On The Things That Shouldn't Matter.

I live for sunny days, Cheeze-Its and good stories.

I'm sorry if within my dreams I don't see myself spinning in circles in the middle of a green pasture, wearing all white surrounded by sunflowers (They may have been like that at one point). I wish I could call myself Daisy and dance on grass that would never wither or would never get muddy. But sadly, Reality, she is not always one to hold our hand and make things better. She tends to be a malicious, conniving terror to one that believes in the brighter days.

Mirrors are just lies of truths that we don't know how to accept the verdict that we were given. We know how to make it end, or we don't know how to make it last. But, we tend to long for the moments that we don't even understand. Moments that dance to create the rythyms within the drums of our delicate minds.

Windows, shutters, doors, all they do is hold the dust of memories. We have stared through one, shut another, walked through another only to compare what is or belongs on the other side of that threshold. And then what now? Sing your songs and believe in the dripping of the liquid that quenches the desperate thirst for so many years. Get up out of the sand, you don't belong in these mounds of faltering and inconsistency.

Oh, how we make the dramatic too dramatic. Let's help out the layman and put it in his terms:


Take a breath. Eat some pizza. Learn to relax.


Nothing is as bad as it seems until you let your life come undone at the seams. There will always be something. There will always be the person you don't know how to forgive. The place you are too afraid to go. That one thing you can never say. But someday, you'll learn to love that person. You'll go to that place. And you'll say that something without realizing.

And the amazing moment that you'll have with your sweet little soul? You'll realize something marvelous. Something breathtakingly spectacular: you lived.

Yeah. That's right.  You lived.

And you just took another breath. 

Go sit in the sun, read a good book, and eat some Cheeze-Its.

Maybe I'll see you there.


-S

On Quiet Roads.

In the city, silence is never something that shows up to the party. Highways are busy. Stoplights are backed-up and there is a nightly dose of sirens heard from one's apartment window. The only peace that is displayed is that of a vintage sign that hangs from a trendy door etched with the celebrated phrase, "Let It Be."

And sometimes, there is a need to retreat. Back to the roads first met. The ones that are sweet. The ones that invite one home and ask you to stay a while. The ones that carry the best conversations. The ones that like to tell stories. The ones that if they could open up to you, they would tell you about the first stop sign at which I stalled my Jeep. The path I used to ride my bike to school and the street on which my dad would follow me just to make sure I made it safely. The cul-de-sac that meets the pond that holds the memories of my many imaginary childhood friends, secret dreams and the bench that held me up through years of change. The place that kindled a spark in my soul and became a wildfire of believing in the impossible. The intangible. The unthinkable.

I still go back to these roads.

I go back to be inspired.
I go back to be reminded.
I go back to remember the dreams.

Because the dreams still matter.

And I can't ever let the heart of that girl go.

Those roads help me remember. Those roads teach me to forget. Those roads decorate my mind with years of crazy and calm. And mainly, they sing to me the lyrics of who I am and what will never and should never change.

And so, my dear friends, I encourage you to embrace your roads. The ones that make you come alive. Whatever they might look like; wherever they might be, go give them a visit. They are more kind than you think. Your soul wants it. Your heart needs it.

Let's let today not make sense. And go hit the road.


-S

On Standby.

When I was a child, I was unruly. I was wild. I ran without shoes on. I played in the middle of the road. I stayed out past dark. I would close my eyes and believe that by opening them I would travel through time. I was loud and lived in a world of ideas and creativity. Believing I was on the edge of "danger" and something beautiful. Life was different, because life just was.

And now I feel like I long for those days to return. I find myself holding my breath only to think that by the next one, something would be different.

Something would be different.

If you have ever traveled on standby, I think that is one of the most realistic parallels to life.

You are ready. Belongings in your hand. Heart on a mission to a destination. But your means of travel is tentative. Your time of departure is not for sure. You are waiting. You are not the first choice. You may not be the second. You may be number 58 out of 60 on a list of people who have come before you and have been waiting, in the same terminal, to return to the same place.

And you wait. On standby. You're told to wait. That eventually you will make it. 

Eventually.

We tend to wait for what we believe is still ahead. We hope for these new tomorrows to get us away from the scattered yesterdays, because anything would seem better than the messy "standby" todays. 

But if we are honest with ourselves--if we really sit and evaluate our thoughts--we are not good at embracing the time in the terminal.

You know what I mean. It is uncomfortable. It is not what we want. We long for a different place. We are in the middle of it. We are caught in the chasm of the origin and destination.

