My travel season (the main portion at least) has finally ended.
The odd thing about travelling is that while the months seem to go extraordinarily quickly, they finish leaving you feeling as though you have lived 8 months.
That's actually a pretty fair assessment since you're (willingly) dragged from city to city to hotel to hotel to school to college fair to random restaurants and crappy fast food joints and awesome holes in the wall. Thousands of people, thousands of stories.
Then home, you hope, to breathe, breathe, breathe, but in reality it's to attend meetings, answer emails, answer the phone, facilitate preview weekends and tours and visits, drop by local schools on your list, eat food you froze knowing you weren't going to be home long enough to buy more groceries, see your housemates and workmates and "special friend", and go home to crash every night.
My schedule this year was pretty nice because I was basically on a week, "off" a week. However, since I have local schools, my weeks off were spent out of the office as well. At least I got to sleep in my own bed, though.
Another counselor was out of the office for nearly 6 weeks straight.
Even then, though, we have it so good. At fairs--which we love because we get to meet other counselors who understand the job and don't say things to us like, "Oh, your students see you as professionals? I thought you were, like, student buddies"--we talk with one another, and it always makes me cling so tightly to my school when I hear them talk of how they are set out on the road for 9-12 weeks at a time.
When we're on the road, it's hard to remember our office and real lives are still existing without us. We miss announcements, jokes, fun local events, birthdays, etc. What we gain is time with our applicants, our soon to be applicants, family members of our applicants and soon to be applicants.
We love it. I think the time that we realize just how much we missed home is when we turn the car toward the barn or when we get that first hug and can't seem to let our loved one go.
On the homefront, it's a season of deserts and floods.
You try to cram in all the love and snuggles (and emails) you can before you leave and in those intermediary pieces between trips, then spend all the time on the road subsisting on text messages, crappy internet connections, and promises.
Now I'm home. Time to settle back into routine as well as I can, buy some groceries, re-learn how to spend appropriate amounts of time with my friends (reassuring myself that I can see them again the next day), do my chores, and sleep.
Showing posts with label Siloam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Siloam. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Thursday, September 3, 2015
I Only Dog Paddle
All I've gotta say is that something's in the Texan waters this year and applications are pouring in.
We are already at 50% of the total number of applications that I received last year and it's only September.
Yesterday, I was on the phone for four hours calling prospective students.
45 new applicants just this week as well as 13 meetings so far just this week and travel planning galore.
You could say that I've been drowning just a little bit, but it's the very best kind (minus some of the meetings. Really. So very many meetings could be an email).
Our first call to a student is known as an APN call, APN standing for APlicant Not yet contacted.
When we call them, it's this bizarre interaction knowing that there's a chance that this may not just be a phone call to a student, this may be the start of a year long relationship with a student, ending with orientation leaders swarming their vehicle and moving all their belongings into the dorm.
It could end with the start of a new life here at John Brown.
On Tuesday, I took one of my new Freshman students out for coffee because she was feeling a bit homesick and needed to see a familiar face.
While we were talking, I couldn't help but think that I had known her longer than anyone on campus. For more than a year, we have talked once a month at least.
All those interactions--going on a tour, calling when I got her application, a text upon reception of her transcript, seeing her when I visited her school at lunch, her acceptance call, a note on her birthday, ecstatic texts and calls when she raised her test scores to scholarship competition eligibility, a hug at scholarship competition, lots of tears and hugs when she shocked everyone and won the scholarship, class registration advice at early registration, a welcome at move in--became a year.
I've gotten to see her grow up a lot, as I have many of my students as they've gone through the process.
Each one of my APN calls has the potential to become part of our future.
While it may feel right now that I need to just desperately reach out for contact with my enormous list, it's worth the dog paddle, taking my time, feeling the potential gravity of the 5 years ahead.
We are already at 50% of the total number of applications that I received last year and it's only September.
Yesterday, I was on the phone for four hours calling prospective students.
45 new applicants just this week as well as 13 meetings so far just this week and travel planning galore.
