I Will Go

I hit that road and didn't look back. I told friends that I just needed prayer. I didn't need them checking up on me. I didn't want them asking how I was doing if I didn't even know how I was doing. I just needed the space.

I was gone from the bustle of my own life from the end of September to the beginning of November, and really didn't know when I'd be back to Orlando and I was okay with that.

One of my first or second weekends in town, I caught up with a friend of mine (that is essentially my little sister), and went to the beach. We drove down to a remote spot in our towns' infamous beach. Shorts on, sun hats, sun was out and warm but not overpowering, pulled out the music, and books and looked over the glassy flat ocean.

I was looking in the face of rest, and it welcomed me.

God's peaceful creation calming my very existence and telling me to rest. God has a way of speaking quietly and softly, and when it's quiet you never want to miss it. It's the softest sound in subtlety and rocks you to rest. I fell asleep and didn't even know it. The wind was soft and kept me cool. If I knew anything about Ernest Hemingway's life, I would describe it as that one moment on the beach. I woke up refreshed. I said that if I could remember that moment always and bottle it, I would always feel like that. And as I wrote that, I am back to that place where I was with God right there.

The coming weeks of me spending time with both parents was the best kind of heart healing and blessings. My dad was on leave from work since he had multiple check ups at the hospital in which I wanted to be with him when he went to those. I love getting to spend time with my dad, he can read me like a book, and I can always ask him questions that I'm not afraid to ask him in fear of his response. I always want his honest response, and both of my parents give me the most honest of responses and encouragement.
My dad set it up to where my mom and I got to get away because we were both feeling the same kind of way. Slightly spiritually deprived. Wanting for change, but placed in circumstances that warrant many exhausting emotions. We went away to an old army air force base in Panama City, and talked, cooked, laughed, cried. It was what we had both wanted. When your heart expands with joy, you can feel it. We both felt rested. Both of us had been feeling invisible, whether we put on our own cloak of invisibility or unwillingly had it tossed over us, we were feeling exhausted in friendships because we felt invisible. We had been present, but not sought out intentionally by those who had claimed to be friends.

It's amazing that when you listen to your parents and their situations, you realize that a lot of the time things don't change. Now, I don't know how it is for most people when they think their kids aren't listening, and think that they say something and it goes in one ear and out the other... Give your kids credit sometimes. We do see your feelings, we probably know you as much as your closest friends do in certain ways. When my parents hurt, it hurts me. I don't like seeing them get walked over, or used, or  under appreciated, or anything that could cause them to be hurt and suffer. So, when my mom and I had conversations, I am well aware that I will have a long road of dealing with the same type of things she's going through. Sometimes those petty things end when you get a little older (older people don't take offense when I say older, it just means wisdom to me, not the age number) and some times those petty things last because people can and still are inconsiderate beings when they want to be.


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