grown kids love

It's interesting...

the older kids get. the less *climb all over you and ask 100 questions* moments there are.

for years that's all I ever knew. 

fight for who sits in whose lap. 

who gets to hold my *insert item here* for the day. 

you know the drill. little kids love to love you. 

or act like they don't like you just so you will go the extra mile for them to like you!

that changes as they get older. 

less hugs. more head nods.

less giggles. more hard conversations. 

this is the world I've been in recently. 

they don't hate me... at least not all of them. 

they just can't sit in your lap or want to play games anymore.

and they for sure don't scream your name down the hallway. oh no.

the love. the loyalty. is expressed much differently now. 

who shows up when asked.

who comes around even when they aren't asked. 

the ones that remind others what I say should be listened to...

this is how they show their love or their loyalty most days. 

today was tough.

today I told myself I would do anything for my kids. 

no matter how old they are.

no matter how they show love. or where they are from. 

or if they check a certain box on an application. 

I was going to do whatever to make sure the bad couldn't get to them

...at least today... 

at least in the space I told them they could be safe. 

and when threats came our way

... my way... 

just as I had jumped in, they jumped faster. 

They held me back from making a mistake I would regret.

I didn't want the bad to touch them, not even come close. 

and yet, there they were, defending me, 

praying they kept their cool and wouldn't lose out on their opportunity. 

I was blown away. 

No, they don't scream or chant my name to eat a weird snack like the little ones do.

But they have my back. 

And I will forever have theirs. 

We have a long way to go, but tonight, I am thankful for how my grown kids love. 

There's More to This Story

To the last 24 days of my life

You waited for this day for what feels like your whole life

Tears. Laughter. Great big hugs.

Answered prayers coupled with prayers we will just have to accept the answers to.

I wish I could tell you in words how much my heart has been exploding open... while still having the capacity to lock some out. 

Day in and Day out hard truths we always give or receive.

We are hearing their stories for the first time.

Raw and ready to be held.

We are turning the page to our own story.

Wondering how we are so blessed to see good days like these.

So often people cheer and applaud for me, on days like this, and I shake my head.

This was always in them. We should cheer and clap for them.

I see the darkness and the brokenness and the loss and the different as motivators for us to be here.

To remain in a space that has always felt like home. 

It never developed over time for us. 

I didn't pray about it.

I never asked God to show me where home was. 

It was always here. 

Always them. 

So no, I don't deserve applause or cheers for doing the easiest thing I could be doing. 

Showing up. Loving. Crying. Laughing. Reminding.

And standing in the middle of the wrong path giving some kid my side eye like, 

"I wish you would go down this path! See what I do to you."

I'm exhausted. 

I'm not sure what just happened the last month. 

But I can say I wouldn't want to live another life. 

No amount of unforeseen circumstances, late nights in this city, brutally hard conversations, or missed deadlines will prevent me from seeing the good days. 

Because they are really, really good days. 

And there's more to this story.

This is why I do what I do.

They are my why. 

I Don't Want To Talk About Our Last Days

I don't want to talk about our last days...

I woke up in a fog this morning.
Eyes still puffy from the night before... chest heavy from all the weight it has taken on recently... When I know good and well I shouldn't keep allowing it to take on more.
I managed to get myself through the morning and into the school for our "party" in room 006.
That damn portable felt more like home than a damn portable most of the time.
This isn't the end.
You will still see them.
They will be okay.
You will be... okay.
There have been a lot of first days this year... and with a lot of firsts, come a lot of "lasts," and I don't like it!
I still have a hard time with change... probably always will.
This year I got close to a lot of kids in a short amount of time.
Some were already part of the family... others were sent my way cause Jesus and a few counselors agreed it would be good for all of us if we hung out some.
Monday - Friday I was in a school.
In classrooms, in the office, in safe, in the cafeteria, in the hallway...
More and more I grew accustomed to who and where I needed to be, and the kids did the same with me.