You could say that I've been drowning just a little bit, but it's the very best kind (minus some of the meetings. Really. So very many meetings could be an email).
Our first call to a student is known as an APN call, APN standing for APlicant Not yet contacted.
When we call them, it's this bizarre interaction knowing that there's a chance that this may not just be a phone call to a student, this may be the start of a year long relationship with a student, ending with orientation leaders swarming their vehicle and moving all their belongings into the dorm.
It could end with the start of a new life here at John Brown.
On Tuesday, I took one of my new Freshman students out for coffee because she was feeling a bit homesick and needed to see a familiar face.
While we were talking, I couldn't help but think that I had known her longer than anyone on campus. For more than a year, we have talked once a month at least.
All those interactions--going on a tour, calling when I got her application, a text upon reception of her transcript, seeing her when I visited her school at lunch, her acceptance call, a note on her birthday, ecstatic texts and calls when she raised her test scores to scholarship competition eligibility, a hug at scholarship competition, lots of tears and hugs when she shocked everyone and won the scholarship, class registration advice at early registration, a welcome at move in--became a year.
I've gotten to see her grow up a lot, as I have many of my students as they've gone through the process.
Each one of my APN calls has the potential to become part of our future.
While it may feel right now that I need to just desperately reach out for contact with my enormous list, it's worth the dog paddle, taking my time, feeling the potential gravity of the 5 years ahead.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Happiness is: Haley
I've known my best friend Haley for two decades now.
Fairly, the first was spent in bitter enmity. She'll recall my bossiness, I
recall her wild ways.
When you grow up, though, sometimes the things that prevented
friendship are the very parts that keep it together.
Tempered, my bossiness turned into a general maintenance of stability.
Tempered, she learned to understand when to whip out the fun.
Together, we can go out or stay in and make a party out
of anything, keeping it small (for me) but raucous (for her).
My mom loves when Haley is around because she's the only
person who can evoke a true gut laugh from me, and so easily.
I love when Haley is around because everything seems to
have more sparkle and sun when she's with me.
It's been a really long time since we've gotten to hang out but have pieced our long distance together through phone calls and Pinterest
and the single hour we shared in person a month or so ago when she was down for her
sister's wedding.
It was a great relief and great joy, then, to hear she
was coming down from Denver and coming over to me in Arkansas for a day.
I got off work early, we girl talked, went grocery
shopping, made enchiladas, went on a run to Goodwill for a Twister search that
ended in a blue sequin spandex onesie, had friends over, ate ice cream on the
kitchen floor, played games, and talked late into the night.
Growing up can be especially hard on friendships, as you
move around or move out of them.
It makes you especially thankful for those friendships
which grow with you, flex and form and flow.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
F is for Fitness
And other words.
My two housemates and I are often on vastly differing schedules from one another, and that often causes us to pass like ships in the night. If we didn't like each other, this would actually be pretty nice, but we do like each other.
For this reason, M and I decided to go on a run last night, despite the fact that it is 1000 degrees of humid outside, and neither of us have run in over a month and never super consistently before that (save my training for my 5K).
And, because we love her, we invited S, too, who apologized profusely for how slow she was, for how she trots instead of runs, and how she was going to inevitably slow us down.
M and I assured her that our "running" was really more of a meander, how our ideal run involved 3 minutes running, 3 minutes walking.
S started the canter straight out of the gate, and we didn't stop until we reached home 3.4 miles later.
We lost M after mile 2--it was a valiant effort.
I'm not sure how I held on, but I'm putting it to sheer curiosity. I really wanted to see how long S was going to hold out for. Forever is the answer. I'm pretty sure she could have gone farther and faster than her pace due to me.
When we turned on to our street, she told me she was going to speed up a bit. That's fine, I thought, I'll speed up a bit too.
She disappeared in some kind of time warp.
When I reached the house, the two of us turned around and walked to go find M.
The moral of the story is, when someone makes apologies for their running, ask more questions or you will end up on an impromptu 5K.
