Streetlight Answers: Blended Family

I'm not sure about you, but I usually find the answers I'm looking for in the city. 

Under the street lights.

Walking on the cracked sidewalks.

Driving underneath the tall buildings.

-

"Is that your sister?"

We played hide and seek tag under the street lights tonight.

I held Amaya's hand as she roller skated in the cul-de-sac and secretly gave hints to whoever was "it" on where the rest of the kids were hiding.

Still too cold to be without a coat, 

but we're the sort of kids who refuse to deny an opportunity to play, 

the second spring makes her appearance.

I didn't make this trip with intentions I would fall into nostalgia, or dream of the future.

I was "passing through." 

Dodging questions in every city I find myself that day.

Tonight I knew.

-

And for the sweet babies I know will catch wind before I can hug them.

Thank you.

Thank you for letting me bleed and sweat and cry with you.

Thank you for making space and adding me to this blended family.

I find myself constantly singing "Blended Family" by my girl Alicia Keys.

Beautiful. Raw. Honest. True.

This is how I see us.

Blended. 

Even closer than blood most days.

I don't know how it's possible, but I can't imagine life without our beautiful mess.

-

Monday, I was drowning in the most crippling anxiety.

Thursday, I was pressured to believe that, because I love well, and refuse to say "goodbye" to anyone ever, I would make a decision half hearted. 

Tonight, I am confident that not knowing is okay.

But I know.

In the classic words of some of my favorite high school kids, "wait on it."

Because this was never meant to be a trip with intentions of nostalgia or dream of the future.

No matter where I go, the 

"is that your sister?" 

will always be a sign that I am home, with my blended family.

"That's just what you do (for love)

For love of the babies (for love)

We're a blended family (for love)

And it's alright (for love)

Said it's alright!

I'll be here forever"

Blended Family   

Running Away to Find the Answers

I ran away last weekend.
I ran back to the streets I know the best...
the streets that know me too well.
Miles. Years. Missed "first steps."
The separation feels long and heavy.
And yet, whenever I run back,
it's as if someone has been saving my seat.
Someone has been clearing space just for me.
The weight is quickly lifted and I forget why I was even worried.
I listen for a few extra moments and find the rhythm,
right where I left it.
And before you know it,
I am in sync with this life again.

I saw little ones grown up.
Leading kids that are the same age he was when I left.
Called on to encourage and correct harsh teaching.
Of course, this is my element. My sanctuary.
I hugged and cheered and remembered how I felt in their shoes.
I touched the walls of a place I once knew,
and hoped to be mine some day...
One day.

My hero takes every opportunity to remind me why were doing this.
Without knowing it, he has shown me that every stage of construction,
is like the work God has had to do on our hearts.
We are willing to wait a little while longer because we know how important it is He...
they get it right.
I can see it now, more clearly than ever before.
Blueprints... dreams, coming to life.

This is becoming something solid.
Something sturdy.
More than just our words and fiery prayers sent out with deep passion.
The water and roots meant something years ago.
But only the streets have seen and heard and waited with us.

Then I came back.
My heart sank.
Tears streaming down my face because I know...
They know.
Seasons don't last forever.
I think I ran away in hopes I could avoid the truth just a little while longer.
Maybe I could convince myself and God there was an easier way.
The nudge I got back reminding me I never get to take the "easy" way was enough to sweep my knees out from under me.
Being obedient sucks.
Loving people sucks.
And yet I would never trade those two things for anything ever in my life.
Because I have obeyed and because I have loved,
I have been given the greatest life possible.

The next 10 weeks are going to feel like chaos and magic and heartache and joy.
But so will the rest of this life...

Secrets

This was somewhere deep in the drafts.
In the ripped up notebook paper.
Irreversible.
The echo is still here. 
And I want to be free.

-

You're still the first person I want to call when something happens. Good or bad, it's you.
And I laugh when I remember how hard we tried to not acknowledge the wave of feelings that were inside us from day one.
You were the Hulk and I was Black Widow. I got called in anytime you lost your temper, and after awhile it just became routine. I should have seen it then.
But I couldn't.
All I saw was the mysterious black sea that lied behind your eyes.
The markings on your body that preached a life only few could understand... and even deeper secrets only God can judge.
I can still feel your presence when I doubt my own.
You took the carpet out from under me. I still haven't caught my footing. 
I think that's why I've apologized so many times since then.
Innocence in question. 

