Act One. Scene One.

[int. bedroom]

Katie:
No. No. Um...once. Oh, gosh...a 4? Uh-huh. Yes. Goodbye.

Hangs up phone in a hurry and sits down on couch. She's tired. Her friend Marcy looks up over a newspaper.

Marcy:
Did you just do a phone survey?

Katie:
No. ...Yes.

Marcy:
I didn't know that people even did that anymore.

Katie:
Well, I'm probably the only reason they have a business.

Marcy:
They're probably the reason you're alive. Look at you. Starved for a distraction. I'm telling you. Take out? Pizza? A pile of newspapers with circles around random words? This is what we call--

Katie:
--Writer's block.

I've always entertained the idea of being a screenwriter. This scene takes place in an apartment on the upper east side of New York City in early fall.The script follows Katie through Summer. She writes every day for a year and realizes that life is more than punctuation marks.
The second scene starts with her pacing around, talking to herself, circling headlines and brushing her teeth as she stares at the screen of her computer and the blinking line following the words, "Today, I " She shuts the computer. The screen goes black and the title of the movie is typed out as music starts.
And, just the same, I close the computer and the scene that just fell out of my head becomes just another opening to some movie I swear I'm going to write.

Stars.

Things fell together tonight like the stars as they fell across the sky for no one other than me and my sweet Jesus.
He is back. My backroads Jesus. I found him when I pulled over to the side of the road. And I looked up at the thousands of stars that glittered the sky. I had forgotten them. Or most of them, anyway.
When I remember stars, I only remember a few of them. The ones I know by name. But I forget the thousands of others. I forgot that the sky has a milky way. I forgot so many things until now.
I got to see Lindsay for the first time in 7 months today. 7 months. Who knew that such a long period of time would pass so quickly? Will my life be an instant? Scripture promises that. But you know, the Bible promises a lot of things that might not be literal. Who knew that this one was? I sure didn't.
Lindsay's smile was something I had forgotten. And the way she exclaims words.
I had forgotten how dear of a friend she was to me.
When I think about the way things were; or are; or have been; or when I try to process the way that life is moving, I realize that I forget more than I remember. Surely, I will die and old, forgetful woman, simply because I do it so well.
I know a guys from church who is a physical therapist. And he says that the body forgets pain. I mean, you can remember sadness, happiness or fear. But you can't recall pain, because if you could it would be chaos. It is by God's grace you forget.
And perhaps, in all of this desire to heal, I have taught myself to forget. But with that comes the good and the bad. I forget earth-shattering pains, but also the small ones that have been equally influential in shaping me as a person.
Until, that is, I find myself on the back roads tonight. God had been calling me there ever since he met me at the ocean yesterday on a clear Saturday afternoon. It was there, as I stood on a cliff that He started to whisper my name on the salty Pacific wind.
So, tonight, the song 'My Savior's Love Endures" played as I leaned against the cool metal of my car. Occasionally, the silence met with a cow's moaning over the fence. I smiled. My feet shuffled and my arms waved in circles. Small, waltzing circles. I felt almost childish, spining under all of my forgotten friends. I let out small breaths, afraid to break this silence in the dark. I gazed. As JJ sang, "Praise the spirit, three in one," I saw a small streak on my left as the hand of God pushed a friend across the sky. I missed that.
Moments later, the song "Stars" by David Crowder came on. And the words that I heard for the hundredth and yet the first time were "How can such a thing shine its light on me and make Everything Beautiful?" Everything. Beautiful. Even pain. Even what we forget.
Perhaps, it is by God's grace that I forgot this feeling. I had forgotten the thrill of a shooting star on a cold night in December. I had forgotten the smell of damp country earth. I had forgotten the wind's whisper. For if He hadn't allowed me to forget, I never would have gotten to remember.

Closer.

Being here feels like divorce in some ways. I have my home in California with pictures of my friends from Chicago. I have my home at Moody with pictures of my friends from California. I call both places home and I trade back and forth. I live out of a suitcase and I'm better at packing now than ever. When I'm here I'm here, though.
I can't hang up the phone. I am face to face with the people that I love and that at the same time I hurt for the most.
And I keep running into writer's block. And I'm tired from school still, but I can't sleep in. So, I sit and wait to write by writing. I stay awake when I promise myself sleep. I run when I say jog. I swear I'm going to unpack, but I cannot.
My life is full of a thousand ironies that are popping up to the surface as my stomach aches when I think about pouring it all out into words. But I cannot. And I don't know why.
Slowly, God is coaxing it out of me. I am starting to breathe a little more as I slide down in my seat and stop wearing an ID around my neck. A weight is lifted.
...
When a person is in a submarine, they always get depressurized. This is when they have so much pressure from the atmosphere that they can't come up too fast or their bodies cannot adjust. This can cause death.
Perhaps, God is depressurizing me right now to let me come up slowly. The fact that I am not making many typos, nor and I using many contractions (note the 'Cannot's not the 'can't's. ) shows that I am ready t write, but my heart is tired. I am needing sleep right now.
So, here's to sleep.
Here's to family.
Here's to a good meal.
Here's to California.
Here's to Chicago.
Here's to my heart, wherever it is.
And Here's to the God who lets me surface slowly.
Baruch Ata Adonai.

