I realize that most people that have entered my life in the last 10 or so years have never met my dad, or really heard me talk about him or anything. We had a pretty rough last decade, he and I. So I think this post may help shed some light on a couple of things….
When my friends who know me first meet my mom there is always a pretty similar reaction… “She’s not what I expected … at all” is a common phrase. Mostly because my mom and I don’t really look alike at all. Especially those that knew me in KC and Michigan and know more of my “mexicanity” side, it comes as a shock when they meet my mom who is 100% southern white girl. She has light brown hair, she’s fair, and our features are not similar. My brother, on the other hand, looks a lot like her. It’s kinda scary how much he looks like her. He has her nose, her hair, her ears, her lighter skin. He is no doubt my mother’s son.
I, on the other hand, am my father’s daughter. My skin is more olive in color, my hair is dark and curly like his was. And much to my chagrin, I have his nose and his big ole floppy ears. Luckily I am a girl and get to cover them whith my hair. And the more I look at my life, the fabric of who I am, I am my dad’s daughter. I am loud like he was. A musician like he was. I like my music loud like he did. I love to cook like he did. I have a sense of adventure in me like he did. I love sports like he did. I’m stubborn like he was.
That’s not to say I don’t have anything in common with my mom, I do, but that’s not my point with this blog.
You see, for years I looked past the fact that I was like him because I was trying so hard to not be like him. things were so bad between us I couldn’t admit to having anything in common with him. But when someone is dying, especially when things have been rough, all those good memories come flooding into your mind. For me, in the last couple of days with my dad I realized that I had been supressing SO much. Yea, the last 10 years were harder than I’d have liked but the 14 years before that were almost magical. We were the happy family you see in commercials for bbq grills and baseball equipment. So after his death it was natural for me to start remembering those times which is when I realized how much I am like him.
Today as I was getting ready, I took a long look in the mirror. I saw my dad’s nose, those ears that I’ve hated since I was in middle school. My hair that was his hair. My eyes that look like his eyes. I tried so hard to be thankful that I have some of him in me. I prayed that I would be glad that I still have that memory of what he looks like, right there in the mirror. But I couldn’t.
Instead I was mad. Mad that I have to live the rest of my life without the hope of having him in my life. That if my kids look like me, they’ll look like him, the grandfather they’ll never know. Frustrated that my image in a constant reminder that he is not here.
Now, I know that sounds awful. I shouldn’t be mad that I look like him. And you may be reading this thinking, “whoa Alicia, that’s weird.” or whatever… but I’m okay with it. I’m okay with it because I am almost positive that God knows this is a phase I’m in. God knows that I am hurt and angry that my dad is gone. That it’s unfair that I have to live without him. I’m fairly sure that God is here with me, hating this reality I’m in with me. And allowing me to be in this place for just a little bit longer.
what? sorry no, I'm an avoider…
I’m kind of a failure.
The month of January is not yet over, but it’s almost there, and I have not finished my challenge. More so I should say I will not finish my challenge. But I’m okay with it. I blame this fact on the current events of my life. I spent the end of last week helping in the set up of the Covenant event that is currently going on in downtown Denver. And then I spent a good majority (like all of) Friday shuttling people back and forth from DIA and the hotel. And the whole weekend downtown at Connection (the part of event for youth pastors and worship pastors). So I have been non-stop going and therefore have not read much. So yea, I’ve failed at my January challenge of reading a ton of books. I basically only finished Lovely Bones.
But that’s neither here nor there as far as this post goes. Just a random general update.
So as I mentioned, I spent the whole weekend downtown at Connection. This was my 4th Connection (not consecutive, I missed last year) in my “ministry career” and usually, if I’m honest with myself, I find that I am mostly there for the community and fellowship of seeing past 4Cs interns that knew me in my high school years and other church people I’ve worked with and met over the years. This year, going into Connection, was no different. However, now that I’m on the other side, I find that God had a bigger purpose for me this year.