I'm still trying to convince myself you didn't love the game more than me.
I'm still hoping I see your face once more in this lifetime. 
So I can remind you of the mix of joy and emptiness I've felt every day.
To get rid of the nightmares. 

Just a Girl & Her Love for Cities

I tried writing this several times. 

Whatever this is.

Nothing measured up. 

No words could be formed in order to display the affection I have for this place.

Closing chapters.

New seasons.

I started blaming the cold weather for the tightness in my chest & misty eyes.

But I know better.

I know myself well enough that traveling over oceans, and countries. 

Going from one coast to another.

Will not extinguish the deeply rooted love I have for this place.

I have fallen in and out of love with others.

The questions have already started to flood my conversations.

The post grad questions all seniors hate.

Some more than others.

For me, I fear the questions less.

It is the answers I fear the most.

Commitment has never been my strong suit.

Ask my exes.

They will be the first to tell you I fled faster than an Olympic athlete in a race for Gold.

My throat starts to close up and my palms get sweaty even from the thought of being tied down to someone or something.

And yet I love this city so much, that even my desire to see every skyscraper this country has, there is a big blue beacon that acts as my North Star.

It is unexplainable.

I read a book over Christmas break a rad friend wrote about this very city.

His second book, arguably my favorite of the two.

It was as if he had snuck into my dreams and wrote down the very detailed parts of a city that make my heart beat its strongest... 

Granted he was sharing stories about his own life, people we both know, and some I do not. 

I read I Used To Live Here in one sitting.  

I cried. I laughed. I sighed deeply.

I am so thankful for Caleb as a human.

And I am real thankful someone else sees the beauty and the heartbreak that is our city.

There have been several cold nights I have returned to this drafted, scattered, emotional collection of words in hopes something better will come.

Backspace. Backspace. Backspace.

Should I say this? 

Will people think I don't love them too?

I miss San Diego.

I miss Santa Cruz.

I miss Knoxville when I'm not here.

I miss cities I've only spent a short amount of time in, but desire to go back, and back again.

I miss cities I've never been to.

And so continues the story of a girl and her love for cities and their street lights, culture, tall buildings, cracked sidewalks, 

and most of all the people in the depths of them.

Christmas on Main St. Lexington, KY

Afraid of the answers, yes.

Afraid of commitment, yes.

Afraid of big changes and not having control, yes

Ready to be challenged in those things, dare I say it?

Yes.

Just Stay

"Just stay."

"You don't have to go."

"We miss you."

3 and a half years ago I sat in front of a group of elementary and middle school kids I had spent a lot of life with. I mean, considering I had been in middle and high school myself... I basically grew up with them on my hip and under my wings. My friends back then thought it was cool and even ended up hanging out with us a couple days after school. We didn't really think it would go this far for me. Then again, maybe they did and they just let me hope and wish and dream on my own.

But I sat in front of them and told them I was going to college. And it wasn't UK like we had planned as a family unit. Where the girls and I could still have ice cream and dance parties and the boys would be able to come to basketball games with me. Nope. Not UK. It wasn't even in the same state. I told them I was going to an itty bitty school in Knoxville, TN, to study the Bible and teach people around me how to love... Marcus and I knew then that my journey at Johnson wouldn't look normal. Nothing about me is really "normal." But I knew then my role would be tough... and I would stick out like a sore thumb. The kids didn't understand that though... and honestly I'm still trying to avoid my obvious role here and I keep getting my butt kicked for it. I have a semester left to figure it out okay?

Of course I would still visit! I reassured them. Plus...

"I'll be back in 4 years."

3 and a half years ago I sat in front of a group of elementary kids and led their bible rotation and helped out with homework where I could. I was nervous, but also very at home. Would I ever be accepted or love others like I did in Lexington? Of course Bolivia is a whole other category in this, but I almost felt more foreign in Knoxville those first few months than I did across borders. The adults in the room made comments about how much I resembled him. How the kids just want to be around me. I was honored and terrified all in the same moment. Even though I can fit his basketball shoes... those were still huge shoes to fill and the bar had been set. I was only a volunteer then. But they knew just like I did, they had me for 4 years. 

