This is a story about change, as well as a semi-update on what has happened in my life since the last you heard from me. Although it has a point, this particular blog is mostly an outlet for me to be personal, vulnerable, and even to grieve. It’s all about processing.
I’ve heard it said before that some people come into your life for a season, while others live in you for a lifetime.
My junior year of college, I found myself with all my worldly possession packed into the new Toyota Corolla that my daddy gave me on a hot August day. In those days, pangs of growth marred my soul and spirit as I plunged further from the girl that had grown up in the original Farmtown to the propsect of the new person that might, just might, lie within this 20-year-ancient exterior.
Confused, alone, and a little frightened, I found myself at a campus ministry event my first week of school… And Codie’ found me there.
I still have no idea exactly how this beautiful page of love and friendship unfolded. I have no clue what orchestrated this timid transfer student to approach me and ask me, of all the dozens of people in the room, for a ride home. I have no idea how I possibly said yes with any confidence, since I knew nothing about Oxford or how to get from the Baptist Student Union to anywhere. And I have no idea what my life would look like now if it wasn’t for this moment.
In Codie’, I found a confidant, a partner in crime, a fellow procrastinator, a fused heart. I became closer to her in our timeless, endless, and all-too-brief year together. I found a beautiful heart, a whimsical way, a restless wind, and an indomnitable will. I found someone who would eagerly jump in my car at 3am to conquer backroads in towns we would never be able to find again. I found someone who activated my heart for God and my love for humanity. By loving and being loved by Codie’, I learned how to completely and unconditionally love others, to give when all I had was hugs and words (we were always broke), to stay up ’til dawn when we hadn’t slept for two days simply to say we did.
My days with Codie’ are easily the days I felt most alive, eaisly the days when I felt most childish, and most wise. From tying bed sheets together and dangling her out of our three-story window just because we were bored, to lying in a field in the middle of January’s frost just to share stars and dreams from a different view, I’ve never felt like I’ve ever had a moment when I wasn’t learning about love in it’s deepest form.
With her, I could talk about my quirkiest thoughts and deepest desires, all whilst concocting the most intense and insane schemes together. Those days of coming-of-age replay intensely in emotionally-charged clips in my mind: scenes of her long, dark hair whipping out of the rolled down window, all while screaming Dashboard Confessional in unison to the heat of Mississippi springtime.
So I’ll never forget the night it all ended.
Once again, with my life packed up in the same car, much older from countless nights of backroad adventures, I stood in the parking lot of our apartment complex, the light rain falling as I waited for her to come down and say goodbye. In retrospect, I can still feel the searing emotions that tore both of our hearts wide open as we held each other in the 2am drizzle, crying harder than the rain could ever fall. I’ll never forget how intense the pain was, knowing that this chapter in our life was completely over. I was headed for Peru, she was headed for India, and when we returned, she was transfering to another college.
As I drove away, my eyes blurry from hard tears, I knew Codie’ would live in me forever. We would be the kind of heart that beats as one, even in the disparity between South America and Asia, and we would never take that love for granted. But even now, three years later, I remember the pain of that letting go.
Some people characterize me by the depths of love that I hold for others, but in a moment, that gift can be turned into a curse. I love easily and freely, and seem to lack the ability to let go or forget. I jump headfirst into love without a second thought, but when I have to move on or give it back to God, I feel crippled.
So when I found out last week that I was potentially losing my team, I became frantic and hysterical. Due to new changes in leadership and a few other factors, our squad leaders determined it would be best to rearrange the teams on our squad. We were given the news less than 24 hours before the actual change happened, and, for lack of a better image, I went emotionally beserk.
I knew that my team leader, Brandy, was most likely going to become our new squad leader. I had plenty of time to mourn this and to allow God to work in me, but discovering that the rest of my intensely-knit family could possibly be completely ripped from my day-to-day life was more than excruciating for me.
Could you imagine what it’s like to live with the same six people day after day after day? To see their bed heads falling asleep in their cereal every morning, to feel your heart swell with pride as you see them preach Jesus to the lost? I can honestly say I’ve been more raw and honest and uncomfortable with these people than I have with any people on earth. I’ve spoken the truth when I’d much rather tell a lie. I’ve torn open the cleverly disguised case of a heart I let everyone else see, yet opened that shell to show them the shambles I’ve carried around all my life. And vulnerably, I’ve allowed them to humbly and tenderly take each piece and glue it back together again. I’ve shared hurts and pains and fears and memories with them that not another soul on earth knows. I’ve been held and covered in love by each one of them, and I allow them to fight for me when I’m not able to fight for myself.
