What we talk about when we talk about endings....

It seems that there are a lot of endings happening lately. Finales of sorts. Ends, tied up, neatly. Doors closed, locked from the inside.

I find myself staring at the closed chapter. Wishing to reread parts while simultaneously, wanting to run as far from it as possible. The juxtaposition of  the feeling of flight and nostalgia is something i can't quite articulate.

It's like have feet firmly planted but trying to run anyway.

And it's just....Well, it makes you have ALL THE FEELINGS about it. I will try to explain:
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(I will tell you, as a side note, that my AP English teacher would be thrilled at how often i used the words dichotomy and juxtaposition in regular conversation. That, or, she'd still think i needed to be tested for ADHD and then i would cry)

My job is ending in 3 work days. It's great because I have a new full time teaching job in the fall, and also i hate my current job. But also sad because it never quite turned out to be what i wanted it to. My ideas what were going to happen were wrong, and i feel sad about that. I also feel sad about the people whom i love a lot that i will no longer see on a daily basis.

I was dumb and wrecked a car. I feel horribly ashamed, guilty and mad about this. First of all, i know how to take care of cars, i just fucked up. Second, now people think that this is how i am with cars. third...it has left be with out car and dependent upon really good people being overly generous with theirs. To the point where, again, i feel ashamed, guilty....etc.

I got a new car (i used the term "new" as loosely as humanly possible) which is great because it an now go see my family. But now have gone into debt to the aforementioned amazing human beings to buy said car. Have i mentioned that they left me live with them and dont' ask me to pay for anything? it's stupid how generous they are.  i feel so much guilt on the regular because it.

I  bought the car form the pastor i work for...and whos daughter i'm friends with who knows i had to buy her dads car and who also knows i had to borrow money from aforementioned rock stars

I can only imagine what the world thinks. I know it shouldn't matter but, to me, in  this moment it's all i can think about. Seriously. i just want to crawl in a hole.

gross, right? I am grateful, so grateful, like it makes me weepy grateful, but i'm sure i don't appear to be grateful enough.

What's enough, really? How do you even begin to show appropriate gratitude for people to whom you owe everything? Including your first born.....that is if you find a boy to love you, marry you and have babies with you.....in the next 3 years.

Chances are low. because me.

My Kindalls are moving out of Cottage Grove.Well, they are not really my Kindalls anymore and i still haven't quite come to terms with that. We've lived that last year in a half and partial strangers. That feels a lot like that chunk of my life is over. Which is good i need it to be over. I need that strings my heart was still attached to to be cut....but i miss what was. It's like i'm looking at everyone carrying on through a 2 way mirror and they have no idea i'm watching.

I need to stop watching. My best friend from college is engaged, another will soon follow, i'm sure. I haven't seen them  in forever. I haven't tried and neither have they.

And sometimes i have to learn by natural consequences.

I have a friend who is amazing and has also just left her job. and every time anyone sees me the first thing they ask about is her. Sometimes i feel like his Girl Friday.

I'm stuck in a transition funk. I'm trying really hard for gratitude to win. For thankfulness. For the rose colored optimism to take over.

If i had Amy Poehler's voice in my head, that would help.

But today, and this week it's been hard. It's been humbling, and it's made feel embarrassed and hurt.

And while i feel like the future is bright and amazing and the ride i'm boarding is going to kick all the ass, i sometimes try really hard to hold on to what's slipping away.

So, i'm excited and scared for what's to come. But i often find that those two emotions have the exact same body reaction.

I'm so thankful but worried i didn't say thank you enough. Worried that i didn't appreciate enough the lessons and the relationships.

I'm a mess of feelings. Tomorrow will be better and i will do a better job of appreciating the sweet moments while not having to hold back tears.

Guilt and shame and inadequacy are assholes

Goodbyes.

I'm an emotional thing. I cry often and easily over a range of things, including but not limited to: the news, cheerio commercials, books, songs and I once cried in a meeting about what the term "missional outpost" meant.

It was whole thing. 

I can't remember when, though, my tears not only turned on, but decided that they would be running the show. I sometimes act like I have any say in when the tears start to roll, but gone are the days when I would force tears out when something wasn't going my way (read: only child magic). These days, my tears own me, I am at their mercy. 

