So… running 5 mi. on Saturday morning, God spoke to me.

(Disclaimer:  not in an audible voice but in thoughts laid upon my heart that I believe came from Him/ were directed by His truth)

Lately I’ve been describing my relationship status as a barren land.  A desert to be exact.  It’s like a movie shoot of the sahara and one lone (usually a man) person staggering through the sand - and that’s all there is - this small person stumbling through the sand and then the sand fills the rest of the shot.  Sand Sand Sand. Hot. Sun beating down.  Sand.

That’s what my relationship status and possibility has felt like as most of my crowd and life involves the same circles and women. A Girls Monday night Bible Study. I work in a department of all women… etc.

My feelings regarding this state change.  At times, I don’t even think about this desert place.  However, at other times, it consumes my heart with longing and disappointment.

—

It’s been raining a lot in San Diego and everything is GREEN.  A rarity for us.  There are also flowers blooming by the side of the freeway and as I ran around Lake Murray, I was wowed by the lushness of plants and trees.  It was beautiful and certain parts of the path reminded me of the time my family and I trekked through the forest in the hills of Jamaica.  Lush, green, wild.

As I ran, I felt the words rising,

“So… you see your relationship status as a barren wasteland.  What about the rest of your life?”

I thought about my family - each member of which I love dearly and feel deeply connected to.

What about your friends?  I thought about my friendships - again the depth, connection, love, safety, wisdom, laughter, fun and trust within them.

I thought about my job - both the challenges, joys and opportunities I am given and face each day.

I smiled when I think of the weekend mornings I get to spend alone at the beach, in nature.  I thought of running and the health and joy I feel coursing through my veins when I run, dance in my kitchen, salsa dance or walk…

As I surveyed the landscape of my life and of who I am - I smiled because I saw a lush vibrant rain-forest. Growth. Beauty. Joy.

It’s true - there was still the small barren land of my relationship status and the fact that I would love to be with and develop a deep connected relationship with a man who would eventually become my best friend, my lover, husband and eventually the father of my children… but…

this barren land is just a smidgen of my life - a small pocket.

The question left at the bottom of these thoughts,
“Are you going to waste time wishing and allowing this one barren place to rob you of your joy and thankfulness for everything else?”

Why would I pin my happiness on this one area?  Why would I allow this one barren place to define my reality?

–

Anyways, don’t know if that makes sense.  But it was freeing to realize all the beauty and life surrounding me.  It brought me to a place of deeper contentment, and revealed to me, once again, all the wonderful blessings God has given me.

I am surrounded by beauty.

I am loved.

I love.

This is all I want and ask - and so, in so many ways, on so many levels, I have already achieved my highest goal and desire.

He loves me.

I love Him.

That’s the punchline of my story - regardless of whether the barren land is a small part of the majority of it.  And right now I’m enjoying that it is small.

This is the quote on which the book “Half the Sky” by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn (husband and wife, married in 1988) derives its title.

I haven’t read the book but after attending a showing of the Event Half the Sky, I want to read it.  It was heart wrenching, inspiring and incredible.  My heart is still trembling from the information and stories.

I understood.

“And then, I can’t really explain it to people.  What the ship is like I mean.  I know that you get it.  But you’re the only one of my friends in San Diego.”

We talked about the struggle to find a moment alone on the ship, with all the people on board.  And then both he as a crew member and me as a child, never being able to leave the ship alone.  Everyone was required to leave only in groups.  On the ship: people in the dining room; people on deck; people in the lobby and meeting rooms.

We talked about the changeover of people.  Every six months a large group of people left.  Each of them flying back to their respective countries.  Most of whom I have not seen again, and probably won’t.  People I was friends with.  People I loved.  Then there is the constant moving of the ship itself.  Every two weeks or at the longest, every month, we set sail and are in a new port.

Living in San Diego has proved very strange because now my memories have begun to layer themselves on the land.  Balboa Park is where Daniel B. and I hung out when I was in high school.  It is where Charlie and I took our engagement pictures.  It is where my friends and I crashed a Christmas party on the balcony above the Science museum and stood looking over the crowds filling the park on December Nights.  It is where Kathy, Lyndsay and I went on a picture taking spree.  It is where Justin taught me how to use a bow and arrow.  It is where Grant and I walked Dozer with Rachael and Eric.  It is the place in which I continue to find rest on a blanket in the shade with unopened books. I lay, gazing at the people, sky and scenery around me.

It is strange to drive by places or go to places that hold so many memories.  The places are almost heavy with memories. Is this why some people do not like to return home when they grew up in one place? The place is too crowded with memories they would rather leave behind.  They need a new canvas on which to paint the story of their life?

While growing up on the ship, each country had a single layer of memory.  A place might have two memories, for example if we visited the same restaurant twice while in port, but most had only one.  When we moved, and as the wind of time blew over them, they faded because my connection to the land was like a single thread, pulled taught and often disconnected and forgotten.

When people hear that I grew up sailing the different countries, they imagine I must have handfuls multicolored memories and experiences that are both tangible and wise.  Instead my memories are fragmented and I often do not remember the details of the place; however, I can remember the emotion and sometimes the thoughts held in a port.  But then this is the way of all memories.  If you try to touch them, one’s hand often disappears into the body of the memory.  They are ghosts.  And sometimes when we retell them or try to remember, they change shape.

Talking to Christian inspired me to re-enter the telling of my story and the story of the ship.  It has not been told yet.

I have created a goal for myself.  I am calling it MARCH MADNESS.  Each day of March, I will write a page.  At the end of the month, I will have 31 pages.  I will not post them all, but am looking forward to stretching myself and my storytelling ability.

it’s easy to smile and be myself around them and I find joy bubbling up from within my chest and spreading to the rest of me until I feel relaxed, safe and loved.

