as to not forget

if i do not write things down, it is inevitable that i will forget them.

but when you write things down you remember. and relive.

if you want to remember them just as they were, you write down details.

details that make you leap. and sobb.

i will be writing things down in the next few days, as to not forget

you.

them.

the me that is experiencing this all.

and i write them down so in a month or in a year i can see how God has been working in and through it all. His hand always upon me. His leading evident. His presence there.

because He is here. He is.

like loss

today is june the first.

today feels like loss.

after so much peace.

and crying.

and prayer.

and the smell of anointing oil on my face as i sleep.

today still feels like loss.

that doesn't mean the peace wasn't real. or the prayers are unfulfilled, unheard. it just means that this morning i woke up to a new reality. where we would not talk. not even to say hello or how are you. and i would not see some faces as much as i want. and i would not sit in black chairs three times a week. and i would not have to think about bringing a jacket with me because the air conditioner is blasting. now, i will be pulling into new parking lots. meeting new people. cultivating friendships i never could yesterday. because of entanglement and control and insecurity. but i can do this all today. i can do this because i said yes to change and freedom and discovering myself and Him.

there is loss, yes.

some days will be worse than others, yes.

but some days will be good and full.

i am not looking forward to either right now...

they both mean change has taken place.

and today, june the first, this very moment, i am not sure about much.

i shake my head at change.

many things seem daunting, i am afraid.

untangled

yesterday i flew kites. mine cost twelve dollars. an investment. it has two tails. one yellow, one orange. and looks like a prism of color. a rainbow. a promise.

and was mezmerized by how, once caught up by a current of wind, they were weightless.

they were suspended in the air. the only thing keeping them from flying away was the string - taut between my fingers. it was a beautiful day. and i have no words to convey my thankfulness for the people that were there. the calm that was bittersweet. knowing all will be okay, doesn't mean it will be how you expected. and with that, there is always some loss. some emptiness. some sadness. and goodbyes to people and places.

how unfortunate that paths must part.

how unfortunate that some things can only be untangled by distance and silence.

how unfortunate that this is all so indefinite. but final.

listening

i've been listening to this for the past five to six months.

what reassurance. what refreshment.

i love to turn off everything. to feel the quiet on the inside.

and begin to fill it with truth.

daycare kids.

dear children-who-i-will-send-off-to-school-one-day,

psst.

i have my first real job since fall of senior year in high school. and i work with children. daycare kids. you might be one. i was one. waiting for grandma to show up as i make bracelets and play mancala. ahem. beat everyone at mancala.

i've actually had this job for nine months now and i love these children. even when they have attitude and would rather watch Matilda for the hundreth time than make crafts or build towers out of legos. we play freeze tag, four corners. Jenga is a hit. so is soccer, now that it is warmer out. so is painting, but the paint is strong and opening the doors for ventilation is a must. snack time consists of dry cereal, chips, pretzels, or popcorn. we've had smores once or twice. and we did have Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. your grandfather bought sweets all the time. i ate these growing up. you might have never eaten them. i don't want you to eat ice cream three times out of the week. or have Little Debbie snacks at lunchtime. i want to make you food. or try at least. pack you good things. and always give you extras for after school. well, if you stay after school.

i haven't written to you for a while. life has been like a teetertotter.

one day we will talk about change.

and how this particular time in my life required courage.

i have to be brave.

for myself. for others. and as time will tell, for you.

i have to choose life. a different sort of life than i ever imagined.

and it is scary.

but when you are scared. we can be brave together, yes?

sincerely,

a twenty-one year old almost grown-up

heave lashes and eyeliner

this almost-summer sunday afternoon i am filling my airspace with one of my favorite voices.

adele.

rich and thick. soulful. so full.

her voice is

like a recollection penned in the blackest of inks.

like her heavy lashes and eyeliner.

like smooth calligraphy, delicate art.

above a hush, below a cry.

i love listening to the subtle differences in language, the way vowels are formed, the way consonants are not sounded. i love the way voices travel up and down registers. the breaking point between chest and head. and the way a slight whine in a phrase can pull me into that fullness.

thank you adele for writing music. and for singing it so beautifully. thank you for never performing like britney spears did. your voice can stand on its own. its fullness pouring into empty space: sinking into carpet and dripping down walls.

oh, the truth in this.

the passing

the cloudiness, the deep tumultuous storm must soon pass.
crying is the passing of such sadness.
perhaps only to be followed by a sadness closer to ones core. one so enveloping it halts all thinking, all logic.
i've never known such lasting darkness. such complete aimlessness. such unfeeling. such nonpresence.
it is as if the day has been swallowed and along with it the nerve, the courage, the motivation to do, to be.
hollow, hanging above the brink of ones own life.

and the crying and perhaps the laughter which sometimes follows is a reminder of what the sky might look like if it were not so grey.

