The work on the cabin has slowed. I have time [and energy] on the weekends to go for a run [which I did this morning, and got chased by a dog...not fun], to stay up a little later and read, to knit. It is possible to linger over morning cups of coffee and the view of Mount Adams or the hummingbird feeder, depending on which porch I sit.
And yet there is now more work to be done. There is more work to be done Monday through Friday. There is work to be done at The Neighborhood Partnership Fund each day when I walk into their offices and into my very own office [no more sharing desk space, no more straining to hear the person on the other end of the phone, no more plugging my ears with music because now I can fill the whole room up with whatever I want to hear]. There is work to be done financially, bills to be paid, money for first and last months rent to be saved, apartments and houses to hunt for now that I, again, have an income. There is studying to be done. I have 300+ words to learn, test formats to become acustomed to, prefixes, roots and suffixes to familiarize myself with all in preparation for something I am trying to love and not dread: THE GRE.
But the programs at Portland State and The University of Oregon [which is not in Portland, but still on my list for its size and structure] both require it; therefore, I will overcome my awing [definition: an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, fear, etc. produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful. This is one of my words to study/learn] fear of THE GRE and remember how good it feels to walk into a test knowing I am about to kick its ass. And then I will kick THE GRE's ass.
But I digress...the respite from work at the cabin is synchronized with the need for more effort/work elsewhere. Most likely this is no accident. It is so good to be known by One who knows what I need exactly when I need it. Ideally I think I should be relieved of the need to continue living in a 33 foot Airstream with my parents at the age of 26. But I trust the One who sees beyond my immediate frustrations [coffee being ground feet from my head, no place for clothing, an ever growing pile of books read and letters received and no place to lovingly store them, ants that never seem to realize they are unwanted, a door that occasionaly locks me inside said 33 foot Airstream, etc.]. I trust that, "though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay."
And so now I will continue to enjoy my respite. I will leisurly shop for wild salmon for tonight's dinner. I will smile, sunglasses on, arm out the window so I can feel the breeze, singing at the top of my lungs as I enjoy the almost hour long drive back to the cabin.
Jul 26, 2008
Jul 16, 2008
Jul 14, 2008
i feel comfortable with my heart exhilarated
As a result of moving so far away from friends I have begun writing them letters. One might wonder why on earth I would choose letters when email is so much faster. True it is faster, but it is so much less romantic. It is fingers on a keyboard, not pen to paper. And in turn friends have been writing letters to me. The purpose of the letters I've sent is not the receipt of letters from them, although I welcome and treasure their postmarked responses. Even longer letters with more purpose than a simple hello, while typed first so my written words keep up with my thoughts, are eventually written down on paper before they are sent off.
And the anticipation...Oh! The anticipation! The stack of mail on the table beckons me as much as it taunts me. "Look through the letters! See who has written you!" And again, "Look through the letters. Only bills for you!" When there are letters from friends the joy is...incredible. Sometimes I even sing the mail song from "Blue's Clues." Without looking at the name or the return address I know who the letter is from. And everytime I am elated. The handwriting conjures memories of notes--which would arrive unexpectedly on my desk or car and were their own source of joy--written when we lived closer.
And then of course there is the excitement I feel as I place the stamp in the upper right-hand corner of the envelope, I cannot wait to hear they have received it. Images of friends opening mailboxes or sifting through stacks of bills and unwanted catologues only to find a hand addressed envelope nestled in the midst of it all never fails to bring a smile to my face.
All of this for a mere $0.42. A bargain price for friendship that lives on across miles.
And the anticipation...Oh! The anticipation! The stack of mail on the table beckons me as much as it taunts me. "Look through the letters! See who has written you!" And again, "Look through the letters. Only bills for you!" When there are letters from friends the joy is...incredible. Sometimes I even sing the mail song from "Blue's Clues." Without looking at the name or the return address I know who the letter is from. And everytime I am elated. The handwriting conjures memories of notes--which would arrive unexpectedly on my desk or car and were their own source of joy--written when we lived closer.
And then of course there is the excitement I feel as I place the stamp in the upper right-hand corner of the envelope, I cannot wait to hear they have received it. Images of friends opening mailboxes or sifting through stacks of bills and unwanted catologues only to find a hand addressed envelope nestled in the midst of it all never fails to bring a smile to my face.
All of this for a mere $0.42. A bargain price for friendship that lives on across miles.
