one drop at a time cleansing each fingertip.
A blank envelope lies in the back of my closet.
I close the door so your promise is real.
My faithfulness unfolds one centimeter at a time.
I can feel you just inches away
settled in my routine, but
this time is different.

This time, I forget to apologize for speaking up in front of your best friend.
Silence is your solution and I am left deaf with disappointment. This time,
I can’t recall the warmth of your touch
apologetically brushing the outside of my thigh,
always under a table. This time when I blink,
I lose a little bit of you.

You’re a child lost in thought, spinning my focus as you lead me
away from everything I am sure of.
We wander among the out-of-state license plates,
making stops at every park we come across,
resting tired bones on blue swings, the inertia
carving out our bodies as you slowly pick up my hand and rest
your shoulder against mine.

4 months later, I memorize every imperfection on your face,
knowing it will dissolve.
My smile fails to conceal just how much I want you.
You start picking fights like the sun burnt skin that won’t relent but I am numb,
permanently missing everything we were.
You leave 3 thousand miles between us and I run in circles this time.

I can’t wait for you to change.

What I miss the most: that voice, every crack it carries,
the pale eyes that found another face as I let go of forever to fall in love.
We watched every memory fade into an empty plot and I hurt you,
possibly harder than before.

I know that my heart will heal
if I let it,
but I can’t undo you. I am lonely,
not alone.

A Sweet Tooth for Sadie

Sticky and sweet were our younger years. With a spade in hand, I fearlessly ran through life. No fire ant too tough to take us and no distance far enough to say goodbye. You were a sweet tooth and I had a friend.

I collected attention as you gathered cards off the floor, picking up a mess without a sound. We ran to the kitchen, flying for the last blue Otter Pop. It dripped down my arm and you cried while I reached for a napkin.

We waved at the man whispering to the July shore. He did not smile back.

Perhaps he lacked the same appetite, or maybe just let his eyes close for that imperative moment.

Either way we continued.

A single drop of sweat ran down my leg as we raced our shadows past the water’s edge. I saw a white flag floating atop a crooked crest of sand, and I knew we were alive in that tender, breathless moment.

But time rolled over and our faces thinned.  A summer heart break left you dry.

We found chocolate in a hidden drawer. The soft sound of chewing comforted us as I tucked you in.

Thankful. So incredibly thankful.

It is all too socially acceptable for me to make a list of things I am thankful for on this day set aside to do that which we should do every day of our lives, yet I have a feeling that is exactly what this post will turn into. In reality, I should praise God with thanks in all things, and I am well aware that I fall short of this every day of my life. But I am glad for this day, and the togetherness it brings about for people. Not only was I blessed to break bread and share fellowship with loved ones, but I had the opportunity to rest and spend an entire day doing the things I almost never do anymore; running, relaxing, playing board games with family, thinking without stressing, and eating way too many cookies (I still manage to do that one all the time). I feel overwhelmed as I sit here and reflect on the past year of my life. Overwhelmed with thankfulness, joy and satisfaction in the blessings that have found their way into my life. The past ten months or so have held some of my most precious memories with some of the most precious people to my heart. Learning, love, heartbreak, healing, and a growing relationship with the God I love have kept me going, and taught me more about myself than I ever thought I could know. I finally found my place with a clear vision of what I want my career to be, and feel like my school is the environment I want to shape myself in as a musician. But even with that in mind, I am extremely excited and blessed to have the opportunity to start visiting schools to transfer to. I have had my heart set on the East Coast for quite some time and will visit those schools this next week in their freezing cold conditions!, but I know that God will lead me to wherever He wants me, even if that means staying here in California. One of the most prevalent things I am grateful for today and every day, is my role as a youth leader at my church. I can not even begin to accurately describe how much those kids mean to me so I will not attempt to let the words I type fail me. I will just say that I never want to take the perspective that I experience through the eyes of those kids for granted; it has shown me more than I will ever be able to give them. And of course, I am forever grateful for God's grace, which brought me into the arms of my very own Grace, along with the other girls at the Providence Children's Home in Kenya this past summer. I still think about them every day and am extremely comforted by the reports we get every few months to update us on the health and progress of the girls. At the perfect timing, in a perfect way God used that mission to show me where my heart was and where it needed to be. That's not something a person can forget, and I constantly remind myself of just how amazing He is for giving me that experience when He did. I have also discovered an overwhelming amount of encouragement in the past few months, with new friends and encounters that have really pushed me to grow in my faith and contributed to my own walk to have a Christ-centered life, which seems to be not less challenging but even more humbling with these people in my life. I am constantly amazed at the wonderful people I have met and inspired to be a better person myself because of them. My faith community could not be left out of this post as well. With my new calling as an elder and the relationships I am building through that responsibility, I am constantly reminded of what it means to be dedicated children of God. Faith, family, friends, food, and fun. The list could and should go on forever. I pray that others have experienced similar joys but that even if they have not, they can still see the blessings they have in their lives. God is so good to us and with that in mind, the challenge presents itself; to be satisfied. To lift up His name with praise and thanks in every situation, whether it be "good" or "bad" because if we trust Him and put our whole lives in His hands, He will bring us to exactly where we need to be.