Coffee shop Confessions

I stood in the corner of the coffee shop, being bluntly met by the bitter wind periodically due to an odd amount of foot traffic. 

His words spilt over the table as he was open & raw. Transparent & vulnerable. 

We are from two very different walks of life. Passions, desires and goals. Our lists would never have a common bullet point. Yet, as he shared his soul, his bruises and his very heart beat I found it mirrored mine. Different circumstances yet they had molded similar reactions. 

Every time the door opened the back of my legs felt the wind peirce through my dress pants. He continued to share and I was given glimpses into his life. The similarities blinded me momentarily and instead of the Real Feel 3 degrees on my legs all I could feel was the same harbored hurt and simultaneous emotionlessness I have had at the deepest of my being. 

"I'm a mess, it's not pretty at all Emily" 

These words stood out to me and demanded my attention. 

Sometimes, the church gives off the assumption that believers don't have heart break. That they don't have deep, dark scary nights of lonely. 

Assumptions, as we all know don't ever make anyone look respectable. 

Being a mess has a negative connotation. 

Messes are beautiful. Messes mean that you have lived, you have been passionate about something. Perhaps destructive, but your fire is not out. Being a mess means you know there is a better tomorrow. Meeting yourself in the darkest corners--allowing them to take your breath away & being okay. Being okay with not being okay. Being a mess means that you are loving, living & reaping in the rewards and consequences of doing so. 

We are too scared to feel. 

We are too scared to be. 

We are too scared to admit that we are not okay. 

We need to embrace mess. 

We need to love without bounds. 

As we finished our conversation I was convicted to be more transparent. More real. 

Don't be afraid to be a mess. 

It's beautiful, I promise  

12 weeks they feel pain, do you?

We dream.

We dream of a time where rescuing a child from Haiti 

Costs less than killing a baby since "he left me" 

We dream of someone to look beyond the drama 

& to just love this baby momma. 

We dream of a person who will take the "Christian mold" & shatter 

Whatever conservative means. "all hearts that beat should matter"

We dream of being different in other people's lives 

Those mom's hearts broke as they said their goodbyes. 

We need to live in the shadow of grace 

Extend this love as loud as the judgment they face. 

We are to dream & love without bounds.

We are not the jury, judge or High Priest. 

He placed us as light not to condemn or throw mud. 

We dream. 

& she dreams. 

they dreamed & he dreams... 

So let's live like He dreamed. 

Aisle seat

Oxygen masks dropped and I began to uncontrollably vomit. My eyes had rolled back & I lost all control of my body, convulsing. My mom, I can only imagine, thought the worst.

As the mask was secured around my head my breathing began to come back. As the plane glided across the clear blue skies above Nevada the captain came over the loudspeaker. The plane was soon landing. The arrival was just like my seizure, unexpected. 

A team of paramedics awaited in the airlock & I stumbled off the plane. As I watched fluorescent lights pass over me as we rushed through the Southwest wing of the Las Vegas airport I lost the ability to breathe at a normal rate: hyperventilation consumed me. As I was locked into the back of an ambulance the man assigned to me asked me to say my ABC's backward, this was to get my breathing back to a steady pace. I had other plans as I asked him to marry me. My mind was clearly not functioning properly. 

I wish I could say I remember the yellow oxygen mask, seeing my mom cry or even asking someone to spend all of their days with me, however I do not. That's all hearsay, repeated to me from my mom and nurses shortly after I arrived in the ER. 

I can remember that. The curtains were striped. A transparent blue, almost the same color of a Dasani water bottle, and a vibrant pink. Identical to bubblegum. There was a SpongeBob marathon on & my room had a tv. I remember it took 11 tries to get my IV in. I had lost all my liquid while still seated in 23B and had not replenished yet. 

I remember my mom calling the airline and scheduling a new flight home to SJ. I remember the first words she said to me, "baby doll- are you okay? I thought I lost you" verbatim. 

I was so hungry. 

I remember being discharged and not wanting to get back on a plane, I begged for sleep aid & the pleading worked. 

I remember a sweet nurse giving me saltines and a Sprite. I had to throw the Sprite out before Security and I cried. 

I remember going through the airport in a wheel chair because I was so weak i couldn't walk & I remember climbing underneath a row of chairs in our gate to hide from the blinding white lights. 

4 hours. 

A 2 hour plane right & then home. 

I hate flying, and I think the anecdote above explains why. More so, I hate being vulnerable. Releasing control is a difficult task for me, in any area of life. 

As this semester begins I know I'm going to be drowning. I knew this when i submitted my transcripts this summer to go back to LBC. 

Sometimes you have to be pushed around, get lost, and then pull yourself up & realize it will all be okay. 

I believe in the power of laughter & the power of words. They both easily captivate me. 

I want to laugh more this year, no matter how many assignments are due or books needs to be read. I want to never be too stressed to speak truth. I want to keep writing. I want to be faithful to be thankful. 

I don't remember when God intervened and the man in 23D was a doctor. I don't remember the paramedic who talked me down from that personal mountain. I don't remember my moms fear or pain. 

But I can clearly see He had a plan. 

I land in PA at 6 Eastern time and start school on Monday. 

Here's to not seeing the plan but being willing to see the good in it, no matter how badly you just want to cry. 

Laugh a lot. 

Write more. 

Love louder. 

Pray often. 

Seek wisdom. 

2 0 1 5 // second semester.