Our 1

Just saw a message on my phone that meant a lot more than the few sentences seen on the screen. I couldn't cry though, not now at least. I've cried enough.

Tuesday will be a really hard day.

Fate. Decisions out of my control. A life with more potential than I can even describe. It's all gone.

At least that is what it feels like. I feel like I've been hooked up to donate blood but they forgot about me. I started out helping someone else - but now I am slowly dying - losing more blood than is healthy or the required amount.

Exhausted. Numb. And tear-less.

I gave all I could, and maybe it wasn't enough... maybe it was. Their resources. Her life. It's all smacking us in the face and kicking us in the gut.

Why?

I don't know the answer to that question. I've sat on a public school hallway floor confused, disappointed, and searching for the same answer to that question. I've driven around dimly lit streets in search for it. Laid on a small mattress in the basement looking deep into the eyes of one who I thought could give me the answer. I came up short every time. We all do.

Every day I look a pictures of days that were different. We were young. We had dreams. All that mattered was that we were together. In that basement our hands marked up the walls. We became a family. Still a family. Always a family. Just a lot older, more distance, and our cracks are now broken pieces shattered all over a tile floor. And no one knows how to put them back together.

The world consumed, trapped, and claimed her victim. I just pray that one day I can look at our boy with the same eyes I did when he danced in the parking lot that summer where face paint was more common than secrets in backpacks. Eyes that have changed perspective over time, but eyes that still love. Right now it's hard. Being away is hard. Being circumstantial fun is hard. Not knowing what it's like is hard.

I am a shepherd searching for her 1. The 1 out of the other 99 who is lost. Ready for him to come home to the family, but baring the truth that this shepherd, and the surrounding shepherds have to come home with just 99 some days.

Wait On It

 

You would think I had said something about making moves in 2015 or something.

 

 

I heard back from the people with a possible internship opportunity for me in Chicago this summer, they want to know when a good time to call is... I've already spoken to them in person, sent in the application, and prayed on it as much as a girl like me can. I wasn't worried until now. Raising money for an entire summer - when there are still bills to pay for last summers international trip, makes my stomach turn upside down. "How will you work for a non-profit if you can't ask for money, that's all they do." Well to answer your question sweet stranger, compassion. I won't have to ask for much, I will just introduce, share stories, and allow those blessed with the resources we won't always have an opportunity to see into our lives. Help them to understand. Money for others is a whole other ball game. Money for me? That is a situation where some words can't be shared out loud. Like I said earlier though, I'm praying about it. The word for this is timing. Not stress, money, doubt - timing.

 

 

I sent some e-mails, crunched some numbers, and stared at a computer screen way too long, but after all that I feel like adding a minor in Sports Ministry is the next right move. You can ask me the reasons, or go ahead and assume if you know me well enough. I'd love to tell you about my passion for athletics, kids, the body, and a safe environment to encourage dreams. I'm hoping to talk to the men in charge tomorrow. I am excited and nervous all at the same time. My current majors are split in rookie status and thriving... adding this to the table would most likely end in a rookie weighted status. But I am up for the challenge should they see it as a good next move too.

 

 

Getting an echocardiogram on my heart at 20 years old wasn't the first thing on my bucket list when I made it out of the teenage years - but here I am! My heart is still beating, off beat, but it's doing it's thing. The nurses had to dye my blood cause my ribs are so close together and made it hard to see my heart. Instead of making it seem like an issue they just told me I had extra protection around my heart. And that made me feel pretty great. We talked about horses, and at risk youth, and the fact that I was the youngest patient they have had in years. I do my best to befriend all medical personal I encounter - as much as I dislike the whole thing... they are pretty helpful. Stress test and more results to come.

 

 

This broken foot has caused me great anxiety and brought me more lessons than I can count. My heart, my perspective, my independence, pride, humility, thankfulness, will power, honesty, and more have all been greatly impacted - changed - or shaken. Not to mention the fact I'm benching 140 each day - all day. I have been called names in fun, looked down on literally, and challenged by friends who wait to see if I truly am as "independent" as I say. I will never look at those in wheel chairs the same, because at the end of the day, I still walk, I get out of the chair, or I put the crutches up and hobble to bed. I will run, and play ball again. I will get to wear my right shoes again. And I won't have to leave for class 20 minutes early cause those dang hills beat you up on one leg. I will never know what it feels like to be them - but I have some mad flipping respect for them that's for sure.

