Day 353

You leave home, you move on

And you do the best you can

I got lost in this whole world

And forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feel it

This brokenness inside me might start healing

Out here it's like I'm someone else

I thought that maybe I could find myself

—The House that Built Me, Miranda Lambert

The leaves fell against the windshield of my car as I sat, quietly passing time.  The words of Miranda Lambert's song stung my heart.

For the first time since my visit to California in February, I do not hear God telling me to stay in Memphis, but neither do I hear Him telling me to go.

In February, I heard His will clearly.  He wanted me to stay, to finish learning, to grow stronger.

But now, now He's quiet.  He has offered no direction and His unresponse has made me begin to think maybe it's due time to move back to California.  Back to the place I vowed never to live again.  Back to the place that sucked away years of my life.  Back to the place whose memories hold so much pain.  Back to the city where my family still lives.

I told God I would die for my parents if that meant they would be with Him in Heaven.  I would give my life to see theirs spared.

But I fear what He is asking of me is far worse.  Dying to my desires, dying to my will, and moving back home to my parents is a fate far worse than merely dying in their place.

The lyrics of this song mean so much to me, holding thoughts much deeper than I might chance explaining.

A friend reminded me that God does not want us to grow comfortable.  This isn't our home.  Memphis isn't any more my home than Stockton is.  Heaven is where I'm bound, and then, and only then, I can rest, comfortable, in the palace of my Father.  But until then, not growing comfortable is the best weapon of defense.  Discomfort allows for flexibility whereas comfort is all too dangerous a seductress, bending us to remain in her coils of coziness.

My lease ends next September, giving me a little less than a year to spend my days in prayer over the matter, trying to discern God's voice above my own.  Should I leave and move back to Stockton, my parents would surely never leave, which means I would also stay.  Another friend, who is very wise, reminded me that we spend and invest much into Biblical leaders here in Memphis.  But what is to be done when we raise up these leaders only for them to remain here?  We should spread ourselves throughout the world, taking what we've learned and sharing it with unreached cities, investing in the uninvested.  So what good is it that I stay in a place where there are many leaders when my city is dying, overrun with sin and crime?

Should I stay, eventually my parents will move here to be with me, which means they will leave a city where nothing but death resides.  I would continue to grow with the church I have grown to love.  But mostly my family would be safe and we would be together.  But we also short Stockton of one less stable family, a city already aching from moral deprivation, thereby adding to its inevitable demise.

What to do?  My heart is torn and I can't hear God's voice clearly.  All I hear is my own, whispering fears, concerns, and meek hopes.

This, while seemingly unconnected to the One Year Challenge, is very much a part of it.  Unsure of where to root my feet leaves me wondering at the appeal of stepping into a relationship.  For what is to be served should I fall in love with a man here if my calling is in Stockton, California?  What should happen to our hearts then; should he leave his own family to attend to mine?  Yet another complication added to the puzzle of life, leaving me to figure out what serves God best and how I have matured, as the decisions I make infer what fruit has taken seed in a life claimed to be devoted to God.

Then I think life and love are not so much these decisions, but our reactions to them, being a telltale sign of our ability to follow God.  Falling in love here matters not so much as love vested in Christ would be sure to have God's will working in its way. 

I know God's will prevaileth over all.  As Jonah resisted Ninevah, he still ended up there.  No matter how much he tried to not go, there he was.  And I'm sure my fate is the same.  Wherever Jesus wants me, that's where I'll be, qualms, questions, reservations, and all.  At least I know He will be with me wherever I sojourn, even in the deepest pit.

Day 351

It's good to see them smile.

For the first time ever, I Skyped with my parents.

I miss them so much.  It’s incredible.

Dad asked, “So how many days left in your year?”

“Sixteen.”

There was a pause, and then he asked, “…you got anyone in mind?”

Turned my head, and thought.  “No, no one in mind…but, after all this, he’s going to have to be pretty amazing.”

Mom chimed in, “That’s too bad ‘cause I married the last amazing one...Dad's one of a kind.”

