Characters.

Today, I saw a movie and I told someone the ending. 45 minutes before it happened.
This movie awakened something inside of me and for my social sake, I will not tell you what it was. But I sat there in the darkened theater and everything in me wondered about everything in me. I wanted to be able to write such amazing characters. They crept in like the sun through the trees at dusk. They were deep and broken and related to me. They told me something, too. Something that wasn't in the script.
I often get distracted by school and by work and by my life. I totally forget about the dreams that I once harbored. The dream that once started to come alive on the computer screen in front of me.
I once dreamed that these ideas of mine. These words of mine. These sentences, and thoughts, these exclaimations, and paragraphs would somehow magically turn into something worth saying. I dreamed of getting a letter in the mail from a publishing company, or a screenwriter's guild. I dreamed of one day holding in my hand that little card that says, "Equity."
I walked out of the theater with things on my mind. I thought of the two manuscripts sitting somewhere deep in this hard drive. Collecting digital dust. Using up memory.
So, why?
Why do they sit there? There is no use in having a dream unless you can actually reach for it. At one point, I reached. But I seem to have pulled back my hand in fear and in the onset of reality.
Of course, until I write to the publishers, I'll never get any kind of letter back.
The fact of the matter is: What? What could I possibly be waiting for?
They probably won't hear me.
They might not even reply.
But I don't think I can sit here any longer and stare at a blank screen, only to fill it with words I'm too afraid to speak. No, this needs to get out there.
So, thanks.
Thanks for being one of the only souls who listens to this one.
Maybe there will one day be more of you.
Byt until that day comes, it's just us, friends.
And as seemingly discouraging as that can be, it's kind of nice in moments like this.

I smile to myself as the dawn of risk rises from it's sleepy daze and looks me in the face.

Today.

"Yes," I said. "There are things that I miss.
"I miss when the hardest decision I had to make was for myself. I miss when we argued about our favorite colors and who had to unload the dishwasher.I miss that time that was long ago. So long ago that it only seems to be a dream.
"That is what I miss."
After I had said these things without stammering, I sat.
I didn't want to make the walk back home and so I sat against a cedar-brick wall in the parking lot. Th heat of the day was fading as time passed. After 20 minutes, I ran out of water. So, I stood up, picked up my empty water bottle.
"Thanks for talking, God." I added with a sigh.
Slowly walking home in running shoes, I felt very alone. Only 365 days before, this place was home. But once I moved to the city and felt what it was like to be loved fully and known fully, this place was just another place. That's all there is these days. Just places.
Home is not here, where I sit on the couch.
Home is not there, where some of my dearest friends live a few doors down.
Home is wherever He is.
Even if it's leaning against a cedar-brick wall the parking lot.

I forgot.

I forgot that the sky could be so big
I forgot that wind didn't have to be cold.
I forgot that the sun could shine for entire days at a time.
I forgot that things are never quiet.

Rather, things have different sounds.
I have traded the hum of the city
Traded for the hum of lawn-mowers and various animals.
The smell of cement has been traded for the smells of
Wet Grass at sunset
Tired backroads at night
My backyward's dry weeds.

Who knew that there could be such a beautiful thing
In browning California,
In a cloudy beach day,
In a dusty town?

Some things have changed
I do not feel the need to move around
I speak far less than I used to
I am content in quietness
My heart is cautious but it is stronger
I do not feel fully at home
For much of my heart is else where

Yet, all of my heart is in one place
All of my desire is for one thing
All of my energy is used for one reason

I am an alien
I am a stranger
I am chosen of God
And Heaven is my destiny.

Weight.

Sometimes, the weight of the world is hard to carry.
Sometimes, I want to just stop.
Sometimes, I don't believe God.
Sometimes, I just want to cry.
Sometimes, I want to run to man and not God.
Sometimes, I forget.
God is God.
Thank God I'm not.

Full.

Follow the link and hit play. Then read.
You know the drill
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ruOFEvqazGo

This city knows what is going on.
It is almost whispering secrets of a great love.
My heart is strangely excited and quiet.
The taxis drive by.
Some white, Some yellow.
Life is rich.
Rich in the love I don't deserve.
Rich in moments of joy.
Rich in laughter amid what feels like a hurricane.
Rich in friendships.
There is something beautiful in the heart of a woman. There is something so priceless in the ways we look at each other. There is something sad when we talk about parting. There is something amazing and heartbreaking about what I see here every day.
I sat there as they were next to each other on the bed.
One read about the brain.
One couldn't write her paper.
Finally, the one writing the paper let out a long sigh as she leaned against the reader.
They will move far from each other in 6 weeks.
Something felt so unfair, but so breautiful.
They promised to visit during the summer before the reader moves across the wide Atlantic.
There is so much pain in this place.
There is so much pain, but at the same time, so much love.
The Love far outweighs the brokenness.
Even though we can only see the brokenness.
Even when all I could do was take Jamie's hand and weep.
Even when it's 2:14 am and you don't want to be finished talking to God for the night.
The Love vastly outweighs the brokenness.
So, here's to a love that we don't deserve.
Here's to a love that answers no questions, but gives us an answer.
Here's to a Saviour who I can't keep off of my mind.

May the city whisper to you the secrets of this great love.

Raining again.

Rain is falling on Chicago as the Hancock lights up with the Olympic colors, somehow increasing our chances of getting the title of host. My stomach is hungry and my heart is tired. My soul is healing and my mind is finally slowing down. My eyes are dry for the first time in a long time; Almost an eternity it seems.
This morning I woke up to Jasmine's alarm. She was not here, so I had to climb down to get it. This picture is Chicago at 6 a.m.
.God never does things the way that we want him to and I just keep hearing that but now I am seeing it. As the rain reflects a golden light from the streetlights I am reminded to be thankful and to love.
Oh, and to be loved.

Torn.

I want to go

And I want to be there now.

No travelling

but I need some time alone.

Tomorrow is hard.

I can feel it already

So I want to stay

And hide on the backroads

With Jesus

But I know he'll follow me and lead me 

Everywhere

Stay close.