where things are.

we often think joy lives somewhere
here or there-
often, not where you stand. 
but joy is a gift inside of you,
waiting for a Christmas morning
to be opened up and spread out
like sunlight off the endless sea. 

another list.

Things I've been thinking about...

My butt, and how much it hurts from doing squats with Kate every day.

Relating to my listeners, "it's not what you don't have in common, it's what you do."

Getting creative in the kitchen.

The walls of Zion National.

How to catch the cat & trim his claws.

Jesus as a tree, deep rooted and continuous, reaching into the sky. 

Flossing my teeth. 
Missing the desert, the one between LA & LV. 

Gotta get rid of some shoes, I have too many. 

Remembering to eat breakfast. 

from Operating Instructions, Anne Lamott

stories coming to you.

When I first started doing work in radio, I tried to quit. The very first time I had to be live on the air, the person supervising me had to physically hold me to the mic. It’s terrifying, just like any first time. My first time driving, I felt the same way. The time I was kissed, I felt the same way. Any first time, even if it will be like freedom after a few seconds, can be frightening.  

Now, coming back after six months of weakness and missing the Northwest, I feel such peace in the studio. The music pouring over the giant speaker mounted on the ceiling to the noise cancelling headphones I can place over my ears to experience utter silence (for once!). The calm settles on me as I imagine my mother, my best friend Kate, within arm’s reach, listening to me tell the radio stories.

But it reminds me too that many people have left this town-- it almost feels like I’m telling stories to the air. I’ve walked to the highest point to see the city from a bird’s view and I’ve told stories into the air there too, hoping they’d settle down on the streets and on top of people’s heads. Maybe even reaching far enough to touch the ears of long lost friends. Radio waves only go so far, but the wind I hope will reach them.

Let it sink in.

This is the song my soul has been singing all day long. 

Sums + Totals

It's been a while, hasn't it? It impressive how much Nick and I have packed into the last month. A total of 2 car accidents, from which we both walked away unhurt. 1 narrowly avoided accident, to which we were the first on the scene. I held a girl's hand as she took deep shaky breaths, and I called emergency services while standing in the middle of an icy highway.

A total of 1.5 drives up and down the West Coast. Moving into 2 different apartments back in our college town. A total of $136.00 I spent at Costco to fill that apartment with food, something that was unheard of back in Hacienda Buena, my beloved fifth-wheel trailer in California. Celebrating Christmas 3 times now, all with different groups of people. A total of 10 days spent at my old job doing new things. And innumerable hugs and well wishes from so many folks; people we left in California, people who have received us back with open arms.

If one can be so open and honest, it would suffice to simply say that I felt stuck in California. Stuck in a job that held no hope for the future, stuck financially because of living in an expensive area and filling my gas tank, stuck in a spiritual rut of anger at my church. And as I did the sad equations in my head, there was only one place I wanted to come back to.

The radio station is the last place I thought I'd end up at. And so I am surprised at how totally okay I am with being here; with my little radio family and living in my little house of best friends. 

(Total number of times I've visited the humane society this week: 3. And I've come home empty handed because as Nick keeps reminding me, there is no room in my apartment for a homeless, hungry Doberman.)

There is such a desire to fill up my life with goodness and love. To fill my days at work being useful, to come home and be happy, to go play outside or even visit the gym and be healthy, to read and be educated. And always, to simply move forward, wildly and freely, with zest and energy. 

PS: Come visit me! :) 

so often staying + leaving

"You come from a long line of educators," that's what I keep telling myself. My grandparents and my parents; my mother hold awards in teaching. So I don't understand how my jump into education doesn't come easy. Even though education is the solution to so many problems...
I have felt alone in it, working alone. And I also have been sleeping alone in my lonely house. I don't like sleeping in such an empty space. It's cold, even with taking all the blankets to myself. I remember times when it was so good to share blankets- that one time Janae crawled into bed with me with frozen toes. Many camping trips and sleepovers, nights in the back of the truck, movies on the couch. One time at Vantage at 2 AM, under a blanket of stars, I stuffed my down comforter deep into David's sleeping bag even though he was sandwiched between us. He was shivering for more- warmth & closeness. And I need more- probably more education honestly. I don't know enough about lots of things. And while I'm here, 23 years young, I'm trying to allow myself movement.
But I come from such a long line of educators! That's what doesn't change- the educators. How I need to be their advocate. How they don't get a fair deal, how they feel often cheated and frustrated, going to bed alone with their stressors, like I do often. Makes me want to stuff myself into a sleeping bag, too, and not come out.Or I could decide to come out, be wild, find warmth under the sky, and God's bright safe blanket of stars.