Abba.

Abba, I abandon myself into Your hands.

It's crazy how one whisper of "Abba" can bring me so vigorously to my knees. That one simpe word has more power over me than anything. It reminds me of everything that God is to me. He is my Father. He is my Healer. He is my friend. He is my comfortor. He is the most intimate thing in my life, my Abba.

Though calloused and reckless, He sees through it. He sees through my fake exterior of wanting to please people or putting on a show. He knows the cry of my heart saying,

Daddy I'm scared...petrified beyond belief. Help me. 

No matter how courageous my facaud may seem, through the jokes, and through the rambling-there is fear. My joy cannot be eradicated, but my fear is still wild. 

Abba, I pray for strength during the hard places. I pray to keep my mind on you, even when it's dark outside. I pray that I never forget Your son. That I never forget the sacrifice that You made for me. No matter how much I belittle it by thinking I cannot be forgiven, help me to remember that Your sacrifice was big enough; that Your love was strong enough.

And Daddy? I'm so sorry...

Overflow.

One phone call and I know that I need to be there.
With an overload of homework, and a hefty heart, I tread my way to Stillwater.

I spill coffee on my skirt and we laugh in the place where we should be quiet, but it doesn't matter much. We pick up another friend who needs us and we all eat, Japanese style, in this sketchy restaraunt, and we steal the pin and laugh our way to the car.

The friend who needed me dropped me off so she could go to class, and my other friend and I drive around a lake for hours and hours. We talked about the boy who hurt her and the one that hurt me. We laughed that I turned on my blinker with not a car in sight and we talked about God. Deeply and surely we did.

Overflow was an overflow of emotions and I met people that I felt like I already knew. My other friend who has a heart made from gold has me jump in her car and we literally talk for hours, not caring that I would get back at 3am, like I did. Grabbing hold and praying hard, I leave my friend with drooping eyes, but a heart of joy.

God uses me to love others, and loves others enough so that they have leftover love for me. Because I wonder how I am loved, but then I remember the cross. And as repetitive as John 3:16 is, it is never untrue and never seizingly amazing, really.

Remember.

Today I am grateful to the point of exhaustion.
I try and utter simple words of thanks but my voice is too shaky from receiving the grace I've been offered that I turn Shane on loud and I sing the words that come both out of the speaker, and from my voice box.

I turn the steering wheel, hesitant but glad, and I let the hot tears sweep my face because I know that I am madly loved, and undeservingly so.

I sweep all of the dirt from the floor and from the past with shadows and secrets. I don't let anything be uncovered for all this time because I don't want to admit that I was ever weak, and I especially don't want to come to terms with the fact that I still am. And with my Father at my side I will always be weak-but I know He'll be there to catch me. To sweep the dirt off the floor, and my sins out the door, and say to me that I am graciously forgiven.

I sing louder than ever but with joy, mostly. With joy that comes directly from the tears of my Heavenly Father and my earthbound one. I pray for their connection so badly that it consumes me to the point of forgetting about traffic and sitting alone in the middle of the road. But I give this to Him. I really do. I give all of this to my Saviour and my Healer because He is good. He is so damn good.

The funny things is I know that tomorrow I will forget. So Lord fill me up, place my hands in yours, and be my reminder. I can write 70x7 and Zacchaeus and Isaiah on my hand but it's nothing if I forget. Help me to remember, Lord. Remember even when it's hard and even when it hurts. Your joy overcomes; Your grace is the best; and Your love beats it all. I'll try not to forget. Ever again.

Unconditional Love.

Today I learned.

I learned that sometimes grown men cry when they rear-end you.
I learned that sometimes they also drive off.

Today I learned that its good to be put in your place.

It's important to be honest.

And that transparency does nothing but just grow relationships.

Today I learned that people's hearts can be the most forgiving home.

I learned that the joy of the Lord can quiet any doubt; any fear.

Today I learned that Yahweh shows up in even the friendships who don't know Him.

I learned that sometimes He calls us to love people who have hurt us tremendously.

Thanks for sparing me some of that unconditional love you've mastered. You show me more of Christ every day.

Wish you could read this.

(old and edited)

Father.

"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."

How can I persecute him for hurting me, when he doesn't even know the Father's love?

I have been saved.

I have been delivered.

I have been healed.

He still doesn't know what that feels like. He has never experienced grace. He has never been forgiven. He has never fully captured the capacity to love because he has never fully encountered God's. If he did, then he would have known how much he hurt me...how much he continues to. How hard it is to look him in the eyes, still, because of all the pain he has inflicted on me. There's so many scars that they would add up to far to count. 

God told me to love him. And at first I didn't understand why, but now I know. He is more broken than he could ever break me. So why wouldn't I love him? I hurt my heavenly Father every single day. Every day I break His heart and I run from Him, sprint from Him, yet still he ends up at the end. He scoops me up and loves me even though I strayed away from the cross. He catches me. He fills me. He is enough. He makes me realize this mountain and this valley that I too far often get caught between is really His hands holding me just a little tighter; just a little closer.

Maybe...if I show my earthly Father this love that I expirience daily...maybe he will realize that he's been held all this time, too.

Father give me the strength to love him in the hard places...for he knows not what he does.

These boots were made for...something.

The ins and outs and ups and downs are driving me nearly insane. I trip and catch myself and life laughs at me like it's a silly little joke and then i stumble again. It's a trivial process of the divergence of my life. It's literally spinning-always moving. Trying to look towards the good. New pair of boots. Seemingly new persepctive. And God's love is so at my fingertips. I just wanna be wrapped in it, really. That's all that I want.

Cuts and Tears.

Sometimes I lay here listening to the Return by Trevor Hall and an extremely large mixture of emotions swirl around my head. I can't decide if they're from my droopy eyes so I try and cast the negativity away.

But then I remember the conversation.
The kiss.
The divorce.
The cancer.

All of this cutting up the good and destroying the bad. Tearing up any positivity left in my soul, or trapped in my bones. Only cuts and tears, tonight.

Wings.

I sit in silence at gray owl with my sister. The feel of a chai in my stomach and the feel of a tug on my heart. I mess up and I speak out and this cycle continues and my voice eventually gives out. But then I remember. And when that happens I sit in silence at gray owl with my sister.

I remember and forget, type and still forget. So then I grab my leather journal and literally the ink sinks down into the paper and ultimately it engraves itself on my heart. But does it really? Because for one moment I forgot. For one moment I didn't pray or think or come to any realization except for what I wanted in that moment. So I took it. And then I woke up needed something stronger than a chai. I make some coffee and try to move on.

Moving on and up and down and forward-anything but backward as I move through time the time that seems seemingly slow and seemingly fast at the same time. Seems weird.

So I will pick up my things and pick up my heart that is in the seat next to Hunter and I and I will leave Gray Owl because it's closing. And I will leave this lifestyle as it really isn't mine.

Bai.

Nag.

I woke up today breathing in my Father's mercies.
I got out of bed and did the same as I brushed my hair and teeth.
My car coughed out the beautiul aroma of Nag, which always
reminds me of God for some reason.

