Sometimes I cry...

There's a certain spell that's cast sometimes when dancers step onto a stage.
When the music starts.
When the audience is quiet, completely still when seeing dancers onstage, something powerful is happening.
The reality of the vulnerability, the emotion, the depth of the soul that is so apparent in what is sometimes overlooked by the sequence of steps.
When I forget about lines, time, music and am enraptured by the fluidity of the piece before me, my soul reacts.

I am finally able to see the message, the story, the beauty of both the dancer and choreographer.
And often, that makes me cry.

This has happened twice today.
The knowledge of sending a loved one out to war, yet wanting to show them how deeply loved they are. The military being such a soft spot in my heart, I reacted to this.

And the search for salvation, the search for something, someone to save you, to hold onto... I couldn't hold back tears watching this piece.

So go, enjoy these two pieces. :)

More on my own dance journey later.

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.

unity.

i always think of unity as the final product.
the end of the journey of embracing our differences, similarities, becoming one.
 the final product, unity being unshakeable.

the reality was that black wednesday was a picture of unity. there were new faces (mainly, ours), and the topic was unity. seeing the faces of my brothers and sisters in a setting created for our african american brothers and sisters made me uncomfortable.
i didn't know what to say, to approach and introduce myself, to offer cheesecake... i just didn't know.

i got a couple looks from folks, either suspicious or wondering what i was doing there.
i'm not black. nope.

i was really proud of us though, i was proud that the community that i love and am a part of, was sharing out of our abundance. sharing cheesecake, our time... and doing so freely.
as time went on, it got a little difficult to stand and feel like an outsider. watching potential new friends grab name tags and cheesecake and head back to their comfort zone, back with friends they already know.

however, it was joy to see new friends engage with new faces, different skin tones... new everything.
it was joy to learn their names, offer cheesecake and love them the way we could at that particular moment.
joy.

joy because it reminded me of the promise of love and reconciliation. a promise i received on the other side of the country, where time seems to slow down and where i was able to see friends both new and old with new eyes.
recognizing that there is beauty in everyone i see.
everyone.

wednesday was good. :)
i learned that unity isn't the final product, that unity is worked for. it may seem unattainable, but we keep working toward it to foster and maintain a united community.
sure, it'll be uncomfortable, but having a community where you can be yourself amidst those that are different than you is well worth it, don't you think?

it's not about the numbers...

it's about the stories.

and the endless possibilities. :)

check it out.

Jesus you are truly amazing.