I am laying on my stomach--with this lumpy carpet embedded in my knees and elbows, my ribs about to pierce my skin and my spine flat against my stomach--in my room that's so empty it sort of echos. It feels like I'm moving in all over again, only to move out in about six weeks. But the fresh paint is nice. And it's late. It's 12:43 AM on a week night and I'm up way too late for the nth time in a row. But the late and the quiet is nice.

And, you know, I've never been so excited for the future as I am in this moment.

Everything just feels right.

I just want to lay here, breathing in and out while the minutes tick away. I want to hear the air conditioning turn on and off, listening to this place breathe. I want to soak this up now, write it in my bones. This is everything pausing, gathering, aligning. This is life making sense. This is me feeling whole. This is peace, and it's sinking in my bones.

How things change

I’ve been gone for three weeks. And ya know, everything’s changed.

And not in the way that my skin has been seriously kissed by the sun, or the way the mold has creeped onto my bedroom ceiling.

But things have changed in the way where bonds are broken and you finally sit up and realize you’ve been sleep walking. And it’s not half bad and only half as painful as I thought it’d be. And if I had to guess, I’d say this is what growing up and letting go really feels like.

I’m still young and I still haven’t figured everything out. But I have up to this point straight and all the twists made sense of. I can close this chapter and step out into the next one.

It’s like those moments when you realize everything every mother, father, aunt or uncle, older sibling, grandparent, and well-meaning adult said was true. It’s that moment in the car or the kitchen or the fast-food restaurant, where your mother listened to your heartache speak or your dad bought you ice cream to drown your sorrows, and all they had to say was some pitiful piece of advice about time and moving on. And they’re right.

Some things you’re better off without and some things are meant to be only memories and dust and a souvenir in the bottom of your sock drawer. And right now it might be painful, but I promise, someday it will be smiles.

Because you never truly forget, as in “forgive and forget”. But breathing gets easier and pain gets lighter just like bruises heal. You won’t forget the painful things, but they’ll never be quite as sharp as they are now, and they’ll no longer cloud the happy things. But maybe they’ll fade so much you will forget, and all you’ll remember is smiles.

And that’s how everything changes.

Moments like these

I'm sitting in my bed with my three youngest siblings. Everyone's exhausted after a weekend of "partying," so we're having a snuggle time. They're curled up together with my pillows and blankets. The blinds are closed. The only sounds are breathing, my typing, and a playlist of This Will Destroy You and Explosions In The Sky. It's dark and it's peaceful. I think I could take a nap right now, too.

These are the moments I wish I could capture on film or paper or canvas. But the only sure way to capture them is in my heart.

It's moments like these that make me realize how much I love my siblings. It's moments like these that make me realize how much I'll miss my family next year. It's moments like these that pull at my heartstrings and make me realize how much I want to be a mom someday.

Blank

She looked around herself. Everything was blank. The wall at her back was blank, the carpet was blank, even the light streaming through the window seemed blank. A brown box sat in front of her; her laptop sat on top of the box. Notes squeezed themselves out of the speakers and into the blank air. A pillow and a couple of blankets heaped themselves in a corner.
Everything was new and different, here. This was her blank slate. The minute she stepped foot inside this room she wanted to bottle it up and send it home. She wanted to pluck bits and pieces of her surroundings and herself like flowers--and maybe he would put the bouquet on his table. Maybe he'd understand. She wanted so much for him to know. She wanted to share this.
She soaked everything up with wide eyes, open lungs, hungry stomach, and outstretched hands. That was the only way to face life, she figured. She tried to face this change with the mind of a child. She wished so badly that she could pull him out of her pocket, let him see through her eyes. Everything is better when shared.
She saw moments and building blocks. She saw growth and life. She saw love. She saw with love. She loved this place. She loved him.
She didn't understand the kind of restart this blankness would bring. She didn't realize that there was no way for him to understand. This was her time to breathe, her time to fill herself with everything she saw, heard, touched, and smelled.
She sits with her back to the same blank wall, and she looks across the same blank carpet, and the light through her window is still blank. The blankets in the corner are replaced with a bed and the box was emptied onto shelves. Sometimes the old desire to send back bits of herself still arises, and sometimes she breathes and sees as if for two. But she knows the reality is that this is all for her. He won't see it, hear it, touch it, smell it. She can't say that this is what she wanted. She can't say that this is where she thought she was going. But she can say that this is hers, and hers only. Some things must be left unshared.

Jesus calling

I want to share something.

The Bible is kind of dry, isn't it? Or at least that's what it seems like. I've never been able to just read the Bible. I've never been able to actually complete a Bible study. Ever.