Today will be good because I said so.
Mostly because God says so.
He woke me up, He gave me today, so I will be well.
I will weave in and out of class thanking Him all the while.
He is faithful...and He never leaves.

When I bend low, He's even lower trying to catch my tears, my fears.
It's enough for any day of the week.
It's enough for the weak...but within this I am strong.

Hosea.

A barely audible whisper of “Father” and I drop to my knees and know that He wants me to give Him all of this. And then some.

My heavy heart goes light and I want to cry for leaving Him for the days that I did. Praying here and there is one thing, but sinking my knees to this earth to praise Him is another. Clasping my hands and saying “Lord I NEED you” is also another.

I don’t want to doubt and I don’t want to run away.
I’m running to you now, Lord. Running into Your always open arms.
I’m so sorry for leaving.
I know you’ve forgotten my mess ups and today even, I woke up thinking of the cross, even though I went to sleep forgetting.

I don’t want to ever do that again, because you see, you’re my all. And what makes me shiver is that I hear you Father...I hear you saying

“You’re it for me, my beloved.”

And I know that as much as I love Him…He loves me that much more.

Matthew 7:12

"So whatever you wish that men would do to you, do so to them."

I'm reading the book Redeeming Love and it makes me catch my breath with each page. I honestly feel my heart growing bigger, and my anger growing smaller.

The main character, Michael Hosea, speaks to his wife (who is a former prostitute) about how badly his father had treated him. How bad he had treated the slaves for one simple lesson to be heard. His wife, Angel, said that he must have hated his father. Michael's words were simple but strong as he said,

"No. I loved him, and I'm grateful he was my father."

What? This man who was supposed to love Michael, cast him away. He showed him nothing but abandonment, really. My head is spinning as is Angel's who asks why.

"Without all that, I might have never come to know the Lord."

And I fall to my knees in exasperation. I fall to my knees with open eyes and a bleeding heart. Crying out to my heavenly Father I ask for Him to continue to pave the way and to fill me heart up with love. Because if I want love in return, I must start with giving it. I must only start with just centering my heart on my King, and allowing His love to take over.

His Love Is Big Enough.

Everyone knows the feeling of falling off your bike and scraping your knees. Especially when you're a kid, in that one moment you feel like the whole world is crashing down on you...besides just your bike. Your daddy comes and he sweeps you up and he kisses your scrape and in his arms, the world seems a little less heavy. You forget why you're crying because your daddy is there and he makes everything okay.

I didn't mean to crash my bike. I honestly just wasn't exactly getting the hang of how to ride it. I was really clumsy when it came time to distinguish my right from my left and so when daddy told me to turn left, I turned right and ended up crashing into the side of the sidewalk. I lay there bleeding under my crashed bike when I saw him running towards me. My heart was getting lighter with each step he took and I felt like my daddy was a hero coming to save me. He scooped up the bike from on top of me and then instead of throwing it aside, he threw it back down, harder...and right on me. I sat there bleeding and crying and he told me to shut up. He told me that I should've listened harder and that I shouldn't be so stupid. He walked back to the truck and I just laid there on the ground afraid to move a muscle. After what seemed like days, I lifted the bike off me with all my might, and went to apologize to my daddy. I told him I was sorry and that I'd listen better next time.

This past week God has been opening a lot of wounds. It's like every dark corner I've ever ended up in, I'm ending up there again this week. It's been mostly healing. Talking with old friends, trusting, and a whole lot of Yahweh just teaching while I listen. But there has been pain. Dark pain. Pain that I wonder why I think about or write down at all because it's in the past and I have been delivered. But I also don't want to ever forget. I don't want to forget the big one's. The moments in my childhood even where I have searched for reasoning and I have prayed to God. So I write them down sometimes. I dream about them and wake up sweating and screaming, sometimes too.

But on days like these where there is a chance for rain, and I am full, I will write about them...but I will feel okay. Because my Heavenly Father? He adores me. I know that He is telling me to turn left, but even when I turn right and I fall I know that He will lift up the bike, and He will scoop me up into His big, warm arms and whisper to me "I love you child. I am proud of you, my beloved." And that will be enough until the end of the days.

In church today we talked about being spiritually orphaned. Not ever having a mother or father who know the Lord, but how God makes it okay because He is big enough. And He made enough love to spread across nations. He made enough love for all of the widows and all of the orphans in their distress. He made enough love for the murderers, and prosecuters, and the liars like you and I are. Because of the cross, there will always be enough love.

And man...the voice of God is unmistakable. And when He asks of you something and you feel like you've nothing to give...He will meet you there. He met me there under the bike that day. He met me there countless times in my childhood and He continues to do the same, today. His love is always big enough. Always.

A Different Look.

"Death is weird. Coming from everything I believe in, I should have a peace. I believe in a God who is waiting for me in heaven, and I believe that I will see those whom I have lost one day…but it hurts and it takes healing and time. It’s hard to be present when your heart is hurting and your head is in the clouds. You may be present in class, but you’re not really there. That’s the worst part. You may be with your favorite people in the whole world where you shouldn’t worry and you shouldn’t be anxious, but you feel the thud of your heart going everywhere and you have to escape to get some fresh air.

The people you love come after you because they care. They ask you what’s wrong because they know you well enough to know that it’s not nothing when you say it’s nothing. They know it’s everything. So you sit and cry and tell them about how bad your heartstrings hurt and they just put a hand on you, and you feel lifted? They speak healing and wisdom over you while you’re crying till your voice is raspy and when they’re done, you feel a peace. You don’t understand why this person in your life had to die in the way that she did, but the hand strung through yours and the flood of love and family make you realize that she is healed. And she is okay. And it’s only just me who is messed up. So I must rest easy knowing that she’s in a better place. And I must breathe easy because I am loved, and she’s really just an angel now…so it’s all just painfully worth it."

We Serve a Greater Purpose

Words can't really describe this weekend. The Lord knows exactly what I need and delivers me from the scary darkness of not trusting Him. Abbey and Ellen were in town and yesterday was Hunter's birthday. We did everything from building a slippin slide in an elementary school park, to go carting and chasing geese in a field. Surrounded by camp people, basically all just brothers and sisters and praying before we ate anything because we were together and we serve the same God who fills us up.

Abbey and I drove to pretty much any body of water we could find, yesterday. We ended up at a dock of lake thunderbird and we talked for hours about real stuff. She was talking to me about highschool basketball...about how she would laugh after every loss. No one really understood and one day she told her coach "it's because I serve a greater purpose". I lay on the dock literally in awe of what was coming out of her mouth because without her even knowing-she was speaking so much truth into my life. I have never felt like I belonged in school. I don't really learn much because my heart and head is never there...I used to think it was just my laziness but I literally feel this negative tug when I'm sitting in a classroom, not moving. So I skip school, and I drink coffee, and I sink to my knees in prayer. Because I serve a greater purpose. Because this test is so small compared to eternity. Because this basketball game is nothing compared to heaven. We all serve a greater purpose...it doesn't mean that we should drop out of school and stop caring about things we have to work for...it just means that we need to work harder for the things that drive us. The things that literally create a fire in our hearts. We need to open our ears to our Father, and listen to what He wants us to do.

