Leave

'We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting, the climax and the resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? It might be time for you to go. It might be time to change, to shine out. I want to repeat one word for you....LEAVE. Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn't it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted it to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don't worry, everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed."

-Donald Miller "Through Painted Deserts"

Home.: 11/2009

I found this blog tonight, its dated November 2009... it still relevant so its being posted. Funny how reading something like this I can instantly remember why it began, and even more so-- why I never finished it.

I have 7 different songs in my iTunes with the title "Home". Outside of that there are countless song titles that contain home, or the album name does.

When the word comes to mind, what do you think of first?

Sometimes I think of the driveway of my childhood home, or I think of riding my bike down Mainstreet with Katie following behind making my laugh so hard I nearly crash into things. Home sometimes feels like a distant place or idea that I'm unable to touch or grasp when I feel lonely, and at times it is a warm cozy blanket on the couch watching tv with Gracie.

Through the years my notion and idea of home has continued to be shaped, molded, and changed in new ways... for which I have always been grateful. Having spent what seems like more time away from White Oak Lane, then actually here I have always felt at ease under this roof, and thankful to be protected by these walls.

Where is home for you?

Is it a building?

Is it in the arms of someone you love?

Or... is at on your knees at the mercy of the Savior?

Do you go there often?

Is it a place you visit?

Or is it where you live?

Craving

I am craving... Italy.

For the past few days I have day dreamed about lazy walks across the Ponte Vecchio bridge in Florence... and I have tried desperately to return to the quiet in my heart that I got to enjoy while sitting in St. Peter's Basilica. What's interesting about my craving of Italy is that when I recall what I loved most about my European Adventure 2009 I always think of the Passport Fiasco in Disney, and most especially Santorini... perhaps because Italy was organic, and complicated that I seemed to pass over it and would shoot for the simplicity of the 'Island Life'.

However, in Italy I had an intoxicating love affair with time. There was a quiet there that allowed my mind to wander and drift with each through each crack and crease of my heart that I don't often have the time to explore. It was a lot like I found the secret key that I'd been searching for forever to open up parts of my heart that I had been searching for. In many ways I came home from Europe this summer, more complete and settled in myself then I've been in the past couple of years. I have been thankful that what I learned about myself and the Lord did not remain in the glorious Tuscan countryside, or even on the Mediterranean. When I came home I floundered in the adjustment, and I often took my mood or panic on those that are easiest. One of the harder parts about that was in the midst of my outbursts in July, I knew, I knew that somehow I needed to stop and and pull it together. Thankfully after the adjustment to jetlag, summer, and general culture shock I was able to talk in my own voice again. And yet, in the deepest part of my heart I knew still what needed to be changed at home that was brought to light while away. I have been in that battle for the past few months, trying to capture what I miss. What I think I might miss later... what I most deeply want to connect too again. There lives this notion of a craving.

I was detached and removed from life in a productive way while abroad. I wasn't overly connected to home or people that I love. I was able to balance the journey at hand with the knowledge that I was able, independent, beautiful, quiet, and a daughter of Christ. It was intimate. It was lovely.

In the falling leaves I am beginning to see the outlines of the mountains and the bare ground that have been covered by the foliage in the spring and summer. I struggle in winter, and every time "A Long December" comes on shuffle (which is almost every day these days), I tend to think, that yes though it is not yet December the notion of what comes with winter already seems long. Arduous. At times lonely. I recently heard for the first time "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson. They pose the question in it, "is love alive?" If I could have written myself a song this summer in the midst of the most wonderful and changing adventure I think it would be this one. In it I hear the Lord assuring me on the journey, I hear Him calling me back... and I think that in the midst of the change and pursuit of future right now, I long to know that what I learned this summer is still true. That I can still be quiet. That I can still hear. That I can still find the truth in words spoken by a perfect stranger, "Lei e Bello" (you are beautiful). That the moon looks the same in my sky here, as it does there. That sometimes when every last promise has been spoken and every controlled fear buried... that love is alive.

I crave Italy. I crave its smell. Its people. Its landscape. I crave to remember what it was like to be alone but not feel lonely. I crave to return to the perfect part of my summer... before Matt went into the Hospital, before Tex applied for a job, before I decided not to move to Cincinnati and to just wait. This summer there were 5 weeks filled with laughter, tears, quiet stillness, and divine intimacy with the Savior. Love was alive. Today I sit quietly on the couch and am imagining what the sun must be looking like as it sets out of view. I can only see the golden light it casts on the hills and trees out my window. Gracie has been close all day but now she plays outside, digging through the leaves that overpopulate my front yard. In the quiet, I remember standing on a bridge in Florence crowded with tourists and locals alike waiting for the sun to say goodnight. I am still. I am thankful there. I am telling myself that the moment will go too soon, and at some point in the future I will wish for nothing more then to return.

