01-30-10
white days like this (only come once a year)
And we are sitting in your car. The snow is falling around us. We can’t see out the windows. It is a white blanket. Beautiful. I slide open the sunroof and place my hand against the glass. I want the snow to melt in the shape of my hand. I want to make sure I am alive, breathing, warm. I want to make sure this is really happening.
And you are pouring out your life. The words are so hard for you to say. I look you in the eye to make sure you know I’m not scared. My words are few. I want you to know I understand. I want you to keep talking. Keep pouring.
Our heads are leaned back, looking up as though we’re searching the stars for some answers. (They don’t exist. That’s okay). You place your hand next to mine on the glass. It’s much bigger than mine. You are alive. Breathing. Warm. This is really happening.
(title song: from ‘white days’ by the juliana theory)
09-11-09
it’s 9/11. i am a new yorker.
i wrote this on sept 11, 2006.
You can see it in the little things, the cheesy memorabilia. The American flag pins subtly displayed on their lapels. But we [I say "we," but i've only been here 3 months] New Yorkers did what we normally do on Monday morning. We woke up. We ate breakfast. Stopped at Starbucks. Walked to work. We took the train, the ferry, even boarded planes. We laughed, we talked. We checked our myspace and our email and CNN.com. Some of us, I’m sure, shed tears. We discussed. We remembered where we were 5 years ago when the first plane hit, then the second.
Yes, today I was a little wary. I paid a little more attention to my surroundings, but mostly to their faces – wondering if it was sadness or indifference that was reflected there.
The train stopped at 8:46 and the conductor asked everyone to take a moment of silence in memory of those who lost their lives that day. New York rarely – if ever – stops, so it was definitely a tribute. All i could think was that there had to be so much pain that day. And then how God must have created so much beauty from those ashes…because that’s what He does.
In 2001 i didn’t know half the people on my speed dial. I didn’t really even know me – I was only 20, and I think it’s next to impossible to know yourself at 20. (In fact, I think I knew myself better when I was 17 than I did at 20…) It’s amazing how much life can change. I was still in school. i was working at a daycare. I didn’t know Jesus the way I do now. Scratch that…I didn’t love Jesus the way I do now. Since the day I decided to follow Him no matter what, whatever it took, my life couldn’t have been better if I had written the story myself.
I would have never dreamed that I would live in China, teach 8th grade, or move to New York City. I think, above all else, that I’m glad to be here today. I’m honored to be a part of this city. i’m honored to call New York my home.
09-01-09
and the water is rising quick (part III)
we’re not telling people. only family. when you tell people, they freak out.
when you tell people, it becomes real.
“God’s hand is all over this,” she says. It is. Of course it is.
*****************
we wait almost a week for the tests to come back. it was the longest few days of my life.
a phone call. she’s crying. “benign,” she says. my relief is almost as physical as the burden. i can’t talk much. don’t know what to say.
thank you thank you thank you thank you…..
*****************
it doesn’t even feel real, but something has permanently shifted—my faith, my trust. the airplane might fall out of the sky but His hand is over and under the plane.
08-31-09
and the water is rising quick (part II)
Edit: Please excuse the disjointed-ness (? is that a word?) of these posts….I needed to write about it, and this is what came out. But since a lot of people have asked, we have learned that my mom doesn’t have cancer, just a tumor that will have to be removed.
“What do you think heaven is like?” she asked one morning. We were standing at the sink, putting on our make-up.
“I’m not sure. Haven’t read much about it.”
“Do you think we’ll know who’s there?”
“I hope so,” I respond.
She adds, “I hope we don’t know who’s not.”
“Mom, stop being morbid!” I admonished.
“Well, when you get older you start thinking about these things!”
***************
Cancer.
That word is just scary. Along with biopsy, malignant, benign, needles, iv, pain medication, radiation….etc. I don’t like cancer vocabulary.
the scariest part is the unknown//the waiting for answers.
the airplane is falling out of the sky.
**************
i’m trying to keep it together but i can’t lose my mother.