I went to more Seminars this year than in years past (2!). And I of course attended all the main sessions with all the great speakers. This year the theme was “The Beautiful Struggle.” The first session was all about how we as pastors (I use “we” lightly bc I’m not currently a pastor but you get my point) often minister out of places where we ourselves struggle personally, globally and in ministry. We were encouraged to turn in with a few people around us and share some personal struggles with each other. Now I have a problem sharing my struggles with my friends, nevermind complete strangers that I met five minutes ago. So I turned to those around me and let a couple of them share while avoiding eye contact with anyone directly in hopes to not have to share myself. Luckily I was in a large group and we didn’t make it to everyone before drawn back into the large group. I escaped that situation.
Then the rest of the day I got to spend time with my friends from KC. I got some much needed girl time when I agreed to go shopping with my friend Brooke. While wondering around Forever 21 Brooke started to ask me questions. Deep questions. Hard questions. Probing questions. So here I am, walking around, absently minding picking up sweatshirts and skirts, commenting on cuteness or not cuteness…. and attempting to sum up my feelings, emotions, general life going-ons. And it was hard. But at the same time I was glad she was asking…
The thing is, about 80% of the time I don’t want to be treated like the “dead dad” girl. Just like for most of my college life I didn’t want to be the “from a broken home” girl. So for that 80% of the time I don’t want anyone to ask how it’s going for me – grieving wise – and when in that mood when I am asked “How are you?”….”Great” rolls of my tongue. but then there’s that 20% of the time that I DO want someone to ask. I want people to remember that I’m hurting and that behind this mask of “I’m okay” is the pain of regret, guilt, anger, sadness and about 100 other unidentifiable emotions.
Then that night, in worship, I realized something pretty huge for me. God gave me this gift of being able to not be working or in a full-time ministry setting right now in order to give me the space/time/whatever to grieve and try and heal from my relationship with my dad and this sudden loss. Only the thing is, I’m an avoider. Meaning I run from my emotions in order to not feel like a victim. I’ve been this way my whole life, I know that I have, and honestly I’m okay with it. However, God is not okay with it. and He let me know that on Saturday night.
So Sunday morning found me in my best friend’s hotel room being open and raw with how my life is going. which has also sent me into a whirlwind of emotions and raw honesty. So that’s where I’m at. I am no longer allowing myself to answer questions on a surfacey level as long as the person asking is willing to hear the truth.
I tend to rant about being real. I have these high expections of the church being a place to be real and that friends should be able to handle your realness… but in that respect I am a HUGE hypocrite. I do not like being real. or vulnerable. or any other catch words we use for community. However I do believe that we should be more vulnerable and not shy away from struggles.
So here’s me trying to be real. Be prepared if you are my friend that I am going to be more real and if you can’t handle that, it’s okay to tell me. But be prepared if you ask me what’s going on in my head… you may not like the answer.
you may tire of me, as our december sun is setting, cause I'm not who I used to be
Is it bad that I had to just go back to my last entry to remember my clever(less) little nickname for this January experiment? I’m going to take your silence as “no”… or maybe you responded “yes” in your head as to not hurt my feelings. Either way, that’s how my brain works (er, doesn’t work).
I added to the list the book The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold lended to me by my friend Jill. For those of you who don’t know (read: living under a rock) it’s the book that’s being released as a movie with the same title. It’s told from the point of view of Susie Salmon who is a jr high girl who died and is now in heaven looking down on her family as they cope/try to find answers about her death. I’m already about halfway through.
I’ve also completed 2 other books that are in a series of 4 books that I refuse to mention or discuss on this blog because of the fact that I KNOW I will be mocked my many people. I’m only saying this to feel accomplished to have finished two books already this month.
