agrandir vos yeux

i dare you to think

what are you forgetting?

right now…in this moment, have you stopped to think about it?

what are you doing here?

how did you get here?

i bet that you got here, and you haven’t even thought about the process it took. 

what brought you here?

was it something you wanted to do? people you wanted to impress? did someone bring you here?

do you even know?

what are you forgetting?

perhaps if you sat here for a while, you may start to remember. perhaps if you locked the door and shut off the music; perhaps if you closed your facebook tabs and put your cell under the mattress, you may be able to close your eyes and recall. 

it might be difficult to focus. it might be frightening…it’s probably been a while since you used your mind in a way that wasn’t either processing or storing information, but revisiting information instead. 

after the fear, the loneliness may begin to touch your heart and body. cutting away distractions always reveals loneliness grinning in his ugly way. 

but keep going. now you may be looking at yourself face to face. 

and you won’t like what you see. not when you see yourself without the sparkle those distractions could add like an instagram filter.

you see your naked heart. you see your naked mind. 

keep going. don’t break down here. 

there’s something here, now. you may sense it now. your senses will feel it. your ears will hear it. you see the depth and fullness of it. 

He is here. 

can you feel the warmth? can you hear His gentle voice? can you see the overwhelming love?

don’t you see, now…you’ve tried and tried to build yourself with people and with plans. you think you can turn yourself into a someone. 

but that’s not possible, dear. 

in the beginning and in the end of your story, at the core of your being and amidst all the distractions you’ve clung to, it has only been Him and you. 

the rest fades into silence. 

it’s alright if you’ve wasted your heart in the past. it’s okay if you’ve desensitized yourself to His loving eyes. 

He is here, right beside you. He can feel the soreness of your bruised heart. 

stop, right now. take a moment to think about it. thank Him that He has been beside you, letting your heart beat on and your blood flow through your veins. 

if all that ever mattered was Him and you, then how is that connection going?

is it time for a talk?

think about it…what are you forgetting?

red eyes

i starfished my body on the warm soil. 

i was in the middle of a Walla Walla field. somewhere in the outside parts of College Place. 

i was talking to God. 

He was close. 

and it’s alright. it’s all fixed up. it’s peace. 

our hearts are restless until they rest in Him. 

heather, let go. 

He told it to my heart. 

he told me in a text. 

she told me standing in front of me, with the look in her eyes that knows me. 

“i don’t want to,” i cried. “i want to remember how it all felt. i just want it to all end happy.”

once i said it out loud, i hated the words. 

and i knew it was time to go home. 

couldn’t explain why why my feet took my to Curly’s door last night. or why  they took me back home, without howling my signal. 

couldn’t explain how i wanted to hug Joey forever when we said our goodbyes on the street. 

couldn’t explain the flashbacks i see at every building, or the darkness settling over the campus. 

so i went to village hall and crawled through the window. the most beautiful piano on campus is tucked away in one of the stage shadows. 

words came out of nowhere. 

words came from Him. 

and you will grow, and you will grow

…to all those things left to know

you will try; you will fight

you’ll see the the dark of sleepless nights.

you will try to change your mind

to make sense of all this time.

you’ll experiment with love

you will think that it’s enough.

but at the end of all these things,

you will find need of Me. 

bruises.

i’ve always bruised easily. 

when i was little, there were always several bruises like polkadots on my elbows and knees. i was fascinated by the marks. 

i knew it would hurt, but i would still press on them to remember how it hurts. 

maybe that explains how people are. they know which compartments of their brains will hurt to touch. but they explore it anyways, revisiting the pain simply for the sake of remembering it. 

you couldn’t blame someone for doing something like that. 

because neither of you could explain why they did it. 

roots and chains.

we’re like trees, you know. 

with deep roots that go far into the earth. 

connecting us to people that own us and places we settle into and the things we feel it’s our responsibility to do. 

trees can’t fly or run. the roots anchor them like chains. 

i’d rather be a cloud. floating and hovering and breaking apart continuously. morphing and transforming. clinging near the sun in the day and the moon in the dark. 

what if i didn’t have any roots at all. what if i chopped off all those ties. 

would it turn me into a cloud, or would i be a fallen tree?

i can’t be in something if it’s not going to be a big thing. 

i can’t believe if it can’t be real. 

i can’t go all the way unless it will take me far away. 

all these things i whispered out loud to The One who was listening. 

i was sitting on the shower floor, watching water drip off my nose and run down my legs. 

so i’m choosing to believe that You’re a big thing. You’re real. You’ll take me to endless places. 

twenty minutes later, i was having a conversation outside with two people. God was the topic. 

it quickly got deep.

