01-01-10
ghosts of new years past
My oldest friend told me the other day that I am a different person now. She means in a good way…different good, different because He made me a new creation. Different, because these days, I am becoming more and more comfortable with myself. Part of that, I think, comes with surrounding myself with people whose love for me is so unconditional. I am blown away by the depths of it. I am self-admittedly crazy, but they know it and embrace it. Encourage it even, because the Crazy is what helps me be, well…me. And it’s community, of course, but a continuation of the community I had in New York. God is building on that community here, and I never thought that was possible. I can barely wrap my mind around it.
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I remember dates. I remember the day I left for China when we stayed for a while (Sept 5, 2004) and the day I moved to New York (June 15, 2006) and the day I left (June 1, 2009). I remember the day I started my current job (June 8, 2009). I remember lots of dates that I wish I wouldn’t remember, like my anniversary with my high school boyfriend (I mean who wants to remember that? But I can’t help it, I do…June 5,1998 if you were curious). I remember the day my mom, my sister and I moved out of my childhood home (March 7, 1998), officially beginning my parents’ separation and subsequent divorce. I remember the date of the car wreck we were in my junior year of high school (November 30, 1997…and for the record, it’s a miracle none of us were seriously hurt).
I say this because New Years Day makes me sentimental…i guess since I am a date person, a quantifier…I know I’ve said it before: 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. And I love to look back and see how far I have come…but more-so how far He has brought me, how He has lifted me from the pit of destruction (Psalm 40).
Six years ago, everything changed on New Year’s Eve. I was driving back from Charleston, South Carolina with tears streaming down my face. On the phone with my best friend. God shook us that day, pointed us to Him. Revealed that there was more. That there was a different story than the one we were currently living. And instead of ignoring Him like I had for several years, I listened. And everything changed.
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I felt sad last weekend. I said this to my mom before I realized what I was saying:
I guess it’s hard for me to be sad because i’m happy so often…sadness is a different feeling for me.
Last night I looked around and realized that none of it would have been possible had God not broken my heart six years ago. The life I now have is a direct result of that day. And I am grateful that out of ashes comes beauty, because my life is beautiful.
11-26-09
all these places feel like home
grateful:
1. God…i know that seems trite, because everyone says they’re thankful for God, but it’s true. I’m so in love with Him!
2. my amazing, crazy, supportive, loving, helpful, wonderful family
3. my friends, both near and far…i don’t want to imagine where (or who) I’d be without you.
4. my job. i actually enjoy going to work daily – never thought i would say that!
5. school. i’m learning way more than i ever thought possible, and it’s so, SO good for me.
6. living in my hometown. never thought i would say that either, but there’s something comfortable about being here now and choosing to embrace it rather than resign myself.
7. good music that speaks to my soul (what i’ve been listening to lately, plus snow patrol and one republic on repeat!)
8. my church. we’re still in the ‘getting to know you’ phase, but so far, i like her.
9. i know i already said my family, but this year i am especially grateful that my mom is healthy.
10. New York City…I know, it’s weird that I can be grateful for being in Tennessee and for NYC at the same time, but I am. You can love in two places at once (roots and wings!)
10-22-09
girl is driving, she’s the queen
sometimes, on rough days, you need someone to say:
it’s okay. you can vent.
so you do….let it allll out.
and sometimes, on rough days, you need someone to say:
let’s get in the car
put the top down
and just drive
so you do. while listening to the soundtrack of your life.
thank you.
10-20-09
How much love would make you whole?
I’d never thought of myself as someone with ‘trust issues’ until I moved to New York. Maybe I always had them and didn’t realize it, but more likely it was that I hadn’t had to make that choice. I naturally trusted my family and friends in Tennessee, but when I moved and started afresh it was a decision I had to make.
i wrote these words on the wall of my first apartment: you have to trust someone in order to follow them. i was having a hard time believing that anyone in that whole city was for me (as opposed to against). I felt like I had no one. No one who knew me, the real me at least. These things take time. 6 months, for me…longer, for some.
i had a lot of thoughts on what leadership is, and hospitality, and how that plays out in a city such as New York. It got better. We got better at it. we might even be good at it now, because we’ve all been alone and we don’t want anyone to feel that way so we ask new people to lunch and we invite them to our growth communities and we encourage them not to leave, to give New York a chance, to plant themselves there for a while because it really can be good, if you let it.
it took awhile before there were people to be that for me, but in that alone [lonely] 6 months God taught me about community and what it meant and how to create it and grow it and learn to need it and even trust it. even when it’s hard, like one night when you have to sit down and tell your community that you’re dealing with the hardest struggle you’ve ever faced and you have to confess and tell them details and ask for help and prayers. and now we’re all better and stronger because of that night, and i would not change it. it’s hard to need somebody, but i needed them. need them, present tense.
I learned that trust is a choice. i learned that with a growing faith, the choice to trust someone gets even more difficult. Trusting someone doesn’t mean that we won’t be let down – rest assured we will – but we do it anyway, because we need each other. and no one is perfect.
Recently God has gifted me with new people, a new church, a job i completely love, and a new community. A different kind of community, because I don’t live in close proximity with most of these people. But a community in the sense that they know me, they are for me, they encourage me, and in turn i am learning to trust them.
This past weekend I was surrounded by people from New York and people from Tennessee. we were laughing and eating cake and the conversation was so good and everything just felt like it was in the right place. it was one of those ‘clarity’ moments in my life — the choice to trust means i get to love and be loved. and if trust means risk, i’m risking it all because it’s totally worth it.
06-29-09
it’s difficult to lose a person.