The moment has come. Today I plan fantastical adventures that require a leap of faith and a passport. I want to chase and I want to run after parts of me that I miss that lived there. And yet, a song plays in the background in my house that reminds me that this summer, I knew that this fall would be challenging. I did not yet know how or why, but I knew that things were shifting and I needed to be ready.

I have questioned what "being ready" really means, especially in light of Tex moving to Oregon. I often said that I wasn't, and didn't think it was possible. Today, in the hope for what was learned and for the peace in what was felt during 35 days solo in Europe, I know in fact that I was ready. It was time. My hurt lives in what is next, what this looks like, and how there are moments of sadness and insecurity that leaves me asking mostly to myself, "is love alive?"

Me. The Lord whispers quietly from then who grew into Me now... "Kari... this is my winter song to you, the storm is coming soon, it rolls in from the sea... my voice; a beacon in the night, my words will be your light to carry you to me."

My heart responds simply...

"Jesus, I may crave Italy... but my hunger is for You.

And your love is alive. I love and thank you."

-k

This is my winter song to you.

The storm is coming soon,

it rolls in from the sea.

My voice; a beacon in the night.

My words will be your light,

to carry you to me.

Is love alive?

Is love alive?

is love

They say that things just cannon grow

beneath the winter snow

or so I have been told.

They say we're buried far,

just like a distant star

I simply cannot hold.

Is love alive?

This is my winter song.

December never felt so wrong,

cause you're not where you belong;

inside my arms.

I wonder then, is love alive?

Expectations

My feet are cold, but my cheeks are warm... oh the beginning of a winter time ailment that I will consequently complain about until about New Years. In light of the general body temperature variances, I went for my run today, but in the spirit of being honest, I'm not a runner. I am a fierce walker who has a tendency to break out in periodic sprints of epic energy spurts... who then remembers the joy and pace of walking. In any event, I did the loop of Houston Street, which I suppose by all descriptions is still considered 'The Boys House' because two boys live there, but its honestly not the same since Tex moved out... so I now refer to it as either Houston Street, or just Matt's house when addressing an activity he has coordinated in his home. There are moments when I am driving that I forget that I won't be picking up the 6 foot 7 BFF at this house to gallivant and hang out with... sometimes those moments are peaceful because they bring him close, mostly those moments are numbing and make me just quiet.

For the most part I am doing well, I am endlessly thankful to the Lord for more happy moments then sad, and I continue to seek comfort in the Lord's plan and purpose for each moment, each day, instead of focusing on the unknown future which scares me often. I have noticed the patterns my doubt takes, and I have struggled with how to rise above the fear that the doubt seems to perpetuate. I don't know how to balance having a healthy dose of curiosity and fear, with the over analytical panic that ensues when I'm given too much time to think inside my head without fleshing it out to be shared with the one other person that I think might know exactly what I'm talking about.

I've been learning a lot recently about "Great Expectations", and no I am not talking about the book or the G.Paltrow film either.

I am a dreamer... in colors... in black and white... of wide open spaces... of a love touched and seen inspired by the Creator.

I am a planner... Parties, Vacations, Daily Chores, The things I can't plan about the Future- you name it I can "plan" it.

I am a control freak... yes... argh.

I am optimistic... eternally so... just covered up by my anxious questions.

I am hopeful... a learned quality by a great teacher.

I am funny... especially when I'm with Holly or Jessica.

I am a friend... and I pray sincerely every day that I am not just a good one, but a great one. A friend that anyone would be proud to call theirs, and for one or two: the best they've ever had.

These things about me I've known, sometimes I've despised and struggled against- but I know that the end of the day I have fought for them to remain true. They provide an outline for the path, the course of action, and the purpose to wake up in the morning... to offer them up as "God... do with me what you will, for I love you". I have learned however that sometimes I suffer from the notion that to guard my heart means I have to understand and outline particular parts of the future so that I can align my expectations... so that I can avoid being disappointed.

