free to let go

i don't need to hold on anymore.

what? really?

that means this change is real.

and the past is the past.

and memories are memories.

good. bad. beautiful. ugly.

memories.

and goodbye is goodbye.

i don't need to hold on anymore.

this statement gives me permission to leave.

and all i needed was a nudge.

an okay.

to stop looking back anxiously.

to stop reaching back apprehensively.

this statement changes things.

and i have to remind myself of it.

i am free to let go.

trying.

i am sure.

and so unsure.

i am courageous.

and so afraid.

i am trying to understand the years.

i am trying to make sense of them.

i am trying to see things as they were.

not just as i wished or thought.

i am trying to see things as they were.

and am finding that we knew better.

but we didn't.

we offered what we had.

it was broken. it was desperate.

it was the product of loneliness and needing to be loved.

and so many other things.

horrible things.

smell. skin. taste. skin. feel. skin.

none of this was intimacy.

because nearness is more than skin and heavy breathing.

it was the only way we knew how to hold on.

and oh, we held on.

it was the only way we knew how to love.

i think.

how difficult this is to explain.

to come to terms with.

it makes me so so so sad.

i am telling the truth.

i am telling the truth

knowing it will lead me far from you.

get acquainted

one of the greatest moments in anybody's developing expeirience is when he no longer tries to hide from himself but determines to get acquainted with himself as he really is.

norman vincent peale.

poison is poison.

last night i sat in the heaviness of it all.

with a friend.

and we talked and cried. about the past few years. years, can you believe it? can you believe how long we drag things on? with hope. with desperation. because we need life to be a certain way to function. i can't really articulate this all. we fool ourselves. convince ourselves that life really is okay. that we are okay with all that has happened. (how can any of what had happened have been okay?) and if we can just hold onto some things for just a bit longer we can fix them. we can ask questions and people will change. miraculously. but i cannot change you or fix you. we are all broken. we are all lost. we all do things we don't want to do. we all don't do things we want to do. when we try and do good, evil is right by our side. persuading us. rationalizing wrongdoing. poison is honey. sweet. thick. and when we are choking. sputtering blood. half-alive. hyperventaliting. we realize poison is poison. and sin leads to death. years.

but i know now, this very moment, that i want life.

i want to live, really live.

wounds are deep.

oh, they are deep.

ties are strong.

strong, but killing us.

but i have the opportunity to live.

to explore the height and depth of life.

this morning i am awakened by the courage to live.

and as impossible as it all felt yesterday.

this morning, and in the heaviness of last night,

i know it is possible.

knee deep

i am strong.

i am strong.

i am stronger than i think or know.

that is what she said.

that is what she prayed.

that is what she spoke over me.

she is not the only one.

and i see myself as weak. so weak.

a mouse not a lion.

and i see everything around me as so impossible.

this all feels impossible.

it feels like crap.

like i am knee deep in defacation.

gosh, what a horrible image.

wandering wandering.

circling about.

familiar sounds.

steady now.

truth ignored.

strange alien foreign.

shut up.

go away.

turning.

indulge.

war. waging it.

against

myself.

against

you.

against

the world.

fight fight fight.

not what i want.

hate truth.

conflicting realities.

struggle.

mess.

winding paths.

our writhing hearts: the wailing dark.

far from where i was sitting.

yesterday was hard. fun, beautiful, teary.... hard.

it was a wedding. downtime. a reception.

two realities crashing into eachother.

one seemed better than the other.

home was far from where i was sitting.

because home was with you. and others.

it was across the aisle. it was on the dancefloor.

it was in the photobooth.

but i had said goodbye to home nineteen days ago.

hard.

today i am sad and i want to control things.

i want to choose other than what i know is right.

i want to take back every promise.

and i want things to be different.

not as they were. but as i always wished them to be.

because my wishes seem so much better than reality.

today i am reminded of my weakness and His strength.

i am convinced that i need Him.

i am sure that becoming like Him means tears, suffering, loss, etc. etc. etc.

today i understand that we are separate people living separate lives

more than i did nineteen days ago.

we are men and women with lives apart, severed.

we are men and women with ties broken.

and even though we both wish wish wish things could be different.

i know that this is better.

if not for you, for me.

but i pray it is better for you soon.

and i pray it will make sense - for both of us.

today i can't get over how plans and wishes can be shattered.

and i don't know how to deal with all of the shards, all of the pieces.

and my heart still aches some.

today i am not afraid.

i am baffled.

i am far from home.

i am sad and i want to control things.

stoked.

this evening i will enjoy the civil wars.

stoked.

abba, father.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God.