My two housemates and I are often on vastly differing schedules from one another, and that often causes us to pass like ships in the night. If we didn't like each other, this would actually be pretty nice, but we do like each other.
For this reason, M and I decided to go on a run last night, despite the fact that it is 1000 degrees of humid outside, and neither of us have run in over a month and never super consistently before that (save my training for my 5K).
And, because we love her, we invited S, too, who apologized profusely for how slow she was, for how she trots instead of runs, and how she was going to inevitably slow us down.
M and I assured her that our "running" was really more of a meander, how our ideal run involved 3 minutes running, 3 minutes walking.
S started the canter straight out of the gate, and we didn't stop until we reached home 3.4 miles later.
We lost M after mile 2--it was a valiant effort.
I'm not sure how I held on, but I'm putting it to sheer curiosity. I really wanted to see how long S was going to hold out for. Forever is the answer. I'm pretty sure she could have gone farther and faster than her pace due to me.
When we turned on to our street, she told me she was going to speed up a bit. That's fine, I thought, I'll speed up a bit too.
She disappeared in some kind of time warp.
When I reached the house, the two of us turned around and walked to go find M.
The moral of the story is, when someone makes apologies for their running, ask more questions or you will end up on an impromptu 5K.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Yard Work and Summer Good Feels
At Glenwood Gables, our yard owns us.
A few months ago, I attacked two of the three enormous bushes (fondly known as Monster and Devil).
They grew back.
We poured poison on them, chocked their roots full of epsom salt before a rain storm, hacked at them.
They grew. In fact, our efforts seemed to fuel them.
Monster grew back with a vengence and took over a huge section of the back corner.
And then there's Demon.
Trunk to tip thorns, and it was growing by the day, gaining speed and covering an entire kitchen window as well as part of the gate to the fence.
I don't think they would have bothered me so much, but from my spot at the kitchen table, they were all that I could see.
I needed them dead.
I needed backup.
Enter: The Julius.
We put our bets on him, and we were proven correct with our choice.
Down went Demon.
The garden was a whole other situation, and Makayla (and some me as well, but I mostly handled the irises and a strange buried stack of bricks that was preventing mowing) tackled it with perseverance weeding, cutting down the outer levels of grass, and mulching.
We're all very busy and usually stressed (the life of an introvert doesn't take much to overwhelm) but finally our house is starting to look less like a fairy tale villain lair and more like a cozy cottage, complete with gnome.
Then, with our two-day yard work extravaganza done, we went to the pool, put together some delicious homemade pizza, played games, and napped.
Happiness is: friendship and achieving goals.
A few months ago, I attacked two of the three enormous bushes (fondly known as Monster and Devil).
They grew back.
We poured poison on them, chocked their roots full of epsom salt before a rain storm, hacked at them.
They grew. In fact, our efforts seemed to fuel them.
Monster grew back with a vengence and took over a huge section of the back corner.
And then there's Demon.
Trunk to tip thorns, and it was growing by the day, gaining speed and covering an entire kitchen window as well as part of the gate to the fence.
I don't think they would have bothered me so much, but from my spot at the kitchen table, they were all that I could see.
I needed them dead.
I needed backup.
Enter: The Julius.
We put our bets on him, and we were proven correct with our choice.
Down went Demon.
The garden was a whole other situation, and Makayla (and some me as well, but I mostly handled the irises and a strange buried stack of bricks that was preventing mowing) tackled it with perseverance weeding, cutting down the outer levels of grass, and mulching.
We're all very busy and usually stressed (the life of an introvert doesn't take much to overwhelm) but finally our house is starting to look less like a fairy tale villain lair and more like a cozy cottage, complete with gnome.
Then, with our two-day yard work extravaganza done, we went to the pool, put together some delicious homemade pizza, played games, and napped.
Happiness is: friendship and achieving goals.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Big Girl Job: Week 1
Did I mention how completely structure-less my life was in NI?
It's worth mentioning. Or mentioning again.
Except for that 10am tea break, there ain't nothin' scheduled.
