you figured it out

"so, you going to write about this?" he asked as we lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"what?" i replied.

"are you going to write about this tomorrow in your blog?" he asked again, smirking at my surprise.

he had figured out that he was the infamous 'you.' i wasn't prepared for that.

i tried to lie. "what are you talking about? i've never written about you."

he laughed. then he pointed out a specific entry from a few years ago that was most definitely about him. there wasn't much to decode. i had used too many details. i didn't think it mattered because i never thought he'd find my blog to read it.

"okay, i wrote about you one time. i promise i won't do it tomorrow."

he laughed again, submitting to my stubbornness whilst clearly recognizing that i was lying through my teeth.

a few months later, a friend of mine insinuated that he thought the 'you' was him. i couldn't help but think of that conversation with you and laugh. i really had only written about him once. if he had actually called me out like you did, i wouldn't have needed to lie.

well, darling, you aren't always the 'you'...but you've been him more than anyone else.

a bad memory leads to bad decisions

i've never had a good memory. my mind simply can't hold on to old conversations, stories, movies or experiences.

my teachers were often disappointed in my seeming lack of retention. my parents lament the fact that i remember only a few details from our early family vacations. my friends hate that i never can remember the tears i've cried over you.

this week, as i welcomed your attention once more, two friends somberly tried to remind me of a time when i wept in their laps over you. i didn't have the heart to tell them that i couldn't remember it. i am sure that it happened. i know well enough to trust their memories over my own.

i remember clearly what caused the tears, but not the crying itself. i can imagine where my heart went in the moment. i probably questioned my worth. i probably doubted my strength. i probably desperately attempted bargaining with God to sever the ties that bound my heart to you.

it's a vicious cycle, this blissful ignorance then inevitable remembrance. because i can't remember the pain from your last leaving, i all too easily fall into your web of charm and wit when you reemerge after lying dormant for months or years. worse yet, i crave it. i invite it. i encourage it.

on most occasions, at least one of us realizes that you plus me equals trouble and we pull away before anyone (me) gets hurt. but sometimes, sometimes i let myself get a little too comfortable. i watch my phone, waiting for your next text. once again, i become the girl i swore i'd never be.

you used to tell me that i deserved better than anything you could offer me. you were right. i always knew you were right. i still know it. and yet, i can't quit. you're like an addiction. 

a year in isolation

i just survived the loneliest, most isolating year of my life.

i moved back to the small town where i was raised, from which nearly everyone i know had escaped. my friends were scattered around the continent, but i was hopeful for somewhat of a normal social life because my oldest friends were only an hour's drive away.

so what if i was moving to the middle of nowhere? i'd see my friends in the city all of the time. at least monthly, right? well, half of them have kids now. so maybe once every three months or so?

that's not exactly what happened.

about a year before my move, an old friend and i had a falling out. she made it exceedingly clear that she wanted nothing to do with me and never wanted to share space with me again. when she's the social manager for the friend group and she doesn't like you anymore, i guess your invitations suddenly get lost in the mail.

i don't blame my friends for it. they wanted to remain neutral. no taking sides, they said. i get it. still, the only time i saw most of those friends was when i came to town and organized a meal together.

i was disappointed, but i understood their situation. if she's organizing the dinners and the new years eve parties and the fun girls nights, it would be frowned upon for one of my friends to invite me along. so instead, a best friend from new york visited for new years and i called other far away friends and i cherished the time i did get to spend with the couple of nearby friends who ensured to schedule one-on-one time with me away from the group.

and i rationalized, "if you want to see them, reach out to them. you can't be upset that they aren't inviting you if you don't do the same." so when the opportunity came for me to dogsit and live in the city for a month, i took full advantage. i reached out to everyone to make plans to see each other while i was in town. despite some promises to follow up, i saw a grand total of one friend during that month. (in full disclosure, i later found out that i had outdated phone numbers for a few folks and had been calling and texting the wrong numbers nearly all year. no wonder they were disappointingly silent.)