#sweetestthingiveheardhersay

Then she said, “Maybe you should start easy.  Don’t worry about commitment.  Just be friends first.  Go younger…”

Dad laughed, “Naomi, she doesn't want a boy who thinks he can, she wants a man who knows he can…”

“Are you quoting Spice Girls?” Mom asked.

Dad just laughed.

I love my parents.

God is amazing.  He has brought us to this amazing point where I don’t think I could love them any more than I already do.  He’s opened doors I thought were long closed, locked.  But here we are.

I’m living my life, my parents are supportive, and can even joke about parts of it.  They’re proud of me, even though I never turned out to be better.  To make more money.  To be smarter.  They’re proud of the me that I am.

I miss them so much, and wonder how much longer of my life will be spent in Memphis…

Day 70

“Mommy, I got it this time!”

I tried to hand her my little scrap of paper, scribbled on it my hopes of retrieving my father.  At that young age, I knew a license plate was traceable, but I didn’t understand how it wouldn’t help me here.

My mother looked at me with sad eyes, hugged me, and walked away.  My scrap—my effort, and my only hope—fell to the ground.

The memories I have of my childhood are scattered on a scale between sadness and anger, happy moments flittering few and far in between on the painful spectrum.

My brother and I ended many of our nights listening to the shouts, screams and wails of our parents.  Peace only came when my father would peel out of the driveway and disappear down the midnight street in a haze of grief and anger.

Sometimes he’d only be gone an hour, but other times he could have been gone as long as a day.  I remember lying in bed, painfully waiting for the sound of a car passing on the street.  Each time he left, I wondered if he would ever come back.  Eventually he would, but his return only left me wondering when he would leave again.

This question has carried itself over beyond the pains of my family, translating into every relationship.  That piece of my subdued heart always wondering, “When will he leave?”

One response [to abandonment] is an inordinate sense of attachment to anybody who’s breathing, who will tell me that I’m okay and will include me and connect to me.  And you can see people roaming around, they got their antenna up and they walk up and it’s like, ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ but really what they want to say is, “Do you think I’m okay? Do you value me?  Will you accept me?’  And you feel it, and, if you do say, ‘Yes, I value you and accept you, it is like a whoop-whamo-joined-together, and all of a sudden it’s like every moment, every day they’re calling, they’re e-mailing, they’re not going anywhere, and they are joined at the hip to you and you’re like, ‘What happened to you?  I was just trying to be nice to you and it’s like, whoa, we’re inseparable now, what’s the deal with that?’ And inside for them it’s an issue of being abandoned and searching out through their life, ‘Somebody say to me that you’re going to stick with me!’”—Louie Giglio, Passion City Church

This is exactly who I was, and when ‘he’ didn’t stick with me—when he left, the pangs of abandonment in my heart would be reinforced.  And so every relationship I tried a little bit more, a little bit more, a little bit more because I thought if I was just enough, he wouldn’t leave.

There’s a reason none of my relationships have worked.  It’s because my goal hasn’t been God’s goal.  Andy Stanley of North Point Community Church says this:

You need to address your unresolved childhood issues...if you attempt to build intimacy with a person before you've done the hard work of becoming a whole and healthy person, every relationship will be an attempt to complete the hole in your heart...all of your relationships will feel like they have a hole in them. 

Do you know how much pressure that is on a man to fill that hole in my heart?  Do you know how pressure that is on me to keep him there?  I’ve been trying to fill a hole that can’t be filled by anything in this world.

Andy gave us this diagram to show us just how much a troubled parental past sabotages romantic relationships:

“If you have any leftover angst with momma and daddy,

your spouse catches it.” Andy Stanley

“Don't drag unnecessary angst into future relationships, deal with it now,” he says.

This is the next step on my ladder.  I am going to deal with the past so that in my future I can fully love the man who God sends to me.  I want us to have fights about toothpastes and toiletpaper, not past hurts that have nothing to do with him.

Now’s the time, God.  And with 296 days to go, I have plenty of it.