i want the time to read this book, read that book, read the words on paper that you wish you could say from your heart because that would be easier to understand and i would never forget them that way. i want it to be as simple as it sounds: do what makes me happiest. but it is never that simple is it, because i have to make my mother proud and why is it so often that the things that make me happiest are the things that make her disappointed. i want my own being to be understood as different, and i mean really understood that way, but it isn’t. i (and you) am always squished into each category of girl, religious, daughter, whatever, but does anyone ever stop to think for once that maybe, just maybe, i don’t fit neatly into any of those in the way you’d prefer me to? none of us do.
Jesus is enough for me. He is enough. i should not need to give any other explanation when i am asked for my reasoning in making certain decisions. i will love and live in ways that He put in my heart and really, at the end of the day, does anything else matter?
“I never want to be ordinary or predictable or average. And if that means doing unconventional things or taking crazy leaps of faith and ignoring “sensible advice” or going where it would seem I have no business being, I’ll do it. I don’t want to live dead. I want to live alive.”—today-isawindingroad
You’re my favorite time in the morning, sleepy voice and hands. I hear you. It’s the sheets rustling loud and another time zone waking. You’re the best secret I’ve ever kept, coffee eyes. Stories shifting from foot to foot like they were nervous to be outed. Like they didn’t trust me. May has been wakeful, building tension. Telling me how if we were just careful enough, later on we could tiptoe around the floorboards into the backyard to watch the night fall around us like the slickest of thieves. You jump on ahead to the good parts.
I haven’t found a rooftop to climb in a long time but I’ve been scouting city skylines with my eyes ready to meet you up there. I want to show you how that muddy watercolor water just meant I had a lot of different streams running through me at the same time. How they all bled together and bled me dry. But we’re going to pull each color out, one by one, watch them unravel themselves right back into being something vibrant and recognizable again.
in about twenty minutes our foster kids will be told that the decision of the judge is that they are crown wards and as such are being put up for adoption.
all three of them are entirely hoping and expecting that they will be going home, so this will be unreal intense. all i can do is be there when the shit hits the fan and pray my heart out for them. i think this is the reason i could never be a foster parent when i’m older… i fully agree with it and support the need for it, but i am horrible with saying goodbye after getting attached. i mean they’ve been with us for two years. my parents are heroes in my eyes but i don’t think i ever could.
the kids will be with us until each of them have adoptive homes so at least we have them for a while longer.
Peculiar: that our paths are parallel and sometimes overlap; we pass through people, though rarely this strange strange thing occurs. We knock each other down not for pain sake, rather we make an excuse to help each other up and exchange names, interests, questions and perceptions
Extraordinary: that luck and intuition push us forward to commit to share the same path as someone you adore; the thrill of stepping on the backs of heels and smiling about colliding
Devastating: that neglect ignites the weeds that grow; begin to crack the foundation upon which we walk and disable us from colliding on our own terms. Harsh on the feet, harsh thoughts of diving back onto our own path which is just as neglected
And sitting, alone in your room, listening to the shadows’ somber sounds as they dance on the walls, through your windows as the headlights that created them keep going by. Keep rushing by. Keep leaving. Wondering if we’ll ever cross paths, ever be graced with the otherwordly chance of steeping on the back of your heels again
I live, naked and nervous and curious, at the peak of a waterfall. Though strong are my intentions, I have but to blink to find myself taking the dangerous, ever present hand of gravity and leaping into the rocks beneath me. Delicious is the fall, devastating is the impact. Never, ever, ever will I learn.
michael and i are not together anymore. i am a mess to be honest but i am trying.
all i can say is, do not give up on the things you have always wanted for yourself. they are out there and it may take falling down a few times to see it but they are out there, waiting for you. maybe it will be michael after all, sometime in the future (how wonderful would that be) and we left the door open for that, but right now this is what i need.
thank you to those who were praying last night. i probably could not have done it without you.
“To fall in love is easy, even to remain in it is not difficult; our human loneliness is cause enough. But it is a hard quest worth making to find a comrade through whose steady presence one becomes steadily the person one desires to be.”— Anna Louise Strong