This talk of tears is related to the fact that I feel like I'm in a season of transition. Lots of hellogoodbyes happening all together at once. The tears these days are sad and sweet and they are shed to the dreamy folky playlist that is playing in my head (and on spotify playlist). I'm currently obsessed with "wildflowers" by Tom Petty. Right now I think it's beautiful and perfect. And summer goodbyes, are met with promise and anticipation, so everything feels wild and hazy. Like wheat fields at sunset. 

I've been really lucky in my short life, I haven't had to say goodbye to that many things and people of significance. Which explains why goodbyes feel big and important all the time. I think its important to do goodbyes well. They should be sweet and thoughtful and a mark that something important happened. I like closure, and tucking memories away for later. Even the ones that sting. Remembering is important, too.

I think the first time I felt the sting of goodbye, was before I went to college. Saying goodbye to high school was no big deal, my friends and i were on to bigger and better things. Saying goodbye to those people and that summer was probably the first time i ever felt how truly bittersweet life could be. 

The summer after my senior year of high school was one of the sweetest times in my life. My friends and I worked dumb jobs for little money during the day and them spent every waking moment outside of that together. We played tennis for hours, we star gazed, we went to graduation parties, listen to the beatles and queen blasting form our first cars as we drove around aimlessly.  We watched old SNL's and drank cherry coke until we were blue in the face. We;d stay up all night playing board games and eating bread bowls from perkins. (just the bread bowl, no salad obviously). We talked and laughed and made sweet, sweet memories that made us feel like we were in a movie. Everything was perfect. 

The night before we all went our separate ways, we all had dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant, called Angelinas.  Invitations were sent, fancy dress was required, and a table was reserved for me and my 10 best friends. We were test driving adulthood like bosses. Our friend Maggie had arrived and placed a perfect, thoughtful present at each of our seats, and our other friend katie made us mixed cd's to take with us. (sidenote: i still have that cd). 

We ate great food, the spent a long time laughing and remembering and savoring the time we had left. It's also one of my first experiences where the table and what happened there were deeply significant. 

After dinner, we all traded our fancy clothes and adulthood for ripped jeans and flip flops and high tailed it to our favorite spot in town....the fountains outside an 150 year old hotel. We laughed and splashed and took so many pictures, and finally, we'd reached our curfew and we all had to go home. Back in the Bay we had to be home on time because nothing good happens after midnight (so sayeth the lord, and my father). We piled in our cars and turned the music up loud and drove away from what was into what would be. 

We'd spend the next couple of days saying goodbye to each other as we all left at different times. The day I left, I went to my best friend Laura's house and said goodbye to her, her brother and her parents. I hugged her goodbye, which was weird because normally we were not huggers. I hugged her tight and for a long time. Then, I got in the car and drove off with my parents.... 

I hadn't felt sad until right then. I suddenly felt the weight of goodbye. As I headed west literally into the  sunset with my parents in the front seat and all my junk in the back  i knew that this goodbye was important, and significant, and then the tears came. 

I cried from gratitude, for the sweet friends I  had. For the tribe of people who made the teenage years suck less, the people with whom i had inside jokes and long talk about our futures. These peoples' names were written in the early rings of my heart. My first safe place to land.  

I cried because there is something sad about growing up. I was leaving parts of myself behind, shedding old skin, to put on new. Saying goodbye to the old normal to embrace a new one. Suddenly i was my parents daughter, but also an adult, and my entire life was head of me. 

My first goodbyes are hazy and sepia toned full of the promise of life ahead of us and the longing to always be together, like we were that summer. 

As i write this, i'm listing to "America" by Simon and Gfunk, and everything about this song reminds of me what the summer of being 18 felt like. 

This fist goodbye lead to some of the sweetest hellos and heartbreaking farewells i will ever know, i am so grateful for the way we loved each other that summer and for the ways we held each other together in the years that followed. 

We're all over the place now. We are writers, and teachers, and social workers, engineers, among other things.Some of us are married and some of us are still trying to figure it out. We've mostly lost touch, excpet of a few, but they were my first people and knew me when I was young and nervous  but especially....

they knew me in the days when i didn't cry. 

I want to be best friends with these people. please?

I've been thinking about what kinds of weird things make me,  a whole, real person and here's what i've come up with....

I love worn in jeans, and loose fitting tshirts. Flip flops and messy buns. I rock that casual life like a boss. I love funny, smart, quick people who don't take themselves too seriously.  I like reading all things from blogs to news articles to novels. Memoirs is my favorite things ever.