I know I am supposed to go to Africa, and I couldn't be more terrified. But this is the first time in my whole life that I am following God's call in my life...and I couldn't be more amped to get my world rocked...because my God is greater than school, and stronger than anything else. And my God wants me to go.

Doing the Impossible.

I write without hesitation tonight because His voice is at my fingertips. His love, and grace, and mercy is physically making me get chills all over as He reminds me that I identify with Moses...with Peter...with Paul. Katie Davis most beautifully writes,

"Every morning, as I wake up with some impossible task in front of me, I know that God will meet it with impossible strength and love. I serve the God who used Moses, a murderer, to part the Red Sea; a God who let Peter, who would deny Him, walk on water. A God who looks at me, in all my fallen weakeness and says, 'You can do the imossible'..."

God made the miraculous happen with ordinary people. With undeserving, messy, completely broken people-at that. And so here I am...saying yes to my calling, and He is sending me. I often ask,

"How Father? Why, my King? I am 19 years young and I have barely seen any of the world...and Father, you're asking me to do this? Help care for 10 disabled children in a different country with only one familiar face at my side? This is impossible, Lord. I don't have the skills. I don't have the STRENGTH or the WISDOM to help these kids or communicate much less pour your love and grace into them."

And I feel this pull that is only my Daddy as he scoops me up in His warm grasp and whispers,

"My child, I will do the impossible through you. I will use you. I'm in control. You're not alone."

...and I think back to the times I didn't trust. I think back to the times where I thought I was lonely and I thought I was hungry. And then these kids come plastered all over my heart and I am filled with love that only comes from my Dad. He used Moses who was a murderer...Paul who killed Christians...and Peter who denied Him...and He is using me who forgets Him every day. 19 years young me, who constantly forgets His love and mercy that comes every day and I sin and I mess up more than any daughter ever should, much less a daughter of the King. And I get down on my knees and I pray more feverently than ever. To trust, to love, and to know that God will do the impossible through me...I only just have to let Him.

Transparent.

It's often difficult to even almost impossible to make your skin seem invisible and let people in. It's even more difficult to do so with people that you've been hiding your real self from. And it's the worst when you hide it from someone that God has blessed you with in the best way possible.

I've learned lately that if you keep the pain in your life to yourselves...it will eat you and it will fill you up with random anxiety. You could be sitting in a moving vehicle with some of your most favorite people in the world and it hits you. So you remain silent and these people who know you well enough know that there is something and there is a reason. We sit on the dock and we talk about the guys in their lives and the absence of any in my own. Then they turn to me, and I know it's my turn to talk. I express that this anxiety is from the pain and that it seemed to circulate around my mind all weekend, but I didn't understand why it was so evident while I was in fellowship with people who love the Lord and for some reason or another-love me.

So I spill and they listen and they speak truth into me and then they lay their hands on me and start praying to our Father who is the only one who will bring true comfort. And I know that they love me because I know that they love the Lord, and it is unmistakable.

We leave happy and comforted and Caroline and I chase after a frog. We head to eat more good food and we laugh until we cry, I mean literally the tears were rolling I was laughing that hard. I hug Randi goodbye at the end, not knowing if I'd see her until after Africa but just having this unexplainable joy that I have her in my life and she has the Lord at the center of her heart...just makes me wanna run to Him more, myself.

Caroline and I drive home and talk and listen to good music. We laugh about how I put Diesel in my car...because that sitution would really only happen to us. We get home and she doesn't feel well and there's this peace that I'm not feeling? I don't know why I'm not feeling it because I had the best day with friends, I really did. That morning Care and I went to that seemingly perfect park and sat on the log in the river and had some time with God. We te granola bars and come on we saw Randi and it was good and well and so very centered on our King. Caroline washes her face and I look online at my grades and that was enough to tell me that I needed some air.

I told her that I was going for a walk, and left. She texted me to ask me if I was okay and I really just wasn't. I sat in the slide at the sketchy park across the street and I pray for the peace to come and the pain to stop. And this pain wasn't from loss, or anxiety, or anything we had prayed about earlier. This was a different tug and though I didn't want to believe what it was, I knew. God has been paving the way. He has been aligning everything up for His cray good purpose and here I am, not being transparent. Carrying around this guilt and shame and hurt. I had prayed about it ever since it had become a struggle again and I knew what I had to do. Caroline came to the park and sat next to me in the dirt. We sat in silence for a really, really long while. I don't know how she had so much patience for me because she really had no idea what was going on.

I talked in circles and rambled and cried and felt this tug that I couldn't ignore. You see God is giving me this passion for Africa. He has given me this sister...this soul that longs for the same thing I do. Which is to follow God's plan which just so happens to align with mine. So if He is blessing me with this friendship-then i should be transparent.

I know that I am messing up. That I am dissapointing the only Father that will care enough for me. That I am hiding my struggles with this friend I care so much for. That I have no one to keep me accountable. That I can't keep knowingly falling short and sinning because even though the cross exists, I cannot allow myself to live in darkness. But I was scared. I was ashamed. I know that the sin in my life is forgiven and forgotten by the Lord, but my friend had no idea about any of it. She had no idea how much this person she's about to spend 4 months with was struggling. So I told her. I straight up told her that even though for a while it was easy to deny those toxins, that it wasn't anymore. And that if I forget about God even for an instant that I am weak and I fall into this sin that I despise so much. And sweet Caroline...who isn't perfect because she is human, but who had never struggled with anything like that. I asked her if she hated me or if she thought of me differently and though she hates eye contact, she told me to look at her and said she thought of me no differently. That she knows that I'm not that person anymore and that she is so glad that I trusted her enough to be so transparent with her. She reminded me of the cross, and she just loved me. I know she didn't judge me which was so rare for me to expirience.

The joy of the Lord is like none else. And I know I will fall and I will mess up today, even. Tomorrow for sure. The next day a given. But I know what the love of the Lord feels like, and sometimes it manifests in the best ways through the people on earth you care about the most.

Jesus, hold my hand?

Leaves changing and hearts growing. Beautiful compilations of all this scar tissue growing together. But the memories still seep down where it hurts the most. They keep me up at night and they make me cry in the least bit of silence. The fact is that I miss her, and I know that this one won't heal for a while. For a really long while...

Not thinking about Africa this week was hard. Now that it's the weekend and I'm with Caroline (which couldn't be a bigger blessing) Africa is swirling around my mind 24/7, again. I remember on the drive up here just becoming anxious. Not knowing how I was going to pay for the plane ticket this soon-because we have to get it this soon. So I prayed and prayed and listening and drove.

Today Caroline and I were sitting on the curb talking. She said we needed to get out plane tickets this weekend, and I told her that I just couldn't. Then she said "Kelsey, my dad said we could buy them with his credit card and you could pay him back whenever you got the money..." and I immedietely fell silent and I knew if I had been standing up then I would have collapsed at that moment. I told her I just...couldn't and she surprised me with what she said next.