living in small town ohio was tough, but missing my nearby friends was worse. it was isolating and painful. my empathetic brain can certainly rationalize their behavior. honestly, i can't say whether or not i would have acted any differently had i been in their shoes. out of sight, out of mind didn't become a common saying for nothing.

eventually, i quit texting or calling. i'd go to the city to go shopping or to see my family and i wouldn't tell anyone i was in town. i immersed myself in my new business and spent a lot of time searching my own soul, which started out with self-loathing and pity:

• why do they hate me? (they didn't.)
• why don't they call me? (call them if you want to talk, you idiot.)
• why did they choose her over me? (they didn't.)

next i grappled with projection and blame. then i moved on to surface level stuff. until i finally got to the meat of it all:

• as i think back on my time back home last year, i wonder if my sadness had to do with a sort of regression back to my adolescent self. i don't ever want to be that melodramatic little girl again. i've worked a lot of years to grow into a healthier, more stable being.
• and these dear, old friends. i haven't been a regular part of their lives for a lot of years. why did i think it would suddenly change, simply because i was living a little closer than before?

friendships, just like any good relationship, must be nurtured. the real reasons for my isolation had nothing to do with anything my self-declared enemy had inflicted. it was the direct result of many years of me being checked out and self-secluded.

i'm a terrible long-distance friend. i do a lot better when you're right in front of me. i know that i need to do better, and i'm taking baby steps. for example, when two friends got engaged, i wrote a card and sent it in the mail instead of simply posting my congratulations to facebook. i'm really trying to make efforts to change my attitude and behavior.

i guess the point of all of this is: don't throw stones in glass houses. you'll end up with a lot of required clean up and no one to blame but yourself.

a poem

i loved you as i've loved none other.

others held my attention.
others held my body.
others held my heart.

you held them all at once.

those who stayed

my teenage goddaughter recently started watching one tree hill. i religiously followed the show back in the day, so this of course prompted me to watch from the beginning again.

over the past couple of months, i've seen multiple tree hill weddings. first, haley and nathan, married quietly with only family present; then again, surrounded by family and friends (and a lot of extras we were never introduced to). then, peyton and lucas, again surrounded by dear friends and loved ones. 

tonight, i watched brooke and julian's wedding and i got all of the feels. 

if you know one tree hill, then you probably remember that brooke is the cool-girl, cheerleader/fashion designer who thoughtfully struggles to find her match. while i've never really related to brooke's character, there is a lot about this episode that hit me hard tonight.

one tree hill begins in high school. we follow the characters as they navigate typical (and not-so-typical) high school drama, then we fast-forward to post-college life. at the first two weddings, the focus is on the bride and groom's high school friends. the show's writers create this world where high school friends in a small north carolina town grow so closely together that they remain friends forever. you can't help but root for these friends to truly make it last.

at this point in the show, though, nearly half of the actors who played main characters have left the show to star in other tv dramas and movies. by brooke and julian's wedding in season eight, half of the high school friends are gone and most of the main characters are new to the show in the last couple seasons--coworkers, teachers, friends-of-friends, etc. brooke's self-declared best friend doesn't even make it to her wedding, and julian ends up with an eight-year-old for his best man.

i had the privilege of spending time with one of my childhood best friends today. we took pete for a walk and enjoyed lunch at a local restaurant. as we watched the field mouse search for an exit from the porch where we sat and sipped our iced tea, we talked about everything and nothing at all. she asked me if i kept in touch with some of our other friends, and we marveled at how easy it is to slip away from the people you once loved. in a way, our lives aren't really that different from a television drama whose actors' contracts end and characters disappear from scripts. 

one tree hill got some slack for the loss of main characters after season six ended, but the show introduced quality new characters and continued for three more seasons before calling it quits. while the storylines went a little crazy in the later years, the characters themselves were good. almost immediately, you cared about them because they cared about the characters you had already loved for years. you were interested to see how those relationships developed. you wanted to see them succeed.

like brooke and julian's wedding, as adults we find ourselves surrounded not necessarily by the ones who were with us at the beginning but simply with the people who renegotiated and signed contracts. the ones who stayed. 