Satan encourages my fear – exacerbates it, whispers lies.
the burden is physical. i wake up with my throat on fire. i miss work. it hurts to move.
the Enemy stands over me and tells me i have two options: either sink or detach. but my Father quiets me with singing and tells me there is a better way. i place my life in His capable hands and He leads me.
***************
i lie in her bed. we laugh a lot. it’s not strained, but there’s something unsettled about it. we both feel it.
i memorize her face, her words.
there’s not really much to say…no last minute i love you’s or life – altering confessions because we really have made the best of it. we have loved with abandon.
08-28-09
and the water is rising quick (part I)
it all started on an airplane.
we take necessary cautions/preventative measures to make sure we feel like we are in control – wear your seatbelt, air bags, brush your teeth twice a day+floss, vitamins, exercise, eating vegetables, sunscreen…the list goes on. and on.
hurling through the air (the air!) at neck-breaking speeds in a steel capsule where they calmly serve chips+beer+coke+etc. it almost seems absurd, right?
from where i was sitting, though, making sure i eat my vegetables seemed absurd too.
the fear began to grow from the tips of my toes until it was almost all-consuming. i thought about my family.
i was convinced the airplane was going to fall out of the sky any second.
but something clicked. i don’t have control of anything. only God decides if i live or die. it was an overwhelming peace in the midst of my fear that i can’t even begin to describe – supernatural, if you will. maybe the first time in my life that i’ve placed everything in His hands. it was brief. it was freeing.
************
at the hillsong conference last weekend, scott samways spoke on faith + the promises of God. He quoted psalm 112: “the righteous will not be moved…he is not afraid of bad news; his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD.”
************
i’m scared to trust God because i’m scared that something bad will happen. i’m scared to spend more time with God and get to know Him because i’m afraid He might teach me something. fear of being challenged. fear of needing someone other than myself.
************
i’m convinced the airplane will fall out of the sky any second.
06-17-09
it’s the end where i begin.
February 25, 1995 (age 14):
“When I get older…I’m NOT staying in Murfreesboro all my life because I want to go somewhere….I wanna be somebody. I can’t stand the thought of staying here my whole life.”
Summer 2000 (age 19):
[Conversation with my dad while in Times Square]
“Dad. You don’t understand. I HAVE to live here someday.”
(He knew I would).
December 4, 2004 (age 23):
[From a list called "THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE"]
5. Live in New York
Summer of 2006: (age 25):
“I love my life here. I love navigating the subway and the bus. I love pretending I’m a New Yorker. I’ve been here 2 weeks. 14 days. Have I loved every minute? Nope. But I think I’m happy. It’s happiness I can feel in my bones. It resonates like the words to my favorite song that I can’t stop playing. I wake up singing it, go to sleep singing it, sing it in the shower, and play it loud as I prepare for my day. I love this city.”
Spring 2007 (age 26):
“It took moving to another city and being truly alone for the first time in my life to realize I have nothing figured out.”
Summer of 2008 (age 27):
[a letter to new york]
“somehow i was able to fall in love with the real you – to see past the lights and the metal and the crowds and the perception that your outward facade was all that there was to you. the real you just makes all of that more beautiful, more inviting. i still love times square and broadway. public transportation is the best thing ever, especially these days. and my heart beats fast every time i look at your skyline. walking across your bridges is one of my favorite things to do, just to see you from a different perspective. you have so much to offer, and because of you i have learned so much about me.”
April 19, 2009 (age 28):
“I don’t have a lot of answers, and quite honestly, I’m not searching for them. I’m learning that ‘I don’t know’ is perfectly acceptable.
I’m leaving New York. I’m moving back to Tennessee for a while. It’s good.”
Summer of 2009 (age 28):
[From Lost and Found by Carolyn Parkhurst]
“…and things do affect us, right? People we meet, places we go? Maybe I have found something, but it doesn’t fit neatly into [a box]. Maybe it’s going to take me a while to even figure out what it is. We’re in a car heading toward our house, and out the window I can see us whizzing past all the landmarks of my childhood. We pass my elementary school, and the supermarket we always shop at. Everything looks familiar and strange all at once.