Jul 8, 2008
buy a child
I was at the gym this morning going nowhere on one of the many elliptical machines. I had my headphones in, as I always do, and was enjoying the soundtrack from "Across the Universe." There are TVs all over the place, but most of them do not have subtitles which means that as I sweat, grit my teeth, try to go just a little harder, I generally do so without any regard to what is on each of these TVs.
This morning was different.
This morning I was in front of the TV showing reruns of ER. [I had completely forgotten that George Clooney used to be on that show!] Directly to the left of ER was Good Morning America [heretofore referred as GMA]. This TV was the only one I could see that had subtitles and the words "child slavery" happened to catch my eye as I was in the middle of mouthing the words to "She's So Heavy" and pondering the youthful good looks of George. Immediately all other thoughts were forgotten and I was glued to GMA.
They did a story on child slavery, and more specifically they looked at just how easy it is to BUY A CHILD.
Not adopt a child.
BUY a child.
Buy a CHILD.
The reporter started out for JFK at 7:10A and within 10 hours had made it to Haiti and back. During that time he met with two different people who were each willing to sell him a child of around 10 or 11. Although the first person he met with recommended a child of closer to age 15 because she would be "more developed." During the first meeting the reporter, undercover of course, and the man selling children bartered over the price of the child he hoped to purchase. The seller started out at the bargain price of $300. [THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A HUMAN LIFE.] But he was talked down to $150, including all the necessary forged paperwork. The second seller's price was a bit steeper, $10,000. Although he more than implied that in purchasing the child she became yours and would then have to do WHATEVER it was you required of her and was much more open about the sexual nature of the transaction they discussed.
And we all just kept on doing what we were doing. We kept running on our treadmills, going nowhere on our elliptical machines, climbing imaginary stairs. Maybe because we were too engrossed in whatever workout mix we'd chosen for that morning. Maybe because we were to enamored with George and his incredible medicinal skills. Maybe because learning something like that feels so overwhelming that all one can do is go into shock.
But what happens when the shock wears off? What then? Not knowing the answer to those questions I kept on sweating. I poured my anger and my broken heartedness into the rest of my work out. I listened to Delta Spirit's "Streetwalker" as I stretched out tired muscles. And then I crammed myself into one of the showers that, until this morning, seemed so spacious. And I cried. I cried big, hot, silent tears as I struggled to keep myself upright. I cried and I prayed for an end to injustice, or as much of one as we can hope to see here and now.
Let us not be silent. Let us not be content to simply sit and allow these things to happen. Let us not be more concerned about the rising cost of gas than we are about the bartered price of a human life. Let us respond in a way that honors the One who came before us, who came to seek and save the lost.
This morning was different.
This morning I was in front of the TV showing reruns of ER. [I had completely forgotten that George Clooney used to be on that show!] Directly to the left of ER was Good Morning America [heretofore referred as GMA]. This TV was the only one I could see that had subtitles and the words "child slavery" happened to catch my eye as I was in the middle of mouthing the words to "She's So Heavy" and pondering the youthful good looks of George. Immediately all other thoughts were forgotten and I was glued to GMA.
They did a story on child slavery, and more specifically they looked at just how easy it is to BUY A CHILD.
Not adopt a child.
BUY a child.
Buy a CHILD.
The reporter started out for JFK at 7:10A and within 10 hours had made it to Haiti and back. During that time he met with two different people who were each willing to sell him a child of around 10 or 11. Although the first person he met with recommended a child of closer to age 15 because she would be "more developed." During the first meeting the reporter, undercover of course, and the man selling children bartered over the price of the child he hoped to purchase. The seller started out at the bargain price of $300. [THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A HUMAN LIFE.] But he was talked down to $150, including all the necessary forged paperwork. The second seller's price was a bit steeper, $10,000. Although he more than implied that in purchasing the child she became yours and would then have to do WHATEVER it was you required of her and was much more open about the sexual nature of the transaction they discussed.
And we all just kept on doing what we were doing. We kept running on our treadmills, going nowhere on our elliptical machines, climbing imaginary stairs. Maybe because we were too engrossed in whatever workout mix we'd chosen for that morning. Maybe because we were to enamored with George and his incredible medicinal skills. Maybe because learning something like that feels so overwhelming that all one can do is go into shock.