"Kels, I understand where you're coming from. But we know that were going to Africa. And we know that God will provide. And if you fully trust Him then you should trust that He will provide the money, too, and let my dad do this."

And I knew that it all made sense. But this man...this man that I hardly knew was willing to spend $1500 on a stranger whom he had met once, not knowing when I'd be able to pay him back. If He trusts God enough to offer such a generous thing...then I should trust that the Lord will continue to pave the way...and provide us with money...right?

This week has been hard. It's been painfully unsettling and my anxiety has been unbearable...but God is faithful...and I see that in every step. He's holding my hand...I know He is.

365 days later.

It's weird what can happen in a year. A baby can come, scars can multiply, friends can die...it's weird to think back on a year ago. Driving with two strangers to the most beautiful destination and getaway for the weekend. Sitting in the backseat watching cars go by and being so full of joy that I was on my way to see my broken best friend.

It's like I remember every single detail. A year later and I still remember the clothes I was wearing and the way I fixed my hair that morning. I remember it was gore day in make-up class and I remember that I skipped my English class so that my roadtrip with these two strangers to the most beautiful destination could come faster.

Driving and driving for not very long. About two hours in and I find out the news. Praise the Lord that He wrapped His ever so loving hands around me to keep me calm to talk to my friends through their hysteria. Praise the Lord for our bathroom stop that allowed me to sink to my knees on the grimy floor and cry and cry so I could get it out of my system to talk to more people and tell them that it was going to be okay, when I knew it wasn't.

My mind was diverged and I played tetris on my phone. Getting the late shift to drive, praise God for that even. Getting that call in the middle of the night from my broken best friend who was in the hospital because she had tried to kill herself. Not knowing my body could physically feel so much pain at one moment, but still staying focused on the road.

Today I woke up and started my morning in a hurry. Did my presenation, skipped my next class, went home to do everything I could to not think about today. But I know that I should write something, I know that I shouldn't eradicate it from my mind completely. Because that's not fair to her. It's not fair to her memory. I know Lauren won't talk about it, I was with her till 4am and I could see it in her eyes. I guess that was enough to remind me to pray until my throat bled for her to have peace, today.

Josie did so much than just live and die. She was beautiful and her heart was that big. Just hearing her father read from her journal made me want to curl up and cry for hours for her absence. For the fact that someone with such a great spirit isn't here anymore. But then I realize that she is with our Daddy and she is safe and the happiest she'll ever be to just be with him. And she brought me and Lauren together. And I know that was for a purpose, and so I pray for her today. I pray for her family, I pray for all of our friends. And Lord, I know your purpose will prevail.

Bai.

That awkward moment when you wished you'd never let him go.

Is it not enough that I have no one in my life to love like that? And I'm not looking. Gosh, I really am not looking at all. I've got too much going on in my heart to even think about letting someone else in, in that way. Not that I have any prospects any way.

I forget about him because it's been that long to where I can forget about him and I should forget about him. And then memories of those conversations and drives and insence just make everything more foggy and I have to make myself catch my breath. Then I have to see his face and his stupid crooked smile and I have to relive that pain at every moment. I let him slip through my fingers because I saw that he could hurt me. And that he would hurt me. And despite the fact that he said I was his best friend, and that he'd always wanted to marry his best friend made my head hurt because I was 16 years old and he was telling me everything I'd ever wanted to hear.

And now he's gone. And now he's with my ex best friend. And now I just saw him at the mall, and I feel this pain that should've been eradicated 3 years ago. Three stinkin years ago.

And if it isn't enough, they play the same damn song they played at her funeral about 3 times a week at the mall.

Brighter Days.

Writing seems to be the only thing not foreign to me, lately. Today I woke up with a different kind of facial expression. I woke up feeling rejuevnated, tired, but ready all the same. I went to all of my classes, and I read all of my books. I existed more than just a homeless looking girl sitting behind a computer. Seemed like more than someone who forgot the last time she showered or wears bracelets that smell like crisco.

I understand now that they care. That it hurts so much, because they care so much. That it's hard for me to understand that people care, when they're not with me. I'm so used to people leaving me that I just have a hard time believing they're there when I physically can't hold them or see their face.

Things will be fine. We all fall into dark places for a reason, and I just hope this weekend is good. Lexie's train comes in around 9ish and I hope this weekend is filled with ridiculousness that is good for both of our souls. That it won't be disheveled and we'll be able to longboard on top of the parking garage, and throw tortilla's off the roof like last time. Blare Ben Rector and Trevor Hall while looking at the night sky. I hope for that kind of weekend. A weekend that can make me forget about this week, and only look towards good things; brighter things.

Tossing and Turning.

Not sure why I allow myself to feel this way. Let anything and everything swoop up from under me and swallow me whole.

My boss tried to kill herself yesterday. You don't know her so you wouldn't know the type of shock I expirienced from the news. She was in a coma because she overdosed on her anti-depressants and here all along I've thought she was the most joyful person. So I guess I don't know her all to well, either.

Last Friday I told her about Africa. We sat at The Bow Shop for about an hour talking about the Lord and missioning and she told me she wanted to donate to help me go and also send over a box of bows to the orphanage. She told me I could have my job back when I returned, if I wanted it, that is, and I had never felt more supported. Well I had...but just the passion behind her voice reminded me of my own.

She woke up today which is awesome, and that miracle was so prayerfully centered. I took her husbands spot at work today and he updated me on everything. Said she's not exactly coherent but she know's who he is and she ate today which was good. Before leaving he told me that Tina thinks the world of me and opened his arms to give me the biggest bear hug and when he had let go, I noticed he was crying.

People surprise you. In good ways...and in bad. I allow myself to be sucked into the pit and more times than not it's so incredibly unbearable that I just look for a hand to hold. I yearn the physical touch of what it feels like to just be held amidst all this chaos. I just want to be able to let go and cry, and for someone to tell me I'm okay in doing so. But I feel alone. I open Radical and remember that I am not...but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

I can't sleep at night, but I toss and turn during the day, too.

Shelter.

I'm sitting at school between classes biting my finger nails, not knowing what's next in my life at all. My acting teacher spots me and starts approaching-and I only bite my finger nails more because I dropped his class and I am a theatre major.

He sits next to me and says "I've missed you in class" and I proceeded to tell him that I dropped the class. He asks why and I said I was taking too much and had to focus on my other classes, my job, and preparing for Africa. He asked me about Africa and I told him. This guy who is the biggest pessimist, biggest athiest, and the stubbornest person alive said "you sound a lot like me when I was your age" and I sat stunned, eyes wide, mouth recklessly hanging open. He told me that I needed to do what I was passionate about now, so I can be motivated and have direction in my life later. In school, atleast.



He gave me tips and resources and advice on school stuff, and then said "hey, don't worry about what anyone thinks of your decision. The world needs more crazy in it" and I've never felt more lifted. I'm just sitting there learning more I ever have from a human being that I've never respected.

"You know what they say in the peace core, Kelsey? 'It's the worst decision you'll ever love'. You'll be okay."

And suddenly...I respect him more than I ever thought possible.

Untitled.

