Posts Tagged ‘Reina’

For Reina

This post is for you, my friend! I hadn’t forgotten that I have a blog, just don’t feel like I have much to say these days. But since you asked, here’s a post!

You, wow. You are precious to me. And while I can’t imagine what it will be like to not have you in my everyday experience of life, I know that you are my friend for as long as this life lasts, and longer. That is a testament to your faithfulness! I love you, and I can’t wait to see what adventure awaits you in 2012!

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Today at church was hard. Hard hard, seeing the orphans’ tender faces, the faces that God loves, scarred and disfigured from fights and self-injury. It makes me wonder about the scars I can’t see; the pain of rejection, the shame of prostitution for survival, the insidious addiction to drugs to escape the hell that is their everyday reality.

Babies sleeping on trash heaps. Toddlers living wholly on their own. Boys killing each other over coins. Girls desiring to commit suicide rather than be used by one more man.

Needless to say, there were many tears.

After church, Reina and I were talking about the things that hurt our hearts, and I mentioned how painful it is to really feel for the first time in my life. She said something that really made me think.

She said that it was like I’ve spent my whole life living in one room of my house. I haven’t ever experienced what it’s like to exist outside of, say, the bathroom. I know how to live in a bathroom, but I have no idea what it’s like to receive real nourishment in the kitchen. No clue how to rest in a bedroom. And even though it’s terrifying, God is calling me to the joy of these things; of eating and resting and exploring these rooms. To let my fingers graze their walls, to smell their smells, to sit in their chairs.

How would you explore a house you’ve always lived in but never known? The question begs to be answered.

I see this paralleled in my physical house. We’ve lived here more than eight years, but I’ve never decorated save a couple of paint jobs in bedrooms. I’m looking around for the first time and realizing that this home says nothing about who I am, who my family is. It’s time to change that.

I’ve never forgotten a few years ago when a friend visited and said that my house didn’t look like me at all. That’s likely because I had no idea who I was. Hopefully as I come to know myself, as I explore the potential in these rooms of my heart and my home, it’ll become more integrated. I think that’s part of authenticity, and I’m sort of excited to find out!

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I’ve written this post three times. The first time it was ready to publish, but my computer decided to turn itself off all willy nilly. The second time I was on the drive up to Ohio and fell asleep and forgot to save. This time, well, here it is.

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been invited to hang out with a group of Cara’s friends. Most of them have been friends for at least half of their lives (we all go to the same church), then there’s one “newer” girl, Talia, and me. I’ll make introductions to the cast of characters soon, but we’ve got Teva and Reina in the mix now.

So here’s the thing. I *think* these girls like me. I *feel* like I fit in pretty well with everyone. My raging insecurities won’t allow me to leave it at that, though. I wonder if I talk too much, am too opinionated, am not trying hard enough, am trying too hard, if they talk about me after I’m gone. I keep waiting for the popular vote to say “you’re out.” In fact, I’ve been tempted to just tell Cara, “Hey, if it’s not working, just let me know and I’ll stop coming by.”

The hell of it is that I really DON’T think they talk badly about me behind my back, but these are the things my insecurities whisper, fork-tongued and vile.

And girls, if you’re reading, I’m not looking for you to gush and tell me that I’m seven shades of awesome. I just needed to own where I am, how hard it is to be in relationships and feel afraid but push through. This is the stuff of life, after all. And it’s worth it.

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