Friends, I can't impart any wisdom on how the days would look different. All I do know is that, there is a longing for more in us all. An eternal longing. No, we're not home. Not just yet. So, we'll be in this terminal for a while. Might as well shake hands with the others, because at the end of the day, we will want to make sure they are able to make the flight.

And there might be turbulence. So don't hold your breath. Enjoy the flight.

S

Learning to Fall.

In our span of life, we're taught a lot.

On those lessons we're taught...we get to choose if we are going to listen.  And if we are going to remember.

However, a lot of it can't be taught.  It can't be told.  It has to be lived.

It has to be lived.

In our youth, we're told that "falling in love" is just something that is "young love." We're told that believing in these hopes and dreams of being something extravagant is attainable.  And so we fall.  We fall in love with a future that does not exist.  We fall in love with a dream of a life that isn't lived.

And we fall.  We tragically fall for something we don't have. Oh, what a slumber to awaken from.  To realize that not all of the dream was reality.

But what about the dreams?  In dreams, something special occurs.  That moment where the unexpected happens.  Where life becomes different.  And you learn the art of falling without falling.
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I recently went sky diving with one of my best friends.  It was a brilliant moment.  Not because I had it on a bucket list for my life.  Not because I wanted to fulfill one of the items on Tim McGraw's  "Live Like You Were Dying."  Because for a moment in my life, I fell freely in an open sky. I jumped out of a plane and smiled and laughed at the fact that the earth was below me.  I had nothing but an endless about of sky to my right and left and ground beneath me (and a 50+ year old man strapped to my back).

The amount of peace that came over what I want to say was my "heart and soul" really could have just been my body preparing to die as I looked out from the plane and saw the county of Fayetteville beneath me.  Regardless,  there is something about that moment.  About that day.  It reminded me that we fall a lot. We jump out of planes to say we did something beyond humanity.  We run with bulls to say that we survived something that is historical.  We adventure to corners of the earth because we want to be a sponge and soak it all in.

This side of heaven, we learn to fall.  Whether if we fall out of planes, into love, out of love, or into more of the days that we never knew could happen.  We are learning to fall.

And that isn't taught.  We learn to fall by living.

Happy falling.  Wear knee pads.

-S

Better Now Than Never.

On December 31st, at 11:59:50, we congregated around televisions or massive screens, at a dance floor, a bar, a downtown, an uptown, in a small intimate crowd, in a large screaming crowd, and we counted down. 10.9.8.7.6.5.4.3.2.1. And new numbers appeared before us: 2.0.1.3. 2013.

We wore hats, blew horns, hugged our friends, kissed our loved ones and celebrated the dropping of an intricately, 1000lbs + LED lit ball. We toasted to a new year. A new day. 

Some people planned ahead, weeks in advance for this day. They booked parties. They booked tables. The booked limos. Some people threw parties with an abundance of food, an abundance of drinks and an abundant crowd.

Some people planned the day of. They rallied their alliance and gathered at a house with an abundance of food, an abundance of drinks and a smaller crowd.

But what most did on that sparkly eve: they gathered to celebrate from something old to something new.

That's what you could say. That's what you could describe New Years Eve here in Western culture as: a sparkly party about a ball. 

I would say I'm the dazzling cynic in the corner of that party.  I would like to believe that NYE is a great tradition. Oh my, I even abbreviated it to "NYE." But year after year, I am always disappointed and I always wished I would have stayed home, eaten pizza and watched the kind of movies that I have already seen 15 times. Yet, this year...something was different. Right after I counted down with my small group of dancing heroes, I walked away for a moment and I found myself smiling. Not because of the fact that I love New Years celebrations. Not because I love watching the televised and glorious ball. Not because I loved the shoes I was wearing (that was a joke...it's like I was decided to insert knives into my heels). And not because I enjoy the countdown. 

I smiled because for the first time in many many years, I was able to look back upon the year and truly see something really great. I am not saying that past years have not been that, because some really have. But this has been a year. Oh golly, it has. But what a sweet sweet year it has been. Some rough truths. Some tear rivers cried. Some deep soul laughs. Some beautiful breakthroughs. And most of all, great community. I have made friends with some that I feel like I've known all my life. I have sat across the table from the hearts of faithful women and been encouraged more than ever. Grace has been showered over me in the purest and most tangible way that Jesus does through his sons and daughters. And I have seen how true He really is. How faithful He really is. And how much He really is a God of power.