Really?

In the Quiet.
In the Stillness.
I know that you are GOd.
In the Secret of your presence
I know that I am restored
When you call I won't refuse
Each new day again I'll choose
There is no one else for me.
None but Jesus.
Crucified to set me free
Now I live to bring Him praise
In the chaos
In confusion I know
You're sovreign still
In the moment
of my weakness
you give me grace to do your will
So when you call I won't delay.
This my song through all my days.
There is no one else for me
None but Jesus.
Crucified to set me free
Now I live to bring You praise
All delight is in you, Lord
All of my hope
All of my strength
All my delight is in you Lord
Forever more.

When things don't make sense, God does and I need to take refuge in that. Perhaps I was talking to myself when I told a friend that God does things we don't understand. They just are.
And when it comes down to it, I need to remember that.
This break will be longer than I thought.
The Nearness of God is my good.

Tired Eyes.

And after 15 hours of flight, I am back. California is much like I imagined. Only different. My bed isn't the same. My sheets are gone. Things are messy. (They will be debating the complexities of that sentence for years to come!)
There is a part of my heart in Chicago. I never knew that it was so true. Not much of me is here as I hung up photos and memories from Chicago on my Atascadero wall. They are missed.
I guess it is too early to tell, but I want something. Perhaps it is Jesus. Backroads Jesus. Perhaps it is friends. Maybe it is Christmas, or Hanukkah or one of the seemingly thousands of things that is running thru my mind.
So, in this sad attempt to get my thoughts down, I have decided this: Tomorrow, I'm going to eat, backroads, run and then Write. The perfect start.
Jesus, come meet me here. I missed you. I missed the stars. The soft cool. The silence. Love me all over again as I try to do the same with every jet-lagged ounce of me.

My fingers are cold.

They have been all day, but it's better than cold feet. And cold ears.
There is something about New York. It seems that every morning I have woken up has been better. The first day I was tired. The next I was waking up. By today I was finally waking up enough to really see New York.
And, as much as I miss home, and I wanted home, I don't feel like there is enough time here. I have a strange feeling deep within me that this city will always do that to me. I will always be unsure and then I'll lean back and nothing will be there.
This city plays tricks with my heart, too. I never know who I am here. Atleast it takes me most of the time I'm here to figure out who I am and why I'm here. I sit and write and wonder to myself if I will always be haunted by this city. Last time, I was in Manhattan and I saw beauty. Now I'm in Brooklyn and I see History and faith. I wonder if next time I will end up in the Bronx.
Processing all of this almost makes me tired, and I think I'm going to bed.
But God is here. And I'm here. And if there was any indication today, tomorrow will be lovely. I'm so glad I'm in love with my sweet Jesus. Together, we face NYC tomorrow.
Happy Chanukkah, friends. Hashi Vey nu Adonai E LeAh.

Snowing.

As I sit in front of the window looking out, I am overwhelmed. The song, "Time" is playing as I smile at how on beat it is with the falling snow. We've gotten close to 4 inches this afternoon and it is the best possible way to go out.
This morning, I took my OT final and the weight of the past 12 weeks slowly was lifted 1/200th at a time. Students are carrying bags across the plaza and each other across the plaza.
"The Call" just came on. suddenly it is so appropriate. The refrain "I'll come back" is played as I get a chill. Friends slide across the snow as I prepare my heart for Christmas and Hanukkah. As I prepare to run in Central Park day after tomorrow.
The idea of New York City is so wonderful to me. Words cannot express.
Everyone is leaving or dreaming about leaving. No one wants to pack, but everyone wants to go. I took Jess to the Airport. Man, I'm going to miss that girl. I'm going to miss Moody. I'll miss the hustle and bustle of Joe's. I'll miss the snow silencing the city. I'll miss having everything at my fingertips. I'll miss my girls. I'll miss running down Chicago Ave. I'll miss the Dean. I'll miss fist-bump Friday. I'll miss my professors. I'll miss the Plaza. I'll miss the sunrises.
And yet, at this time of year I am reminded of the one who was born to die. The God who gave him away. The love that was brought into the world. I remember snowball fights. I remember West Chicago. I remember ICI. I remember losing my glasses. I remember God meeting me. I remember writing what seem like a book. There is a strange peace about me and where I'm at. And God is saying, "Get into these arms" and I feel home.
For every thing that could break my heart. For every moment I could and do fall down. For every teardrops on my guitar moment, God is there and that makes everything better.
I'm glad I'm in the Monday Club. I'm glad that I know how to be friends with guys. I am glad I can love the girls on my floor without jelosy. I'm glad I can watch the snow fall down and know in my heart of hearts that nothing is falling down as long as He holds my hand.
Praise to Adonai: The keeper of my heart.