millions of miles

encima del castillo- missing Spain so much.

“And once you live a good story, you get a taste for a kind of meaning in life, and you can’t go back to being normal; you can’t go back to meaningless scenes stitched together by the forgettable thread of wasted time.” –d.miller

introductions

The other day, I was in the check out at Walmart buying coffee and creamer (the essentials!) and i was caught in between two families who both had little kids. I’m such a sucker for babies! Even though they were probably 3 years old.

Still babies. Love babies.

There was a girl and a boy, and they were sort of checkin each other out, getting kind of close…closer…until  Little Girl put her face up into Little Boy’s face and laid a kiss on his little lips!

I gasped and tried to keep from laughing or smiling too big. Oh my goodness, it just made me want to cry it was so hilariously unexpected. Kids always do what adults only get to think about doing. He turned towards his mom who was standing in front of me, giggling and went “Mooom! She kissed me!”

“Oh you know, honey, you can say hi to people without kissing them,” she said skeptically.

But the smile on Little Boy’s little face said that maybe that’s not always the best way to introduce yourself :]

here is the plan- it's you.

if i've learned anything about myself, its that i don't transition very well. new school years, haircuts, moving to a new house, new jobs and trying a new toothpaste. its stresssssful! i wrote to my dad when i was in spain after i'd been there for about 3 months and told him i could finally see a plane in the sky and feel like i didn't want to be on it and he went, "you've transitioned!" 

i applied to be my friend Matt's assistant for next school year. i did it sort of mindlessly- filled out the application, printed off my resume and wrote a letter of intent, blah blah, etc etc. he's going to be the Spiritual VP for ASWWU- which is important because he will have to organize spiritual events that will make deep imprints on people's hearts and minds. in turn, it would make what i do imperative because Matt is the 'big idea' guy and i'm the 'make it happen' girl.

i wasn't really thinking of that when i turned in the application though, and late for that matter. he said to meet for lunch at Subway so we could interview- i'm sure it's because he wanted see if i was really what he needed. if i could really do the job. on the drive to Subway, i shot up a last-minute prayer. "hey, sorry that i...haven't talked to You about this before, but I applied for this job- soooo... let Your will be done! amen." 

prayers like that leave me feeling tired. because i know i'm trying to take control of my own life.

i pulled into the parking lot and noticed there was a man on the other side of the intersection (the one that's right by the College Place Walmart), holding a sign with the usual "Homeless. Anything helps. Thank you, God bless." i ran over to the opposite corner and yelled above the cars zooming by- 

"HEY! ARE YOU HUNGRY?!?" 

He shook his head and I made unnecessary giant motions with my arms for him to come to my side of the intersection. "Hey, I'm Becka." "I'm Scott." "Do you want to eat with me?" "Yes please, ma'am." "Okay, let's go! You can get whatever you want!!" We went through line and we got the meatiest, veggie-est, sauce-iest sandwiches. When we sat down, he told me about how he's doing his best to take care of his wife, Caroline, and how they are blessed with each other, even when they have nothing. 

Matt showed up late. I dismissed myself from Scott and went to sit down with Matt. "So here's the idea for next year..." he began. "I've already hired one assistant and i'm thinking of another, and then there's you. The three big things we're gonna do are the Agape Feast- that's for Savonna; the big concert- that's Tyler's deal and then I was looking for someone to help me with...homeless outreach. Becka- how do you feel about homeless outreach?" 

He had a smirk on his face, and i thought for a moment he was kidding, and all i could say was "ummm" and direct my eyes back towards where Scott was sitting, finishing his sandwich. Matt let out a loud burst of laughter "dude, becka, YOU'RE HIRED!" He said he had prayed on the way over that God would let him know if i was the right person for the job, and he knew i was when he walked in to see me eating with Scott. 

maybe transitioning is difficult because it makes me feel so out of control; because its inevitable and i want to lay down my own floor plans. i have a good job right now working at the radio station, i wasn't even sure if i needed to pick up another one for next year. but i saw that i could do it, so why wouldn't i? this is my constant cycle of taking control. my perpetual line goes something like "do i tell you to do, because i know what i'm doing!" i blatantly refuse to let go- & then transitioning is a lot like trying to turn a screw with my...i don't know, my eyeballs. nearly impossible. 

i specifically ask God- often- for opportunities, to open doors so that i can meet Him where I finally leave myself behind. but i want to see the opportunities with my own eyes, as if He owns me explanations. as if i don't trust Him to do the right thing.

then i'm shocked to see my plans in the eyes of someone else, looking at me answering "yes" from across the table, eating sandwiches. shocked. out of control. blindsided and thankful.

