My People

The rain poured heavily outside as we sat cozily inside her kitchen.  A sharp contrast to the cold, dreary, wet outdoors, the room was warm and colorful, rich with an ambiance that simply made you feel at home.  As I relaxed comfortably at the table with my legs propped up on the chair in front of me, my friend spoke of her life’s goings on:  adjusting after transition, learning a new role, and moving into the future.  I soaked in each second, but I’m not sure how well I actually listened.  All I could do was look at my friend and grieve for the time to come – for what would no longer be the same.  Not just for her.  For all of us.

Over the past seven or so years, I’ve acquired a handful of “worlds” that have gifted me with some of my favorite people.  Olivet Nazarene University:  seven girls who went from college floormates, to college roommates, to real life best friends.  Anderson, IN:  people with whom I worked, lived, watched The Bachelor, and learned to be vulnerable.  The World Race:  those traipsed across the planet alongside me, saw me at my best and my worst, and encouraged me to just be.  And then all the “miscellaneous-es” who changed my life along the way.

It had been over a year since I had seen many of them; it felt like both yesterday and forever ago.  It wasn’t that hard to leave.  It was time.  But I also knew I would be coming back to visit “sometime after the Race,” so really, it wasn't like I would be gone for good.

After seemingly countless hours of car time, I finally made the roundtrip across the mid-eastern side of the country to find my people once again.

There has been a great deal of surprise and pain in my life over these last few weeks, and I found myself emotionally whoring myself out to these people, my people, who have deeply known my heart at one time or another.  We had shared stories of failed relationships.  We had held each other during heartache.  We had counseled each other through difficult decisions.  And we had simply listened when answers seemed elusive—an act that was often more significant than the answers themselves.  Confiding in them once again felt simultaneously refreshing and completely exhausting, and the retelling of the trials and tribulations never lessened the pain.  But there was a freedom there.  An affirmation that were meant for community, bearing one another’s burdens, and not navigating life on our own.  There is healing out in the open.  Out in the light.  Maybe it has something to do with being fully known and loved anyway.

Chalk writing on wall by Kylee

It’s times like these when I want to gather those I love into my arms and stick them into my bright blue Gregory Deva 70-liter backpack so I can take them with me wherever I go.  Some of them might have to share sides of the packing cubes, because honestly, I’m running out of compartments.

Who can say that they have even one community where they are always loved, accepted, and treated with utmost grace?

My heart aches with loneliness, loss.  But I know, too, that I can’t walk away without feeling unbelievably blessed.

Grace's Amazing Hands

Today isn't too unusual, as far as Wednesdays go. Except for the fact that I drank coffee in the morning. I usually don't drink coffee in the morning. I would rather be moved gently and soothingly into a state of wakefulness by a cup of hot tea, not punched in the face by a cup of coffee. But today I opted to be punched in the face, and I never looked back.

Photo found here.

This week has been marked by a beautiful state of acceptance. Acceptance of what was, is, and is to come. An acceptance that drives me to move forward and to do so with grace. It's nice to be friends with reality, for once.

I read a devotional yesterday that talked about seeing the big picture as a mountain. If we get too focused or discouraged by each individual cleft or foothold--however insurmountable they may seem--we forget the glory of the summit we are to overcome. Each hurt, habit, and hangup is only a stepping stone to the blessing to come; the fulfillment of the promise that "He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Phil 1:6).

Photo found here.

I can honestly say that I'm really excited to see what God is going to do--for the glorious redemption of the ridiculousness of the present. I can feel something brewing. Maybe it was that coffee this morning (HA). Maybe it's a stirring in the innards of my soul. I don't know. I can see His fingerprints in so many different areas right now, and I know they will only become more apparent the more I keep my eyes open. I think the key is to always be looking.

In other news, and on a much less spiritual note, I will be making the long trek down to Oklahoma on Saturday. I'm starting to freak out a little bit, as I've never driven by myself for more than 5 hours. And this trip will be at least 12. So say a little prayer for me, if you remember. But I am really excited to be home for a week, despite the drive. It will be great to see everyone again. So, next time I update this, I'll probably be drinking a Sonic cream slush and putting a hurt on some Johnny's onion rings. Mmm.