“New York City is the greatest city in the world. It is a perfect thunderstorm, scary at first with all it’s lightning and thunder, but then you grow to love it, to feel alive inside it….Someone told me once that New York City was like a person, and I suppose I understand that now. It is difficult to lose a person.
They knew me. They know me. My eyes are honest. I don’t have to say anything.
There is perhaps a strange freedom in my certainty. It’s like playing poker with God, and I’m all in – every last chip. And He had to know that I would be, because he made me this way. And I cry sometimes, but I also have to smile, because win or lose, we’re walking out of here together. And I wonder if it’s rare, this crazy thing always pushing in my chest, the weight also a gift, God always saying “Come on, follow me. Let’s go see this new thing. You have to trust me.” And me with all my questions, always reaching to rewind, that button always broken. And everyone with their stories and encouragement, words about…redemption and ‘this too shall pass.’ And God smiling, going ‘It’s me, you know me, I know you, I’m proud of you, Let’s go, Let’s do this, You’ve never been alone.’”
06-24-09
missing you
my first experience with missing someone was my freshman year of college. several of my close friends went to a school 3 hours away, and i felt pretty much alone. my parents had just divorced and i didn’t feel like i could leave them (co-dependent much?), so i stayed in town since there was a perfectly good university right down the street from my house.
i started school in the middle of august and i went to visit my friends over labor day weekend. the reunion was loud and girly and…well, loud, but there was this underlying aching feeling that i had never experienced – that feeling when you know you only have a short time and will be leaving soon, so you have to make the most out of every conversation, every moment.
that feeling has been a part of me ever since.
when i lived in new york and would come to tennessee for the weekend, every second of every day was planned to the max. i tried to make sure i saw everyone and spent some good quality time with them because time wasn’t a luxury. there was this sense of urgency the whole time i was here.
the great thing about being back in tennessee is that i’m not always leaving tomorrow or the next day. it’s something that is hard to get used to, though, not feeling anxious about time running out because i have to get on a plane. my time here is something i don’t yet take for granted because i missed it for so long. i love driving to nashville for work, eating dinner with my family, trying out new churches, seeing the same people two days (or more!) in a row and for more than a two hour stretch. it’s a different dynamic, one we’re all adjusting to, but it is good. and i don’t think it could have been this good if i had moved back two years ago, or even one year ago.
you can’t be in two places at once, but you can love in two places at once. the beauty in leaving gracefully – not running – is that you get to return without fear. and tomorrow i will get on a plane that will take me back to a city i love and people i love and a church i love and i will have that sense of urgency/aching feeling that i have to make the most out of my time in new york.
i can’t wait.
05-21-09
new york is hard.
- Rach
03-26-09
your best year yet.
I have a eighty-something year old aunt who lives in Montgomery, Alabama. The last time I saw her – Thanksgiving 2008 – she mentioned her age so I asked her how old she was. “Hmmm, 75? 76? I’m not sure,” she responded. I exchanged glances with my sister, both of us silently wondering if she really thinks she’s ten or so years younger than she actually is. Or maybe it doesn’t matter how old she thinks she is…maybe it really only matters that she is happy with who she is no matter what age she happens to be. This makes her ageless. This makes her brave.
That snippet of conversation has been on my mind a lot lately. Does your numerical age really matter? My life gets better with every passing birthday, but truth be told it also gets harder. I can’t decide if this is because I feel like I’m “supposed” to be someone else by the time I’m [fill in the blank] or if it will always just get more difficult.
When I was 20, age 28 was the Land of Being Grown Up. I sort of assumed I would have it all together by now. I thought I’d at least be in a relationship if not engaged IF NOT MARRIED WITH A KID OR TWO at this point. But I’m not. Instead I currently live in a three bedroom apartment with 4 other girls and life is something I’m still trying to figure out. I’m learning who I am: what I like and don’t like, how to be a good friend, how to give more than I take.
So at age 28, I’ll just choose to be me. A good friend told me the other day that I am the best version of myself right now. I believe that becoming the best version of yourself makes you ageless. I’ll take “ageless” over “supposed to” any day.
Happy Birthday, el. I hope that you remain ageless instead of “supposed to.”
03-03-09
best job in the world!
within my first year in new york city i met this cool chick named angie. i don’t really remember how/when we became friends, but one day we did and now we are. she is a big supporter of my travels and adventures and, even better, she understands them because she is a travel and adventure addict herself.
02-21-09
beautiful
she likes attention. she wants everyone to know she has arrived and causes a commotion as the door to the nail salon swings wide open.
she rolls in slowly with the help of her assistant. she’s wearing fur, of course, and tons of jewelry. her face is streaked with too-bright makeup: heavy blush (though she might call it ‘rouge’), eyebrows drawn on, lipstick over-lining her lips and dripping into the deep-set wrinkles around her mouth.
she has just had her hair done, and it resembles a style from the 40′s. she loves the lavender tulips in a jar by the counter and comments on them more than once.
she is 96 years old. she loves fashion. she is a former model – “i used to be tall!” she says. she’s been watching fashion week on television, remembering the old days before “fashion died.”
she is beautiful.
i watch in fascination as you engage her in conversation without hesitation. you ask her questions and really listen to her answers. you make eye contact. you treat her gently, like a friend, like someone you truly want to know.
you tell her you love her hair. you respond to her declaration that she used to model with a genuine, “i can tell!” you agree with her that the tulips are an exquisite shade of lavender.
you have ‘love’ tattooed on the inside of your wrist as if you need a reminder. in this moment, you don’t care what is easy for you, you only care about her comfort. You aren’t concerned with your own agenda, or your own time – instead, you are attentive to her needs.
you are beautiful.