I don’t remember much about my stepfather. Most of our conversations, family vacations and dinners over avocado salads have been forgotten. There are bits of him that sometimes sneak up on me though, like his cologne that drifted down our hallways or the way he’d bend down and say “tiny kiss.” I was 16 and the month of August was suffocating, more humid and relentless then most. My mums parent’s came to help us pack, we neatly folded 7 years and 5 months into cardboard boxes labeled FRAGILE. I scribbled over the FRAGILE markings on my boxes, there was nothing fragile about my life. Any part that could be broken was already rotten; I had no more need for fragile.
He left without a word, though his silence spoke louder than any sweet chord I had heard. I accepted his abandonment well; I told my family I never loved him anyway.
He left without a word, though his silence spoke louder than any sweet chord I had heard. I accepted his abandonment well; I told my family I never loved him anyway.
Three years passed and took hold of me quite violently, and throughout I feared I would never find the strength to resurface. Until a February morning pried the winter from my lips and broke the silence my step father had left me with.
I dropped out of college in the middle of second semester, the very day silence no longer dwelled within me- I stumbled home to find the brokenness that had once lived in the tips my toes had burned through my blood like gasoline. And very clearly God whispered, it was time.
In the short months that passed, God revealed that I wasn't to lead a life that our society finds normal- my path to a "successful life" would be a very different one. Coming to terms with this realization spoiled me with anger and fear- I couldn't accept that I would be living at home, working and going to community college while my world of peers were at 4 year Universities, changing lives. Until God whispered once more and returning home, to the place I had always wanted to run from, made sense.
For those of you who have spoken to me in the last year have probably heard about my friend Aaron and the struggle he has gone through. As well as my special interest and love for him. If you haven't you can check out these two videos- the first is purely information and the second was a video I made for Aaron in January, that he has yet to see. Both, I would say, are very touching.
Anyways, one warm May evening I got a call from Aaron's mum saying that Aaron had begun to walk- on his own. A task no doctor could have ever imagined, let alone his family or friends. The news crashed over me and engulfed me in the deepest reassurance that accepting the path God had spoken for me, no longer felt like a burden. Because from the moment I saw Aaron, I knew he would walk again, I KNOW he will speak again- and watching the power of believing and loving someone literally excite them enough they find the courage and healing to WALK, simply blew me and my mind away. God is good, so, so good.
All this to be said, it has been a year since I was sprawled out writing among the stacks in the basement of my University's library. Blissfully unaware of where it was my dreams were about to take me and what great lengths I would have to travel to cease them. But now that I am in the thick of actively seeking and challenging my purpose, dreams and God- I couldn't be more at peace with the path I took to get here and the path I'll continue on.
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