I went to class once a week, give or take. In the middle of the afternoon.
For a year, I existed in this weird 'I do what I want when I want' state.
I've got a riddle for you: What's tea-less and steel-structured?
The Adult Work Week.
8:30-5 every. single. day.
Yes, I recognize that none of you have an ounce of pity for me, "Uh. Yah. Duh. That's what being an adult looks like", but it is a pretty insane culture shock for me. There are a lot of naps involved in my life right now.
Overall, though, I think I'm going to really like my job once I get going.
My fangirl for JBU thing comes in handy when leading campus tours, and I'm reading through the history of JBU (not helping the fangirl thing).
One particlarly interesting thing I've learned while reading is that John E. Brown Senior tried to leave Siloam nearly 6 times (I haven't finished the book; it could be more). More than that, he attempted to move the entire university over to Sulpher Springs for a few years, too.
And yet, every single time, he came back to her.
Once you find her, you never leave her.
It was never my plan or intention to be here right now, but yet here I am!! And I love it here.
Yes, it's small and a little dinky and we've got amish in our Walmart, but it's a place you want to call home. It's a place you want to build your bookshelves.
It's a place where you can TP your boss's office and not get fired...
It's worth mentioning. Or mentioning again.
Except for that 10am tea break, there ain't nothin' scheduled.
I went to class once a week, give or take. In the middle of the afternoon.
For a year, I existed in this weird 'I do what I want when I want' state.
I've got a riddle for you: What's tea-less and steel-structured?
The Adult Work Week.
8:30-5 every. single. day.
Yes, I recognize that none of you have an ounce of pity for me, "Uh. Yah. Duh. That's what being an adult looks like", but it is a pretty insane culture shock for me. There are a lot of naps involved in my life right now.
Overall, though, I think I'm going to really like my job once I get going.
My fangirl for JBU thing comes in handy when leading campus tours, and I'm reading through the history of JBU (not helping the fangirl thing).
One particlarly interesting thing I've learned while reading is that John E. Brown Senior tried to leave Siloam nearly 6 times (I haven't finished the book; it could be more). More than that, he attempted to move the entire university over to Sulpher Springs for a few years, too.
And yet, every single time, he came back to her.
Once you find her, you never leave her.
It was never my plan or intention to be here right now, but yet here I am!! And I love it here.
Yes, it's small and a little dinky and we've got amish in our Walmart, but it's a place you want to call home. It's a place you want to build your bookshelves.
It's a place where you can TP your boss's office and not get fired...
Friday, June 20, 2014
What You've Missed: The Move
It wasn't enough that I moved continents about 11 days ago. Nope! I needed to hop on across the state line as well.
It's official! I am now living in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. I won't say I'm a resident there yet (though all my paperwork is filled out with my new semi-permanent address), but this is where I live now.
Okay so maybe I have missed the south just a little bit.
It's official! I am now living in Siloam Springs, Arkansas. I won't say I'm a resident there yet (though all my paperwork is filled out with my new semi-permanent address), but this is where I live now.
Ain't she cute and southern with her front porch and all?
I am the newest resident of Glenwood Gables, with my housemates Sarah and Liz. However, Liz has yet to appear back from Vacation, so I've just been getting to know Sarah.
Already I love them. They could not be sweeter. When I arrived at the house, they'd moved in my desk and bedframe that had been in their garage (a system of internationally buying things off my university's classified ads, my parents graciously transferring them, and then to storage at the Gables), put a vase of flowers in my favorite color, and written me notes/put little gifts around the house.
They made my transition to Arkansas fun and sweet and easy. I've been very blessed.
And then, of course, there's Walmart.
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
I'm There, Summer 2014
It's Fall 2008.
Despite the fact that I had been dead set determined against it before that summer, every person I worked with at New Life Ranch who really evoked respect from me had it in common.
Soon, I couldn't help but have it on the mind.
