Tuesday, October 11, 2011

almost ....(cont'd)

A continuation from this previous post: click here

It was something about a cheetah/or leopard. The vision that the leader had about me. He said he could see the animal running in the dark with a sense of determination and urgency. He then interpreted the vision saying that he could see that I would pursue my calling and the cause of "reaching the lost" with the same sense of urgency as the animal in the vision.

The whole experience served it's somewhat mysterious purpose at the time. We headed back to Dallas, Texas for a few days before I flew back home. When we were in Texas I began thinking of back home with some anxiety. When I had left for my mission trip the house that my family was renting had been sold by the owner and my parents would have to evacuate while I was gone and still hadn't found another affordable home to rent in the small Ontario town in which our immigrant family of seven had settled in. During our team sharing/debriefing time I thought of talking about the situation back home, but I couldn't quite find the words, somehow talking about such things always felt "out of place". Life went on after those few weeks of the summer, I came home to my family being in the process of moving to a nearby small town in a house that had become available in the last minute. The vision of the running animal and the mad black woman in the South Central L.A. Park all become images that that would collect themselves in my gallery of memories, images that I revisit once in a while but not very often.




It is taking me a while to finish writing this piece because I struggle with why I started writing it to begin with. I think I was maybe trying to remind myself of something. I am now twenty seven years old and the vision has come true. But I also find myself in some kind of quarter life crisis, feeling very lost myself on most days. My story still feels out of place although I know I am very ordinary in my struggles. I ask myself often; can I be a good mom and wife who works a job that doesn't pay? If I get the factory job I applied for does it mean that I am another casualty in an economic system that oppresses people like me and took years from my parent's life? Will he... is the Creator repaying the "years the locust has eaten?" Does the fact that another bright black boy I know is possibly getting a federal sentence mean that they are turning this city into South Central L.A? Who was the mad black woman at the park? There was a time that I would say that I was running towards resolution. Or running away from threatening memories of the cops and the children's aid at our front door, oppression at my front door. But there is some peace in recognizing that all this running and stumbling and running again is simply my nature and the way I was created to respod to story in which I have been placed. There is no tidy resolution or escape from the story of our lives. But I believe and I am thankful that there is renewal and restoration.

I think I know why I began writing this. I was trying to remind myself of something; the story of my life. And this is why I cannot finish writing it. One good thing about becoming more brave about telling my story is that it almost always points me back to a bigger story that I am part of.



I have appreciated the journey of sharing my stories on this blog. Writing in this public way has helped me encounter myself and my God, our Creator in ways that have deepened my healing. Thank you for those who have read, engaged and sent me your meaningful thoughts. May you also meet the Healer on your walkabout.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

shifting closer

a song



When I move, to you I shift closer,
On a stretch of Ontario concrete you are my far right slower lane
I am a child I clutching your trousers,
I really don't want you to go, I want you to prevent the pain
You let me weep upon your shoulders


As I glow and melt, you’re my candle holder
The paternal scent of your corduroy blazer collects into my brain
Our firm exchange has made me bolder
I feel that I belong somewhere as sort through my loss and gain
As I move, to you I shift closer




"The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too."
~Saint Teresa of Avila