But what happens when the shock wears off? What then? Not knowing the answer to those questions I kept on sweating. I poured my anger and my broken heartedness into the rest of my work out. I listened to Delta Spirit's "Streetwalker" as I stretched out tired muscles. And then I crammed myself into one of the showers that, until this morning, seemed so spacious. And I cried. I cried big, hot, silent tears as I struggled to keep myself upright. I cried and I prayed for an end to injustice, or as much of one as we can hope to see here and now.
Let us not be silent. Let us not be content to simply sit and allow these things to happen. Let us not be more concerned about the rising cost of gas than we are about the bartered price of a human life. Let us respond in a way that honors the One who came before us, who came to seek and save the lost.
Jul 7, 2008
a change in the winds
I don't know the exact moment or the cause of it, but early Thursday afternoon things changed. I do not mean to say that all of a sudden the sky and the ground were inverted and everyone suddenly spoke Piglatin. What I do mean is that, as I was sitting at the table in the Airstream trailer enjoying a nice cold glass of water I looked up from the magazine I was reading and realized that things had changed. The change was not a result of profound insights gained from the July/August issue of Women's Health. It was not a result of being a little too full from the nachos I'd eaten for lunch, nor was it a result of imagining just how cute I would look in all the clothes in the most recent Anthropology catalogue. I cannot say what caused this shift. But I can say I am grateful for it. I have needed to feel it. I have needed to know that all this emotional tumult, this moving and uprooting myself was for more than just obedience's sake. [Though of course if I truly believe what I say I do then obedience's sake is enough.] And that realization that things are changing, though small and without apparent cause has lifted my spirits, has encouraged me to be more honest with myself and with those around me, has given me courage, has renewed my trust and the belief that, though difficult to see too far ahead, I am on my path.
Jul 2, 2008
santa cruz sightings
I am bombarded, in the best ways possible, by Santa Cruz. First there is the haze in the sky. It has been here since I got back from the cabin on Monday afternoon. It is the haze from all the fires in California. Now I know that Santa Cruz is not the only place that fires are ablaze, but in some weird way I am comforted that the smoke from the Santa Cruz mountains has followed me all this way.
Second there are all the people I see who look like people I know from Santa Cruz. There was a girl at the gym yesterday who looked just like Jenny Baker. I could've sworn I saw Jamie Moreno walking down the street the other day in Portland. And then there is this girl who works somewhere downtown, I forget where, and she could be sisters with the lovely lady who works at the FedEx/Kinko's where I shipped everything from when I moved. This guy just ordered a coffee and then said something about being totally stoked and I almost asked him if he was from Santa Cruz just for answering that way, not even because he looks like anyone I know there. And then this girl who looked exactly like Jody Mason showed up--oh wait that really was Jody!
Then there are the cars. I see cars that look like the cars of my friends everywhere. You would not believe how many beat up green Toyota Camrys there are out there. It has to be one of the most popular cars ever made. And the silver Pontiac Vibes. And the black Honda CRVs. And the faded purple minivans like Nancy Broxton drives. I know that there are tens of thousands of each of these cars in existence between here and Santa Cruz. But I keep hoping that one time, randomly, it will actually be Nancy or Jamie or Erica or whomever else I think I see.
And music. All the songs that remind me of people I miss so much. The coffee shop I'm in has been playing The Beatles all morning. Last week "Fergalicious" came on the radio and I almost had to pull over I was laughing so hard. Then there was the Jack Johnson song Erica loves so much that we listened to it over and over and over. And that song by One Republic. And the new Coldplay album. And Rush in Rolling Stone. And the list just goes on.
So my friends, my Santa Cruz family, I miss you. I miss you so much that I think I see you everywhere.
Second there are all the people I see who look like people I know from Santa Cruz. There was a girl at the gym yesterday who looked just like Jenny Baker. I could've sworn I saw Jamie Moreno walking down the street the other day in Portland. And then there is this girl who works somewhere downtown, I forget where, and she could be sisters with the lovely lady who works at the FedEx/Kinko's where I shipped everything from when I moved. This guy just ordered a coffee and then said something about being totally stoked and I almost asked him if he was from Santa Cruz just for answering that way, not even because he looks like anyone I know there. And then this girl who looked exactly like Jody Mason showed up--oh wait that really was Jody!