this has been a year for the books. at thirty-one, i became a cliche and moved back home into my parents' basement. i sold everything that didn't fit into my parent's minivan and my car. i quit my stable job without a plan for what would come next. i also spent wonderful quality time with my family, explored new creative outlets, became debt free and started my own business. 

i am so thankful for friends and family who have been by my side this year. the ones who stayed. the encouragement has been overwhelming at times, and so necessary. i feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by old and new friends who truly sustain me through the tough times and celebrate with me in victory. the random phone call, the texted prayer, the pinterest message joke, the instagram emoji or, yes, even the elusive mailed greeting card...they have fueled my fire. 

i am eternally grateful. thank you for staying.

resignation

in the days that followed the announcement of my departure from my previous employer, i received a lot of questions about why i was leaving. "why did you quit?" and "what will you do next?" and "are you okay?" and "how are you handling all of this?" top the list.

as i look around me, it seems like i am surrounded by people are resigning--from habits, from jobs, from relationships. they have given up and accepted the previously ignored necessity for radical change, the cold reality that their voices are not being heard, the desperate lie that tells them they are unlovable.

sometimes there's nothing left to do but give up, to take a phrase from the definition. sometimes the inevitable undesirable stalks us until we have nothing left to fight for. sometimes we have no fight left in us because we've fought as hard as we could and lost. sometimes we are simply tired of fighting.

folks, knowing the problem is the first step in identifying a solution.

that habit? it was unhealthy.
that job? it was unhealthy.
that relationship? it was unhealthy too.

so, we start in a place of resignation. it's natural to be sad. to mourn the loss of what was and the hope of what could have been. and mourning is a process that takes time. sometimes it takes a long time. let yourself feel it. truly feel the sadness and the loss.

but...one night, when you're ready...instead of focusing on the darkness, your eyes will wander up to notice the stars in the sky again.

please don't miss it. don't dismiss it.

you don't have to see the full galaxy, but don't miss the star twinkling out there to remind you that it's time to move past the resignation and start fighting for a new dream.

fight for a new way of living. one that is good and healthy for your body, mind and spirit.
fight for a new way of working. one that progresses your calling and promotes good in the world.
fight for a new way of loving. one that starts with loving yourself and extends to bring in someone worthy of your tremendous heart.

so, how am i, you ask? i feel a true sense of resignation. i have faith in the choice i made. i am at peace.

...and i'm listening to the One who made me and starting to find my fight again.

i wept.

like a tsunami, the feeling rushed over me leaving nothing but agony and confusion in its wake. the waves of fear and doubt pulled me down to the depths of hell, laughing as they pinned me to the ocean floor. they knew they could hold me there. they knew i wouldn't fight it.

i let the exhaustion sink in fully. i shrunk into myself and let go of the facade that had told everyone else i was holding it together. i could no longer believe the lie myself. 

and then... i wept.

Jesus did that (at least) once. Jesus wept. shortest verse in the bible, "Jesus wept."

many men and women much smarter than me have studied the theological significance of that sentence; but as i try to find the words to describe what happened tonight as i sat in my car, alone in the target parking lot...all i can come up with is a simple sentence. all the words in the english language can't paint the picture more accurately.

i wept.

and the waves that had threatened to bury me beneath the ocean floor poured out as tears flooding down my cheeks and neck, drenching my scarf as if i had danced outside in a rainstorm.

but my mascara didn't run. because instead of investing in my spirit these days, i purchase high-end products that will effectively protect the mask i still wear despite the growing evidence that it just isn't worth it anymore.

maybe it never was.

thankful

sometimes, when the world is swallowing you whole and you can't quite even make out the lines of your own hands in the darkness, you need a reminder that you're not alone.

sometimes you just need a best friend.

needless to say, it's been a pretty rough couple of weeks. just when i didn't think it could get any darker, another bomb would drop. i kept telling myself that it'd be fine, it would all be fine. except it wasn't.

i kept telling myself that i'd make it through, i would make it through somehow. except i wasn't.

i was standing still, feet planted in the sinking sand below me, foolishly believing that if i smiled just right and held it together just so that somehow the sand would turn to solid ground again.

today, as my head hit my hands and my tears hit the table, i had a friend who offered a listening heart, reassuring wisdom and even a bit of humor to keep me going.

esse quam videri, my friend.
so thankful for a friend who lets me reveal my true self and loves me through the tough stuff.
i simply wouldn't make it through this life without you.