Trying to put into words what I've been feeling, lately. Just literally yearning for a wordly explanation, but I fall to my knees speechless.

I always expect the worst to happen at this time of year. Every year since I can remember, this season has brought me much pain. And in this season I just think about her, and him, and me, and them. I think about how I'm not bringing them any happiness for what I am doing here...just sitting and not moving. Just thinking these thoughts and going against my muscles and my heart.

Trying to form sentences, I'll go ahead and spill...

I am scared. The people I care about I can count on one hand, and the rest don't really need me or want me-I don't think. I am scared that I am already feeling this disconnectedness and that Africa will only solidify the fact that we are growing apart. That as much as we care about each other, me and the people on my one hand...I will be on a different continent. I will have a different vision. I'll be away. They won't need me.

I am scared. Entering this season makes me vulnerable and sad. Sarah and I sat on the balcony a couple nights ago smoking a cigarrette and talking about her for the first time since her funeral. Just about how close we all had gotten after she died, and how close we would all be with her if she was still alive. We talked about our last conversation, and how we saw her only 48 hours before she was gone. It's even hard to type. I just wanna curl up in a ball and cry sometimes, but try as I might...I can't muster up the tears. And the reason I can't, is because I'm afraid I'll never stop.

I am scared. About a year ago I almost lost someone I care so much about, by choice. I sit in her room a week after she tried to end her life, and I look at the wounds all up and down her and I know I can't heal her this time. That this is beyond my control, and this girl is broken more than I could ever know how to fix her. And one year later...she's still drowning.

I am scared. I am drowning myself. I keep having night terrors again and I'm literally trapped under water and I can't breathe. And when I try and come up for air, he pushes me back down and there's nothing left.

I am scared. I am going to Africa...but I know it'll all made well and clear and this is all for a purpose. You're the only one who brings me peace. Still running in circles over here. Just needing to grab onto Your hand, Daddy.

Basket case.

I am this and I am that and I am just everything in between. I am a basket case.

I sit feverishly cold in my comfty bed last night, just praying for them. Praying for the children left hungry, cold, and alone...without even the comfort of touch, much less the warm bed I'm sitting in. I pray for the children at Amani, and Amazimi, and I pray and pray and pray for those little hearts in Ekisa. I pray for Debrah and Walter and Zac as I don't know them and they don't know me-but I sure do love them all the same. They are taped all over my walls and just plastered across my heart. I bend low like Katie Davis and I pray hard like anyone who listens to God and I just yearn for change. I yearn and thirst for a change in the world and a change in my heart. I am a basket case. That's what I am.

Graceful. Gracious. Grace.

"I am painfully concious of my need for further grace."

I am ashamed of my lack of desire. I am ashamed at my lack of desire.

Why is life like this? Why aren't we truly and madly in love with our creator? Like what? Why am I not striving to love Him and to please Him every moment I have the chance? And even when I don't have the chance. Even when it's inconvinient why am I not thirsty to go to great lengths to be with Him like I would for anyone I love. Like driving 4 and a half hours to Waco to be with my wonderful Kivu community. Like spending hours on end trying to convince my friend that her life is worth living. Like ditching homework and everything else going on because my other friend was heartbroken. Like holding someone when they cry and letting their tears soak into your vneck. Like sacrificing so much for the one you love. Or the friends you cherish. Or the family you're in. Why are we not surrendering everything for Yahweh. Why.

Unexpected change.

I'm sitting here at work, watching all the lonely faces go by and I can't help but feel atleast a little bit blessed. Not because there's all this brokeness around me-but that I am not alone.

For some reason, I keep believing this lie. I know it is a lie because I know that God has very specific ways of using me, and I never get a big head about it because it's always Him. But the lie was very convincing and Satan keeps whispering in my ear is "Kelsey...no one needs you. No one. Quit trying. If your God was all powerful then He'd show up, and where is He now?" He just sat perched on my shoulders all day, weighing me down. And that feeling of defeat swept over my whole body and no matter what anyone said to try and relieve it-it was louder than ever.

This stupid but very loud lie kept resounding in my head for the last couple weeks. At first I tried to shut it out, then I tried to talk it out, then I tried to let people convince me otherwise, but nothing worked. I would wake up feeling anxious and lonely and I would just stay in my room in my bed just dreading any form of Vitamin D because I was alone. And nothing and no one could change that. Yesterday I woke up for school and I just couldn't will myself out of bed, so I didn't. I prayed for hours and I opened Job and started to let it pour out all over me but I couldn't hear God. I didn't doubt His presence, but I was hearing Satan way more than Him and it scared me. Hunter and I sat on my favorite roof last night just talking. I tried explaining all of this, but it's jut hard to put into words. Even now I struggle with which buttons to press because it's all so stuck in my head and it's all so painful. And as I was talking to Hunt today about how loud and obnoxious the devil's voice was...something happened.

I reached in my fridge and took a big swig of my mango OJ because that always seems to lift my spirits. I burned a stick of nag and I opened my bible with a sigh, knowing I would be going straight to Job-like always. And right as I opened it...a neatly folded, but torn piece of paper fell into my lap. I mean if that wasn't already a direct sign from the good Lord, I don't know what would be. On the outside it said "SIDD...sorry I don't date" and tears and laughter escaped my body, and I knew it was from Hunter. She had given it to on one of the last days of camp and I guess I had stuck it in my bible after I'd read it. I hadn't read it sense and there it was, sitting on my lap, waiting to be opened.

"So like why is He so good to us? Kels, the Lord is ALWAYS working. How can we ever doubt?"

WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT. Hunter said something to me just minutes before about how she's really excited I get to have lunch with 2 of my campers, tomorrow. She told me to remember how I've impacted their lives and I just couldn't think of it because it made me think of camp and that hurt. So I didn't think about it, which was even worse because I needed to. I needed to remember how God used me because He did in HUGE ways.

"I know you're worried about tomorrow and scared to let Caitlyn go-but He is faithful. Kels, He knows what He's doing whether we see it or not. He is always moving when we least expect change."

OKAY LITERALLY VOMMING. Caitlyn was one of my favorite campers. She's sassy and outgoing, but you know that there's so much going on beneath the surface. So at camp, I dug. I took her aside while we were sitting in God's creating on a bridge over the river, the mountains everywhere you looked and breathing in only the good. I asked her how her year was. It didn't take her alot to tell me...everything. About her drinking problem that started at 15...about her parents divorce...and about her dad's violent behavior. Caitlyn was living in one of the most abusive home's I had ever heard about. Stuff that happened even right before she entered the gates of camp. And I knew that my story now made sense, and I knew that God put her in my cabin for a reason, and I knew she needed to be delivered. That she wanted to be. When Hunter gave me this note, it was the day of parents day. The day her dad was going to come through these same gates, and take my Caitlyn away from me. This safe place she had been in for 2 weeks was about to be diminished and I was breaking in more ways than I ever thought possible. Only hours after Hunter left this note on my backpack, the women's director of camp came up to me. She told me that Caitlyn's mom was here to pick her up, and that she wasn't going home with her dad anymore. I have never felt this kind of pure joy in my life and all I knew to do was to get on my knees and pray to the one true Daddy that would never fail us.