Then there are the cars. I see cars that look like the cars of my friends everywhere. You would not believe how many beat up green Toyota Camrys there are out there. It has to be one of the most popular cars ever made. And the silver Pontiac Vibes. And the black Honda CRVs. And the faded purple minivans like Nancy Broxton drives. I know that there are tens of thousands of each of these cars in existence between here and Santa Cruz. But I keep hoping that one time, randomly, it will actually be Nancy or Jamie or Erica or whomever else I think I see.
And music. All the songs that remind me of people I miss so much. The coffee shop I'm in has been playing The Beatles all morning. Last week "Fergalicious" came on the radio and I almost had to pull over I was laughing so hard. Then there was the Jack Johnson song Erica loves so much that we listened to it over and over and over. And that song by One Republic. And the new Coldplay album. And Rush in Rolling Stone. And the list just goes on.
So my friends, my Santa Cruz family, I miss you. I miss you so much that I think I see you everywhere.
Jun 27, 2008
get outside
Tuesday was the day of gloom and doom. It was a day of doubt and discouragement. It was a day where it seemed all I heard was no. The voice that says loving, encouraging things to me was drowned out by the voice that kept reminding me, just a little too loudly, of my shortcomings, my downfalls, and my fears.
After dinner and some tears my mom said, "Let's walk to the end of the road." What I wanted to do was climb into bed fully clothed, something I can't stand doing unless it's really bad, pull the covers over my head and cry until I was exhausted and dehydrated. But I agreed to a walk simply because disagreeing would mean prolonging the inevitable trip outside the 33 foot Airstream I currently call home and I just wanted to get it over with so I could commence with the crying until exhausted/dehydrated plan.
We stepped outside and she said, "David Van Raden always says, 'When it gets to big get outside.'" David is my godfather and one of the men I am blessed to call a father figure. He is a wise man, someone who knows about things getting too big and about going outside. And that fresh air, the sunset filled sky, Mount Adams with it's rose tinted evening snow, and the wild roses lining the road were exactly what I needed.
Smart guy.
Good advice.
Try it sometime. Even if there are no mountains, no sunsets, no roses and the air isn't really that fresh.
After dinner and some tears my mom said, "Let's walk to the end of the road." What I wanted to do was climb into bed fully clothed, something I can't stand doing unless it's really bad, pull the covers over my head and cry until I was exhausted and dehydrated. But I agreed to a walk simply because disagreeing would mean prolonging the inevitable trip outside the 33 foot Airstream I currently call home and I just wanted to get it over with so I could commence with the crying until exhausted/dehydrated plan.
We stepped outside and she said, "David Van Raden always says, 'When it gets to big get outside.'" David is my godfather and one of the men I am blessed to call a father figure. He is a wise man, someone who knows about things getting too big and about going outside. And that fresh air, the sunset filled sky, Mount Adams with it's rose tinted evening snow, and the wild roses lining the road were exactly what I needed.
Smart guy.
Good advice.
Try it sometime. Even if there are no mountains, no sunsets, no roses and the air isn't really that fresh.
Jun 24, 2008
ugly / bad / good
UGLY / BAD
I want to curl up into a ball and cry.
I am tired.
I am hot.
I am frustrated.
I love my parents and am overwhelmed by their generosity [a car whenever I need it, a bed, good food, french press every morning, help with bills, and the list goes on]. But I don't want to live in a 33ft trailer with them.
I am tired of the endless to do list.
I don't want to feel like I'm stalking the head of the Applied Psychology Graduate Committee. I just would love it if he'd return my phone call/email.
I don't want all of these things to take so long. I follow up, I follow through. I return emails and phone calls promptly. I am doing as much as I can as fast as I can and it's all going far too slow for my taste.
I just want to be in control. I want to have everything go according to MY plan, not His.
GOOD
I have had time to visit my friends and sisters because I have not yet found a job.
I have been up to the cabin almost every weekend since moving back to the Pacific NW and I cannot imagine a more beautiful place to work my ass off/work out my frustrations.
After four years of pretty solid work it is good to have a break. A real break. Not a vacation with a concrete end date but a break.
The difficulties this time presents are constant reminders that I am not in control and all I can do is present my requests to Him and do the things I'm asked...no matter how crazy they seem.
I think I have breathed more deeply in the past three going on four weeks than I have in quite a long time.
I want to curl up into a ball and cry.
I am tired.
I am hot.
I am frustrated.
I love my parents and am overwhelmed by their generosity [a car whenever I need it, a bed, good food, french press every morning, help with bills, and the list goes on]. But I don't want to live in a 33ft trailer with them.