Which brings me to today. I got back from bible study and immediately sat down in the very oversized LazyBoy chair that has taken residence in my house for a long time. This chair is made of a black leather that has been worn soft and cushy over the years. I call it very oversize because it’s pretty big, it used to easily fit me and my puppy Zoe who we got when I was a senior in HS and who my mom gave up for adoption after I left for MI. boo. (Joey, our new dog, has no desire to cuddle with me). It also fits very comfortably my goddaughter and I when we like to snuggle up and watch TV together. But this afternoon it held just me, all curled up, with a book. I should not neglect to add that this chair was picked out and purchased by my dad and became known as “Dad’s Chair,” meaning we were not allowed to sit in it unless he was not home.
On the end table next to me is my little travel iHome holding my iPod playing mellow music starting with the Swell Season and followed by Snow Patrol.
All afternoon I’ve been curled up alternating between The Lovely Bones and Everybody Wants to Go to Heaven but Nobody Wants to Die (EWHNWD). It’s been a particularly rough day today in my attempts to grieve and not shut myself down. Which makes me think I shouldn’t sitting here reading these two books but alas, here I am.
As I read the Crowder/Hogan book, I came across a passage I’d like to share on here, as it has been running through my mind and needs out. This book is split into various sections that they go back and forth between. One of the sections is called “Conversations” where they put in a IM exchange between the two authors as kind of a running commentary on the parts that immediately proceed it. They also put in italics what they are thinking as they write to each other. It’s fascinating and sometimes hilarious to see where their minds go.
In most of the parts David Crowders thoughts are on his pastor Kyle’s death and the days following. In today’s part (4) he talks about going out for milkshakes with friends after the funeral and being in chilis and hearing a Death Cab song. He reflects on music first, then on this specific song and how he felt in that moment. He says:
How music now invades our
experiences withough permission. How it has
become unavoidable. There is always music
playing. When did this happen? When did we
decide that we need music everywhere?
Didn’t we realize what impact this
would have?Arbitrarily shaping what we feel
and what we will forever associate with this or that
experience? We are hopeless.
…..
I couldn’t believe Death Cab was coming through the
Chili’s speakers. Then. Why then?!
That moment was too volatile. It is reckless to
have this kind of music playing in such a public
space. And it wasn’t the sound of
“settling.” Ben was getting this moment all
wrong. Settling is a quiet and floating thing.
This was the sound of something too terrifically
loud and damaged and crumpled, and it was
rolling over me, and i simply could not believe
what I was having to listen to.
That night. After carrying my
friend in his coffin. After putting him in the
back of a hearse. A hearse! I put my friend in a
hearse!! After taking him back out and setting
him over his grave, Ben freaking Gibbard was
singing in his whiny little voice, and my heart
was tugged ffrom where it hung in my chest
and was suddenly sitting in front of me on the
table at Chili’s. And nothing was settling!
……
No. There was nothing settling in that
moment, yet the music played on, and Ben
kept singing and singing, and there I was,
forced to listen. But part of me loved
the sad, whiny song, even though
he wasn’t playing fair. Why was his voice
pulling my heart out of my chest?
Why would he do this to me? I wanted to cry.
I wanted to cry a cry that wouldn’t contort my
face and scare everyone. I didn’t believe what
Ben was singing. If it was “settling” I could’ve
cried a cry that was less fierce and horric.
The thing that came in waves left me hunched
and caused my body to shake and my mouth
to stretch out and out to the point it looked
almost like I was smiling. You would think
it was a smile except for the ridiculous wail coming
from my gut and out my throat with enough
force to throw wide my mouth. I understand now
the word gutteral. I was tired of this crying.
And Ben freaking Gibbard was doing this on
purpose. He was taking advantage of the
situation. I didn’t want this kind of crying. I
wanted to cry a quiet, settling cry.
I’ve been there all too recently and all too frequently. It’s funny how music is constantly shaping our experiences. I remember the song playing in the ambulance after our accident last February. I remember the song playing when I decided to move to MI in uncertaintly. My friend remembers the song playing just before she gave birth to her only daughter.
Music is everywhere and as someone who loves music, I don’t oppose. But there are moments and songs that seem to rip into our being and we’ll always remember that moment and how that song perfectly fit or how it made us almost fall apart in public.
cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break even.