For graduation I was given this little book: Jesus Calling by Sarah Young. Sarah has taken things from her own prayer journal, things she felt God told her in her quiet times with him, and has made a book with a little devotion for every day of the year. She writes as if God is speaking directly to the reader. While what she writes isn't directly from the Bible, she always has a few verses to back up what she's saying.

I started reading this book, Jesus Calling, on my plane ride to Texas a couple weeks ago. I couldn't have picked a better time to pick up this book. I started reading with the entry for May 25; this is what Sarah wrote:

"The world is too much with you, My child. Your mind leaps from problem to problem to problem, tangling your thoughts in anxious knots. When you think like that, you leave Me out of your world-view and your mind becomes darkened. Though I yearn to help, I will not violate your freedom. I stand silently in the background of your mind, waiting for you to remember that I am with you.

When you turn from your problems to My Presence, your load is immediately lighter. Circumstances may not have changed, but we carry your burdens together. Your compulsion to "fix" everything gives way to deep, satisfying connection with Me. Together we can handle whatever this day brings." 

I was hooked. I read the entries for the 26th and the 27th, too (it was actually the 27th that day), and read the verses that went with the entries. But I still didn't feel satisfied. I flipped open my Bible to the New Testament and just started reading. I think I read three whole books in half an hour. I never read my Bible like that. For some reason, I decided to put down my Bible and pick up another book I had with me (Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer), but it didn't hold my attention as well. It felt stiff, boring, forced, unreal, dry, and maybe even unnecessary. Foer does have a unique writing style that's a little different to read, but I don't think that was why I couldn't get through the book.

Reading Jesus Calling has changed a little something in me: it's revived me, I think. I was talking with my best friend, Taylor, yesterday; she brought up her own spiritual life, and it made me stop for a minute and think about my own. I told her of where I was pre-Jesus Calling, just more than a week before, "I just realized I had taken a pit stop and never got moving again." And it's true. At the end of April and beginning of May youth group activities were starting to die down; I went out of town; then youth group officially ended, as did worship practice. I had no reason for seeing any of my small group girls outside of church. I went out of town again. I actually didn't want to go to church yesterday morning. I was feeling drained and everything spiritual felt like work.

After seeing some of my girls, making plans for coffee this week, and talking about the zumba class we're starting together, I was feeling a little revived again. I feel like I underrate the genuine love, support, and overall life that fellowship with this group of women gives me. I'm going to miss them next year when I'm at college.

But back to the point: I felt like reading my Bible, going to church, and spending time with God was a homework assignment, it wasn't fun; I did it more out of obligation than out of love. I feel like Jesus Calling is changing that, bit by bit. And I feel like being able to see my girls--even if it's to work out--is going to greatly help, too.

Summer, baby

I have spent a grand total of 13 days home in the last month--I love it! I graduated, I surprised my cousin, Becca, for her graduation, and then in little more than a week I'll be heading out for my cousin Sara's wedding. I'm loving all of this traveling; I hate sitting still!

My wall is finally almost built. My parents and I finished insulating it, and my dad is currently putting up the sheetrock. All that's left after that is taping, mudding, and painting! (And I already have the paint!)

Thursday I start zumba classes with my girls. Tomorrow I start P90X with my sister. And I'm hoping to start running a little bit again. I am going to be sore beyond belief, but it'll feel great and look good!

I came home from my most recent trip and all of my family said I looked tan--I love it! It makes me feel summery!

I got a new swimsuit, a new fedora, and replaced my last set of aviators (RIP). My toms also finally came in the mail. I love getting new clothing or accessories, it makes everything feel so fresh and revived.

I am feeling the spirit of summer! The things I love about this time of year are the sunshine, the heat (yes, I said it, I love the heat, even in Texas!), the cute swimsuits and clothes, the ability to travel all over the place, and the feeling of rejuvenation that is unique to summer. I can feel revived anytime of the year, but there's something special about summer's feeling that nothing else can top.

I'm feeling especially new this summer, with high school behind me and college in front of me. And I'm feeling like doing something a little daring: I'm thinking I'm going to get my cartilage pierced. I'm also thinking about chopping my hair off again, but that might wait another year, we'll see. If I don't chop it, you can bet I'll be coloring it: turquoise is the color of choice this time, I think, which might mean a little bit of bleaching, too. We'll see.

Here goes summer 2011, baby!

Late night list

• Epiphanies at 1:40 AM
• "But ghosts never turn into tangible things"
• Promises to myself
• Healing, it's been a long time coming
• A change in the wind, I hope