I am tired of the endless to do list.
I don't want to feel like I'm stalking the head of the Applied Psychology Graduate Committee. I just would love it if he'd return my phone call/email.
I don't want all of these things to take so long. I follow up, I follow through. I return emails and phone calls promptly. I am doing as much as I can as fast as I can and it's all going far too slow for my taste.
I just want to be in control. I want to have everything go according to MY plan, not His.
GOOD
I have had time to visit my friends and sisters because I have not yet found a job.
I have been up to the cabin almost every weekend since moving back to the Pacific NW and I cannot imagine a more beautiful place to work my ass off/work out my frustrations.
After four years of pretty solid work it is good to have a break. A real break. Not a vacation with a concrete end date but a break.
The difficulties this time presents are constant reminders that I am not in control and all I can do is present my requests to Him and do the things I'm asked...no matter how crazy they seem.
I think I have breathed more deeply in the past three going on four weeks than I have in quite a long time.
Jun 18, 2008
things i love about today by topic
TATTOOS
1. The way tattoos start conversations.
2. Some chick [with a rad full sleeve] from LA by way of Portland has heard of Verve.
3. Same chick has also heard of O'Reilley's and Dan and this makes the world seem just a little smaller.
4. Tanktop weather and tattoos are a delightful combination.
COFFEE / COFFEE SHOPS
1. French press is so easy to find in Portland.
2. Free wi-fi. I realize it's not so strange to find a good independent coffee shop with free wi-fi anymore, but I still enjoy it oh so much.
3. The sounds of espresso being ground.
4. Cheap refills of delicious, recently locally roasted coffee.
JOB OPPORTUNITY
1. Non-profit.
2. Part time.
3. Full benefits.
4. Yes please.
BLOGS
1. I love that my friends blog.
2. I love reading your blogs.
3. I miss you and reading these blogs helps to, today, shorten the distance between us.
FOOD
1. I brought my lunch today [cheese and tomato on gluten free bread].
2. I stopped by New Seasons Market on my way to Albina Press and got some vegetarian gummie bears and they are delightful.
3. I love cooking and planning meals with my mom.
EXERCISE
1. One of the first things I did when I moved here was buy a gym membership.
2. I've used it more in the past three weeks than I think I used the gym memebership I had in Santa Cruz for eight months.
3. I hate the Stairmaster, but it just hurts so good.
4. Each time they scan my card as I enter I think about climbing, summitting Mount Saint Helens on August 23.
1. The way tattoos start conversations.
2. Some chick [with a rad full sleeve] from LA by way of Portland has heard of Verve.
3. Same chick has also heard of O'Reilley's and Dan and this makes the world seem just a little smaller.
4. Tanktop weather and tattoos are a delightful combination.
COFFEE / COFFEE SHOPS
1. French press is so easy to find in Portland.
2. Free wi-fi. I realize it's not so strange to find a good independent coffee shop with free wi-fi anymore, but I still enjoy it oh so much.
3. The sounds of espresso being ground.
4. Cheap refills of delicious, recently locally roasted coffee.
JOB OPPORTUNITY
1. Non-profit.
2. Part time.
3. Full benefits.
4. Yes please.
BLOGS
1. I love that my friends blog.
2. I love reading your blogs.
3. I miss you and reading these blogs helps to, today, shorten the distance between us.
FOOD
1. I brought my lunch today [cheese and tomato on gluten free bread].
2. I stopped by New Seasons Market on my way to Albina Press and got some vegetarian gummie bears and they are delightful.
3. I love cooking and planning meals with my mom.
EXERCISE
1. One of the first things I did when I moved here was buy a gym membership.
2. I've used it more in the past three weeks than I think I used the gym memebership I had in Santa Cruz for eight months.
3. I hate the Stairmaster, but it just hurts so good.
4. Each time they scan my card as I enter I think about climbing, summitting Mount Saint Helens on August 23.
Jun 9, 2008
toilet seat covers
I never used to use toilet seat covers. Maybe that's gross. Whatever. It was an attempt to be something other than a germ-o-phobe. But now that this coffee shop I'm loving doesn't have them in their bathroom I find myself a bit disconcereted. I mean I love Portland, I love the people here, but I would also like the opportunity to have a bit of separation from them when I use the loo.
Pictures of new life here coming soon...er...ish.
Pictures of new life here coming soon...er...ish.