 

 

I had a little break down yesterday after one of my professors asked the class what their favorite Gospel was - when I had no answer I began to wonder why I didn't... or why I should. Thinking about how terrible I do in every Bible class here I got a little skeptical and questioned if I could do this, if I could actually get through 2 more years of this. I love it. It's hard. And I learn something everyday, but I am way, way over people assuming I know a good amount of this stuff before I came here. Yeah I am a Christian and I do the best I can to emulate Christ in all that I do... but that doesn't mean I know why John is so different from Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Grades don't define me, good works don't define me. Praise God for come to Jesus meetings in the shower with Kendrick playing in the background.

 

 

Exciting things are happening in the margins right now - so I am intentionally leaving lots of space to symbolize all the chapters being written right now. Past making the present happen and the present working hard in the now and the future. I kind of feel like I am advertising my own album or something and people (mostly myself) are just waiting for it to drop. It's all been  leading up to these moments, these conversations, the questions, the sweat and tears. I'm here to say wait on it. Cause you won't be disappointed. My small victories and horrendous failures are all part of the training.

 

 



Ink to Paper Drought

 

W R I T E R S    B L O C K

 

I tried to compose whatever emotion I felt towards this semester, I could not. Things had already been said to the ones I care & speak to most, why would I need to elaborate more? The usual lessons learned, another semester passed, did not seem too important that I could find the words for it. Next.

 

I knew better than to be vague or cruel or too heart - on - my - sleeve. So I spared those who ever care to read this thing of my restless nightmares & wounded heart, due to my own hand it once seemed. I have dried those lost eyes now, & fixed them on something much more capable of handling wild things like me.

 

Then there was a more lighthearted vibe of donuts & white chicken chili. Food. Fellowship. Friends. I could share the stories of seeing my city through fresh eyes not from here & accepting the assistance in parallel parking on Euclid Ave. But of course, no words came & I again rolled over in my twin bed, surrounded by black & magenta walls my younger self compromised mom for. Defeated.

 

Read a few chapters in a book I bought for half price in Atlanta. Even watched my favorite movie. Hoping to find some sort of inspiration anywhere. Chicken scratched away more confusion, questions, & words that were much too seasoned with anger for shared growth. There was no music in those words. I was stuck... honestly I'm still kind of stuck, I am just writing about it now.

 

Maybe the constant struggle I had (have) with setting high standards for myself at a young age. Now seeing the base/mid way point to some of these hurdles (mountains) I am beginning to question the 14 year old me. Nope. Can't muster up enough humility to admit that what I chose has me sobbing in a mini van, fumbling for that dumb cell phone, to call the only person I know who mourns and celebrates like me. Or maybe when I took my best friend out for coffee (the stuff I can't have anymore cause my heart is too much of a freaking risk) And she hears the screams on the other line of a phone call. Sorry but it was hard enough to tell her what a mess this was, let alone tell the public.

 

Along with those high standards for myself - I also mess up a lot with my sisters. Both. Older & younger. Unfortunately for the younger though, she's had to deal with me everyday of her life. Gross. Family issues never really seem pleasant to write about though - so we stick to the pretty, the well groomed, well mannered, hush hush, kind of family life. Thankfully my sisters & I know how to fail miserably - but own up to those failures with grace, honesty, & a willingness to get back up again. This season of our lives we are now old enough to look each other in the face (or in some cases on the phone) & deal with things. Lay them out. Yell, cry, breathe, & hug. No, family matters couldn't be delved into just yet though.

 

Maybe if I wrote about the goodness & simplicity that was this last week? Playing house in the at home store with my best, cuddling a new puppy in a house off of E Louden, in that neighborhood I used to take hip hop class. Or playing kemps on the floor with all of the 2nd fam - new house - same full hearts. The dusting off of old records & reminiscing with my dad. Finally sending off an application that held some big moves.

 

If I wrote about the end of the year - or the coming of 2015 - I might just die now. Many people who know me, know that C H A N G E for me comes as hard as W R I T E R S   B L O C K for someone located on Oprah's book list for sure.

 

Anyway. All of this is too much for me to think about now & I won't stress myself out on not having anything to say in a poetic or learned way. There's some fresh paint tattooed on my heart & there are only 4 days left in 2014.