We’re home, whatever that means.
I take a breath of the summer air that’s not like the air in any other place in the world.”
12-19-08
a letter to the elizabeth of 2009
dear elizabeth of 2009,
remember this. remember the anticipation you wake with every morning. remember how you have to tell yourself, “youcandoit…5 more days [of work], 4 more days, 3 more days. youcandoit.” then you go home for a week. then africa.
…africa. the word even sounds different to you now. it rolls off your tongue gently, with the knowledge that you’ll be there soon. it swirls in your brain multiple times a day. it is a word that – for now – represents waiting, planning, a culmination of faith, big visions coming into fruition. it will sound different to you in january when you are there, and it is a word that will represent hope and joy and change for the rest of your life.
remember the lists you make as if you can really prepare yourself for this. remember the multiple phone calls with your partner in all things adventurous about the millions of small details that you get to take care of. remember the way you started packing 3 weeks before you leave, because you are just that excited.
remember the people who contributed their time, money, and prayers to make this happen. remember the first check you got in july from someone who believes in you – before you even bought your plane ticket . remember the girl who met you, heard about your trip, and wrote you a check all within 15 minutes because she has a heart for orphans. remember how you got a check in the mail from family friend, and the next day your sister – in – law asked if you could find people to help her pay for the shoes she found wholesale. remember how every child you meet in africa will have a pair of shoes because of a check and a phone call. remember the little girl who is already wearing her red wristband and prays for your safety [from wasps and bees!] every night. remember the sweet woman from church who doesn’t know you very well but still handed you cash in an envelope, and remember your friend from church who dropped a check in the mail just this week and is now paying for your expenses in country. remember there are more stories than you can even begin write down.
most of all, remember the One who made you for this. who chose you for this. remember that He designed you . remember that He has given you everything you need. remember that He deserves ALL of the credit, ALL of the glory, ALL of the fame. remember that He loves you and that sumission to authority=a lifetime of mind blowing adventures.
love,
elizabeth of 2008
05-19-08
the exchange of the truth for a lie
05-05-08
…and the sun will set for you
“Maybe this is what grace is, the unseen sounds that make you look up. I think it’s why we are here, to see as many chips of blue sky as we can bear…to notice flickers of the divine, like dust notes on sunbeams in your dusty kitchen. Without all the shade and shadows, you’d miss the beauty of the veil. The shadow is always there, and if you don’t remember it, when it falls on you and your life again, you’re plunged into darkness. Shadows make the light show.”
04-12-08
like a thousand miles of fire
one year ago:
on a plane heading to Tennessee. into the unknown. 12 days of “i don’t know.”
“What do you do in New York?”
“I don’t know.”
for the first time in 10 months i didn’t want to leave new york. i was afraid i would miss something. i finally had friends. we were about to move in together. but i was excited about going home. about leslie’s show. about preparing for/helping with REVO. about spending several days in nashville with ellie. about my heart being at rest for the first time in too long.
i wanted to be in new york. i wanted to be in nashville. thus perpetuating the tug of war in my heart…home vs…um? home?
i went back to TN with zero expectations and You blew me away.
anniversaries – dates, i guess – are important to me. i like to measure time that way. i like to measure growth that way. i love to look back at the last year or two and compare them to now.
now:
new job. the friends i didn’t want to leave? some of my best. my heart is still. my mind is not confused. i am content – not necessarily comfortable, but content. my relationships have changed, but only because they needed to.
now:
i’m okay with not knowing what’s next. i still plan, but plans change. i love my life. some things are still not reconciled, but You asked me to focus on You. I try. I fail, but still try.
I can’t even fathom what’s ahead. But today, I’m going to go to Brooklyn with my friends. I’m going to wear my cowboy boots with some leggings and pretend to be ‘brooklyn cool.’ i’m going to be content. we’re going to go to thrift stores and laugh and talk and laugh some more.
and next year, i’m going to look back on april 12 and remember how good it was, and how good it will be.
but most of all, how good You are.