In true fashion of our friendship, Tex told me on my birthday I needed to let go of my expectations so that I could be surprised. This perspective infuriated me. As a girl my reaction is typical, "well you tell me that, and then I expect the world!!". His point may have been lost in the emotional moment I was drowning in. However, like all great things learned, sometimes the thought needs to live with us before we adopt it into our fold of new mantras, refreshed ideas or beliefs... this notion was like that. I returned home to a stack of mail and a couple of boxes which contained gifts to celebrate my arrival into this world on the 4th. In the two boxes shipped to White Oak were perfectly selected gifts, one from my sister Krystal, and the other from Mr. Piper.

Great Expectations. There are moments when our breath is completely taken away. Somehow everything in us that desires control, knowledge, the plan, and purpose escape our hearts and we are open... wide open for what has been waiting, for what will come. In my kitchen last week I stood before a gift I was told would be waiting for me. My expectations were met because I knew that any offering of the heart would have been enough, and yet I was surprised because I had been able to let go of the anticipation and I was able to relax enough to experience the moment. It was in fact the most perfect gift. A symbol of a journey away and back, significant to what I learned and experienced in the most fantastic adventure of my life (to date). I loved it.

This theme of expectations is the topic running through the seams of my life right now. I am trying desperately to fall to my knees before the Father and rest there waiting for more direction. I am trying to grasp the hope found in Him, and to understand that this particular season of life will not last forever.

I am trying to live each day for more then the things that I am looking forward too, like next weeks arrival of Mandy, Mom, and Bill and Meghan... or Theresa's wedding, or even as far out as Christmas and the Florida trip after the first of the year. I don't want to constantly be counting down to what's next that I am unable to experience what is at hand right now. This moment.

Right now I am snuggled into my bed and Gracie is curled up at my feet. The house is still and quiet. I spent a day running errands and taking care of business. Tonight I talked to Tex on the phone, and my heart got lost and I was trying to grasp the debate, "is it better to talk? or not to talk?", the answer is different based on the level of sunshine outside and the general mood of the moment. Right now I have a thousand ideas running through my head with over creative stimulation, and I'm trying to organize them into productive cognitive thoughts. Right now I plan Thanksgiving Dinner over and over again wondering if I've missed anything, and then wonder if I should try some brand new recipe. Right now does not know what is going to happen tomorrow, anymore then I knew last night what would happen today.

Right now asks me to not lose sight of the safest place I can rest. Not in the words spoken by friends, and not the promises and assurances offered to us by the best of which. One place. One Creator. One grand conductor in this symphony of emotion, confusion, and pursuit. In that place I can hear that I'm to let it all go. That I'm supposed to find my only true expectation met, in His unfailing love... and to let the rest be a surprise. I am searching, dreaming, planning, stressing, debating, and in moments drowning. I am supported in more ways then I am often able to acknowledge, for which I am thankful.

I am most thankful for gifts that waited at home. For laughter on the couch. For moments with Gracie when unconditional love is tangible in her perfectly soft ears. For fall leaves that still linger on trees. For endless hope spoken in truth, not ignorance. For plans made. For promises kept. For Jesus always. And... for the unknown aspects of tomorrow that will surpass this dreamer and planners Greatest Expectations... because somehow I was able to let go and be wide open for what is waiting... for what is to come.

Remembered Images

It's November and I am wrapping up my week through Kentucky, Ohio, and Indiana. I wish I could break down how marvelous it has been seeing Jessica, Mandy, Kerri, Emily, Julie, and Holly. I mean seriously, look at that roundup. Some of my favorite women of all time all snuggled together in a week of love, support, and perpetual birthday celebration. However, I didn't take a single picture this week. Which I think is in part because when visiting I get distracted in chatter, meaningful conversations, and giggle fits... but what is strange is that at some point in each goodbye I thought, "you should grab a picture"- but then never did. So unfortunately no ridiculous Facebook photos to upload documenting the shenanigans of the week, but in typical fashion when I recall each day, I remember very particular scenes in my head. Here is my run down of week.

Saturday: Met Bill and Jessica for dinner in Lexington, Ky. Stop number one. I keep laughing when Bill asks me my opinion of him, to which I respond, "you are nice... but no one is ever going to be good enough for Jessica in my opinion." (laughter followed to ease my outspoken statement). The look on my dear friends face was not of panic, or "seriously, Kari."... but there was this wave over her face where she knew that I meant it, and she knew it was true. She is a divine woman, and well the man that scores a forever with her is one lucky man.