A photo posted by Havaleh Havelka (@havaleh) on Aug 8, 2013 at 11:25am PDT

bliss list #2: baking

i love to bake. there's just something beautiful about taking raw ingredients and making something useful.

tonight i made cookies. not just any cookies--my great grandmother's chocolate chip cookie recipe. they are, by far, my favorite.

think about the ingredients...

• flour, salt and baking soda: essential, but no one wants to eat a spoonful alone.
• vanilla, sugar and brown sugar: sweet, but who wants to eat a spoonful of those either?
• eggs: eating them raw could kill you. seriously.
• butter: eating two sticks of that could probably kill you too. over time, at least.
• and then you have the semi-sweet chocolate chips: they certainly don't taste like a chocolate bar. they are far more bitter than sweet.

none of those ingredients alone would taste nearly as delicious as they do when combined to make great grandma's chocolate chip cookies.

i bake to be reminded that i'm not alone, thank God. i bake to remember that i am but one ingredient in the larger mixing bowl of life, and that thankfully i am mixed together with some pretty awesome people. and with them, i'm part of something delicious too.

bliss list #1: the symphony of a storm

i lie down and open up my newest library rental, meg wolitzer's "the interestings". i suppose page one is a good place to start. pete is curled up at my feet and mr. darcy is purring, cuddling my arm. i'm already relishing in the awesomeness of my life when it begins.

there is no warning, no build up, no intro, no climb. the rain simply begins pouring, thumping against the roof in forceful persistence.

the beat is steady. not necessarily fast; it's more than that. fuller. it's constant. not like a heartbeat. more like a line of a thousand little drummer boys, beating to the rhythm of their fears.

i love the sound of rain. it is a tangible reminder that dry grass can be green again, that what once appeared dead can be given life once more. tonight, it is my lullaby.

thirty-one

my birthday surprised me like fireflies littering the sky with bits of light on the first night of summer.

a few weeks ago i felt like august 5th was forever away. a few days ago, i felt like it was probably coming soon. the night of the 4th, nearing midnight, as my roommate ran through the front door exclaiming an enthusiastic "happy birthday!", i found myself surprised.

another year come and gone.

another year of desperately trying to get things right. of trying to treat people with kindness. of trying to show grace and receive mercy. of trying to become a better version of myself.

another year of sometimes failing miserably. of saying or doing the absolutely wrong thing. of losing my temper over stupid milk spills. of clinging to my stubbornness as if being 'right' meant anything at all.

another year of sometimes, just sometimes actually succeeding. of exploring new avenues. of learning new things. of allowing myself to love and be loved.

with my birthday coming as a surprise, there is no list this year. at least, there isn't a list today...

throughout the next year, i'll be creating my bliss list. the list will be comprised of things that bring me joy. because sometimes it's a good practice to silence the chaos for a moment, take a deep breath, and be reminded of all that is good and pure and wonderful in this world.

so, stay tuned, friends, for the bliss list awaits.

counting sheep

do you know what happens when your phone has to be rebooted and you lose your contacts?
you lose all the numbers of the people from your past.

you don't lose the people in your current life - they call and text and their numbers reappear.
you lose the people from your past.

funny how quickly they can be erased, as if they never existed.

i didn't have any hesitation when curtis at verizon told me that i may lose my contacts and photos. i told him to do it anyway. i must say, he was pretty shocked with my determination to move forward.

the downside? no late night phone calls with the ghosts from your past. so you just have to lie in bed, counting sheep, or whatever it is that normal people do.

why is it that the dark of night brings out the dark in us? like the midnight sky can somehow veil our poor decisions and desperate reaches for connection.

it can't.