2 summers ago I sat in front of a group of middle school kids that were a lot bigger and louder than the babies I just spent my first two years of college with, an prior to that. But a few dance moves and a couple jokes latter it was as if I was a middle schooler myself. "This is where I belong" I thought. And I stayed with them through the fall and winter and spring. 

Last January I got a call about needing me to do something really hard. We had just lost Zae and our kids were wrecked. Change isn't something I am too fond of. Which is ironic considering how much I love cities. It is a love hate thing for sure. But that call changed my life forever. And I wouldn't want to change it for the world. 

Almost a year ago I got on a bus full of kids I didn't really know. I recognized a few older siblings, and a few seniors that had helped me out before, but I sat in a seat on my own. We were headed to resurrection. The time is coming where we get on that bus again, only though this time, I'll know everyone. My heart will swell with joy and I'll thank God for this family. 

My heart will also break a little, because the next time I journey out to the mountains that far it will be for my Graduation. And the ones I told "I'll be back in 4 years" will be awaiting my return. And the ones I've done life with the last 4 years will hold their breath and say, 

"Just stay."

"You don't have to go."

"We miss you."

Less Coffee: Honest Thoughts

It's day 3 without coffee.

I wish that number sounded as significant as it felt. 

My head stopped throbbing around 4am this morning. 

I have a lot of peppermint oil & Tylenol to thank for that. 

Funny how we fill the absence of one thing with another...

People have asked me why I randomly decided to separate myself from something 

I love so much.

Something that does not define me.

Something that I am not addicted to, or in need of at least twice a day.

And something I am most definitely not a snob over. 

I can't really see the problem there myself either to be honest. 

Guess that's why I just ordered a cappuccino in The Old City on accident.

Damn.

-

I woke up before the sun this morning.

Got dressed. Ate breakfast. Started the dish washer and wiped down the counters.

I haven't been the best housemate recently.

I want to do better.

Somehow I make a part time position very, very full time.

And then there is school...

Yeah. School.

Less than 5 months away from the end.

I don't handle change very gracefully. If you know me at all, you know this to be true.

I am both excited and terrified all at the same time.

Currently have an essay and a half left to finish and turn in for this semester.

So here I am.

Writing to you.

Again... being finished sounds great.

But change.

-

I went to the Police station this morning so I could get on my knees and beg the judge to reduce a ticket I got at the end of last month, on my way to school.

Gathered all the peaceful vibes I could.

Bundled myself up head to toe cause the high is 30 today and my summertime joy has magically faded away with my tan skin.

I knew I would be surrounded by guns. Surrounded by uniforms. Surrounded by people I want so badly to love... but somehow still feel as though they are the enemy that hurt my people.

Part of me just wanted to tell the cranky officer behind the security desk that I wish I could hug him.

Is that weird?

Maybe. Whatever.

I just know he needed one, and I needed to be the one to offer.

But I didn't. He was just a little too cranky. And I was still nervous.

Turns out my day to beg the judge isn't until 9am TOMORROW.

It's fine.

-

I also need to admit that ordering a cappuccino wasn't an accident.

Now you see why.

8 years ago

Let me tell you a story

about 8 years ago I met a man who was on a journey much bigger than himself. he had left his home, family, and a city full of kids that still talk about him to this day. he went to the one place he told God he didn't want to go.

he used what he had to play, teach, and invest in this new city full of kids. I was in 6th grade when I decided I would do the same one day.

fast forward, that man called us 7 out to be uncomfortable, to never be average, and to be the salt and light of this earth. we're not perfect. we fail. but we are a family.

hot summers where we developed our own camps & made memories under the street lights.

school years full of helping kids read & using our fingers to count.

moving away. college. change.

pain. heartbreak.
joy. celebration.

the call has always been there, in the distance. Every move I've made laced in the thought that it won't be a dream one day. It will be real. It is real.

the years have passed and that man has remained. the dream never fading.

patience.
so much patience.

he began calling us his own.
in the victories and our less than elegant moments.

when the news came that the dream was forming into a structure, with cement, flooring, windows, wood beams... goosebumps covered me and his eyes were just as glassy as mine.

here we are.
8 years removed from the introduction, even more from the birth of the dream.

we are looking at Gods provision.

we are looking at why that man called us out the way he did. so that one day... there will be more like us.

there will be more encouraged to believe that 6th grade dreams can be made real. and more will see that waiting for God to be God, is so, flipping worth it.

and the story continues...