I have a tumblr, but i dont' really do much with it. I like audio books, navy blue and anchors. and stripes

I like happy endings, purple flowers, lavender and using honey as a sweetener. I like cucumbers and watermelon with salt and raspberries (without salt).

I love board games, making lists and dreaming big dreams. I love remembering, and my family. and having friends who feel like family.

I'm obsessed with SNL. I would do pretty much anything to be in the same room as Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. I love chicago. and i'm in love Nashville and Tennessee.

I wish i could live in stars hallow and be lorelai glimore. I love iced tea.

I'm horrible at accessories but i love them. I love sundress, especially ones that twirl, but i'd almost always rather be in leggings and flip flops. I love makeup but i'm terrible at applying it.

I feel strongly and passionately one way or the other about pretty much everything except what i want to do with my life.

I love acoustic music, good lyrics and pretty much everything that makes me cry.

If i love you, it's a roller-coaster. if i don't, it's ice cold.

there are somethings. not all, that are less weird than i think they are but have my name all over it.

i need a creative outlet....so maybe i'll start writing something more of substance in the coming weeks.

An open letter to students i've never met.

Dear Future Students,

You don't know me yet and I don't know you, but I'm already thinking about you and praying for our year together.

I'm not going to lie, it's going to be... a whole thing. I'm nervous for a bunch of reasons but mostly, because I'VE NEVER TAUGHT SPANISH. ever. like not once.

One time I tutored a half a pair of twins into not failing Spanish and life. but those were stranger circumstances and i don't think i'd ever do it again.

All that to say, I hope this year is memorable....not in an "i survived" kind of tv show way...i promise you wont have to chew off your own arm to survive or eat something gross and raw...although if fiestas don't include guac, imma be pissed.

But seriously, i hope this year takes you to a place you never thought you'd get to and you do things you've never done. You see, we're kind of in this together, as much as i'm supposed to be expert on things...i promise i will learn as much from you as you will from me.

Also, i'm teaching some English, too, which i'm supper jazzed about, but also...nervous...why? Because I don't want to fail you. I want to build you up. I want you to know that you can do anything you want. I want to push you work hard and be proud of what you've accomplished. I don't want a school system of fail you.

Here's what I know: I'm not perfect.  Not even close. But I love Jesus and I believe in education. I believe in YOU.  I will try hard, I will help you. I will love you. I will pray for you. I will try hard to remind you all the time that you are fearfully and wonderfully made. I believe in the power of words and i want to help you find your voice.

Sometimes i'll be hard on you. Sometimes you'll be confused and wont get it. Sometimes, we'll be speaking different languages (literally and not so literally)...but we'll be okay.

This year will be a ride, it's a lot of firsts for all of us, but I know God is faithful and he'll carry us.

So. I hope you know much how much i care. I hope you understand how much i'm for you and what you to succeed. And if at the end of the year, you can feel that.

We've aced the year.

So, until we meet. know that i'm making space in my head and heart for you.

I just met you, and this is crazy....

I believe in a lot of things. I believe that fall is full of magic. I believe in pinkie swearing. I believe in memories being coated with a rosey color. I believe in being an idealist. I believe, of course in Jesus and love having the power to over come...everything. I believe in laughing too hard, family and belonging to a place.

There are, however, very few things I believe in more than friendship. Your people. Your best pals. I whole heartedly believe that best friends are God's way of telling us "i see you, and to prove it, I'm going to give you this person...so the world doesn't seem so crazy"

As a part time extrovert, i like people, mostly. However, I will be content with spending my time with a select group. I can count the people i'd die for (minus family) on two hands.

still, taking a bullet for 10 people...seems profoundly large.

I thrive on people who know me well. , With whom i have a deep, complicated history. Who make me laugh, and who, at the end of the day, know my favorite things and are willing to watch endless hours of crappy tv with me. Who will crawl under piles of blankets and cups of coffee, tea or wine and settle in for some quality time. Those people who will grab your hand when your scared and squeeze it enough to let you know that it's okay, then immediately shove you into whatever it is you're terrified of.

Because as much as you need a push, you also need to know you have a soft place to land.

People who feel like coming home. People who you are reminded of by a song or a season or a smell. People whom you borrow clothing form and never return that one item because you wear it when you're missing home and need to feel brave.