...back to counting sheep.

troubleshooting

my phone has had issues for a while now. it won't call out when i try to then will randomly call people without being prompted. it's like it has mind of its own.

a few days ago, i had some time to kill so i stopped in a verizon store. curtis was a young associate and he tried his best to troubleshoot my problems.

after describing my frustrations, he took a look at the hardware and eventually made a call in for some additional help. he explained to me that he would need to reboot the phone and that there was no guarantee that my contacts or photos would be saved. i confirmed that it was fine, and to try everything he could to make it better.

while my phone rebooted, he told me that my phone was pretty old and tired and that it might just be best to say goodbye to it. he then tried to nonchalantly talk me into buying a new phone.

his speech started out with the question, "tell me about yourself." i gave him a skeptical glance and said, "well, i want a phone with a good camera and..." and he cut me off. "no," he said, "i didn't ask about the kind of phone you want. i want to know about you. what do you do? do you work? do you have hobbies? tell me about your life."

brilliant sales strategy, curtis.

so, i told him a little about my job and told him about the kinds of things i like to do with my friends. he used what i had told him to pick out three phones he thought would be a good fit for my lifestyle.

first, he tried selling me on the newest iphone. i've carried an android for so long though, that i just don't think i want to make the switch to the iphone. plus, it seems like everyone i know who has an iphone has trouble with it at some point. i mean, i've never had a screen crack on my droid... i'm not going to jump on the iphone bandwagon just so i can drop my phone and have to pay hundreds of dollars to get the screen replaced.

next, he showed off some huge phone that might has well be a tablet. seriously, it was huge. he boasted that the phone could run two different apps at once. apparently it has a stellar camera. i said it wouldn't matter because it couldn't fit in my pocket. the fact that he thought i would like this phone is simply laughable.

finally, he introduced me to a "mini" phone. i assume he picked this out based on my overt laughter over the gigantic size of the last phone he tried to sell me. by this point, i've stopped really listening and mostly i've given up on curtis' ability to help me. he tried to get really serious with me and said "look, i don't get anything from selling you a phone. i promise i'm not just trying to sell you something. i'm trying to help."

but i didn't want a new phone. i liked my phone. i didn't want what everyone else has. i didn't want anything more than i could handle. and i certainly didn't anything he had to guilt me into buying. i just wanted my phone to work the way it did three years ago when i bought it.

curtis fixed my phone, and it's working pretty well right now; but i know it's just a matter of time before it can't be bandaged and rebooted anymore. sooner or later, it's going to be time to trade it in for something new.

honestly, maybe it's time.

just because i'm comfortable, doesn't mean it's right. right?
and just because i've had it forever, doesn't mean that it's still working well for me. right?

maybe i should give curtis another try.
sure, there may be breaks and there may be laughable blunders.
most importantly, i need to stop trying to dictate what i think should happen, stop judging and stop talking long enough to truly listen.
who knows, maybe we'll find something work taking home.

persuasion

all week i had planned for my manicure date with cori. i wanted to try something different, so i searched a little online and found some pictures of what i wanted: a french manicure with light blue-green tips instead of white. i had a plan. my mind was made up.

well, i got the manicure yesterday. i arrived at the salon and carefully chose my color: the perfect shade of a bluer sea foam green. it was very light and somewhat transluscent. it was perfect. it would be a little bit fun without going over the edge.

for the first part of the manicure, everything went as planned. then, it came time to add the tips. the manicurist looked down at the first nail with the color and studied it a bit before asking if i liked it. clearly, she didn't like what i had picked out. she wanted me to be bolder and to use a brighter turqouise. i didn't put up a fight. i actually went ahead and just asked her to pick out a brighter color for me. 

i am too easily persuaded.

heck, i don't even give myself the chance to be persuaded. i see the persuasion coming and make a premptive strike, changing my own mind before someone else can change it for me.