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today

today the tomb was still sealed.
today people's voice were hoarse -
their flawed accusations and murderous shouts still ringing.
today the city was filled with reminders of you.
the earth fractured. the temple split.
today people had forgotten your promise.
or doubted its validity.
you had died. were wrapped in linen.
and were carefully laid inside a hollowed rock.

today there was no reason to hope.
the king was not much of a king afterall.
he would not save us as we wished.
his plans were grossly misinformed.
and for this, we crucified him.
spit on him.
mocked his lordship.
and could not bring ourselves to believe him at his word.

today the tomb was still sealed.
and we did not know what to do.

i love

i am aware of my lack of posting.

school is out in two weeks (including finals week).

i will be taking summer classes for the first time ever.

le sigh.

tonight i cleaned my room. kind of. it's getting there at least.

i love folding clothes. sorting papers. and the like.

i really love to organize. does that make me a nerd? maybe.

but nerds are hott.

ew that word....

the last three days have been completely restful.

even in the midst of classes. work. meetings. homework.

the eve before those three days i realized at once how overwhelming life can be.

and i cried.

that is also something i love.

the release. the loss of control.

the ability to see my inability.

the rush of certainty that floods my whole person that says

i need You.

i miss You.

You really are my heart's truest desire.

i know You are near.

but it is so very hard for me to draw near too.

especially when i'm tired.

and these past three days have been marked by Your peace.

thanks.

p.s.

my nephew, who lives in the living room. uses my room to practice guitar, violin, keyboard, etc. and absent-mindedly places them on the floor or on my bed. i have almost broken them several times. but i just can't ban him. i can't, though i've considered. (and possibly threatened?) i love to hear him practice. his thirteen year old self enthralled with music. i don't think it's the sort of passion derived from trying to make something out of himself - liking the appearance of being a musician more than the sound that fills space and lives. i love my family.

my mother

my mother is incredibly strong.

bursting with delight.

there is so much to say isn't there.

but tonight i do not want to find perfectly delicious phrases.

i want to craft. and clean.

and listen.

last week i went on choir tour.

what an experience! faces i may never see again. lives intersected for hours at a time.

today i am sick. i've been sick most of the semester. on and off. how annoying. what a pest sickness is. liquids and rest.

soon i will be done with my junior year in college. sometimes people think i am still in high school. i say it will benefit me when i am sixty and look forty. not that i'll care what i look like at that age. there will be - and currently are - more satisfying things in life than a wrinkle-free face.

soon i will be saying goodbye to people and places.

soon i will not be so busy. thrust into a new season defined by trust. bursting with delight. i already feel it infecting my conversation.

life is so precious.

and to be at home, tonight, is so delightful.

just saying.

i have so much to do. just saying.

monday:

school.

midterm.

conducting test.

work.

tuesday:

school.

midterm.

piano performance.

hillsong.

wednesday:

just a really long day.

really long.

thursday:

also a really long day.

school.

voice recital.

midterm.

work.

babysit.

friday:

school.

voice recital.

college group.

what?

let's just say i might call in tomorrow.

not even kidding.

rupturing

this morning i ran.

well, actually i walked and jogged.

i don't recall it completely. because as much as i tried to keep my mind stayed on one thing. any one thing. i couldn't. i struggle with being present, especially to myself, especially when life is shaky. some things i remember though, like the many greens rupturing from hard concrete and thick bark. the dull aches of tiredness and confusion. a woman in pajama pants riding a bike. heat radiating from my body. hundreds of cars filled with busy people whose faces i did not see but whose cars i heard. breathing in frosty air - icicles melting down my throat.

but i did it.

i may have cut through the grass at one point. tips of my adidas doused in morning dew.

but i said i would and i did.