 

I'm praising God in this ink to paper drought & rejoicing that He isn't done writing my story just yet 

My Beat

This story started out with a beat - sometimes with a reproducible rhythm... and others, well let's just say they stuck this story in the back of the drum line it was so off beat!

 

This story is also known as mine.

 

This story came with themed music. Drums.

 

That's why this place filled with simple honest words is called, The Drums in My Heart.

 

Little did we know that a couple of scares, visits with grey haired, simple faced men, and a nurse who saw a strong young woman hold back tears because she couldn't control this, would prove that there really were drums in my heart. And that mine was special. My beat.

 

I've always been told that my heart was SO big.

 

And I have been able to get away with a few heart jokes this semester-  but since then things have gotten more real. The black outs, the racing heart, and can't hardly tell if my heart was beating days, made the story a lot more real.

 

Regardless of the unknown and hopefully soon-to-be known... I know that God made my heart. And no matter if there is a solution or more questions. I know God made my heart to do big things - after all my heart is SO big.

 

Tonight my best friends held my hands and prayed.

 

Tomorrow the story continues, and I will go through the motions in that office -

unveiling to knew faces just how special my beat is.

 

Aunt C

They tell me I've been an aunt for 17 years now... but I didn't feel like an 'aunt' until last night.
Maybe a cousin, or like a really, really, long lost older sister, to two beautiful girls.

I am the only sister that doesn't look like the rest.
And even the nieces look like my sisters more than I do.
But this week, last night to be exact. I felt like we all belonged together.
We share long, dark hair. Most of us have hints of the Cherokee skin, minus two who came from the Northern part of the country.
Blue Green eyes aren't uncommon.
Our heads are strong, and our voices are heard. Audibly and written.
Majority is tall. Majority laughs till we pee a little... we got that from Mom for sure.
We have learned more from experience and life, than the text books people have handed us.

My baby niece, who is the same age as some of our kiddos, is a giant. She has my body. My once bone straight hair. And my timid, but passionate personality when put in a room full of extroverts. She is curious. And I want to tell you about how she stole a hotel Bible.
I haven't been around long enough to tell her I am proud. Or to hug her after a competition, or watch and cheer her on in anything. But Tuesday night she showed me a Bible she took from a hotel "Only after I asked if it was ok." I was proud. And I still get teary eyed thinking about it. "I wanted to read some of it" she said. And I told her it wasn't stealing at all.
This is a big deal. That is all you need to know.
Little Rose. I am so, so very proud of you.

The oldest niece is a babe. Almost the shortest out of the bunch next in line to Grandma. She believes in love, but the love that is something you work for, and there is still a hint of Disney magic to it also. Her talents are many, and she is nothing short of vocal on what she thinks - her mom and I share that with her too.
Grown before I could be apart of her childhood - she is wise but still finds humor in everything. We have been up late the last couple of nights - until 3am actually.
Missed the first sprain, and all of the braces faze. You have a boyfriend now.
And I will break him if he gets any ideas to do you wrong!
It's hard to claim being an aunt to someone who holds a closer rank in your heart.
Ayla. Bold. Beautiful. Strong. I am so, so very proud of you.

I bought a dress. And it's not a big deal. But now that I know what it feels like to be an aunt, I don't ever want to forget it.

This day is to celebrate thankfulness. And I am thankful that even though I have "been" an aunt for 17 years. Yesterday, I got to claim it. And own it. And fully embrace what that actually looks like in real life. I am thankful for this crazy family. I have  a lot of titles - that's been said before, but I think I like this one the best. I am thankful for this city, my education, my friends, and for these two girls who see me bigger than I could ever see myself.


- Aunt C

Hello November

Surrounded by my favorite girls, all sleeping over in the big room like we would have as little girls. We watched Hocus Pocus of course, considering it was Halloween and all, but we had to be careful to not watch anything scary or the youngest and the oldest of the group would have nightmares.

All snuggled up, tuckered out from the days events. Dressing up, dancing alongside your classmates and dear friends, laughing till tears stream down your face. Halloween may not be my favorite holiday, but last night was one for the books. As I drifted off to sleep hearing quiet giggles and sleepy breathing, I couldn't help but thank Jesus for this life.