I’ve covered Don’s jacket in tears. I’ve felt Anthony’s comforting fingers through my hair. I’ve memorized the swirls Kendra makes on my back when she holds me. I’ve felt Ashlee’s tears, so filled with love for me, hotly streak my face. I’ve been soothed by Katie’s sweet, beautiful voice, speaking to me in my deepest pain. I know the hollows of Brandy’s hands, she’s held mine so many times.
These six people have seen my worst and my best. They’ve seen me humbled and exalted, they’ve seen me victorious and defeated. They’ve seen the ugliest secrets that I hide away from the rest of the world. They’ve watched me rise, and have helped me up when I fell. Aside from Jesus Christ, they’ve been my one constant.
I’ve loved them ferociously. I’ve guarded their hearts at all costs. I’ve never taken one single day for granted.
So, God… Why?
Why would you take away the ears that listened to my very first true vulnerability in Atlanta? Why would you take away the arms that held me the day my father died? Why would you give me these two men and four women and allow me to love them in the most uninhibited way, only to tear them from my life? Their roots run so deep in me, I hardly remember who I used to be and what defined me.
What was life like before I ate veggies at every meal? What was life like before I saw the artistic representation in every thing around me? What was life like before I knew what true intercession looked like? What was life like before I followed all of Philadelphia’s sports teams like a lost puppy? What was life like before I sang the doxology every time I got nervous? What was life like before I knew the plotline to every major chick flick ever made?
Within the span of moments and one announcement, my stability went from that of a medieval fortress to a one-legged elephant. I was angry, hurt, confused, and distressed to the utmost high degree. All I could do was cry, and I didn’t want to talk to anybody. Thank God I have squadmates like Brenda who will comfort me even when I don’t say anything back, and teammates like Anthony, who knows when words will get in the way and just holds my hand through the subway.
In our final Lovefest as Proclaim i61, I gutted my heart like some of you probably gutted jack-o-lanterns mere days ago. Even through dripping emotions and heavy words, I knew I wasn’t getting anywhere.
So, after we were finished, I climbed on the roof of my hostel, overlooking the most breathtaking nighttime scene you could imagine. The breeze from the sea filled the cobblestone streets below and moonlight caught the silver of gulls wings as they encircled the domes of the oldest mosques in Europe.
Against the surrealism of the night, I did the last, and most difficult, thing I’ve ever not wanted to do.
I gave my team to God.
It took time, because I knew it had to be sincere. I knew, due to my emotional attachment curse, that it wouldn’t be a swift or easy process. Name by name, I lifted them up.
“God, I give you… Brandy.”
I felt like my heart broke with that one admission I thought I had given up a month ago. It probably took five minutes to get her name out alone. I felt worn out from that one uprooting.
Then, I realized I had five more to go. I’ve never ran a marathon before, but it felt like I had just finished one. Then, it felt like being stabbed with the trechery of running five more, back-to-back.
I buckled down, so emotionally drained and exhausted, but determined to fight this thing out to the finish line.
“God, I give you… Katie.”
“…Kendra…”
“…Anthony…”
“…Ashlee…”
“…Don…”
After I finished, I seriously felt like I had been in labor. It may sound oh-so-dramatic to you, but I swear, it was the hardest thing I’ve given to the Lord in a long time. If God delights in sacrifice, He must have been doing a jig over all that I gave up… Because it ripped. And it tore. And it hurt like smack.
As I descended the stairs, emotionally destroyed, ever-so-lucky Don got to be my human Kleenex for the next half an hour while I tried to cope with all that I had lain down, yet so desperately wanted to snatch back up and run away with. After Don was soaked and dissheveled, Anthony walked up the stairs and got the devestating sequel.
It was a hard night.
The next day, I tried desperately to retake what I had given to God, but God wasn’t letting me have it. So I pouted and cried some more.
At 2pm, after what seemed an eternity (In reality, it was about fifteen hours) our new teams were announced. And, just as the verse says, the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away.
