I guess I just don’t know where to really begin. I’m not sure where things have started and
where things have ended anymore. It’s
such a vague reality that I find myself living in that, sometimes, it’s too
hard to really let gravity pull me down to face what I’m really staring at. I’m
not in denial or anything else equally absurd; just numb to what I find around
me. I can’t even get words on a page
that express my feelings. I can’t even
release what I need to release because I can’t even find it within myself.
For once the wordsmith is stumped. 
And it’s yet another harsh reality for myself to face. The pages of my journal are riddled with
empty lines that are hungering for ink to quench their thirst, but my spirit
cannot satisfy what they crave. It longs
for the same thing. Every time I turn to
prayer I find myself mouthing words that I don’t even understand or can’t even
get enough air behind to loft out of my soul.
Music has turned itself into a silent static that plagues my ears. It’s hard to find enjoyment within it at this
stage. Expression is so scarce in the
place I find I’m standing, sitting, or lying prostrate hoping that more will
land itself on my spirit.
I hunger for words to express myself.
And yet I’m in another country that’s incredibly foreign to
me, faced with even more challenges than I thought I had when I began. I struggle with being so open because part of
me still cares what others think, but it’s too much work to try and hide what’s
really screaming from these bones that have been ravaged by too much effort,
effort that merely presents itself to cover up what’s really going on.
I finally had a break down today. It was the first time I’ve shed tears in
weeks, which is funny, because earlier this morning I prayed that I would find
the time and place to release what I knew needed to be released. I just didn’t expect it to be at such an
inopportune time for myself. But there
are three girls in my entire life that I wouldn’t have rather crumbled amidst –
and the Lord knew. He knew that I needed
them when I caved. And it felt like
shambles. I still feel like a teenager
for the tears I shed.
But I’m learning that what I did was more than needed. There was something about me earlier that was
released, that I wasn’t able to put my finger on before. Surprisingly, I still can’t place what it was
that allowed me to stand bare before these women that I call my sisters. I think it was a hunger that I knew they
would understand. I’ve never desired to
be more ‘real’ with anyone than these girls, with my team, with these few who I
consider family.
The year-long experience kind of catches you by
surprise. It was hard for me to imagine
that this year might provoke tears, tears that release the death that’s already
taken place in oneself, tears that shed the old skin that’s still in my system,
that’s been rotting away and plaguing the newness of my spirit. I had no idea that this year could be so
painfully glorious.
But it is.