As you can tell, I haven’t been feeling much like blogging recently. Most of you know why, but if there is still those that don’t (I hate to do it over a blog but hey, that’s life) my dad passed away about two and a half weeks ago. There have been a lot of emotions and while I am no where near done processing, I did want to spew out a few random thoughts.
I’ve been listening to this Ben Rector song a lot recently. It’s called “Thank God I Miss You.” The lyrics are below, and they’ve touched my heart a lot. The truth of the matter is that I have a really hard time putting together words to explain how I feel. People ask and I usually give a shrug and an “I’m alright” when really there is a ton of other stuff going in my mind. This song says a lot of it. Mostly I can’t put together comprehensive thoughts about how I feel about my dad. Before his death we got to spend some time together and have closure, and I even got to do the eulogy at his funeral. The thing is, recalling all those memories of my dad makes me realize just how much I miss him and the impact he had on my life. The things he taught me, the way he loved me. I miss him.
But even just saying that doesn’t feel like enough to encompass what I feel. Ben Rector’s beautiful song helps me realize that although it hurts so much, I thank God that I miss him because missing him means that he was real. He was in my life and he loved me, I loved him too. I miss him because I allowed myself to feel and to love, even if that means unspeakable sorrow now.
for sometime I fear these words
are cheapened by the way they’re said
we do not mean them.
from a million miles away
words are all I know to say
so I am speaking to you right now.
so know I wrote this song
with all the words meaning what they mean
saying what they.
though it’s nothing you haven’t heard before
but I mean it more today,
believe me when I say,
I thank God I miss you.
I thank God I miss you.
from a hotel room and misunderstandings
my heart stands still and demands this candor.
although my hands shake I remain unshaken,
for the part that’s grounded is also taken
and that’s the way it should be.
The other thing rolling around in my head recently is this quote from William Irving that I heard on Criminal Minds this week. He said, “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love.” I think this quote is so beautiful. So true and so real in my life right now. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to miss him. It’s okay to love.
I’ve been very blessed by people all around me loving me and allowing me time to be. It’s hard, and although I know it happens, I wish this never happens to anyone else. This is hard and unbelievably different from anything I’ve felt. This Ben Rector song and this William Irving quote is where I’m at. it’s messy and difficult, but it’s where I am. Straight up, that’s life sometimes. While God continues to be amazing and real, life still moves in slow motion. hearts still break.
if fear hasn't killed me yet …
This morning at my bible study, Beth Moore spoke on Ester 4:11-17 and fear. Here are some of my personal thoughts on fear…
Fear is a funny thing. Most people have fears of things that are real, like spiders, snakes or the dark. But almost everyone has fear that is found deeper than those things. Our worst fears are not usually in the form of a thing we can identify but more so they are situational. Fear of death, of loneliness, of a loved one leaving us, of not being good enough. Whether we admit it or not, we have that fear that sort of eats us alive.
If we call ourselves followers of Christ we usually say that we trust that God will not let that fear happen to us. However, in doing that, we have placed a conditional faith on God. We are essentially saying, “God I’m trusting that you won’t let that happen because that would destroy me” We aren’t really trusting God at all. And when we do that, we’re only putting a band aid on an incision from surgery. Fear is something deep inside us, something that continues to torment us if we allow it to. We think that if that ever does happen then we’re ruined. We won’t be able to get over it, the fear is still there even if we say we trust in the Lord. I think we just feel better for a little bit.
See the thing is that the single most repeated command that God gives us throughout the Bible is this … “Do not be afraid.” Over and over again he commands us to not be afraid. And yet, we continue to be afraid. I mean yes, we’ve memorized the verses in the bible that say that the Lord will not forsake us, if God is for us who can be against us, and we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us. But when we get down to it, do we ever stop being fearful?