Jun 3, 2008
briefly
I can't believe home is in the Pacific NW.
There are so many changes.
I am tired and grouchy.
I love physical labor.
I want to find a home and nest.
I miss you.
There are so many changes.
I am tired and grouchy.
I love physical labor.
I want to find a home and nest.
I miss you.
May 31, 2008
May 29, 2008
packing
I should:
Be packing.
I am:
Taking just a moment to indulge my internet craving.
Listening to my "Pack Your Sh*t" mix.
I wonder:
How I acquired so much stuff.
I moved here with:
Clothes
Snowboard
Laptop
Favorite books
Pictures of loved ones
Down comforter
Pillow
Patrice [car]
I am leaving here with:
Clothes [have acquired more]
Snowboard [but it won't fit so BFF is watching her for me]
Laptop [now dead, but I'm hoping that I can get my written documents off somehow]
Favorite books [have become four+ boxes]
Pictures of loved ones [now include so many new faces]
Down comforter [no new bedding, thank goodness]
Three lamps
Multiple artpieces in process
The beginnings of a half sleeve
I leave behind:
One book shelf
Two [cheap] bedside tables
One refinished dresser
Patrice
Favorite places
Family
And now:
I will shove a power bar down my throat
Load the rest of my boxes in the car.
Go to FedEx.
Go to the Goodwill.
Give BFF her car back [THANK YOU!].
Pack my clothes.
Have dinner with friends.
Collapse in a pile of tears, kleenex, and exhaustion.
Be packing.
I am:
Taking just a moment to indulge my internet craving.
Listening to my "Pack Your Sh*t" mix.
I wonder:
How I acquired so much stuff.
I moved here with:
Clothes
Snowboard
Laptop
Favorite books
Pictures of loved ones
Down comforter
Pillow
Patrice [car]
I am leaving here with:
Clothes [have acquired more]
Snowboard [but it won't fit so BFF is watching her for me]
Laptop [now dead, but I'm hoping that I can get my written documents off somehow]
Favorite books [have become four+ boxes]
Pictures of loved ones [now include so many new faces]
Down comforter [no new bedding, thank goodness]
Three lamps
Multiple artpieces in process
The beginnings of a half sleeve
I leave behind:
One book shelf
Two [cheap] bedside tables
One refinished dresser
Patrice
Favorite places
Family
And now:
I will shove a power bar down my throat
Load the rest of my boxes in the car.
Go to FedEx.
Go to the Goodwill.
Give BFF her car back [THANK YOU!].
Pack my clothes.
Have dinner with friends.
Collapse in a pile of tears, kleenex, and exhaustion.
May 25, 2008
the heart muscle*
My heart aches. ACHES. Aches with longing and with loneliness.
Today was so many things I love:
Church with family, and for the first time in two years it was not part of any sort of job description. It was because I wanted to be there just to sit and listen to what He wanted me to hear. I got to sit next to family and was able to enjoy the entire service without worrying about slides, microphones, or attendance. It was such a gift.
And then more time with family over delicious food, good conversation, and cold beverages for all ages. I sat with these beautiful people with whom I have spent the past almost three years. I have opened my heart to them. We have shared food, coffee, tanks of gas, hugs, kisses, bottles of wine, tears and laughter. My heart is so full, and coming here I didn't think I had that much room for all these people to fit inside. But I did, and I am so thankful. Because they have made this place special. They have taught me. They have held me. They have loved me. They have called me family.
And because of all of this my heart aches. It aches as, so full, it strains at the invisible seams that bind arteries to muscle. Pumping faster as my pulse quickens and thoughts of leaving all of this flood my mind. After all of this, at a time when I feel so full, this is when I am to leave? It seems I just realized how wonderful all of this, all of them truly are. But perhaps it is only because I am leaving that those realizations exist.
*This was written as I was readying to leave Santa Cruz. It has remained unpublished until today, 28 November 2008, for reasons I can no loger remember.
Today was so many things I love:
Church with family, and for the first time in two years it was not part of any sort of job description. It was because I wanted to be there just to sit and listen to what He wanted me to hear. I got to sit next to family and was able to enjoy the entire service without worrying about slides, microphones, or attendance. It was such a gift.