People who have seen you cry, you've called frantically, and they've dropped everything to put gas in your take when you've stupidly run out, or brought over pizza and wine when life seem to be too much....and deciphered your tears enough to know that chocolate cake was the answer to whatever was breaking your heart.

The people who love you, broken and wounded, the people who love you enough to listen to the same thing over and over and over again. The knower of the backstory. The amazing present buyer.the ..we're in this together....people.

I think one of the bravest things anyone can do in the their life time is offer up their heart to people. Let them hold it in their hand, while you hold theirs. it's not easy to apologize, or to be lost or confused by life in front of  other people. It's humbling and vulnerable and you just want to slink away...but these people....they reflect the best parts of you. Reminders that your strong, and that they're right with you when you need to borrow their strength.

Tonight i watched a video of me and my three best friends from college lip syncing to "call me maybe" it was at a time when i wasn't sure what would happen to us, when i felt them slipping away for awhile while i traveled down uncharted roads to find myself again....but looking at the video you'd never know it.

Sometimes i ache for that feeling of a best friend. For the person who looks at me and say....you're my number one. I've learned, though, as you get older , the place people hold in your lives is different. The people i consider my best pals right now, might not consider me one....and that's okay. Because it doesn't matter if you're wearing best friends bracelets.

it matters that if a text comes in, or a call comes through that says "i need you," you're there. even if you're not sure what to say...or how to act or what to do.

The act of just showing up not having the right anything....is brave and will literally change the life of something who needs you.


I guess my point is, i sometimes i get hung up on dumb things like labels because i need affirmation...but when i stop to look at the truth  of my life, its this: I have had the great honor of loving and being loved by amazing people. Some for a season, some, no matter how much distance or time has past will show up....because that is what love looks like.

So, tell your people that you love them as often as you can, even when it feels like you tell them all the time. Tell me because that tribe of weridos that claim you, and would fight for you....they are special and God gave you each other to get through this one precious, wild life with....

Where there is no way, you make a way....

Here's the funny thing about the heart: it does what it wants. Completely.

there is no reasoning with it, or rationalizing. 

It simply feels what it feels,it wants what it wants,  loves what it loves, and bleeds for what it bleeds for, there is no stopping it or slowing it down. The heart does what it will....

And every heart, if you listen closely, will tell you what matters. A check list of what means the most.  A map of things most sacred, a timeline of  rose colored, bittersweet memories. 

It has rooms for people to stay in for as long as they're able.  

It's strong, the heart. It pumps full and hard, but it's also fragile when it's held in other peoples hands. 

The willingness it has to beat outside your body, on your sleeve,  to let people hold it, take a space in it,...that's amazing and brave and horribly risky. 

Because every once and a while it breaks, sometimes it shatters, pieces everywhere like confetti or glass flying everywhere....sharp jagged pieces that....hurt and cut deep...they are everywhere it would seem. 

and at the point of impact, you watch it, lying in pieces, no sign of life....and you're certain that there is no way it will ever beat or pump loud and hard again.  How could it? How could these pieces ever find their way back?

But then, slowly and faintly, it starts. That familiar, constant sound. The thud that you remember. It begins again. and the pieces, they find their way back, and the scars are signs of strength and survival..that tell a story of who we are and where we've been. 

tonight, i'm thankful for hearts, and the people who take up room in them. 

On Homecomings....

*i wrote this last year, when my friend got back from DC and when i felt like people were finding their way home* 

This seems oddly appropriate as i feel like i'm putting on parts of my old self like a favorite sweater, coming back to the best parts of who i am. It's like the snow is melting, the fog is lifting and for the first time in a minute i can see the promise of the future, when you're rooted in the right things. 

Put your blue jeans back on....

Nothing sweeter 

than laughter

hugs and reuniting 

after months

or days 

or years. 

coming (back) together 

exactly how its supposed to be

homecomings are beautiful 

and tragic 

knowing that you belong somewhere 

but have to leave to figure out where 

your hat truly hangs

adventures are necessary 

and encouraged to become 

all that you're supposed to be

a better version 

the most you you're able to be

Well wishes, and goodbyes escape mouths 

 unintentionally 

knowing that there is a place for you

at my table and at the foot of my bed 

and a coffee cup

waiting to hear of all that's happened

stiring spoons, taking sips, 

unloading, uncovering 

all the mystery

the world has for us 

together. 

Welcome home,indeed 

it's about time you hopped back 

into where you belong

We've been waiting. 

and no one belongs here more than you.