"we'll run wild, glowin in the dark"

Coldplay is important. My brother doesn’t think so, but who are you going to believe? I’m serious- Coldplay is really really important! Which is why Emily, Becky, and I went to their concert on Tuesday night (a school night!) in Portland. Actually, Becky didn’t know until a couple weeks ago that we were going for her birthday- but Emily and I bought tickets back in January. So sneaky we are!

It was PACKED. The whole place sold out; so many people. I looked up how many people the Rose Garden can hold- 19,980 people!

Each person got a wrist band when we walked in. And when the lights went out before the band came on, all the wrist bands lit up in different blinking colours! Suddenly, the stadium was a sea of lights and people losing their minds because “OH MY WORD, MY WRISTBAND LIGHTS UP!!!” I couldn’t contain it- my level of excitement was beyond measurement. It could not be measured! Please understand this!

But not just because it was four British dudes, not just because their beats and their words are radical and beautiful or because I’ve been waiting since 8^th grade to go to their concert, but because each one of us became a light in a sea of 20,000 lights.

You’d be real shocked at all the life lessons you can learn by going to a Coldplay concert.

It doesn’t matter if you’re up or down, jiving or just tapping your happy foot- you’re part of it. You bought the ticket, you showed up and you put on the wrist band. You’re contributing to the entire experience; you’re connected. It meant something to be there. It wasn’t just a concert with music. It was spiritual- people from everywhere coming together, raising their hands, dancing their dance, singing their song, all shining their light- creating the bigger picture.

God placed the light of His love in you- who you are is an imperative puzzle piece in the big picture; the world is not complete without you! We’re all in this together.

 I really hope we all get blinky bracelets in Heaven.  

blown out. about. & away.

embracing the storm

Storms cause damage. And when they start attacking you- blowing through the open windows of your soul, ripping things off the walls and shattering the glass in the front door of your heart-
the healthy thing to do is get your friends to pull the yellow couch out onto the porch
So you can all sit and feel it at the same time
At first you want to run,
Storms aren't always fun
But you can sit there, juntos, strong like a wall
Laughing at the sting of fat raindrops on your face
so happy to be alive in the middle of a war.
you can sweep the mess up later.

my courage runneth over

my dad had a heart attack last week-

it’s the kind of thing that happens to other people’s dads, you know?

My father is a rock. Solid. Constant.

Big smile, a laugh heartier than beef jerky.

A real bear of a man

When I heard what happened, he became daddy instead of just dad

mom became mommy

And my eyes became strained like overworked muscles

 we were instantly small

And our worry squeezed us like his constricting arteries

Out of control and waiting on a ledge of yes or no

But God stops some things before they even begin,

So he’s good to go- healing slow.

I ask him how he’s doing, if he’ll be alright, to not go into the light! Ha!

And all he says is “every day is a gift, babe- treat it that way.”

the rain in spain.

Bea y Isa bailan en la lluvia. 

"I assume you have had moments like this 

when you were caught up in something so much bigger 

than yourself that you couldn't even put it into words."

schmancy!

behind the glass

My roommate gets out of class at 10:50 every morning, and then she walks by the big windows where I sit at the front desk of the radio station. 

Usually, I run out to her, yelling “STEPHANIIIIIEEE!!!!!” like I haven’t seen her for years, while jumping on her, wrapping my legs around her waist. 

But just now, as she walked by, I just sat here at my desk, watching her and getting a big smile on my face. 

She’s looking spiffy- gray slacks, black blazer jacket, carrying her portfolio, like she’s married to Steve Jobs.

But she’s not wearing any shoes. Which is common when she can't decide which shoes to wear. & that’s why I’m smiling so BIG.

pinpoint.

spell checked

On a bicycle made for 4!