Jansie and I drove from Tulsa to Colcord for a dander up to the West 40 (big field at NLR) for a picnic. When we came down, we drove into the nearby town, driving around its educational point of interest.
Did I want to walk around?
No.
However, after we had pulled out and started to drive away, I panicked with regret and made us turn around.
I remember the exact spot where we parked and where I took my first steps on campus.
Everything in my mind stopped.
All senses turned off, except an overwhelming feeling that this is it.
It was.
My years at John Brown University were not all rosy golden.
There were times I was lonely, angry, ill, and confused.
But JBU is where I started to get a deep grasp into who it is I am and why I believe what I believe.
I gained friendships there that are solid gold.
My professors and mentors there poured more practical knowledge and love into me than I could handle, and it spilled into my own mentoring life with a couple younger girls.
I believe in JBU.
I believe in its vision for its students and the ethics of its administration.
I love that it promotes creative fun without the distraction of alcohol.
I love that it celebrates people who are odd.
I love that our president knows our names and regularly hangs out with us in the caf and student center.
This is it for me.
Not a defeated, "Everything else failed...guess I'm stuck here."
A victorious, "This fits. This is where I belong."
Today I got one of the best Skype calls of my life.
And I said yes to something bold.
It is my great honor and opportunity to announce that, starting in June, I am joining the Admissions staff at John Brown University.
Soon, so soon, I'll be back with you, Siloam.
Despite the fact that I had been dead set determined against it before that summer, every person I worked with at New Life Ranch who really evoked respect from me had it in common.
Soon, I couldn't help but have it on the mind.
Jansie and I drove from Tulsa to Colcord for a dander up to the West 40 (big field at NLR) for a picnic. When we came down, we drove into the nearby town, driving around its educational point of interest.
Did I want to walk around?
No.
However, after we had pulled out and started to drive away, I panicked with regret and made us turn around.
I remember the exact spot where we parked and where I took my first steps on campus.
Everything in my mind stopped.
All senses turned off, except an overwhelming feeling that this is it.
It was.
My years at John Brown University were not all rosy golden.
There were times I was lonely, angry, ill, and confused.
But JBU is where I started to get a deep grasp into who it is I am and why I believe what I believe.
I gained friendships there that are solid gold.
My professors and mentors there poured more practical knowledge and love into me than I could handle, and it spilled into my own mentoring life with a couple younger girls.
I believe in JBU.
I believe in its vision for its students and the ethics of its administration.
I love that it promotes creative fun without the distraction of alcohol.
I love that it celebrates people who are odd.
I love that our president knows our names and regularly hangs out with us in the caf and student center.
This is it for me.
Not a defeated, "Everything else failed...guess I'm stuck here."
A victorious, "This fits. This is where I belong."
Today I got one of the best Skype calls of my life.
And I said yes to something bold.
It is my great honor and opportunity to announce that, starting in June, I am joining the Admissions staff at John Brown University.
Soon, so soon, I'll be back with you, Siloam.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Verbal Nudity
For the past four days, I have been in Siloam Springs.
A lot of people challenged me on this decision (for a variety of reasons), but I went because I graduated early, and all my friends are still on campus, not to mention my professor friends.
Three and a half absolutely packed days of meetings, friend dates, coffee, and Jenga.
There wasn't a friend specifically assigned to Jenga, but I've found over the years that if I ever have an awkward space of time on campus, if I sit in Walker Student Center for 5 or more minutes, someone I know and like (but unfortunately neglected to schedule time with) will show up.
And, because sometimes interactions with friends like that--the ones you really like but don't always know what to talk about with--can be a bit awkward, Jenga. It's the perfect amount of social distraction. Not so focus-necessary that you can't focus on your conversation but just enough that you can focus energy on it if the conversation feels slow.
In this way, my free time was enriched by several people I haven't been able to have a chance to speak with in months, and it added so much flavor I would have entirely missed out on.
Going to Siloam also offered me an opportunity to make a few new acquaintances, some I very much enjoyed making and a couple that were necessary to make. Both were a stretch.