Sunday: In my heart there are two images that still my thoughts. First, I got a phone call in the morning with news, and I knew that no matter what my efforts, or words offered, that I could not fix it. And then off course Sunday evening I said goodbye to Andrew before his road trip move to Oregon. There are many things that come to mind when I replay that conversation, but one particular moment after I had left the house is my favorite. I pulled into the parking lot that the 17 foot Uhaul was spending its time parked, and stood beside it. The night was perfectly still, clear, and a full moon appropriately governed the sky. I wrote little post-it notes for the window, how I love post it notes... but after I was done I stood in the midst of my tears and I prayed. For awhile. When I drove away I looked back half expecting Tex to be standing there, but thankfully he wasn't and instead I saw the truck illuminated in the glow from the full moon, and I went on my way. I will never forget the way that moment felt, and how bright and beautiful that sky was. Never.

Monday: Kerri Fowler now Kerri Tank. A day of shopping, coffee, Target, Old Navy, meaningful conversation, and just quiet moments knowing I was completely understood. But hands down favorite snapshot, learning the meaning of ridiculous rap lyrics on urban dictionary and trying to not die of laughter. My brother would be proud of my expanded knowledge of inappropriate things.

Tuesday: Emily. Starbucks marathon conversation- but the look on her face as she choose her words wisely to protect me but love and challenge me at the same time. It was beautiful, and I felt loved and intimately known. It was worth the drive to spend time with someone in which their love and hope was so palpable and encouraged me to continue to be open and wait. L.O.V.E.D. her beautiful face and the way she spoke to me.

Wednesday: Birthday. While I felt loved in many aspects, and in many moments it would be ridiculous to pick one. So it was my birthday so please indulge me with a short little list in this longer list:

a) 7am fuzzy socks and card. I remember Mandy asking me if I was going to stay awake, and I stood there knowing what was in her hand and saying "yes, I want it", and I remember her smile.

b) spa. In the midst of the wonderful hot stone massage, there was a point in the beginning when I remember opening my eyes, looking at the ceiling and thinking quietly to myself, "breathe. let it go". And every last worry, thought, frustration, and emotion found its way out of my heart and I was able to relax for the first time, truly, in what felt like an eternity.

c) catching up with all my text messages/phone calls after the spa. I was sitting in my car and noticed the times on one of them and deeply smiled when I saw how the birthday hour and minute was remembered- and how the three most important people in my life all called me within 45 minutes of each other, and before the morning was even over. I saw my smile in the window reflection, and it was dazzled.

d) shopping with Mandy and encouraging her to get the hat. The look on her face was priceless, "really!?!?" yes. get the hat. really.

Thursday: a day alone capped off with Dave Barnes. In the car afterwards eating frozen yogurt, and listening to a song that summed up my life at the moment, and Mandy's giggle.

Friday: getting coffee and munchkins and sitting in my car talking to Andrew on the phone. Staring at the same hours sign on the Dunkin Donuts window, which said "open 24-hours" but still listed all the hours on the window decal for each day, I thought it was kind of redundant.

Saturday: the joy of Hobby Lobby with Jules... endlessly walking through each and every aisle becoming more and more creatively overwhelmed.

Sunday: our waiter at dinner. Holly's face when she realized the guy behind me heard her say "shut up"... laughing so hard and so much... loving life in the company of her.

So far its been fabulous. I head back to VA tomorrow and will be greeted by my wonderful puppy. I pray that I'm able to focus and get cracking on some projects that I've had the time this week to expand in my head, and pursue the best ways to execute them. I feel fairly inspired, and I feel excited about what I hope to accomplish. However, I am anxious and nervous about walking into my house and snuggling with Gracie and having for the first time the presence of being home in Lexington sink in, Andrew Piper moved... away... and how everything at first will fall short in the void left. So I pray to be open to what will come, and I pray to be open in the company of those that I know seek to love me well... and I countdown. Yes, I countdown to the not quickly enough approaching Christmas Holiday in which I will be in the company of my best friend again, in person.

Thank you all for the texts, calls, and birthday messages. You are part of what I loved most about this week away- and in my heart I can see and remember those moments that there was not a picture taken to capture it tangibly... but will continue to live on.

Love.Love.

green sweatpants

I remember a particular pair of green Gap sweatpants that my brother Bill always used to wear. They were soft, and cozy... I often stole them. When he left his laundry out at the house if they were in there... they would not find their way into his basket but my own. I wore them around the house, and I wore them to bed. They were the best blanket you could ask for, and in them I was content. I can't say that my obsession was particularly because the Gap can make some fantastic sweatpants, it was purely rooted in the fact that my brother loved them and I loved my brother.