My mom has an iPhone- totally loves it. Loves showing it to people and showing them all her apps, like they've never seen one before.
It's eons more superior than mine, which I've had for four years and all it does it call, text, and buzz anymore. Putting my shoe up to my ear is more effective some days. The iPhone in contrast can speak hundreds of languages, tell the weather and time in hundreds of countries and auto-corrects everything you type.
She texts me goodnight and iPhone goes "I live you!" auto-correcting what she really means- cause living for one another is what love is all about.

gettin' it done. done. done.

David: shreddin'.

Practice makes perfect. If you want to play a piece of music, you practice and eventually, it will be perfect. My mother practices her knitting, my roommate practices making art, my brother is a sponsored long board racer, and he didn’t get there without practicing (or without an agreeable amount of stupidity and nasty road rash).

And if you want to be a good writer, you have to sit down at the computer and practice. Anne Lamott got me all ready to write more after I read Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. But she’s always talking about how you have to actually sit down and do it! You have to be willing to write what she calls “shitty first drafts” and how she knows authors who create beautiful pieces of literary genius, but none of them write good first drafts.

She says her friend sits down every morning and tells himself, “It’s not like you don’t have a choice, because you do- you can either type or kill yourself.”

So that’s encouraging.

I went to the Atlas the other day so I could sit down and write. I’ve been ignoring my blog, telling myself that I’ll post something soon, even though I knew I wouldn’t with all that goes on with college and…stuff. I ended up reading other people’s blogs, skyping Janae Rose (we watched a little of the sunrise in Thailand, as the sun was setting on my side of the planet), playing with a little spider that kept crawling across my keyboard, and talking to Kevin House about mushroom hunting.

Writing didn’t happen.

But yesterday!- my Uncle Dave was at my house and I was telling him how I want to write, need to write, but I’m not pushing myself and he goes, “I challenge you to a writing competition! Right now!”

We agreed to do just one paragraph each. We sat down; I typed furiously and referenced Anne Lamott and he scribbled in a notebook.

Me: shreddin' literary-style

We read our paragraphs out loud- his about the weather, mine was ironically about not writing. But hey- practice makes perfect, right? Right.

the confines of fear

My dad has a painting of Smith Rock and this year it’s been sitting against the wall in my apartment where I see it every day. I’ve been staring at this painting since I was little, and my dad told me years and years ago “You know, you could climb that.” After all this time, I did climb there- it was mind blowing.

In rock climbing, leading a new route can be the most exciting thing to look forward to. There’s a huge element of risk because you’re responsible for your own fate. Most of it at least- we’ll say you’re responsible for 60% of it and then your belayer takes the other 40%. You climb free to the first bolt, slap a quickdraw on it and pull your rope through the carabiner. Do this with one hand, while hanging on for dear life with the other. And it has to be done right! So it’s sketchy! Which is why it’s so awesome and why it can suck so much simultaneously!

So I’m climbing up the face of this huge slab (5.9 rating- gah!) and I get 3 bolts from the top after 30 minutes of clipping into bolts, holding the rope in my teeth, stressing, but just loving it. My toes are barely stable at the end of my last bolt and the next one is still 2 feet above my head, and all that there is to hold onto is…well, nothing essentially. How do people climb this stuff?? I analyzed the chalk markings left by previous conquerors and knew exactly what I had to do, but I hesitated, and here’s why:

I’m terrified of hitting my face. I’m scared of almost nothing except hitting my face on stuff. Dental work isn’t cheap and I want to keep my real teeth in my mouth for the rest of my life. And it’s so frustrating! Because I’m not afraid of falling or breaking bones or bleeding out- but heaven forbid I should smack my head into a rock and have to have a Frankenstein amount of plastic and dental surgery done, along with 6 months of recovery.

I’m stuck between these bolts, with a 50/50 chance of falling before reaching my next clip-in point and I’m thinking, “How did I just become so not stoked about this?” I’ve never taken a lead fall before and did not want to- I climbed back down. But I’m sure that once I do take that fall, I’ll learn my lesson and will take bigger risks- but until then, I just love my teeth too much.