06-30-09
and I will bring praise
i get the question a lot these days: what church do you attend in Tennessee?
i have no good answer.
the truth is—well, i’ve been to several.
but what is church, exactly?
a giant production?
a building you can see for blocks?
a tradition?
me?
yes.
i am the church
and nothing speaks to this heart more
than two of my [former?] pastors
sitting down with me at dinner
[because here there are no barriers between the pulpit and the congregation]
asking: how’s your day? what’s the problem? how can i address it?
and not just asking.
but listening. REALLY listening.
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.
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.”