Smoke Signals

That Friday night after watching "Smoke Signals" I cried. I cried a lot.
I cried more than I had all Spring quarter, I think.
The themes of the movie are: poverty, adventure and the loss of a father (death and emotional detachment). As soon as Todd spoke the themes, I was already groaning.
I knew God was going to do something in me that night.

As I watched the movie, I felt wounds being uncovered to be aired out and dressed again. Wounds that I had avoided for far too long.
The question by Victor in the movie, "Did my Dad ever talk about me?"
It floored me.

I've asked that question to myself so many times. I have wondered if Dad ever thought about me, wondered what I was up to. If he ever asked about me.
I wonder that still.
I wonder if he thinks of me, if he cares what's happened to me.

And then I started to cry.

I cried 'cause I am frustrated with myself that I still wonder.
That I still hope that he's thought of me now and again.
I still cry on occassion 'cause I wish he did.
I cry 'cause I wish I was further on the journey towards healing.
The part where I didn't need my Dad.
And if you're wondering if there's any resolution, the answer is not really.

I have a lot of feelings that feel as if they'll never go away, but I also hold onto the hope of two pieces of Scripture that have been given to me.

"You, my Daughter, are called to be free" (Galatians 5:13). I know that freedom is near, that the journey is meant to be one that I walk and sometimes run, but I always have my Papa right there with me.

"Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in him, for he shields her all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between his shoulders" (Deuteronomy 33:12). And I know that in the midst of the chaos and madness and frustration, I have a steady place to rest my head, to sleep in the arms of my Papa.

Canta.

Singing is my vulnerable spot. Probably because I enjoy it (a lot) yet don't feel like my voice holds a candle to the rest of the voices surrounding me.
So when my friend, E said it was finally time to perform this song ("Let That Be Enough" by Switchfoot) outside of his room, for more than five of our closest friends, I said yes. However, I didn't think that Senior Catalyst (InterVarsity's large group gathering put on by the Senior class every year) would be the biggest risk I ever did take in BCF.

That Thursday night was me putting myself out there (I felt the most vulnerable I've ever felt); knowing I wasn't the best singer in our class, that my voice would not be flawless, but deciding to sing anyway.

Singing because I have a story to tell.

A story of redemption- singing with the man that has challenged my mind and caused me to check the motives of my heart. Not to mention that he aggressively encouraged me (for about a year) to do this song. I could not have done it without him. I have learned to much of God's love through him, and learning what it means to live in the constant want of letting God's love be enough for me.
A story of grief- the first time I heard this song was five days after my stepfather passed away, liking this song, and having the melody and the line, "I'm a plane in the sunset with nowhere to land," stuck in my head for a long time after initially hearing it.
A story of healing-a year after, seeing the ways God has been doing a healing work in me. Shattering guilt, shame and reminding me that I am His. That his love is constant, no matter what I fail to do and no matter how I mess up.
My story- it has become a story of dependence on Jesus. Learning more and more what it means to follow him in the moments when I don't know what comes next, the moments when I'm tired, the moments when I think he doesn't know what he's doing.

My life and my story has become this song, and may that be enough.


Amen.