I did not need a countdown to see all of this. But I remember writing this blog a year ago and being in a completely different spot. You'll even see, I described that year as a mess. But...He who promised is always faithful. So, to you, my people, may you be reminded that this side of heaven is what we get. So, let us gather and rejoice the old and celebrate the new for those that are won over to the Kingdom. We are the sparkly hat wearers, the horn blowers and the people that don't make sense. If you know what I mean, then you're one of them. And I'm glad you are. So, let's not count any more. Let's grab hands with those to our left and right, and go for it. A Kingdom awaits. You can ask Cinderella, just how you can ask everyone who celebrates a new year, it was never about the ball. It's about an adventure. It's about newness.

And there is only One who offers newness.

-S

Side by Side.

When I went to college I had severe anxiety. I had closed the chapter on some of the best years of my life, only to take a new book off the shelves without really knowing what the pages contained.

Let us travel back to the beautiful years before the college life and paint on the canvas of where it all began.

For some, high school was misery, loss and awkward. For others, it was bliss, love and crazy. And to those of the former, I truly am sorry. Because I fall into that latter category.  Those years for me were everything memorable. Everything I keep in a treasure chest of the hearts and everything I want to keep in the stories of my own personal library. I didn't say the days were always great and the nights were endless during those times. I didn't say that I didn't lock myself into my closet and shed tears when Friends aired the final episode of all time. I didn't say that I didn't cut my hair into a bob thinking it would fix my emotions. So, please don't hear what I didn't say.

However, those are the years we'll never get back. And not to be completely loose and melodramatic with my words (hold your judgement, especially if you know me well) if I were an oyster, I would say that's where I found a lot the pearls that have made up the necklace of my life. (What? You know that sounds sweet).

And you know how some people say, "I never stayed friends with any of my friends after high school... You never will?" Well, to those people, I get to say (in a polite and sweet way), "You were in every possible way, wrong. Very, very wrong."

A lot of us spread out when it came time for college. Some here. Some there. Some in other states. We all made new friends, some forever friends that will always be there. But we stand grounded still holding hands during the rough pains and the much needed deep soul laughs. And no one can take that from us. And no one can tell us otherwise.

From state to state, we have learned the meaning of phone calls, emails, Skype, group texts, farewell parties and coming home parties. When someone knows every side of you. Every great decision and every single and many many many wrong decisions you have made. Regardless of it all, the ones who are going to be there to tell you to shut up when you're believing lies. To calm you down when you're overreacting. And knowing that sometimes you don't want words, you just want presence and company. Those are the people you keep around. Those are the ones you would die for and die with. Those are the ones that you prefer to look your worst around, because putting on normal clothes and having to go out in public is just not the best option.

So, order a pizza, drink some wine and celebrate the friendship of what will never change. Regardless of location, time and season---we're still here. We're still friends. And you can't change that. No need to lock yourself in a closet and cry, because this era of these friends doesn't have an end date.

-S

Just Because.

No matter what age we are going to find ourselves, I feel like we'll always miss something:

A loved one we lost
Something special that was tarnished
Specific eras of our lives that marked great moments
A younger version of ourselves

There is always something. But do you ever have that feeling on those quiet and cloudy days when you find yourself missing something you never had?

I think you know what I mean. I think I know what I mean. But I could never really explain what I mean. Understand?

It's that simple and sweet moment, when the world gets quiet around you. You find yourself opening up the dusty shoe boxes in your heart that you packed away for a simple and lonely day. Re-reading lines of pages that were flooded with young and vibrant passions. Young and vibrant dreams. And then you realize you traded in fire for a flashlight and beauty turned boring.

My dear sojourner, you're not alone. Your heart is welcomed here. 

I understand those feelings. Feelings of the different. Feelings of the failure. Feelings of the longing for more. Feelings that you feel are sometimes more annoying than you want them to be. You just want to exhale for once and not feel like you have been holding your breath for the last 26 years. I get those feelings. But again, they're feelings.

My feelings are not always my reality. My reality is clear even when my heart is blurry.

Growing up, I always felt like a mis-fit, inside. But if we're honest with ourselves, didn't a lot of us feel that way? That not everyone understood us? That we were the ones that wanted to stand out and change the world? We would go places. Everyone else was just too simple and just too normal.

But over time, we put things in more boxes and scattered them into the small corners we call our memory. We traded in the places we thought we would go and put on a new nametag. "Hi, Simple, meet Normal."

However, the dreams are still there. They will never leave, because they're waiting for you. As my dear comrade, Henry, once said:

If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. 

Come on, dear soul. Let's work on that foundation.

-S