just another heart in need of rescue

We are delicate.

Hearts break for different reasons.

Sometimes just little pieces break loose.

Other times, big chunks.

Scotch tape and glue won't work.

Who will fill the emptiness?

We need each other.

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I'm going to be honest. This is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. I find each day to be a roller coaster of feeling fully present and fulfilled by the work I am doing, and other moments leave me with so much emptiness that I just don't understand what I am doing here. Why didn't I just make it easier on myself? Stay a little closer to home? But no, I had to come all the way out here, to a neighborhood that overwhelmingly does not speak my language or share my culture. But, that's nothing. The culture, the new community--all of that is something that excites me and challenges me in a good way. But there are some things that break me down and tear me apart. Some things leave me feeling paralyzed and stuck.

The things that I am talking about are things like the fact that one of my mom's best friends passed away this past Tuesday because she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. We've all heard stories about people passing away in terrible ways, but when it hits home? It's different. I felt completely helpless and numb. I can't think about the situation without feeling sick. I want to be home for my mom and to help the family. Immediately after I found out and talked to my mom, a woman named Ellie who works with me at Dolores Mission was there to catch me. She stayed with me, despite the fact that she had meetings to attend, and brought me down to the chapel to stay as long as I wanted. The next day I walked into my office and she had left yellow roses on my desk and a note. That afternoon, I had to attend an evaluation meeting about the summer program. Completely in Spanish. For the most part, I kept up, but my head was spinning from trying so hard to understand that my mind would drift off to other thoughts. My heart was breaking for my mom and for the Bisoulis family. 

After the meeting, I went home to my casamates. We ate dinner, and they knew I was upset so they took me to get frozen yogurt and they even watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants for me (Greg included! :) 

I fall, and I am carried. I fall again. But, always, I am lifted up.

Little victories. 

The sun took a while to show itself yesterday. Even in Los Angeles. I woke up early to make my commute to Beverly Hills where I had a doctor appointment. The clouds and fog blanketed the streets, matching my mood. Although I hate to admit it, I really have a hard time going to the doctor--especially away from home. My doctor in Chicago wants me to see a specialist here in LA every six weeks to keep up with my Crohn's. Well, that's great, except for the fact that I have a hard time facing the fact that I have this disease. I like to live my life thinking that I am perfectly healthy, but more recently I've been getting the carpet pulled from under me, and I am forced to look it right in the eye. I am afraid...I said it. I walked out of the office unable to breathe, thanking God that I was in the hospital in case I fainted right there in the hallway. I felt, and continue to feel, helpless. Fear paralyzes us. I don't exactly want to get into the details of the appointment or why I was so upset in this public blog. I spent the next half hour trying to calm down, talking to my parents on the phone, before I could safely drive back home. Later that night, I got to talk to my dear friend, Sean Lawlor, someone who I look up to in so many ways. Sean has got so many things right. He is the person I go to when I know we are going to have an amazing conversation that challenges me to be a better person, and at the same time leaves me feeling loved and at peace. Sean listened as I spewed out the events of the day and the prior month. It struck me when he told me he could tell how upset I was by the way I was speaking so quickly. I can't begin to explain how good it feels to talk to someone who knows me, knows how I work. He was right. And I slowed down.

We fall and we rise.

Change promotes growth. Discomfort is a symptom of growth. Growing pains are real. But, not all is dark. Light protrudes its way through. Walking into a room full of 2nd and 3rd graders who cannot wait to get their arms wrapped around you is an example of this light. Teaching little kids to dance and seeing their smiling faces is light. Having a silly conversation with an older man at the Food-4-Less and seeing how big of an impact that human contact had on his day is light. Getting funny notes quoting Old Greg from my wonderful roomie is light. Grocery shopping and talking about what we can do to live more simply and mindfully with my other roommate is light. 

Yes, I am hurting. But, I am okay. I am walking blindly. I am trusting God to bring me through. I know it's going to be tough, and it might get tougher from here. But, truly, the best is yet to come. I will walk forward with my heart wide open.