So as I read Hunter's note, I began to sob. We both had no clue what was about to happen just hours after I read the crinkled piece of paper.

"Kels, He knows what He's doing whether we see it or not. He is always moving when we least expect change."

It's been ringing in my head all day. That, and "How can we EVER doubt." I can never doubt.

Healing.

It's hard to not have the words.
Not have the wisdom or courage to really know what to say.
Usually you can bring up the Lord and He'll do His thing of weaving in and out and making things known. But sometimes when darkness looms, we lose sight.

We forget why were here. Just here in this moment, maybe. Just not knowing why we're in this heat and humidity and stuck in anything but what we want. But what do we want? Do we want that fresh ressurection of life and trees and the feeling that healing is everywhere in you can pour out your soul, knowing you'll get filled back up by the community you're in. By the nature you're around. By the God who makes it enough. Who makes it, worth it.

Just that. Just this. Just the insence I just bought, and bad converstions you have to have inorder for the good to come again. In order for clarity and in order for healing, I guess.

Miracles and Realizations.

I look at their little black faces and my heart is burning and I can't sit still. I can't move but just wanna move, all at the same time. So many emotions, but only the most important holds it's own.

My sister went into the ER a few days ago with just something a little more severe than the flu. They put her on an IV and then sent her on her merry way. None of us too worried, because her health isn't exaclty ideal. Never has been. Then two days ago she goes back to the ER only to be admitted into the hospital because she had a hole in her esophagus and was throwing up blood. So my whole family, besides me, headed up to Tulsa to be with her...sit with her...and tell her it's gunna be okay. Which it was. Which it is. Then she stopped breathing. Right then and there she couldn't catch her breath. So they put her on the heart level and she's on oxygen and being watched like a hawk. She has this disease that I can't even pronounce much less spell out. 10 in 40,000,000 people get it, so you can imagine our hysteria. Her throat had been closing up, and she almost suffocated to death. As my mother is telling me all of this, over the phone, I just couldn't even speak. I couldn't breathe myself, as I thought about not having her. About how I never see her, I never talk to her, but she means the world to me. I thought about our relationship...how tattered and broken it is. I thought about how much she has hurt me to the point where I never thought I'd heal again. And then I thought about the cross. I thought about how nothing about Jesus's life and death was really all that fair because this perfect man died the worst death. But I thought about how that fact and that grace should make my heart the most forgiving home. And so I forgive my sister, I apologize for not being a good little sister, and I pray.

Late last night my sister's throat closed up and she almost suffocated...and died.
This morning she spoke...this afternoon she swallowed.
And now? She's home. Lord I'm falling on my knees, right now.

Kisses from Katie.

"Do not forget in the darkness what you have been promised in the light.

It happens all too easily. A rough day (or several in a row this week...) and I forget. We all do. It becomes to easy to look around and think. "Why? Why do I do this?" "Why take one more child, why live with less so we can give to others more, why leave family and friends to go to a land of strangers, WHAT am I doing here?" I do not usually forget the answer, "For Jesus. Because He called me to this." But far to often I repeat that over and over to myself and forget what it MEANS. It means that it has been granted to me, it is my PRIVILEDGE, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for Him. (Philippians 1:29) That suffering is not alone, but is with Him, and oh what a priviledge it is just to be able to be in His presence, to share that with my sweet Savior. That I do it for JESUS, "who being in very nature God did not consider equality with God something to be grasped but made himself NOTHING taking the very nature of a servant being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father!" (Liking Philippians today 2:5-11)

It is so simple, and yet this weekend it seemed hard to remember.

The anger of Friday melted into grief, into crying out to the Lord and asking Him how I could more effectively serve His people. As God would have it, the day after Friday is Saturday, and there really is no better affirmation than 350 children flooding through my gate to worship the Lord and eat chicken together. As satan would have it, later that night I found that several people who I have grwon to love and trust have cheated and lied to and stolen from me. The details are not important, but needless to say, I ended the day feeling betrayed and alone, again questioning, "What is it all for." I woke up (did I ever sleep?) Sunday morning to diahreah all over EVERYTHING in Grace and Jane's bed. (I know that is kind of a gross thing to share, but I am trying to paint a picture of my destparation for you here ;) ). The girls had decided to make the best of the situation and proceed to pain everything in the room with poop. Great. After deciding that church was more important than poop, I threw all the sheets in the bathtub and rounded up the gang, but only after packing up all Michael's clothes, lots of long-life milk and multivitamins for him. He was going home.

I cried through the service at the thought of having to take him back. This precious child that I had so fallen in love with going back to a place where there was no garuntee that his mother would not simply sell the milk we sent with Him. And God spoke so plainly. He did not appologize for my heartache, even better, He shared it. He KNEW. Because the pain in my heart at having to give up a little boy that I have loved for a month did not even come close to the pain it cause Him to give up His only Son. And He did that for me. The pain in my hear that felt so unbearable was just a fraction of what he felt when He sent His ONE AND ONLY CHILD to save us, to allow us to spend eternity with Him. Wow.

That is what it means that I do this for Jesus. HE loved me first. I love Him back. And sometimes it hurts. But even then it is pure joy to even be considered worthy to share in His suffering. That is the promise. Not that He is sorry that it hurts. But that He sees. That He knows. That He is here with us."

One of the most incredible people I've ever gotten to know through just her words. Hope I can meet her someday.

Worth it.

Though I was once fretting the down-time I have between my classes on Tuesdays and Thursday...I now see the blessing. I'm reading Katie's blog. Just letting it soak in and remembering how I'm alive and why I'm alive and as I walk through the hallways once feeling the lonliness that this school brings-I remember the fact that I have an education when many do not.

I remember when I used to just crave drugs and alcohol. Seemingly thinking about it every other minute of the day and going to class high because the world seemed emptier when I was sober.

I remember when I used to not want to believe in God. How it pained me to think of Him and when I did I would just cry. Not because I missed Him, but more-so because I was just so angry at Him and couldn't imagine my heavenly father bringing me so much pain, when my earthly father did enough, already.

Then I read these words in this blog and I want to cry for ever doing those things and thinking those feelings. I submerge myself in the same pain and wonder why God let me live. Why I was the blessed one when I have messed up and hated the only One who will ever love me enough.

But then there's this freedom. This knowing that with every day God brings me to my knees and with every day He reminds me why I'm here. Even just for this moment, Africa makes my struggles worth it. Africa defeats my inadequacy for the fact that God put this desire in my heart, and doesn't do that with everyone. That I am blessed with this passion, and even more blessed to expirience the freedom that comes with it. That when I feel anxious or nervous about this calling...I just think about how God provides.

And then I think more and remember more about the deaf boy from Africa who was healed. I think about how Caitlyn was released from her abusive home and I think about how Hunter's sister doesn't have to have brain surgery. I think about all that I've been blessed with and as I walk through the halls again, today, I just pray. That's pretty much all that I do as I walk between the busy people with cluttered thoughts. I just free my mind and let Jesus come in and remind me why I'm alive. And it makes today worth it, and tomorrow worth it, and it makes January all the more...worth it.

