two hands that i cant see
reminisced with jennifer knapp on the ride home today. one of my forgotten favorite CDs, lodged with the rest of the Christian/worship albums in small cluster in the back of my CD binder. i usually deliberately avoid them.... knowing that listening to my old favorites would only remind me of how different ive become. i may have been naive and a little uptight back then... but now ive done too much and am unstrung.
it's like the ex-boyfriend boxes i keep in my chest. shoeboxes with memories, pictures, and notes that very rarely surface. after working so hard to bury and hide, the resurfacing only brags of the change and time that transpired between.
i attach memories to music. a song acts as my favorite tag to capture something i cherish... to hold it in someone else's words. just me, the interstate, and audio nostalgia...conquering the beautiful in between neutrality of separated homes. forced into consideration of too many things ive chased from my mind. faith i used to have, morals i once held close, the person i used to be.
i listened to jennifer knapp in the airport as we were leaving for haiti. distinctly sitting in one of the hard, white chairs attached to some cheap table next to vending machines... watching the people pass and wondering where they were headed. wondering what theyd find. and i was scared and so nervous, but somehow finding strength in cultivated faith....and slowly attaching my memory to her words.
faith. i remember how hard it was to explain. how COULD you place so much trust in someone, something that you couldn't see? what does it MEAN to say you place yourself in God's hands? how do you know? how do you surrender? why would you want to?
and i was never good at explaining it. just an assurance...a backbone. something constant....a truth to seek. and my proof became solid as i kept watching the passing faces in the airport....propelling myself into something so deep, im still just beginning to understand the surface.
the porch. the lightning. their faces. those hands. all desperately scribbled in a journal.... because i didn't understand then, but i knew i would later. just absorbed with all my senses to make sure the memories stayed concrete.
the smells. their words. the city. tears as we first drove through town, tears as we drove away.... and how small it looked from high in the air.
and i still dont know what it all means. faith.
i feel so far away from how i was then. and that's not bad. just another part of growing up and changing. im just learning how to slowly pull these parts of myself together... hopefully becoming better from these experiences.
i have to write a personal statement for my HDFS transfer application. Why AM i interested? I had it planned out so perfectly... I have a strong interest in adoption. Want Americans to know the statistics of children that spend most of their lives in foster care...lacking stable structure. i want to tweak the system to guarantee safe homes... want to ease the transition.
but the CD put me back in the plane, staring down at the lush green country. i was so full...so sure. and i knew i had to go back.
i want to understand. i want to know how to heal broken families, and ease the scars of economic desparity. i want to rebuild what was lost. and i want to use it on the place that broke my heart.
so, faith.
i have to believe that something bigger is going to pull me together. as more time passes, i'll see the puzzle form a picture... and i'll finally understand each step along the way.
messages from the long-lost me hovering between the tracks of my once favorite CD rang throughout my hour drive home, and reminded me of a time when my dependence rested on more stable ground. borrowing confidence from my once strong faith, i found purpose among my mismatched ambitions.
if only my head were always as clear as it is on a long drive home.
come trickle down and save the world
two hands that i can't see
it's like the ex-boyfriend boxes i keep in my chest. shoeboxes with memories, pictures, and notes that very rarely surface. after working so hard to bury and hide, the resurfacing only brags of the change and time that transpired between.
i attach memories to music. a song acts as my favorite tag to capture something i cherish... to hold it in someone else's words. just me, the interstate, and audio nostalgia...conquering the beautiful in between neutrality of separated homes. forced into consideration of too many things ive chased from my mind. faith i used to have, morals i once held close, the person i used to be.
i listened to jennifer knapp in the airport as we were leaving for haiti. distinctly sitting in one of the hard, white chairs attached to some cheap table next to vending machines... watching the people pass and wondering where they were headed. wondering what theyd find. and i was scared and so nervous, but somehow finding strength in cultivated faith....and slowly attaching my memory to her words.
faith. i remember how hard it was to explain. how COULD you place so much trust in someone, something that you couldn't see? what does it MEAN to say you place yourself in God's hands? how do you know? how do you surrender? why would you want to?
and i was never good at explaining it. just an assurance...a backbone. something constant....a truth to seek. and my proof became solid as i kept watching the passing faces in the airport....propelling myself into something so deep, im still just beginning to understand the surface.
the porch. the lightning. their faces. those hands. all desperately scribbled in a journal.... because i didn't understand then, but i knew i would later. just absorbed with all my senses to make sure the memories stayed concrete.
the smells. their words. the city. tears as we first drove through town, tears as we drove away.... and how small it looked from high in the air.
and i still dont know what it all means. faith.
i feel so far away from how i was then. and that's not bad. just another part of growing up and changing. im just learning how to slowly pull these parts of myself together... hopefully becoming better from these experiences.
i have to write a personal statement for my HDFS transfer application. Why AM i interested? I had it planned out so perfectly... I have a strong interest in adoption. Want Americans to know the statistics of children that spend most of their lives in foster care...lacking stable structure. i want to tweak the system to guarantee safe homes... want to ease the transition.
but the CD put me back in the plane, staring down at the lush green country. i was so full...so sure. and i knew i had to go back.
i want to understand. i want to know how to heal broken families, and ease the scars of economic desparity. i want to rebuild what was lost. and i want to use it on the place that broke my heart.
so, faith.
i have to believe that something bigger is going to pull me together. as more time passes, i'll see the puzzle form a picture... and i'll finally understand each step along the way.
messages from the long-lost me hovering between the tracks of my once favorite CD rang throughout my hour drive home, and reminded me of a time when my dependence rested on more stable ground. borrowing confidence from my once strong faith, i found purpose among my mismatched ambitions.
if only my head were always as clear as it is on a long drive home.
come trickle down and save the world
two hands that i can't see