In November of 1996 my brother moved from Connecticut to San Francisco a few days before my 16th birthday. Saturday morning I remember saying goodbye to him, and being somewhat of an emotional basket case. That afternoon my Aunt Debbie took my sister Krystal and I shopping for the entire day and just hung out. I remember buying a new pair of sneakers, and I remember enjoying the afternoon's distraction. We pulled into the driveway, and as we unloaded everything purchased I sang a song in typical Kari fashion the entire way into the house, and just giggled. Walking into the house I was greeted by my mother who was talking to me about something I can't remember now and led me to the living room where the lights flipped on and "Surprise" was screamed. It was my sweet sixteen party with 30 or so of my closest friends from Young Life and Emmaus. It was a great moment. I was excited and felt loved, but there was a pang... an ache. That ache was for the brother I so dearly loved who was somewhere on his adventure across the country for his new big life in California.

I turned around and Bill was standing there. He had begun his road trip and turned around to be there for my birthday surprise. I didn't fall over, and I didn't pass out... but that ache I had felt deep in my heart was replaced by a love and appreciation I still cannot articulate. I opened the gift he brought, choked back the tears, and shared some time- and then again he was gone. The second time he left did not feel like the first. I had him there when I most wanted him, and in the midst of all those in the house I did not notice a single other thing... I felt loved.

In the preparing for him to go there was no address to send mail too ahead of him, and there was a lot that I wanted to say. So one night I sat on his computer that he left out in the family room and wrote him a letter. I saved it to the desktop and I trusted that it would be found when the time was right. I was sending him with a secret love letter and there was great comfort in that. I wanted to keep the beloved green sweatpants but I knew that I needed to return them. It was a sad moment, and I bought a pair of my own hoping that they'd be the same... but they weren't.

I can't remember when but at some point after the move I was going through and putting my laundry away and just going about my routine. I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser and for the first time I noticed what had been tucked inside... Bill's green sweatpants. I pulled them out and put them on, and just sat and cried. I remember wishing I had found them sooner because I had missed him so much, and well in 1996 there weren't cell phone's at our disposal and we'd go so long without talking, and I missed his voice... I missed the tickle fights and I missed everything spoken in the silent language of touch. The sweatpants were a life line to a brother that I missed, that I wanted to talk to, that I wanted to wrap my arms around.

In similar fashion I am about to say goodbye to Andrew Piper and send him with all the love and hope I can muster to the West Coast... days before my birthday. I know that my life isn't a movie, and that when I wake up on Wednesday morning three days after his departure he won't magically appear with coffee, and chocolate munchkins on my doorstep wishing me a Happy Birthday... but I do know that there will be an ache.

In the week or so since the news came I have thought about what I could keep from him, like my brother's sweatpants, that could bring some sort of comfort in the midst of this heartbreaking transition. I have not come up with any solutions to what will suffice, but I do know that the feeling I have about him leaving is a lot like how I felt when Bill left for California. I am proud of a choice made in believing that he is going where the Lord has planned, and I am humbled by his bravery to go in a direction that poses great distances between who and what he loves. I admire his certainty for believing that things are going to be "ok" even though I want a definition of what "ok" really means. I continue to struggle in having to grasp what can and will come by means of having to let go of what I know and love right now.

I'm not ready for the goodbye.

I'm not ready for communicating what I am thinking or feeling with words, when so often everything is said by our playful physical banter.

I don't know that I would ever be ready, and I can't honestly say I know what "ready" really means... so we just keep moving forward praying for some peace.

I have a thousand questions that I can't ask, and more that I don't even know how to articulate at this point.

Two weeks from today he goes.

Two weeks + 3 days I will have a birthday.

And its just feeling very much like 1996.

Forward

September. How are you?

It's a beautiful day. One to round up several afternoons that have been pleasantly warm in the day, and have cooled considerably in the evening. In the past couple of weeks life has returned to normal. Mandy came to visit, Labor Day had a little party at the house, spent some time hanging out with Matty while he is off from work, and got really excited to celebrate a birthday... I love birthdays... and when its your best friend's birthday- does it get much better? So, yesterday I got up really early to bring Dunkin Donuts Coffee and Donuts to Andrew Piper who was at work at 5am on his arrival to his mid twenties. I left camp and caught the sunrise, and like learned while in Greece this summer, it was still magical and peaceful in its silent articulation of hope. The afternoon brought a purge of all things in my closet that I haven't worn all summer, and things that just don't work anymore. It's an exciting thing to get rid of clothes that no longer fit, but friends... I may be glad to see those sizes go... but I really liked my closet. I really should have taken a picture of it. Anyway- after three hours of trying on everything I own, I got myself out the door for the Birthday Dinner for Mr. Piper with friends and then relaxed the rest of the evening with my two favorite non-boyfriend boyfriends.