“i’m not sure what i’m doing wrong. i feel like God and i aren’t going anywhere. i’m so lost.” he was speaking in such a way, it seemed as though his words were heavy as they were pushed out of his mouth. 

he looked at me. “how did you start?”

i was flashed back to nights of perching in my praying tree and asking deep questions to the night sky. days of daring God. mornings curled up with a Bible and a pen. 

“i choose to be aware. He’s continuously beside me. i just grasped onto that.”

he continued to drop out portions of his heart. and then he smiled. 

“i needed this talk. i know what i need to do, now.”

and the look i saw in his eyes was restful.

…just another night. but God just got someone’s attention. 

He’s like an adventurer, taking people to these faraway places. 

cliff jumping

i’m frightened. 

i’m excited. 

i’m nostalgic.

i’m anticipating. 

i’m not sure what i am. 

everything has been speeding up with more fury and more excitement all year, until now. there’s a small stretch of time left and then this wonderful, healing year will be finished like a good dream. and this small span of remaining ten days is going agonizingly slow. i wish i could be jolted awake instead of feeling my body being pulled away. 

last Sabbath, i went with a group of engineers to Palouse Falls. they are kind and they do their thing without a fuss. honestly, i wanted a day away from the Walla Walla backdrop and loves that are my solid home. because my solid home will dissolve in days. 

we hiked to the falls and stood at the top of the cliffs. Alex, Anders and I looked down. 

“i hope i’ll jump, but i don’t think i will,” i admitted. 

“here’s the plan.” Anders said. “i’ll be the karma. whoever isn’t the first person to jump…i push in.”

we agreed. we counted down from ten and got ready. 

“ONE!” we screamed. there was a splash. i opened my eyes, and i could still see my two feet standing on the cliff rock. 

“jump, Heather!” Alex yelled. 

“alright!” i answered. but my feet still stood. Anders started coming for me, and i waved my arms. 

“wait! i’ll jump!!” we all waited. i was still waiting on my feet. but then i was falling through the air and i still wasn’t ready, but i had jumped. 

i feel like i’m standing on the cliff again, trying to cling to Walla Walla and Nana and Curly and the new loves of my heart. 

“i’m so ready for this,” Curly told me a couple days ago, about his after-grad departure to Alaska and the unknown. he face was shining. “people resist change, but if we’re ready for it…if we’re looking for it, then there’s no fear. it can’t affect us negatively.” 

so every hour that i’m staring at my chemistry book for the last test, or writing answers the question “Qu’est-que tu va faire ce week-end?” for the last french oral final, or slipping in Hannah’s room for our last week together, or tracing Curly’s fingers for one of the last times, I’m trying to choose to simply be ready. 

this time, I’d like to run right off the cliff. 

sometimes, 

Hannah and i take a ride on The Reality Train. 

we push the desk chairs in a linear row, and i’m the conductor, and she is the caboose. 

on The Reality Train, we revisit reality. 

last week was a tough week. we had to take a trip on The Reality Train. 

…and i know that one day i’ll be the one to come to her with a chaotic, confused heart. and tears on my face. and hair all over the place. 

and she’ll make me the caboose, and we’ll go riding The Reality Train. 

like jello.

Pastor Troy and i sat on the brown bench at the top of the hill this morning. 

as we talked, barbie-sized students scurried between classes below us. 

“heather, i’m nervous for you.” he said. 

“why are you nervous?”

“because you are built with a heart that flies up into the highest highs and thuds down into bottomless lows. God will use that passionate heart tremendously. but I’m nervous.”

Rafael and Louise, the married squirrels, were hustling each other around our bench. i threw grass at them.

“Troy. what am i supposed to do with such a flammable heart?”

he smiled. 

“how good is it that we can sit here, Heather? under a sunny sky, watching the world go walking past. no cubicles or desks to be sitting at. we just get to sit here and talk about the grace of God. we try to wrap our minds around the idea of it but we can’t…we won’t ever understand. all we need to do is fall into it…stick our heads in it like we’re going for a blob of jello. we couldn’t comprehend it’s structure or proper significance. dive-bomb into God’s grace jello. that’s how we know grace.”

last night,

i was riding barefoot across campus on my longboard. 

it was almost midnight, and i was in a hurry to catch my curfew. 

Curly only gave me two lessons with my longboard. but i could ride it okay. 

i was carrying a heavy shoulder bag…my Bible, Nalgene Stanley, and my school papers. 

but i thought i was alright. 

in the darkness, i hit a rough patch of broken cement. i shifted my weight, but the swinging bag pulled my balance forward. 

i slid on pavement with my hands and knees. 

ripped jeans and bloody knees again. 

i thought about it the entire trip home. 

holding onto my bag…was what made me fall. not even the broken cement. 

there’s a lot of broken cement in Walla Walla. i need both my hands freed.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.