Free.

It's crazy to think that it's been a month since I blogged. It's even crazier to think that I've been through staff training, gone to Tennessee and Georgia, and am now back in Colorado urgently awaiting tomorrow's arrival at camp. I really couldn't be more ready.

Crazy how easy it is to deny toxins. To eradicate the harmful things I would put in my body and release in the same way. Even my language makes me feel lighter. It's like I don't have to worry about not being perfect because atleast I know that I'm doing the best I can. It's so easy to say no. And even easier to enjoy the absence of anything like that from my body. It's freeing, really.

I hope this continues. This want to want to be better and this overwhelming joy that so many of my newly close friends live in Norman. I hope this continues. This jubilance that isn't near forced and the stupid smile plastered on my face. I hope this continues.

I've been praying alot lately. Like a freaking ton. For Lexie, for my heart, but mostly for the 10 girls I'll be blessed with. The 10 little hearts that I'll be left with to let God heal and make happy again. Even though I don't feel that I'm ready...God only equipps us with what we can handle.

Spinning.

I was re-reading one of my favorite's, Psalms 40:1-4. It talks about abandoning yourself to God. Losing yourself, to be able to find yourself in only Him.

"I waited and waited and waited for God. At last he looked; finally he listened. He lifted me out of the ditch, pulled me from deep mud. He stood me up on a solid rock to make sure I wouldn't slip. He taught me how to sing the latest God-song, a praise-song to our God. More and more people are seeing this: they enter the mystery, abandoning themselves to God."

When I think back to Psalms 40, and "abandoning yourself to God" this all paints a picture. I often felt abandoned by everyone, because I couldn't find myself in the only person who would never leave me. And while I might always struggle and fear abandonment, I guess I've just realized that I'm not alone, nor ever will be. That Pop's got a never ending grip on me.

I found out that I am clinically depressed. I went to the doctor today to get some medicine, but that even through my growth, and change of heart, I am still sick in this way? That I am so damn angry that I have been through hell and I still have this hole in my chest. That even though I am not struggling with death, I am struggling to learn how to live again. Yanno, like really live. That I am grateful and filled with joy at my constant aspiration to live...but I find myself drowning in the same pool of water I've been swimming in for the past couple years. That even though I am striving with everything to make God the very center of my life...my family doctor told me of this imbalance. What does that even mean? I haven't been myself totally and fully for the past couple years, but I'm on a damn good start, I think. I'm working at kamp this summer. I have a lot of friends. And not just friends...but real solid relationships. My family is in ruins, but my God has shown me that He is my family. And yeah, the hole in my chest hurts, it's very evident, and it's there...but it doesn't control my life like it used to. I feel as though I am living proof of answered prayers for the simple fact that I am alive. And realization flows through my fingertips, as it usually always happens this way, as I open my eyes to the fact that life isn’t easy. It’s still hard though, yeah? It still hurts.

The Unsettling Nature of Coming Home.

Georgia was simply healing.

I was immediately welcomed by three people, two of which I had never met. We all four left the airport holding hands, and only the cement pole broke the chain. I looked out the window and even in the dark I could see the trees. The biggest trees I'd ever seen hung outside my window and I couldn't help but be indescribably happy. We ate at the famous restaurant The Varsity, which I had been hearing about for years, then we all went back to Maggie's house were her mother had fresh flowers for me. Maggie and I watched You Again and I actually fell asleep towards the end. 6 hours of sleep in 48 hours will do that to you.

The next day we woke up around noon and went to the Mill. There's an old Mill in downtown Roswell with a covered bridge and waterfalls and all that so we took some pictures and it felt so great outside. Then she showed us where her and her friends go bouldering and then headed to the mall. After that we saw Never Say Never in 3D which pretty much changed my life. It was so good. Hahaha. Then we met up with Maddie and went downtown to get sushi...then went to this bakery and got the best cake ever and ate it at starbucks. After that we went out to the boondocks to Maddie's house and you could see every star you could ever imagine. Then we went back to Magg's and took about a billion just flattering photobucket pictures...O....and were denied waffle house, and went to bed.

Yesterday we went to this humungo mall with Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters. Maggie got these amazing heels for her prom dress, and Maddie tried the most amazing black dress on. We ate the best lunch outside at Panera...it was like we were in sex in the city...hilarious. Then we went to this park and visited some of her guy friends who were slack lining and went to another park to play frisbee. There was this girl there twirling fire and that was pretty awesome. Then we went back to Maggie's house and ate the best dinner of steak, sweet potatoes, salad, and sparkling cider. Then a bunch of her friends came over which was completely awkward but oh well. We play Just Dance on Wii and then played Scene it. We ended the night watching P.S. I Love You and went to sleep. Today we woke up and she had a Haiti meeting. Haitian missionaries were there and they cooked authentic food...but banana things made me gag. After the pretty awkward meeting (simply because I didn't know anyone) was over, we came home and uploaded a bunch of pictures and shared music. Then we picked up some people and went to Passion City Church. Chris Tomlin leads and Louie Giglio preaches. It was amazing and just what I needed to hear. Then we went to Fillini's this awesome pizza place and on the way to take her friends home, we prank called old kamp friends in this random driveway in Jaynie's neighborhood. Then Maggie and I had a talk about this and that and came home. She did her homework, and I uploaded more pictures. Then it was bedtime. I gave her a hug, knowing there'd only be one more in the morning until we said goodbye for a really long time. For I don't even know how long.

I'm lying in the guest room...dreading waking up in 4 hours to go to the airport with her momma while she sleeps for a little longer before school. Plane at 8:20 and train at 5:30...won't be home till after 8 PM but I hate the unsettling nature of coming home. Of leaving the trees, the Jones's, the community, and my best friend.

I feel like I should pray more. So I'm going to turn off the lamp...turn up the music...close my eyes...and pray.

Pillow.

I am happy. As I lay in color on this white couch, thinking of the opportunities...I am exuberant. Blessed and lifted and okay.

Simultaneously I don't belong. I sit here on this white couch listening to the sound coming from the kitchen. It's almost funny how much I don't belong. My wardrobe, appearance, thoughts, even some of my beliefs are so skewed from there's. I am blessed, but so not comforted.

Well perhaps this discomfort should be welcoming? Yahweh is giving and giving so I can only expect for some of my emotions to be filled with this sense of not belonging to this family. Because let's be honest...I belong to a much bigger Pop anyway. And soon but not soon enough these feeling will eradicate. And sooner than anything else I will be with my best friend...and I find everything great in that.

Rid me of myself.

Since I am used to this sort of casual conversation about shortness of breath, my crumbling came as a surprise to me. Driving down the road that had finally been paved was a blessing as I weaved my hand in and out of the blowing wind and as the coolness escaped between my fingers I thought of it as a way that the holy spirit was with me...odd as it sounds, I really did feel comforted. And safety aside, it made me break even more. Thinking of the enormity of the situation and how much that Pops has allowed me to grow in the last year, much less months, alone. It is a blessing. I am blessed and not my own.