my nails are nice and all. i don't necessarily regret going with the brighter, bolder color. i guess i just wish i had stuck with my original plan.

sometimes

sometimes, when it's late at night and i'm lying in bed worrying about what tomorrow will bring...i miss
you.

and sometimes, when i'm in a crowded room and my introversion is paralyzing me...i miss you.

and sometimes, when the movie score swells and the lovers reunite in a perfect kiss...i miss you.

and sometimes, when i overhear an amusing conversation and i desperately want someone to laugh about it with...i miss you.

and sometimes, when i awake to the sound of birds singing outside my window and i can't help but smile even before my eyes are opened...i miss you.

i guess what i'm trying to say is...i miss goodbye.

i'd start with "i'm sorry"

things i would tell you, if i could:

1) i'd start with "i'm sorry."

2) because i hate that i hurt you. i hate that we hurt each other.

3) because although i'm sure you've moved on and don't think about it anymore, i'd hate for one of us to be gone tomorrow and for hurt and anger or even complete indifference to have been the last feelings between us.

4) and i'd say it again: "i'm sorry."

5) and that it doesn't matter why it ended. it doesn't matter that i still feel like you don't understand me, just as i'm sure that you probably don't feel like i understood you either.

6) because at one time, we did understand each other.

7) because at one time, we never thought we would ever be the ones to harm the other.

8) because at one time, we only had smiles and laughter and the good kind of cries between us.

9) because at one time, simple apologies were enough.

10) then, i'd end with "i'm sorry." even then, knowing it wasn't enough.

empathy

with the polar vortex rearing its chilly head here lately, i've been sipping on a lot of warm beverages in the evenings.

each night, after dinner, i fill up the kettle and put it on the stove to simmer then go back to the couch to cuddle up under the warmth of a mom-original afghan with my furry family (a.k.a. pete and mr. darcy).

in the movies, the tea kettle sends a lovely high-pitched whistle into the room to gently announce that its ready to be mixed with whatever delicious flavors have been prepared in the decorative mug of choice.

in my house, its almost as if the water feels lied to by the movies as it gurgles like the groaning of a hungry stomach until it screams at the top of intensity with utmost assurance "GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!!"

tonight, as i rescued my hot water from its claustrophobic kettle and poured it into my favorite mug, marrying it with the havaleh-made hot cocoa mix inside, i couldn't help but whisper a defeated "me too..."

the best lecturer

storytelling was the original lecture. before pulpits and podiums, we earned our wisdom by listening to our elders around mealtimes and fires, through stories told in poetry, prose, song and dance.

it's no wonder that some of the best modern teachers are the ones who find creative ways to incorporate passionate storytelling into their style.

i took a class on storytelling in grad school, but my fascination with educational storytelling was sparked years before when i had a history professor who modeled for me the impact storytelling can have when intentionally woven into the fabric of education.

like most college freshmen, my schedule was heavy on general ed requirements. one of those courses was a history class with dr. mahoney. of all the classes in my schedule, history was the one i dreaded most.

i wasn't a history major. and i may have worked at a historical village through high school and college, but history has never been my thing. i think the only reason i thrived at the village was because i got to immerse myself in the history and live it. my job was more about acting and crafting than it was about history itself.

i struggled with history in high school. actually, i took all of my high school history classes in summer school format. i used the excuse that my art, choral and band classes took up too much of my schedule, but another reason was that i probably would have struggled in a year-long history course. summer seemed like an easier option.

so, history in college? not something i was looking forward to. funny, then, that one of the professors i have talked about most as an alumna is dr. mahoney. his lectures were delivered so brilliantly that it felt like you were sitting in a theatre, listening to the lively dialogue and watching the scenes unfold before your eyes. at the end of class, he would end not with a reminder of homework but with a "stay tuned" message and a preview of the next chapter of our story worthy of any prime time network television drama.

dr. mahoney was the best lecturer. he had you on the edge of your seat, wondering what happened next. he made the characters come off of the page with passion and heartbreak and stupidity and valor. he made history something to care about, something to ponder, something to listen to.