More than that, though, the journey of the past few days was one of verbal nudity.
As far as the 5 Love Languages test goes, I usually classify myself high on Words of Affirmation. However, I am not usually a verbal affirmer. Instead, I write.
Most times, actually, when I need to address something particularly saturated with sentiment, I write instead of speak. Thus, this blog, and my letters and emails. Raw, but hiding.
It's not as though I think writing is wrong--indeed, letter receiving is one of the greatest things, and I love sending them. However, when all big conversations (or really any big conversation) is done via the written word, I think there is a problem.
70% of communication is non-verbal. So when I'm not forced to look in your eyes, weigh the immediate impact of my words and decisions on your heart, watch your body language, I miss out. And even if my letters or blogs are extremely vulnerable, they lack that intense intimacy that comes through individual communication.
Over three days' time, I had three different conversations with three different girl friends.
In one, I sought for forgiveness; in the second, I offered an admission of cowardice; in the third, I opened the understanding . In all three, I opened the door for rejection.
In a previous post, I defined "intimacy." With intimacy, there is a tension and an opportunity for the other person to either accept and grow or reject and let die.
Incredibly, all three chose the former.
It wasn't just that choice that impacted me so much, though. Rather, it was that I felt the power of having to fully engage, to admit some pretty deep and sacred feelings in the immediate presence of the ones capable of decimating my attempts. The result was access to depth that I didn't know was available to me in those friendships. Our God is an awesome God.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
One More Time With Feeling
I had a dream once. Not like Martin Luther King Junior. The real kind. The kind your sleeping self creates.
In this dream, there was a path. A silent man to my left, but to my right were two people standing with their backs to me talking a ways down the sloped road. But I walked past them, walking straight and toward a hill.
I walked with big strides up the pathway, hooking my feet into the creases in the cracked dirt and making good time.
The hill got steeper, though, and as I looked forward, I saw it wasn't a hill at all but a mountain. The nearly ninety degree up kind, and the air was thinning. I got slower. Still long strides, but with so much more effort and not enough oxygen to keep up even that pace.
The man wrapped his fingers into my rib cage. He was having no problem keeping a consistent pace and now steel-grip, half-dragged me up along with him. I could feel his fingers bruising into me.
Feet no longer catching hold but slipping. Air coming less. Rim of sight fuzzing, darkening. Dizzy. Still those fingers in my ribs pulling me up.
We came up and I saw the burning edges of the sunset over the crest of the mountain. And passed out.
_________________________________________________________________________________
There was one more chapter to my pain. I left Siloam perfect. My memories there, perfect. And they needed to be rewritten into reality.
I prayed extensively beforehand, knowing that I was to be watched and knowing I would face questions.
Lord, What do I say? How am I to be gracious? How am I to speak the truth? With what words do I fill my mouth?
Then came the moment when I fully grasped it: No matter what I say, no matter what I do, others will believe what they will believe. I cannot make for myself my reputation. It is the Lord who writes my name.
Therefore, whether it makes me look weak or undone, I will speak the truth. I will speak the truth with deep humility and without shame. "The Lord has dealt with me."
In Siloam, I learned of more betrayal, of secrecy, of broken, broken journeys, and of pain.
I was left with nothing but compassion and a deep ache, knowing of self-destructive bonds forged out of ignorance. You know not what you are doing, but it is your journey. Not mine.
To my supervisors, professors, and friends, I told the truth of my current state and of my own journey. Never have I been not more open but more raw or present in my answers. Never have I been less lovely.
And yet, and yet, the Lord was seen. In the wreck that is my body and my life, the ones who know me spoke over me favor. I, who have sought my whole life for that favor and respect; I, who have twisted myself mangled to achieve honor; I, who have always fallen short of what I wanted, am only to receive it now, when I am the least deserving of the words I once fought so hard to win.
Then, I walked away and didn't look back. I did not get my closure. I did not seek my closure. I chose my closure. I chose to walk alone and allow The Lord to do his own work without me putsing about in somebody else's path.