This morning I woke up in a fog.
I knew the last, last days were happening.
Preparation for the summer, and next fall, will be at the forefront of my world.
But this morning... I wanted to remember how this year felt.
How all of those firsts won't be like anything I experience again.
And how learning all that I have, not reaching specific goals I set for myself, don't measure up to or negate the fact that my family just got a lot bigger.
And the partnerships made will hopefully last beyond my time here.
I hugged. I cried. I screamed. I laughed.
I am thankful to be their Ms. Chloe.

No, I don't really want to talk about our last days...
Those haven't truly come yet... I won't let them.

A Year Later

It's been a year since I walked across that stage.

A year since I decided to go back to Lexington.

A whole year has passed and I'm not really sure how to measure it.

There were no semesters. No classes. 

Yet, still so many tests, failures... and what I call small victories.

If there were an award for isolating yourself... for padding yourself in such a way... in order for nothing, no one, to enter beyond a certain point... I fear I would be the recipient.

I haven't truly allowed myself to sift through all the brokenness. To acknowledge that I am broken.  

A year ago I was discharged by my therapist and despite the fact another friend had to practically drag me there months before... I was confused. I felt like I was losing the only space I had allowed myself to be fully broken, vulnerable. I didn't see the growth she had seen in me. 
I had to be honest with myself. Everyone else, well they can see right through me, or claim me as a mystery they want to solve...

A year later and I don't regret that space... I also don't want to go back to it. I am not ignorant though.
I know what it feels like to be under the water too long. I know the feeling of telling yourself you can do it, when truly, you cannot. 
With an Indie-Folk Ballad playing in the background, I have looked myself up and down in the mirror, receiving what my body tells me. Accepting the truths no workout or self help book or meditation could have aided in.
Just me and my body. 
Knowing that all bright suns have to set at some point. 

I am okay.


A year later I am still in my parents house.
A year later I am still waiting for the community center to be opened in Woodhill... just days away.
A year later I have seen my team come together in strong numbers, passion, experience... to falling in a dark spiral, to leveling out... to just showing up each day, giving it all we have, and wondering what our future could be.
A year later and I have decided situational friendship is true. I don't feel sad about it either way. I've just become more cautious. I don't enter spaces I doubt will be genuine beyond a certain occasion unless forced.
A year later and I have humbly learned it takes a lot more than a big heart to make anything in ministry happen, and happen well.
A year later and I have met some amazing young people that blow me away every single day. Young people that are facing things that would keep you up at night. Young people I would sacrifice everything for.
A year later and I wonder if I set people up for failure once I left.
A year later and I have no regrets.
A year later and I am looking forward, always... really I have a hard time looking back most days. I don't know how people do it. I am better off just looking forward, gracious for the time I had behind me, of course.


I think the reason there is no true way to measure this past year... or many years after this one, is because everyone is having the year they have. We aren't running the same course, at the same pace anymore. Maybe I never was. But I know now, for sure, that your land marks are not mine. And I am still fighting for what mine look like. I think I learn something knew at every sun set. And tomorrow, a bright sun within me will rise again, allowing me to mark a new journey.

The Caged Bird & I

I once read a poem about a caged bird and I sobbed. 

The thought of it being created as a free thing, and getting trapped into confinement broke my heart at an early age. 

My mom told me one spring if I played in the rain barefoot I'd get sick... but I was created to be free like the bird, so I dared the previous warnings and didn't regret it once a cough settled into my chest.

I have ignored almost every word of caution since...

From bed to bed, couch to couch, house to house, city to city, I go.

If not for adventure, what?  My soul asked confused.

Chaotic routine hit me like a baseball bat cracking as it hits the season opener.

This free bird saw a cage like shadow and swore she could manage... but it loomed.

Needing rest. Forgetting to exhale. My eyes remain in a flash flood zone.

No identifiable timeline, no recognizable season. I feel the need to move sluggishly and quick, all at the same time. No way of telling right from left.

The bird sought out a landing spot... just for a minute... just so she can gather her thoughts.

That's when he saw her... and put her in the cage. 

I wonder now, how long that little bird survived after entering the cage.

It's awfully dark in here.

See You Soon

I can't make any promises that when you read this or look at the pictures... you won't tear up a little. 

I know I did.

This is a picture of JoQuan and I at his 5th grade graduation. That was a huge day for him because he got the award for reading... two years before that, reading was the worst thing you could have asked him to do.