Moving and Growing.

Thursday (the best day invented) was my 19th birthday. I made it 19 whole years and in this cold season my thoughts haven't plummeted off the edge, yet. That is gratifying. Makes me realize my own strength. I remember so many notes were written, last year. Drooping letters from tired fingers that were soon to be lead to change. Bad change. But as I am here and I am typing (with less tired fingers) I can embrace this wonderful weather without wondering how many more times I'd be able to wear shorts before my weary heart tired forever. I am moving, I am growing, and I am strong.

143.

It's amazing how quickly you can let go of struggles only to find yourself with even more, right as you begin to stand again. Simple questions arise such as "why the hell would God allow this", only to open your eyes to the fact that questions like those are all but simple. Eyes begin to water and understanding seems less comprehendable, as do simple words and phrases like "it's all going to be okay" and "I love you". When you hear those in this state of hysteria you want to bolt. You want to grab the whistle around your neck and head to the mountains.

You want the baby to go away.
You want the suicidal thoughts to eradicate.
You want them to love each other again.
You want them to love you for once.
You want the favoring to stop.
You want the hunger to STOP.
You want the homelessness to STOP.
You want anything but love to STOP. STOP. STOP. Are you listening to me?

Stop for a moment. Okay? Just meditate for one second. Will you put down the phone and listen to me? Listen to Him? He just wants you to listen. This is purposeful. Things fall into place your whole entire life for this one solitary moment. For this one single disease. For this one simple miracle. Things like these are far above our heads for a reason.

I was never supposed to save Lexie. She is what some call hopeless, but she is what I call homeless. She is searching for where she belongs because she can't seem to find herself. She can't seem to understand that beneath the tattered clothes and seared skin...she is more than human. She is one big scar. And as I have learned and learned from every fall from the summit, scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. And beneath her exterior she is a warrior. She is Job, she is Paul, she is anyone who has lost everything. She is anyone who has lost themselves. She is you in the moment you found out you were pregnant at 19. She is you when you found out your fast friend had been murdered. She is you when you found out your parents are divorcing. She is you when your father beats you. She is you when your family neglects you. She is you when Satan tries to break every bone in your metaphorical mind. She is you. And if I can get through this, if Job could maintain faithfulness, and if you all....every single one of you can get through this...she can, too. Because she is His daughter...and damn...He loves us through the nails. 143 was the message Austin wanted me to delay to Lauren, tonight. 143 and He loves us all. Yahweh won't leave us at the cross, alone. He won't leave us at all.

Don't keep this war inside.

It's just everywhere once you grab onto it. Memories. Feelings. Scars. Joy. Man, that joy will fester in your soul for as long as you'll let it. My stomach is grumbling for whatever reason and there is much too much graffiti to scrape off my windows, but I am content.

"Every time we drift, we're forcing something that is wrong."

I can get that. When I drift away from myself, I feel uncomfortable. When I drift away from God, I feel alienated. I find myself in my Father, so I suppose those two feeling both coincide. I feel safe, as of now. This is the month that usually starts my downfall, but I have everything to grab onto. Memories. Feelings. Scars. Joy. Man, that joy IS festering.

Graffiti.

Country music is growing on me. So many people would shoot me for saying that, but it sort of reminds me of my childhood; my friends. A lot of things. Writing about good things is far more better than writing about bad. This week was so good. It didn't feel like we were in Norman because there was never a dull moment. Never a moment of "Okay, what do we do, now?"

Monday:
-I picked Shelby up from the airport.
[which was slightly funny. I got lost on the way to the airport-which happens to be 5 minutes away from OCCC...embarrasing.]
-I took her to Native Roots, Seige, and Tea Cafe.
[she expirienced boba for the first time. Best thing ever.]
-We 'surprised her' with Jess being there and meeting us on campus.
[we told her she was already in California.]
-spent probably a whole hour in Savvy
[Tess talks alot]
-Had sushi with the grents
[papa practically force-fed us]
-Spent about 2 hours on the computer 'damn you autocorrect'.
[let's be honest...that's addicting.]

Tuesday:
-Woke up early to go to retrieve my kitten!
[failed attempt...dad wasn't down for it]
-Pink Elephant.
[to say we have eaten at so many animal restaraunts.]
-Went to Etown with Jess, and then Penn Mall.
[Shelby got an elephant hat. Duh.]
-Came back home and saw TANGLED with Jordan.
[Best 2 hours of my life]
-Went to Claire's to be reunited with 12 beautiful girls.
[stole about 4 headband each.]
-Picked up Lexie outside of a gas station, holding our Christmas presents in each hand, and sitting on her suitcase.
[she just...showed up in Norman...]
-Snuck her in my house...lovely
[Carrie is slicker than I presumed, though]

Wednseday:
-got up SO EARLY to send Lexie back home on the train.
[heart breaking...but we had to]
-slept for a BAJILLION MORE HOURS!
[yahewwww!]
-Met kabin 5 for lunch at Plaid.
[ran into Catherine Glenn. Hilarious.]
-shop, shop, shopped.
[Naturally, I bought 2 hats...bringing my total number to 38...O]
-Went to Bricktown.
[ate at this slammin pizza place...wrote on the walls.]
-ICE SKATED
[and got kicked out.]
-Went to Cuppies and Joe
[best coconut chai EVER.]
-Went back to Norman and then to classics.
[what should we listen to? I mean if all else fails...BEN]
-Went to Claire's so she could teach us to make headbands
[and then she painted my lips with nail polish...O]

Thursday:
-woke up and got coffeeeee
[great start to the day.]
-went to Claire's to say bye to the people leaving.
[watched Emily start to consume the entire world.]
-Went to Qdoba and led the caravan of 6 cars!
[Why they would ever let ME lead, I will never know]
-Spent way too long at 711
[and then danced around and tried to booty dance.]
-Went to HeyDay lazorrr tag
[and Molly tried to fix my flat tire...o]
-Then Passionberry
[where we left Shelby sitting on top of the car with the cart alarm going off.]
-Purchased spray paint
[graffiti on my favorite roof.]
-Went to kids space
[the only people in the world who would enjoy it as much as me.]
-Ate at my grents house
[obsessed with the bunny]
-Drove 45 minutes for hookah
[funniest night of my existence.]
-Molly SPED to Classic's and we got there with 6 minutes to spare.
[Emily ordered the whole menu.]
-We all spent the night at my house
[My mom was confused with 5 girls fitting in my one tiny room.]
-Said bye to everyone but Shelby :/
[booooooo.]
-Took pictures of our beautiful graffiti and then went to Jimmy John's
[where I thereafter spilled Dr.Pepper alllll over the seat..]
-Drove to Tulsa
[which was surprisingly awesome and easy CRUISE CONTROL.]
-Spent 20 minutes in the parking lot of the lodge making awkward videos.
[until her Uncle walked up hahahahaha]
-Hung out with her incredible family
[even Aiden knew my name...I put on his shoes and socks for him.]
-Said goodbye, and drove away.
[the sunset was definitely God's way of keeping my spirits lifted.]

I wrote it down, so I'd never forget a minute.