Today I hoped to wake up and have already received the web templates I purchased for my website, but its Monday and the company I decided to go with is closed the weekend, so I imagine that when they guarantee delivery for 24 hours within purchase, that the fact today is a Monday means that I will receive templates on the later portion of those 24 hour window. I'm kind of excited, kind of terrified... kind of just ready to get that chunk of work done now that I've made some decisions and am trying to move forward.

Speaking of moving forward I have also applied for a job in Cincinnati. Perhaps to the joy and exclamation of Mandy Stegman, I clicked the application button, submitted the Resume, and then sent her the Resume so she could forward it to the manager she spoke to about me. Debating life plans are always frustrating, with a sliver of fun- because even though the unknown looms and I just want to know, there is an err of excitement and thrill too, because you know deep down that absolutely anything can happen. The hardest part about applying for a job that requires a move for me has always been, "Ok, if we get this, are we going?" I tend to want to know an answer to that question before submitting anything because seriously, why apply for something you don't think you'd take if offered. For the first time in a good while I found myself asking that question, without an immediate response after. The answer came later, in the wake of panic for thinking I could get it, back to the insecurity of not being a strong candidate. I am ready for a change, I am ready for the move. Which sort of ties back into my closet. As I pulled dresses off hangers to try them on, and then moved them to the pile of Goodwill Donations, there was something cathartic about the process of getting rid of the old... making room for the new stuff.

I am ready for the new stuff. There is sadness there because the 'old' no longer satisfies in ways that are necessary for growth... I still have a lot of love for the 'old', and to let go of it opens up fear for what happens next- and while I desire it deeply, I am also terrified.

Yesterday I gave Andrew the Happy Birthday To You! book by Dr. Seuss. He wants to start a collection, I like collections and birthdays, it seemed like the appropriate place to begin. I put the book down on the table after I'd read each tongue twisted phrase, and thought to myself that I should buy myself a copy of the book so that next year on his birthday we can iChat so he can still be read the story. It was one of the first times in the span of our friendship that I cognitively planned the future, and it wasn't a facilitation of sharing a zip code... it was about bridging the gap in distance. Today I woke up after feeling so content for the evening shared and birth of a beloved friend... and I was a little sad.

In making room for the future, it is hard to feel like the best things about life will remain. It's such a risk, such a chance, and its extremely difficult to not want things to be the way you think up in your head, just so you'd never have to let go. That is where I've remained this morning.

However, I know that,

Songs will continue to play on the radio that are divinely timed.

The sun... will rise each morning, that is for certain.

I will always love Diet Coke.

The ocean will continue to move to its own rhythm.

Sunflowers will still make me smile and make me hopeful.

People we've loved will always be people we've loved.

I will crave change as much as I avoid it.

Jesus will continue to redeem and restore my heart.

Moments worth savoring, will always pass in slow paced seconds- just so we can absorb them.

Letters, cards, and postcards will always tell the story better then we could articulate on our own in retrospection.

I want the future I know I need, but I want to believe that everything about my present that I love will facilitate it. I want to build my new life with those that I love now. I want to pack Matt and Tex up and move them to where we will next be. I want promises spoken, and I want to not think about how empty those promises have felt. The truth is... that while I do want the future... most days, I do not want it more then I want to still read a Dr. Seuss book in person to my best friend on his birthday.

In light of these things. I applied for a job. I opened up my heart. I am moving forward. It's a step. A beloved friend told me Friday that a step was good. In the face of what it meant, they smiled and encouraged me to take it. Sometimes, I want to creep up into their head and know that somewhere doubt, fear, and confusion live where they always speak hopefully. I want to see, I want to know that I'm not crazy for being scared and that together, we can be brave and uncertain all at the same time.

Forward Thinking.

New Spacious Closet.

"I'm one step closer
With my arms open wide
I'm one step closer

And I'm willing and to try

When you're standing on the edge
You don't look down
Till you're ready and willing to fly"