Tomorrow JoQuan will get on a greyhound bus and start a new chapter in his life. 

A sophomore in high school... I can feel years passed inside my soul. The good, the bad, the ugly. That is what we all signed up for. I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

Even when the ugly means you gotta chase a kid down the street, loosing earrings along the way. 

Or tough phone calls. Or school meetings. Or nightmares... 

I want to believe this is the end of an ugly chapter, and the start of a really beautiful one.

 But only time will tell.

And that time apart, selfishly, feels like too much.

He is joy.

He is laughter.

He is the best friend you could ask for.

And even though he asked to be my boyfriend in the 3rd grade... he settled for little brother.

And we never looked back.

"If I wear this hoodie... it means you can't leave."

This was one of the last Urban Impact camps before I went to college.

Despite how hard those days preparing to leave were... 

I knew it was the right decsion, for myself, and for them.

JoQuan has told me he is prepared and ready for this next step. 

He knows what needs to happen in order to succeed and come back.

I don't know where the time went...

I tell stories about how your anger took over sometimes.

How your fists would ball up and you would roll your eyes and do everything in your power to not cry over little things... but big things had piled up... so you let them fall anyway.

I tell those stories because of how wild they seem now.

How light and life enter the room when you are there.

How you instigate and keep the peace all at the same time!

 If someone would have told me that the 3rd grader with a huge mouth, silly jokes, and skater boy style, would have turned out to be this young man below... I'm not sure I would be shocked... 

I think I would understand. I think part of me would be really proud, and part would be really sad. 

I probably would've said something like, 

"He's gonna go places... if he would get out of his own way." 

And he is doing just that.

Forever the Loves of my life.

Forever the reason I age 10 years every week.

Love you, J.

We'll see you soon.

And We Will Live

Your favorite fairy tale growing up probably involved a prince saving the princess.

Maybe it ended saying, "Happily Ever After." 

Or maybe you are the young feminist that liked more of a heroin that held her own... 

saving the people she loved most. 

And the music was triumphant in the background. 

Bump that.

I knew early on, no one was coming to save me. 

I also knew that "saving the people I love" would end up killing me before I did any real good.

And that music in the background? 

Yeah... it's trap beats. 

Making references to the very things causing harm to the people I love. 

But here we are.

Here I am.

Always coming to this white screen after a long stint of time spent in the world. 

I come here when I no longer feel. 

I come here when I fear that my words are being swallowed up by darkness... 

the opposite of a happily ever after.

I know death.

I know threats.

I know crying voices on the phone.

And I am tired. 

Tired of coming home to explain myself. 

Tired of explaining everyone's actions. 

Black. White. Brown. Blue. 

Perhaps if we had a panel...

Maybe we should strip away more rights...

Include those that have prior experience in life or death situations... 

Bump that.

I intimidate people.

At least that's what the people tell me whose friends won't approach me first.

"Good." I laugh it off...

I didn't know I was supposed to be Miss America in the grocery store. 

I've separated myself from a lot of people recently...

Maybe we drifted apart.

Maybe I wanted it this way. 

"Chlo... you know those dudes are a distraction anyway." 

My high schoolers are smarter than y'alls relationship counselors. 

I tell them, "You right... it's just me and y'all." 

But when you see me, doing my thing, unapologetic... and you feel threatened... don't be, 

Use that as motivation to do exactly what you want to do, no apologies. 

Then you will understand why I will never have that taken from me. 

-

I've had a hard time falling asleep this past month. A hard time getting out of bed. 

Things that have been long awaited, are just out of reach.

It has taken every ounce of my being not to yell, kick, scream, cry, and curse everyone out.

Forgive me... I probably just need sleep, or a cookie. 

There are just some thing that I cannot seem to find patience or grace for anywhere. 

I don't want to be like that anymore.

But there is no hero to this story. 

No white horse. 

No triumphant music.

It's my tribe, me... and a lot of trap beats. 

We will live in a story full of happiness, and unfortunately, a lot of darkness too. 

We will fight everyday to thrive in a place that doesn't believe we can.

But it is our story to tell.

And we will live.