So then Beth Moore started to talk about courage. About how courage comes from the Latin word “cor” meaning heart. Then she said – courage comes from a heart convinced it is loved. In the New Testament Jesus says to his disciples, “Take courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.” It’s not even that he’s really saying that they shouldn’t be afraid, he’s more saying that he is with them so they can fear not. He says “Take courage” as if he’s holding it out to them in his hand, like ‘here, take it. Come on, I’m giving it to you.” I think so many times we have this fear in our lives that literally keeps us from doing things, great things, and it’s like God is holding out courage and we choose not to take it.
In Esther, the fear was literally death. She could go in front of the King like Mordecai was asking her but the penalty was death. More than likely, in her mind, she was gonna be killed if she did it. It wasn’t like there was chance she wouldn’t be killed, the chance was that she would be saved. Being saved by Xerxes’ scepter was the exception to the rule. She was literally facing death, but chose to take the courage provided for her by her faith in God that He was there with her.
While I recognize that a lot of people are afraid of death, I’m not. I’ve come to term with the fact that I’m going to die and in all honesty, I’m not dreading that. The hope I have in Jesus (not to be all preachy) is that I get something better in the next life. So yea, that’s not my fear. But I do have fear and to be honest I have a lot of it. I didn’t really know it, but it’s there. It’s abundant and it runs deep.
The thing is, for the past year (literally, maybe more than a year) God has been trying to call my attention to this fact. He’s been using a lot of different people and scriptures to show me something and while I recognize those moments while I’m in them, I didn’t understand how or why they connected. That is until today. Until Beth Moore, in all her southern charm, called it all to my attention. A dozen or so conversations with mentors/friends/students. Hours spent poring over specific scriptures. Tears spilt in heartache over not understanding this pain and fear – not having a name for it. Beth tied it up in a cute little package and presented it to me… all the way from Texas… through a DVD … that was recorded long before any of this happened in my life.
(Not buying it? Yea me neither, it’s clearly the hand of the Lord. Beth’s just a vessel. I do understand that, don’t worry.)
There are a lot of fill in the blanks in Beth Moore studies. But today there was one left blank, and it’s a glorious one. Beth points out that when you’re facing any kind of fear there is a sort of “IF ____________________, THEN __________.” For a shallow/humorous example, “IF a spider crawls on my leg, THEN I will die.” When you put your fear in the first blank, you always have a perceived consequence in the second blank. For your worst fear, that second blank is the fact that you’ll be done, ruined, won’t be able to go on. But if you play it out, you find a different consequence. Keep asking yourself “what if that happens, then what?” and when you fill in that second blank, keep asking, “then what?” until you come full circle and realize, that at the end of your dramatic (although real) situation … there’s God. Even if everything in your life is lost, God’s still there. He’s still standing right there and He can help pick you up and carry on.
This is not to say that I’ve perfected it, far from it. I took some good steps today. I took the courage God was holding out to me and tried conquering one of my fears. But I barely scratched the surface. It’s a long road when you’re trying to conquer those fears. Because I tend to ask myself, is fear really curable? Will I ever get to the point where I don’t have fear? Or is it merely recognizing that I have the choice to take the courage I’m being handed by the God that created me?
I kind of like it when Beth Moore calls me "girlfriend"
So, I am a part of this bible study at my church that takes place on Tuesday mornings. We’re doing the Beth Moore Esther study (my first Beth Moore!). There are a ton of women in it and most weeks it’s the thing I look forward to most.
So there’s me, and a girl named Tate.. and then every other woman is married with children, some with grandchildren, some with grandchildren older than me. After the first week, Tate said to me, “Thanks for coming and bringing the average age down.” At first I was hesitant, I thought to myself that I wasn’t sure I wanted to do a Beth Moore study (too much dedication), I wanted something more with women my own age, or at least closer (too many stories that go over my head). Basically I came up with a lot of excuses but each time I thought one was legit God would sort of lean over my shoulder and say, “but you need this.” So I kept going, because who can argue with their Creator over what they need? I sure can’t.
So I go every week and sometimes sit through the craziest conversations, like two weeks ago when we started talking about beauty treatments and the room erupted with things like, “use olive oil instead of lotion” and all sorts of home remedies that I’m gonna be honest, sounded gross. Or last week when we got on a 20 minute tangent on disciplining your children…meaning beating them. Seriously. But also, I love it.