even at a small private college like wesleyan, i was never close to dr. mahoney. he probably wouldn't have recognized my name or face had we run into each other on campus. we didn't connect outside of the classroom, like he did with so many of my friends and sisters. still, he had an impact on my life. what a testimony to his dedication to teaching and his passion for connecting students with the stories of our past.

i was saddened to hear that this world has lost one of the greatest storytellers. in the wind tonight, you'll hear a distant whisper. you may think its mourning students grieving the loss of a beloved teacher, but if you listen closely you'll instead hear the telling of a story. you'll hear those of us who had the pleasure of learning from him sharing the story of a man who taught us the art of telling the stories worth sharing and inspiring us to live our own stories worth being told.

playing pretend

as a child, most of my playtime involved playing pretend.

when i played with legos, i wasn't just building structures - i was building the stage for my stories. when i played with american girl dolls and barbies, i wasn't dressing them up and fixing their hair - i was dressing them appropriately for the next scene of the play.

after all these years, i'm still playing pretend.
i think a lot of us do.

like when i let the near stranger hold my hand as we walk down the hall. or when i close my eyes as he kisses my forehead goodbye. just to have one small moment of intimacy with another being.

but it's a false intimacy.
we're playing pretend.

because to me, holding a hand means that i'm yours. it means that i'm not alone. that you're journeying beside me, facing what's around the next corner with me.

and a kiss on the forehead? that means that you know my insecurities and you love me anyway. it means that you know my struggle as well as my strength.

in purest form, these cannot truly be shared with strangers.

i can assume that some of you are thinking, "wow, havs - these are pretty innocent interactions and you're placing far too much weight on them."

maybe i am. maybe you and i are different. and that's okay. for me, though, holding a hand is more intimate than any other touch, kissing a forehead more intimate than any other embrace.

so when we play this age-old game of pretend, we fake the intimacy we desire. like if i let him hold my hand, maybe i can forget for a moment that this will be short-lived and i'll be on my own again in a few quick hours. 

i've come a long way since playing with dolls as a child,
but sometimes i wonder if i'll ever stop playing pretend.

30 beliefs for 30 years

at 26, the list was best memories.
at 27, favorite gifts.
at 28, my most influential mentors.
at 29, a list of 30 things i wanted to accomplish before i turned 30.

i'm still reporting on those 30 things, but it's time for this year's list: 30 things i believe.

1. i believe in the power of positivity.
2. i believe that the love from our pets may be the closest tangible example of God's love for us.
3. i believe that people can change lives, even if journeys only cross for a moment.
4. i believe in a Creator who delights in creation and in those who join in creating goodness in this world.
5. i believe in friendships that last a lifetime.
6. i believe that french kiss is still one of the best movies of all time.
7. i believe that we are meant to live in community with one another.
8. i believe in Jesus as the Christ who came to teach us the timeless message of truly serving others.
9. i believe in equality for all.
10. i believe that the world would be a better place if women were truly afforded the same opportunities as their male counterparts.
11. i believe that our wrinkles tell the stories of our lives.
12. i believe that we have become too anonymous, and that this is extremely dangerous.
13. i believe that the privileged have a responsibility to speak for those who cannot be heard.
14. i believe that we must do more than speak, if we ever want progress.
15. i believe that it takes a village to raise a child.
16. i believe in love that transcends all reason.
17. i believe that the only epic concerts are the ones where the artists tell their stories.
18. i believe that my mother makes the absolute best cheesecake in the world.
19. i believe in authenticity.
20. i believe that painting your walls a different color can change the essence of a room.
21. i believe that knowledge is power, but that power doesn't equal greatness.
22. i believe in soul mates, although they come in many different forms.
23. i believe that music transforms those who silence themselves long enough to listen.
24. i believe in family.
25. i believe that we are better than the mediocrity we've become accustomed to.
26. i believe that history repeats itself.
27. i believe in grace.
28. i believe that one day the church will figure it out.
29. i believe in you.
30. i believe in me.