Love it!

Had a great time celebrating Justin’s 25th birthday yesterday. It’s crazy how grown up all of us are!  I am so proud of each of my siblings and so glad to have them in my life!!

Then today I got to hang out with the SMCC small group leaders and coaches and that was awesome.  Whenever I go to SMCC, it is like coming home and I love chatting with the people I know but haven’t seen in months.  We learned about “Growth.”  What it looks like and how to make it happen.

.
After a coffee date with Sara in which we kept an eye on Riley who amused himself by running back and forth, touching his shoulder to the Starbucks wall, and later by rolling on the group, I took a nap.  A much needed nap before which I read some of my writings on truth that God has laid on my heart in regards to my identity, and my relationship with him.  I needed reminding. The rain was falling and it was the perfect background music to my musings and then sleep.

Kathy came over early before the Cabo Meeting.  I have loved spending more time with her as we are both officially single now.

The Cabo meeting was encouraging, inspiring and such a reminder of God’s provision and miraculous power.  Each of us feel a deep sense of wonder and gratitude that God would allow us to be a part of what He is doing in Cabo - to use our small gifts and talent - and we are humbled by the way He paves the way for us and brings all the details together.  We could never accomplish the things He has already accomplished on our own.  This is about His glory and power.  His church.  His love.   I’m so blessed to be a part of it.

Then Kathy & Toby & I hung out and watched “The Pianist”, a very sad but touching movie.  However, with the amount of cynical and loud mouthed comments made by all parties during the movie, we managed to end the night in good spirits and laughing.

It is the end of the day.  The rain has stopped.  The only sound in my room is my fingers against the keys of my keyboard.  My eyelids are heavy and I am going to bed now.

Goodnight -

If she turned it off, the silence would stifle her. If she left it loud, the words would wander from her mind into her hand and onto paper.

LOVE___________
This weekend I held a dear friend as she sobbed.  Her boyfriend and her broke up.  Her shoulders shook against my arms and she sobbed that gut wrenching hiccup sound that is one of the truest expressions of profound grief.  I held her.  What could I say?  She risked her heart and now has to pick the pieces up and move forward.  She is brave and I know she will be okay, in time.

This weekend I sat beside my friend who has just fallen in love.  His eyes sparkled and his mouth could not get the words about the one he cares for out fast enough.  He laughed and smiled recounting their time together.   He paused, momentarily, amidst the joy, and said that he was afraid.  He had put himself out there, shared who he is.  He is afraid that she will reject him, but he moved towards her and put himself out there.  He is brave.

I’m disillusioned with love in my own life.  I want to remain open and positive, but my heart feels like a pummeled person, bruised and battered.  I’m tired of being hurt.  Tired of investing in relationships to have them dissipate into nothing.  I am brave and I will move forward, opening my heart despite the past,  but it is hard.

HIDING_________

She is a part of my family and yet I do not know her as I long to.

I used to think it was her.  Hiding.

But today I realized I have played a part.  Hiding.

She opened up and asked me a question and as I gave my response, I mentioned I would love to tell her more of my story and the healing I have undergone.  The part of my story I usually edit and leave underground because it is closest to my heart and to the hurts of my past.  She said she would like to know more of me and how I think and see the world.

Although this is a gift, it saddened me.

I am deeply discouraged by my propensity to hide and to disconnect from what’s really going on inside, from what I really think.

The “right” answers cloud my mind and I want to push them aside and just BE.  Messy.  Unedited.  Clumsy.  Unfinished.  Questioning.  Weak.

Things I despise and yet when I try to edit these qualities out of my life, I end up in a stuffy room with no room to breathe - to BE.

I shake my head and ask God to forgive me for hiding - I ask my family and friends to forgive me -

and then I pray for courage and strength to emerge -

myself.

Unedited.

I drove up a ways and parked and decided I had time to spare before picking up my friends gift, despite a long list of things to do before her party that evening.  I walked through the parking lot, over the grass of the park and down the sidewalk towards the tent formulating a plan in my head.  I wonder if I’ll have to pay admission.  If I do, I can stay at least an hour.  It’ll be worth it.  I haven’t been on a spontaneous adventure in awhile… I trekked on.

Crossing the street, I came to the fence and walked towards the entrance.  Vietnamese New Year Festival.  $5.

Alright!  Let’s check it out. 

I got in line, the other women in line had beautiful silk “Áo Dài”.  Feeling slightly out of place, I lifted my chin up to embrace the feeling.  What kind of adventurer worries about fitting in!

On entering, I wandered by the traditional festival booths that had nothing to do with Vietnam.  The games and trinket stalls set up at every festival in Balboa.  Passing them I came to booths with bright clothes, lanterns, and a small pond with bright flowers around it.  Walking behind the booths to the left, I came to the stage, the drums and the dragons.  There were at least five of them.  Three on stage and the others scattered throughout the crowd.  The head was held by a man while his frilly pants looked like the dragons furry legs.  Then a second man stood behind him and danced bent over - the behind of the dragon.  It was fun to watch, the drum beat coursing through my veins. I love this.

After the opening ceremony I wandered.  Listened to a woman and then later a man sing wistful songs.  I think they were about love.  I love listening to songs in other languages.  Not understanding the words make me more aware of the sound, expression and emotion.  I also love the sound of the Vietnamese language.  This video was the closest I could find to what I heard on Saturday.

Vang Trang Khoc - Nhat Tinh Anh & Khanh Ngoc

Standing on the grass, surrounding by bubbles a small boy and girl were blowing a few feet in front of me, I looked past the stage to the view of downtown before me.

I love this city and the experiences it offers.

on coming home, i received an email from one of my favorite passive-aggressive people and it took all the creative steam right out of me -

guess i have to take my punch line and actually apply it.

bummer.