Muted by pain and so present in my pain, but I am so thankful.
My future husband and children and friends will bless, bless, bless these past four months. I myself will bless these past four months.
I am changed, told I even look it.
My story is not my own. The Lord has closed my journal and opened a new book, writing my pathway with blood and tears and truth.
I am home, but I am not better yet, and that is difficult for me to accept. However, a whooped boxer doesn't spritz away dainty after his rounds. He is taken out of the ring, cradled away, and nursed back into battle mode.
I have been taken out of my ring. I have been cradled. And now, I just need time to heal.
At the end of the day: Jesus.
At the end of the day: soundness of mind, right alignment of body and spirit, grace, humility, forgiveness, love, compassion, shameless truth, and the deep recognition and value of friendship and of being human.
At the end of the day: hope.
In this dream, there was a path. A silent man to my left, but to my right were two people standing with their backs to me talking a ways down the sloped road. But I walked past them, walking straight and toward a hill.
I walked with big strides up the pathway, hooking my feet into the creases in the cracked dirt and making good time.
The hill got steeper, though, and as I looked forward, I saw it wasn't a hill at all but a mountain. The nearly ninety degree up kind, and the air was thinning. I got slower. Still long strides, but with so much more effort and not enough oxygen to keep up even that pace.
The man wrapped his fingers into my rib cage. He was having no problem keeping a consistent pace and now steel-grip, half-dragged me up along with him. I could feel his fingers bruising into me.
Feet no longer catching hold but slipping. Air coming less. Rim of sight fuzzing, darkening. Dizzy. Still those fingers in my ribs pulling me up.
We came up and I saw the burning edges of the sunset over the crest of the mountain. And passed out.
_________________________________________________________________________________
There was one more chapter to my pain. I left Siloam perfect. My memories there, perfect. And they needed to be rewritten into reality.
I prayed extensively beforehand, knowing that I was to be watched and knowing I would face questions.
Lord, What do I say? How am I to be gracious? How am I to speak the truth? With what words do I fill my mouth?
Then came the moment when I fully grasped it: No matter what I say, no matter what I do, others will believe what they will believe. I cannot make for myself my reputation. It is the Lord who writes my name.
Therefore, whether it makes me look weak or undone, I will speak the truth. I will speak the truth with deep humility and without shame. "The Lord has dealt with me."
In Siloam, I learned of more betrayal, of secrecy, of broken, broken journeys, and of pain.
I was left with nothing but compassion and a deep ache, knowing of self-destructive bonds forged out of ignorance. You know not what you are doing, but it is your journey. Not mine.
To my supervisors, professors, and friends, I told the truth of my current state and of my own journey. Never have I been not more open but more raw or present in my answers. Never have I been less lovely.
And yet, and yet, the Lord was seen. In the wreck that is my body and my life, the ones who know me spoke over me favor. I, who have sought my whole life for that favor and respect; I, who have twisted myself mangled to achieve honor; I, who have always fallen short of what I wanted, am only to receive it now, when I am the least deserving of the words I once fought so hard to win.
Then, I walked away and didn't look back. I did not get my closure. I did not seek my closure. I chose my closure. I chose to walk alone and allow The Lord to do his own work without me putsing about in somebody else's path.
Muted by pain and so present in my pain, but I am so thankful.
My future husband and children and friends will bless, bless, bless these past four months. I myself will bless these past four months.
I am changed, told I even look it.
My story is not my own. The Lord has closed my journal and opened a new book, writing my pathway with blood and tears and truth.
I am home, but I am not better yet, and that is difficult for me to accept. However, a whooped boxer doesn't spritz away dainty after his rounds. He is taken out of the ring, cradled away, and nursed back into battle mode.
I have been taken out of my ring. I have been cradled. And now, I just need time to heal.
At the end of the day: Jesus.
At the end of the day: soundness of mind, right alignment of body and spirit, grace, humility, forgiveness, love, compassion, shameless truth, and the deep recognition and value of friendship and of being human.
At the end of the day: hope.
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