::dance::

i am going to do this again.

look like

formed from dust.

made for glory.

what does that look like?

it begins.

this morning i could not find my keys.

i always lose my keys.

but it lead to a quiet morning.

i anticipate more quiet mornings.

and more quiet nights.

as i tuck myself into the shadow of Your wings.

passion borne not of human zeal or striving.

obedience fueled by love.

weak yes, after weak yes.

immersion in a river wide and deep.

a vastness i have never known.

this is what i anticipate.

i am not sure where my weak yes' will lead.

but right now it is leading to a realignment.

and a desire to hold still in Your presence and hold fast to Your truth.

assured You are not a Father who is turning me away or rejecting me.

did you know this is what i thought before?

i didn't even know i thought this.

but i did. and sometimes i still do.

You are not denying me.

You do not despise me.

i am broken. i am weak.

i have been pushing away Your love and forgiveness. i have been fighting Your grace and mercy. because i cannot accept something i did not earn. something i am not worthy of. i am a hard worker. and know the grade i deserve. i have been punishing myself, i have been disqualifying myself when You have done everything to open wide Your heart for me.

this is where it begins.

this is when it begins.

anchor

i am breathing in hope.

because it is an anchor for my soul.

most favorite class

it has been almost two weeks since i've been on here. i think about blogging. there are many things to write about and share. but one cannot rush a post. :)

i turned twenty-one on the third.

and came across this quote on meg fee's blog:

she was twenty-one, for God's sake. she must be allowed to grow up. by the time they were her age, most of the heroines of literature had lived, loved and even died...if she wanted to be a heroine, it was time to start behaving like one.
...robyn sisman

i must admit that while growing up provides opportunity to step into myself in greater measure, i find myself resisting. this birthday was different. today is different. friendships are not what they were. and i am resisting the reality of the change that has taken place.

i doubt i was ready for this. and as i sit in my most favorite class, i cannot help but reevaluate my movement towards this change. again. and again. not because it isn't good or beautiful. but because it is different. and requires development. and talking. and crying. lots of crying. and maybe even a complete shift in my involvement with places and people. i have been here, in this place for a while. i am adhering to my own desires, refusing to be moved. i am stubborn. and confused. and scared.

this could be self-sabotage.

and while it all seems very dramatic. (and it may be.)

it is oh so real.

avoiding

i am avoiding writing a reflective book response.

i have been for two hours.

not because i don't like the book. it was challenging. it was illuminating.

i am just not in the mood to write a paper.

thursday is my birthday. my twenty-first birthday.

and i still have school. an exam. and a performance test (piano).

and i still have work. the ones available to cover cannot.

i wish it were warmer outside. and the air were thicker. not so cough-inducing, because i still have a cough. i would sit outside. and maybe i would fall asleep.

how do we process all that we need to when we have papers to write?

time to write.

then sleep.

patient.

He is making me aware of areas i need to work on.

which means, i now have the responsibility to work on these areas.

but i don't want to.

oh well. He's here.

with me. patient.

He won't relent until He has all of me.

He is a jealous God. but He won't push Himself on us either.

so He waits.

as we distract ourselves and are stubborn. and are too broken to let go.

and are too scared to sit still.

i see myself in a field. playing with grass. unable to look into His eyes. fidgeting with plants. tying them together. pulling them out of their earthy homes. digging my fingers into the hill i sit on. but i see Him sitting there. waiting. silent. eyes that burn with love. passionate. they scare me. it scares me to be so loved. to be so unclothed and hideous. and beautiful. but dangerously self-destructive. in small ways. in quiet ways. He is looking on me. not turning His eyes to the left or to the right. He is looking at me. endlessly patient. but grieving my choice to hold on with white knuckles to my ways and thoughts. He waits for me to trust His transformative goodness. but it hurts to be made free. this i am sure of. but His love is sustaining. and healing. and sufficient. He is El-Shaddai. the one who is sufficient for all the needs of His people. and He calls me His. this promise is for me. because He is for me.

but i'm still in that field. not trusting yet. well, not completely.

and my eyes still cannot look at His for long.

so He waits.

and i am grateful.

sampled of summer

today i didn't wear a sweater or a cardigan.

today i wore pants, without leggings underneath.

today i sampled of summer beneath the leaves. and beneath the leaves, their transparent and waxy cuticles gleaming, were branches. strong branches and lovely branches. thick ones and thin ones. supporting the weighty beauty above. extending an infrastructure so intricate and purposeful. and so unseen. unless one lays beneath the leaves. and if i were to follow the black ants down the highways i would find an equally impressive organization of limbs underneath. the wonder we behold daily is bursting with the sacred.

today i am thinking of the anatomy of a tree.

and the importance of branches. roots. trunks.