And then more time with family over delicious food, good conversation, and cold beverages for all ages. I sat with these beautiful people with whom I have spent the past almost three years. I have opened my heart to them. We have shared food, coffee, tanks of gas, hugs, kisses, bottles of wine, tears and laughter. My heart is so full, and coming here I didn't think I had that much room for all these people to fit inside. But I did, and I am so thankful. Because they have made this place special. They have taught me. They have held me. They have loved me. They have called me family.
And because of all of this my heart aches. It aches as, so full, it strains at the invisible seams that bind arteries to muscle. Pumping faster as my pulse quickens and thoughts of leaving all of this flood my mind. After all of this, at a time when I feel so full, this is when I am to leave? It seems I just realized how wonderful all of this, all of them truly are. But perhaps it is only because I am leaving that those realizations exist.
*This was written as I was readying to leave Santa Cruz. It has remained unpublished until today, 28 November 2008, for reasons I can no loger remember.
May 16, 2008
time is ticking away
I should be in bed asleep. I should have been in bed a sleep over an hour ago. I am getting up at 4:00A so I can be ready to head out the door when my wonderful and amazing BFF picks me up at 5:00A. Instead I bought board shorts and sunscreen [SPF50 so I can keep my colors bright], saw "Prince Caspian" and then went to Book Shop Santa Cruz with friends and bought a[nother] book to read on my trip. And now I'm dawdling. Because leaving means coming back in a week. And coming back in a week means leaving for Portland a week after that. I don't know that I'm quite ready to say those final goodbyes.
To quote the aforementioned movie:
Caspian: I don't think I'm quite ready.
Aslan: And that is exactly why you are.
C.S. Lewis, you always come through with those great nuggets of wisdom.
To quote the aforementioned movie:
Caspian: I don't think I'm quite ready.
Aslan: And that is exactly why you are.
C.S. Lewis, you always come through with those great nuggets of wisdom.
May 13, 2008
the best
I have the best friends / family [framily?] in the whole wide world.
THE BEST.
As I prepare to leave I am continually overwhelmed by the ways they love me, want to celebrate me [ME! They want to celebrate me!], and simply want to enjoy our last few weeks together.
I don't know that I deserve all the love and celebration, but I think that's part of what makes being loved and celebrated so wonderful. We don't deserve it, but there are people who choose to love and celebrate us in spite of our brokenness, maybe even because of it.
Thank you so much framily. I love you dearly.
THE BEST.
As I prepare to leave I am continually overwhelmed by the ways they love me, want to celebrate me [ME! They want to celebrate me!], and simply want to enjoy our last few weeks together.
I don't know that I deserve all the love and celebration, but I think that's part of what makes being loved and celebrated so wonderful. We don't deserve it, but there are people who choose to love and celebrate us in spite of our brokenness, maybe even because of it.
Thank you so much framily. I love you dearly.
May 8, 2008
one-way ticket
I just bought my plane ticket to Portland.
It made me cry.
I have never before purchased a one-way ticket.
It made me cry.
I have never before purchased a one-way ticket.
May 6, 2008
another kleenex please
I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave. Probably sink into a deep, tear-filled, chocolate and coffee saturated depression.
Sometimes I wonder if I've ever done anything this hard. Moving to California was so much easier than leaving California.
Do I trust that this is the right thing? Do I believe I am being called elsewhere? Yes. I do.
Does that make leaving any easier. No. If anything I think it makes it harder. It means I go on faith. And faith is a good thing to go on. But I sure wish it came with a detailed roadmap rather than this little lantern that only illuminates my feet.
Sometimes I wonder if I've ever done anything this hard. Moving to California was so much easier than leaving California.
Do I trust that this is the right thing? Do I believe I am being called elsewhere? Yes. I do.
Does that make leaving any easier. No. If anything I think it makes it harder. It means I go on faith. And faith is a good thing to go on. But I sure wish it came with a detailed roadmap rather than this little lantern that only illuminates my feet.
Apr 25, 2008
unrealized
Unrealized plans
Unrealized dreams
Unrealized for a reason
a good reason
a true reason
But sadness exists as I remember these plans and dreams that go unrealized
Spoiling
Celebrating
Enjoying
They happen in different ways
With different people
It is not the same
It could never be the same
So today I shed these tears for those things that will go unrealized
Unrealized dreams
Unrealized for a reason
a good reason
a true reason
But sadness exists as I remember these plans and dreams that go unrealized
Spoiling
Celebrating
Enjoying
They happen in different ways
With different people
It is not the same
It could never be the same
So today I shed these tears for those things that will go unrealized
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