For you did not reveice a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father." The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs - heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings, we may also share in his glory.

romans 8:14-17

here

truth:

you are father.

i am your dear dear daughter.

and in you i have a beautiful inheritance with your son.

both suffering and glory.

and in you i have no reason to fear.

more than a life of comfort, i ask for a heart that is transformed by you.

yup.

it starts with truth.

it starts with light.

for admiting it so recklessly.

there are so many good things happening.

the discovering of myself and of others. letting people in. understanding that i do have friends if i make time for them. they want in. i need to let them in. fun times at plays. at lunch. at dinner. on the couch. watching without a trace. even though my dad gets mad that the dvr is 46% full of them. reading a book for book club. laughing unrestrained. crying unrestrained, mostly with people. it's harder to cry by myself. it never used to be this way. but more recently it has been. i don't know what this means. but my heart is aching.

we are separate people living separate lives now.

and even though there are good good things happening. friday night was filled with me missing you. and places. and the plans we had. i will never dance that dance holding your hand or smelling your shampoo that i think smells weird. and i can't describe the realness. the rawness. how it overcame me. how it filled every cell. how i could explode with longing. how i wanted to say something. but shouldn't and didn't and won't. mostly because i said i wouldn't. because i have to learn how to keep my word. always. yes be yes. no be no. i cannot confuse things. i cannot reentangle myself. even though i am desperate with yearning. friday. yesterday. today. you are the funniest man in the world and i miss the way i laugh with you. a laugh uncontrollable. a smile inconceivable. i miss it desperately. desperately. i miss the understanding. i miss the confidence. i miss the frozen pizzas. i miss round eyes and big teeth. i miss knowing you will always respond. i miss always being together. even though it means that we were unhealthy. unhealthy for so long. so long. even though it means that we did not know who we were without eachother. i miss security. even though trust was broken many times. even though i had reason to be insecure. i was always secure. because you were my safe place. i miss car fresheners and talking about jesus. i miss worshipping with you. connection. knowing without saying. leading eachother. mutual submission. trusting eachother up there. releasing each other up there. planning and unity. i miss seeing you grow. i love seeing you grow and discovering gifts. i miss encouraging you and telling you it's going to be okay. i miss having a place with you. always having a place with you. i do i do i do. and part of me feels horrible for this. for even typing it. for admiting it so recklessly. but it is so true. and sometimes writing it, more specifically typing it, is the only way i can make myself feel. is the way i can make what is being repressed surface.

it pries open the cellars of my heart.

the basements with secrets and pain and wounds that are too deep.

far deeper than we know they are.

last night it took an hour and a half of restlessness to fall asleep. it took putting my head where the feet go. it took reciting words over and over in my head. knowing they are true.

He is kind. and in His kindness He has brought me to this place, this aching place of desperation. i have to trust this. if i believe He is kind and good and true - the truest realest person i could ever know- then i must trust. i must call to mind His tender mercies. i must remember remember His faithfulness. His deep deep love. even though lately i have not felt anything. not one drip of it. i want more than knowledge, i want experience. i want a knowing.

it feels good to cry. to feel. to lean into the sorrow and the loss. as well as the good good things that are happening. even if it means i need to do my makeup again.

i can't do anything about this desire. this eagerness to be with you.

i wonder if it will ever go away. i wonder if a few months from now i will feel this. i wonder if i will ever see you again after friends have weddings and events cause us to haphazardly bump into eachother. i want to see you whole. healed. delivered. free. i do i do i do. i wish i could help with it. but i can't. instead i am trusting you to the One who can. the only One who can. sometimes i get afraid you won't run to Him. that you will run to other things. things that are destructive. things that sabatoge intimacy with yourself, others, and Him. i release you to the One who is strong. who is enough.

i know that the decisions that have been made are right. are the right ones.

but they hurt. this all hurts.

hallelujah, come.

everything about this song is perfect.

it fills a space.

on repeat.

i love that it is led by both a male and a female. unexpected. beautiful. ebb and flow.

i thoroughly enjoy worship songs that integrate scripture or obvious themes from scripture in them. the word of God fuels the song, drives the song. we are lifting up words written by others and sung by others, thousands of years before our parents planned us (or didn't).

steffany frizzel, your vibrato - the gentle spinning in your voice - and slight scooping here and there carries weight. there is a whine, a soft cry between your words. it is not thin. it is natural. it is almost as if it could arise from the silence without distracting anyone. like a bird. that kind of natural.

jeremy riddle, there is sweetness in all of this. a sweet reverence and desperation. thank you for writing this song. thank you for joining the team at bethel.

today, i will not run.

today, i will seek.

when You said, "seek my face,"

my heart said to You, "Your face, O LORD, I shall seek."

psalm 27:8

fascinating.

thankful for

china, because they were the first ones to use kites.

they used them in war.

at least, that is what answers.com says.

and now i can use them with friends.

fascinating.

me, getting fancy flying kites.

bubbles and dogs.

lounging in the sun.

waterballoons for a game.

some beach time.

and this lady.

i am thankful for

the above lady.

and friendship.

honesty, vulnerability, laughter.

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.