God gave me back Katie. And Ashlee. And Kendra. And God also gave me back Don, but this time as my team leader.
And God took away Anthony.
And God gave me Ken.
There is so much that I am still processing, so much in which I am still taking joy, and so much in which I am still grieving.
I am grieving Brandy. As much as I love her new leadership position and know that she will influence 36 other people in her uplifting, God-honoring way, I grieve her. I miss opening my sleepy eyes to see her already glistening from her morning run, I miss hearing her chirpy midwestern accent at the beginning of every morning, and I miss her sharing her daily devotion with all of us. Right now, I am wearing the scarf that used to be hers, in the same way that she used to tie it. She just sent me a message, telling me she was sending me a hug… And I’m still grieving that I can’t get up from this computer, go in our room, and give her a real one.
And oh, I am grieving Anthony. As much as I know God is growing him in new ways with a new team, I miss him. I miss the way he makes my hand sting after an intense game of Egyptian Rat Screw, I miss his theological monologues that can be born at any time, in any place. for any reason. I miss the way he’d spontaneously bust out the Usher Slide just for me. I miss hearing about government-installed tracking devices in our passports. I miss getting random, unprovoked hugs and backrubs during the day. I miss the vein that pops out on his forehead when he laughs so hard he cries. I even think I miss the “N” word. I am grieving that I scored a point against Don in foosball today and he wasn’t here to see it.
And yet, in all of that, I am rejoicing over the new brother in my family.
I am rejoicing over Ken, and every day I grow more and more thankful to God for bringing him into my life. He has a deeper wisdom than I can fathom, and he sees aspects of people that most overlook or neglect. I love his humor, which turns every boring moment into something hilarious and fun, especially at times when our team needs it the most. I love how he’s been a leader in such a deep capacity for so many years, yet reassures and affirms Don as a leader in so many ways each day. I love how he enters our team, and in less than two days has encouraged me regarding a certain issue I didn’t even know bothered me, that my team hadn’t even ever addressed before. I love his raw and open heart before God, how he invites the spirit into every conversation and situation through his beautiful words and expressions. I love his voice, how he sings to God like he’s starving for a revelation, and how he gathers all of us with him for the journey to the throne.
I am rejoicing in the fact that my lean, talkative, street-dancing Italiano with a heart after God has been replaced with another lean, talkative, street-dancing Italiano with a heart after God. And I am rejoicing that daily, I find Ken’s roots growing deeper and deeper in my spirit, heart, and life.
And I am also rejoicing that I serve a God who cares about me. A God who knows what it’s like to feel pain, a God who knows what it’s like to be seperated from those He loves. I am rejoicing that my God knows how deeply I love, and in turn, how deeply I hurt, and honestly, truthfully cares. He knew I would grieve Brandy and Anthony, He knew it would be hard for me to give them up to Him. And yet, He patiently waits while I cry it out, give it up, snatch it back, and repeat.
My God loves me enough to give me Brandy and Anthony as family for the rest of my life. Even though we’re apart in physical seperation, we’ll never miss a beat in our hearts. I’ll always have them, that know me deeper and more personally than anyone, and love me regardless of where I am. I will always have their arms as a haven and their hearts as my home. I’ll always have their words to affirm me, their eyes to confirm me, and their love to guide me back to where I need to be.
And, additionally, I get to grow with Ken in the same way. I get to show him the same love and depths that I’ve showed everyone else. I get to sit in the shade of his life and learn from all his interactions, I get to laugh with him until some vital organ pops. I will get to share my stories with him, my hopes and fears, my pains and regrets, and I’ll dampen his shoulders over and over and over again throughout the year. I’ll make a fool of myself beside him, I’ll share in extreme hardships alongside him. I’ll open my life up as much as I did with my family before him, and he’ll become an irreplaceable part of my life. He’ll humbly and tenderly join in with the others in holding the pieces of my heart and putting them back together. Kenneth John Virzi will be my brother for the rest of my life.
As hard as losing Brandy and Anthony was, it brought me Ken, who I wouldn’t trade for anyone. He won’t replace anyone, neither will he be compared. As I see it, I have been given four unbelievable sisters and three precious brothers who will share my life for this season of discovery, and this lifetime of change.
