In every single moment.

I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize me. Those bags under squinted eyelids surely couldn't represent who I am these days. But then again, these days are early mornings, greeted by the sun shining through drawn blinds; these days are midday messages detailing hopes for healing; these days are late night texts laying out every worry still weighing down the mind behind those bag-laden eyes. Every word is a step closer to another new beginning, a fresh start I've been leaning into with even fresher dreams of restoration.

This story is not some throwaway tale of a secondary character in a three-part episode. Woven throughout the fabric of every scene are the details that point both forward and backward at moments of clarity and growth. Within the very letters that form words painting a picture of a character with potential will be found a truthful portrayal of a memorable redemption arc. For this story carries value, this story holds its weight against the stereotypical cookie cutter plot line. It is neither secondary nor predictable. This story wanders quietly through familiar paths and un-navigated terrain with the ease of a stray cat who needs no direction. There runs a thread of barely contained chaos along the seam of sanity in this story, one that, if pulled, could lead to the very uncovering of the character's true identity: a fully developed main character.

I found this draft today, which was text copied from an Instagram post I wrote a year and a half ago. When I wrote those words, I was in the thick of navigating the most challenging season of my life, most of my words cryptic or internalized. Trusting few and surrounding myself with poetic words as a barrier, I moved day to day as if there was a ticking time bomb strapped to my chest. 

Months passed and I learned which wires to sever safely; it was quiet conversations in an empty sanctuary and text messages sent at 2 a.m. and hours-long voice chats with friends I'd only met online...I made my way through with (a lot of) help from my dearest ones. Suddenly we found ourselves mutually isolated, regardless of our location, filled with anxiety about an invisible virus that reared its ugly heads and presented millions of stories of loss and grief and, not often enough, recovery. I bore no regrets about which wires had been cut; that metaphorical bomb never detonated and my heart began to steady again. But now I stood with an opportunity before me, one to reprioritize how I invested my time and my brain space. All the while, a pandemic raged on. And although the roar has become less deafening, it would be ignorant to say it has dissipated. 

So. My friends. I have been silent...here. That was intentional, as I, like so many others, have sought solace in quiet spaces to preserve and heal. I don't know whether I am back here or not, at least beyond at this moment, but I had some words today, on the marker of the first year of Sundays that we all began collectively holding our breath. It's a daily process of checking the tension in my shoulders, analyzing my brain space and my breathing, determining how much I have to give past the bare minimum of simple grace for myself and others. For we are aching, and we are exhausted, but there is light on the horizon these days and we're checking our clocks for that first minute of dawn.

Some of you may be more up to date on my life, whether through texting/messaging me, or following me in other spaces of the Internet where I feel more at home. I wanted to finally be more up front in this space, where I have been for the better part of 11 years, because I deserve that honesty. 

So here I am: serving with every part of me I can offer at ReNew, loving every second of it even when the headache has overpowered the happiness. Here I am: working at U-Haul during a global pandemic and recovering from the bitterest of winters, relieved to see spring approach as my body yells for more rest. Here I am: making art that I want and love and finally putting it in a community that both wants and loves it, too. Here I am: progressive, feminist, queer, passionate about Jesus and the marginalized. 

I said I had cut every wire...well I still needed to dispose of the bomb that rested on my chest, disabled or not. I have my people, I have my Jesus, I am at peace with the place I have chosen to set my feet.

If you take one thing from this...and I am confident you will take more than one...but if you would be willing to hear me as I ask that you receive this thought I've been carrying for a year now: keep looking for the light. Walk with your head up, eyes on the sky, don't be afraid to pull out your phone or your camera and collect moments of that light to share with others. Trust me, it changes everything. And when you think no one else will benefit from sharing those bright seconds of quiet breaths and glowing clouds...think again. 

I am a fully developed main character in my story. I'm choosing my community of other main characters...and each of you does the same in your own story. Will our stories overlap and create a richer plotline? God knows I hope so.