-

 

Lazy Saturday's - with my sunshine filled friend, Eve, looks a lot like getting the winter clothes out for layers - not those "Oh this is cute" layers... nah. The "we just need to survive the icy wind" layers. It also looks like brunch with a sweet bearded, gentle soul, Stephen. The grey that hangs over us is almost unnoticed. The wind is felt but doesn't keep us from enjoying a game of ultimate up the hill. School spirit is something I have never really lacked. And it wont decrease at this Bible school or in the winter. I love this place a lot more now that I can willing say it's hard to be here some days. If it was easy it wouldn't be right.

 

Eve and I made our way back to the big room got under our covers in hopes to find some sort of warmth after a few hours in the freezing November 1st weather that Knoxville has produced. I had to thank Jesus again for such good friends, ones that play on sports teams and rep Jesus no matter the score. Ones that can just be in the same room as me in silence and be ok. Friends that will let me be me, call me out when needed, and be such examples of what Jesus' love looks like.

 

I've seen what people think love is - and I'm sad about how wrong they were/are. I've seen, received, and do my best to offer love that reflects Jesus. Today - on this grey - first of the best winter months day - with Christmas music playing - and no phone to steal me away from being present - I am full of love. FULL OF IT. So thankful for last weeks battles, doubts, and discouragements. His word tells me if I keep pushing through for Him, live in excellence, and still praise His name in the hard things. I will be blessed. And I have seen that time and time again. So take heart. Do hard things. Listen to Christmas music if  you are cranky. Buy a new scarf for warmth and not style. Go out of your way to thank people for being awesome  - because you know how that made your day once - be that for someone else.

-

One day I wont wake up next to my best girl friends. Or be able to watch my friends from college play a sport they love. Or get to be lazy and young on Saturday mornings. So this is me telling myself not to waist it. Happy Saturday. Happy November. This is the season for thanksgiving. And I am so flipping thankful for my family here in this place. For a heartbeat that doesn't match anyone else's. And for weather that challenges me to find joy and warmth in others hearts. Dear almost 20 year old Chloe, live your life in thanksgiving always - not just because a Hallmark movie said to - instead do it because your Savior said to.

Overflowing

Wake up.
Overflowing.
Early mornings without coffee challenge you to be present.

Open fields wrapped up in graffiti covered walls.

Long car rides bring song, uncontrollable laughter, uncomfortable napping positions, and new sights.

Church steps littered with colors, accents, stories, and really cool shoes.

Street lights are almost more beautiful in the A.

City smells.

A memorized script followed by a sigh and lots of eyeballs searching for a homeless mans identity beyond the $4 he asked for.

Hotel beds that are too empty in a building that screams the same.

"Shopping or Business?" asked the fancy man.

Sidewalks that were taken care of - sidewalks that look like a war took place there.

No wifi. Just sky and concrete. 

4 books later - I met a lot of good people in that line. Shout out to my dude from St.Louis.

"For such a time as this"
Overflowing.

Breaking the normal by not being black, or married but I care just as much.

Worship that wasn't defined by the screen or time or voices - but your heart.

Disciples in the city. Opened homes.

Social Justice. Church planting.

Bible theology in the form of a cardigan.

Contextualization. Application.

Resources. Connections.

 Failures. Accomplishments.

Being transparent enough to say the struggle is still real.

A concert that revived my soul. Shook the floor.

And proved Sho is cooler than Crae. Oops.

I'm finna dress like the cats in atl for real.

Patterns. Colors. Layers.

 Simple is better.
Overflowing.

From NYC. to Miami. Those pastors have started a movement.

Public School is crap? Lets start our own school.

Internship in Mobile? Why not.

I shook hands this weekend with people that are out their living life among their seeds.

 Prayed with and for trailblazers. Cried for the broken.

Little boys played football in their small patch of green the project had.

All I wanted to do was join them. Adults get boring sometimes.

A thrift store that sold me triangle earrings and silk pants.

Mary Macs soul food thanks to a handsome local.

Home is found on a couch shared with my favorite boys and sister where we can pretend we didn't get old.
Overflowing.

A church body that raised me - continues to pray and challenge me.
Hugs SO many hugs on a Monday. From so many kids who used to be little.
New faces. And faces I have etched into my soul.
I saw some boys be great leaders and serve their peers food.
I saw kids helping each other with home work.
And J told us to take heart.
 I threw a football for 15 minutes and you would think I was a famous QB after the amazing work I did out there... not. Basketball will always be my sport... but I tried to keep up with my boys today.
I left with paint on my hands. Braids in my hair. And a heart that was.

 Overflowing.