I love it because every Tuesday morning from 9-11 I get to open up the Bible with about 20 other women who love God and have lived life much longer than me. I get to learn from some of the finest women in our congregations but also, it’s a place where they honor my opinions, even ask for it sometimes. And not even in that condescending way that some older generations ask for our generation’s opinion, like, “Let’s hear from the twenty-somethings now.” More like, “Alicia, what do you think?”
I also love it because I am now in relationship with all these amazing women that I never would have even met until now. It’s so fun to walk into the fellowship hall and have all these women say hi and ask how my week was. I love it. It’s so fun.
Which also in a way makes me sad. Not for myself, but for the tons of young women my age that don’t take advantage of that. You see so often I feel like the 20somethings are constantly looking for a community of our own. Almost like we are looking for a church completely made up of people our age and we alienate ourselves from the greater christian population because we think they don’t get us or the way we want to live. I’ve totally found myself in this thought process, I want to find a group to study the Word with that are my age. I shy away from college aged ministry because well, I’m not in college and mostly it’s high schoolers who go to those things anyway. I also shy away from things that say “young adults” because it’s mostly really young married couples. or “singles” ministry because it’s like a dating game on crack.
I’ve been that person that makes an excuse for not having a community that I “fit” into, the thing is, in my lack of that sort of community I’ve found a different community. Not a perfect one mind you (besides I have a feeling no community can be perfect but that’s another post) but one that fulfills my needs and make me feel included and loved. One that prays for each other and challenges each other to be better at life. And only one other person is “my age.”
My fear is that we isolate ourselves from the greater population of our congregations. Don’t get me wrong, there are times that we need to be all about generational divisions. Youth ministry, children’s ministry… etc. But there’s also a time for crossing those boundaries and learning from each other. To be humble enough to know that you could learn a lesson from a 10 year old just like you can from an 80 year old.
I remember when we were driving, driving in your car
I just finished this book called Angry Conversations with God by Susan E. Isaacs. I remember seeing this book in the HCC bookstore a couple times and thinking the cover was cute but never felt like reading it. Then on a whim I put a hold on it at the library (my new favorite thing btw, the library) and last week I got an e-mail saying it was in. So I picked it up. I was excited to read it, but I had no idea how amazing it was going to be.
Basically, without getting too far into it, Susan chronicles her journey including (but not limited to) finding a church, trying to be an actress, finding her “calling in life,” and finding a man. It is an unbelievably honest story of faith and struggling to figure out what it all means. I found it refreshing that she was really open about the fact that through most of her story she didn’t have the answers. It was great, seriously… go pick it up and read it.
But this isn’t a book review, so I’ll get to my point. Last night I was reading the last couple chapters when I came across a passage that kind of knocked the wind out of me …. metaphorically speaking that is. She had just had coffee (or was it lunch?) with an ex-boyfriend and had finally getting the “closure” that she had longed for with him. But for some reason she found herself in her car, crying. We’ve all been there right? (I’m not just talking about relationships here). Something happens and it sucks. But we say that it’s for the best, but we can’t help but second guess it all. Whether it’s good or bad, we are hurt and it sucks. Then I read this passage:
“I thought I was over him! So why did my heart still rip? Why did I still feel this sorrow? I got this strange sensation that God was with me. And he was angry. He was very angry–not at me and not at Jack. God was angry at the pain I was going through. I wondered if that was why God hated sin, because of the destruction it caused. For a moment I felt awe for a God who loved me enough to hate the things that hurt me without hating me for causing them. “
I know that God hurts when we are hurt by others for no good reason. He cries for us in our pain because he’s a loving Father. But does he really hate the pain even when we may have caused it ourselves? When we have backed ourselves into the corner and we are looking at the mess we’ve made, is God still angry that we’re going through that pain? Does God have the capability to hate the things that hurt us without hating us for causing them?
