Still growing

Last year, I got the birthday blues in a big way, and this year, days shy of 25, I can feel them coming on, even though I swore I wouldn't be sad on my birthday this year.  After all, I do not want to be ungrateful.  As the famous quote says, growing old SO beats the alternative, and who the hell am I to be crying about turning 25 years old?  Anyone older than this will probably stop reading this now in disgust, and that's a risk I'm willing to take! 

At the same time, birthdays are a time when people tend to reflect on where they are in life, and both years (last year and this year), I can't help feeling stagnant.  Like I'm in the exact same place I was a year or two before.

It has been about a month since I really, seriously committed to accepting the call I believe God has on my life, going to Latin America.

I am aware of the what involved with this (serving communities, helping children, orphans, widows, whoever will have me), but am still unsure of the how.  My constant prayer is , "Here I am.  Send me."

I want so badly to believe in committing to the beauty of our dreams, in co-creating with the Universe, in a God who makes all things work for the good of those who love Him.  I believe God puts dreams in our hearts for a reason...  but that doesn't always mean they come true, at least not in our timing.  Anyone who has struggled with anything, and/or has watched their friends do so, knows this.

And yet I continue to search for organizations and schools where I could be used, to reach out to friends, family, anyone who might have some clue or some insight into how I can make my dream become real.  (And to search for a therapist to help me not go into cardiac arrest the first time I encounter a tarantula in my house!)  People may continue to accuse me of being unsafe, careless, not smart.  What I don't want to be accused of is not trying, or of settling for what I like, when I know I could have aimed for something I love.

One year ago, I was crying in my apartment because I was not engaged/ married.  This year, I am questioning whether I am in the right country.  Part of this may be that we are never truly done growing.  (Something that for over-achievers, and recovering perfectionists, like me, is hard to accept.)  But the other part is that some of us have such a hard time believing that where we are is perfect.  And that one day, when we get our dreams (and I am chasing around 5 kids, in the Dominican Republic, with my gorgeous husband... if we are to be sharing dreams!), we will look back and see that each birthday was part of the plan, that it wasn't an easy journey, but it was worth it.  And maybe, just maybe, we'll be jealous of our 20-something-year-old selves, having a birthday alone, without complications of kids, marriages, and dogs to walk... maybe!

Sisters and Soul Mates

I have been on a kick this year, emailing/ texting old friends, as well as potential love interests, resulting in many conversations, with my sister, like the following...

Me:  But, Jessie, I don't know why he just didn't email me back!

Jessie:  Well, maybe he doesn't remember you...

Me:  How could he not remember me?  We had a special connection!!

Jessie:  Well, I know that, and you know that... But apparently, he does not know that.

That's my sister, giving a much-needed perspective change, since she was practically in the womb.

Many of us, as a society, seem to be captivated by the idea of soul mates, even if we don't believe in this idea wholeheartedly.  I don't know if there's one person for everyone.  The idea is certainly beautiful (Lord knows, I've been looking for mine since before my Sweet Sixteen!), but I'm not sure that there's one person we're supposed to spend the rest of our lives with.  (Often, I feel there could be more; most days, I struggle with the concept of even just finding one!)

in the airport, coming to NJ!

 But then again, I already do have a soul mate, my better half, my lobster.  And that's my sister, Jessie.  (Click here and here if the lobster reference is lost on you!) 

Jessie is only two and a half years younger than me, but it usually feels like she is the big sister, due to her wisdom, bravery, and outspoken nature.  In the cheesiest, Jerry Maguire way, (and I would hope to never say this about a man), she completes me.

When I am stressing out, panicking, flipping a scheiss (sorry, Mom) over something (being ditched at trick or treating, getting a tough note at play practice, teaching evaluations), she talks me down and helps me to think calmly about the situation in a rational, witty, often-hilarious way.

She is not afraid to get dirty in the name of a good cause (or just FUN), which is something I'm still learning from her.

We swap clothes, books, devotional suggestions...  We pray for each other, for each other's friends.

Years ago, when I experienced my first heartbreak and couldn't stop crying, shaking, screaming on my bed, she left the party she was at to come home and rub my back, tell me it would be okay, and stay with me until I fell asleep.  (<--  This is something that sure as hell was not pretty to live through or remember, but it is such a powerful image of love in my mind that I will never EVER forget it.)

She believes intensely, passionately in my dreams, which is why we've almost had fights when I bring up the words "back-up plan."  She doesn't want to hear that.  Of course I'll get married; of course I'll have kids.

I know it's not rational or safe to put so much faith in one person, to give them so much credit for coming to your rescue, time after time.  But the reality is that my sister is my better half.  I know that if I don't find the person I'm going to marry for years, I'll be okay.  That I don't even really have the right to complain.  I have had my soul mate beside me, fighting for (and with!) me, praying for me, making me laugh, holding my hand for 22 years.  I grew up with mine.

Seven years later... a special afternoon

Not long ago, I wrote a little about my trip to Honduras and the friendships that formed there, one of which being my friendship with Lucy.  Barely after arriving, she welcomed me into her world, her close-knit family, and her life.

At Lucy's house... Monica to the left of me, Lucy in front of me, baby Bryan on my lap...

The memory of three girls sobbing when we left (Lucy, my girl Monica, and me) is one that still plays quietly in my mind from time to time.  The hugs, not wanting to let go, anxiety of not knowing when we would see each other again... admittedly, it's a little much, but it's true.

As I mentioned before, being introduced to a place in which people did not have much, but shared the little they had, felt right.  I met people who lived the quote "we belong to each other."  After this, coming home to air conditioning, caramel macchiatos, and a mall that includes a gourmet dog treat stand felt a little off to me.  This is something I still struggle with, if I am honest, on an almost daily basis.

Years have passed, and many circumstances (college, my job, etc.) have prevented my return to beautiful Honduras.  This has been hard.  Really hard.  I am grateful to be able to see pictures through Facebook, but not knowing the answer to "Cuando vienes por aqui?" is rough.

Lucy is a teacher.  First grade, just like me.  She has created a classroom family, just like me.  She loves her students so much her heart hurts, just like me.  I watch all this, from my computer, and I know there's something about this girl.

So somehow over the weekend the stars aligned and I saw on Facebook that my friend was in the US and I was at my parents' for spring break.  So I got to visit her, in Trenton, of all places.  (Shout-out to another incredible woman, work friend family, and soul sista for driving me there, because I am many things, but brave enough to drive into Trenton is not one of them!)

We hugged.

We sat and talked about how much has changed, how far we've come.

We marveled at how big Bryan (the baby in my picture) has gotten.

We adored her little niece Gaby as she blew kisses in the car.

Lucy gave me a shirt from Honduras (pretty much literally off her back), which I am so excited to wear, with pride. :)

The baby is so big now!  I can't believe it!

I told myself I wouldn't cry when I left, but Lord knows that was not a realistic expectation!

My friend is happy.  She's healthy.  Her sobrinos are beautiful.  My heart aches to go back to Honduras, but for now I am grateful for our special afternoon.

To me, this is a miracle, it came from God, and I am so thankful for it.