The answer is a resounding yes. God hates sin – true. God hates it because of the destruction it causes in our lives – true. But does God watch us screw up our lives and then sit back as we cry and say, “well Alicia, I told you so. I told you that if you did that, it would hurt.” No. He leans in and holds us in that pain, even when we did it to ourselves.
That blows me away, because even the best people in my life get frustrated when I screw up. There is no perfect person who doesn’t feel a twinge of desire to do an “I told you so” dance when someone messes up. Parents don’t watch you wreck a car and say, “I’m sorry you feel bad that you were texting and didn’t see that the traffic stop ahead of you” … at least not at first.
So this concept is foreign to us. The thought that Our God, creator of the universe, would have the ability to hate the pain we are in without hating us for putting ourselves in that place. I think that is pretty freaking amazing, if you ask me. And quite a revelation in my life at that.
You see I have plenty experience with the unfair kind of hurt. The kind that I didn’t bring upon myself but rather was ‘dealt’ to me. I know that God hates that kind of hurt in my life. No question. But I’ve always thought that when I’m mess up, when I invite that kind of pain into my life, that God just kind of sits back and lets me work it out on my own. I mean He’s not totally hands off, I know God is always present, he’s always with me. But I kind of have that feeling that when I have made a mess that God is … well, less than pleased because I knew it was going to end badly and I did it anyway. I spat in his face, I allowed myself to go there and now I have to clean up the mess. That’s why this revelation is so beautiful.
I’m not here confessing some sinful life that I’ve fallen into. In fact it’s quite the opposite. Even though I do struggle with the fact that I have been unemployed for a grand total of 7 weeks, I am really enjoying my Old testament class. I am having a blast diving deep into the scriptures and learning. I miss my friends in KC, but I am loving reconnecting with my old friends.
No matter what though, we all have our doubts about the way that things have come about. The decisions we’ve made and the consequences we’re experiencing because of those decisions. It’s nice to know though, when you’re feeling alone because you’ve backed yourself into that corner, that you’re not alone.
thanks for the memories
Nine days ago my internship ended. It was a bittersweet moment as I said goodbye to students and handed in my keys, knowing though that I still had three weeks in Kansas City to look forward to.
I had spent the last 6 months fretting over the question that I literally got asked about every 10 minutes …. “So Alicia, What’s next?” I thought for sure I’d have something figured out before I left Hillcrest. But with a week to go, I had gotten used to the fact that I didn’t know and it was okay to tell people that I didn’t know. Although I was getting sick of saying “I don’t know” and having people give me this look of terror like I was about to jump out of an airplane with no parachute. I was confident that God was going to work it out like He so beautifully has in the past 2 years with all the internship stuff.
And I was right. (insert the I told you so dance here). On Wednesday morning before I was done at Hillcrest it all fell into place. It started with a phone call I received from North Park Theological Seminary. I was accepted! (yes I was actually concerned I wouldn’t be). I called home immediatly to tell my mom my great news. After a ton of calls that day she informed me of a great “in the meantime” job in Colorado which cemented my move home.
So on August 23rd I will be moving back to the CO to live in my mom’s basement, start my Seminary classes online and hopefully start a job there while I look for more perminant work. I am applying to jobs in Youth Ministry but as I am realistic with myself, this process could take months (or more) to really get the right fit at the right church.
So for the past nine days I’ve been setting up my North Park stuff, enjoying some great alone time, house sitting to keep the funds coming and dreading the fact that I’m about to say good bye to Kansas City and some of my favorite people who have made living here so much fun. I haven’t really thought about it until today, sitting here writing this blog. I’ve had some great times here over the last year and a half. I’m a little wary of going home because I am not the same girl that left there two years ago.
But to quote my new fav She & Him song… Change is hard…I should know.
Change is hard, but it’s also the thing that keeps you moving forward. The next chapter in my life can and will be as good as the last chapter. So for now, I’m going to enjoy my last 12 days in Kansas City. And look forward to the newness of moving back home.