Just standing

Saying goodbye is never easy. I won't say "sometimes" or mention "even when", because it plainly stings all around. There's not even a sting in the sense that you can disinfect the wound the goodbye leaves you with and put a band-aid on it, look at it and flippantly mention to yourself: "How silly".

Some goodbyes are deep. 

Some goodbyes leave a pain deeper than you can imagine because you were never prepared for it. 

Can anything prepare you for a goodbye? Someone should write a book about that, I'd like to read it. 

There's a temptation to look in the mirror and blame everything on myself. It's such a complete me thing to do. It's what I've always done. But in this particular goodbye, I don't find myself doing that because I know so well that I exhausted every effort and pushed towards every possibility with everything I had. This is a goodbye that wasn't my fault. This was a goodbye that was healthy for me, but terribly numbing and excruciating. Flat out lies. Straight up apathy. More tears than I'd like to mention, and more pain then reasonable. 

I'm done with lies. 

A good friend once described it to me as someone stabbing you with a pencil (roll with me here) and then taking out the pencil. They can say sorry and apologize, I can have mercy and forgiveness, but in the end the hole where the pencil punctured me will still be there. The only true remedy is time, something I completely detest. 

When you're hurting you don't want to see the better. You don't want to hear the better. You don't want to recognize the better. 

When you're lying on the ground in the parking lot with the car behind you and the small, grey rocks underneath you, crying and trying to fathom how much pain you can be in, you don't want the words "It's for the best" coming out of anyone's mouth. No. 

You want a hand on your shoulder. A hand of someone you trust. Someone you know has a genuine love for you and concern for your best interest and wants nothing more than for you to succeed. I find that person to be Jesus above all else. I knew He was right there, and it was hard for me to see through the pain in order to understand it but He was there. And as I laid there crying, the phone up to my ear and a purse underneath my head, rolled up in a ball trying to hold myself together, someone said over and over how much Jesus loved me and how I was beautiful to Him. That helped.

You want friends to gather around you. I have the best friends in the universe, I really do. I'm no longer this shut off person who can't communicate her feelings and get stuck up in the mess that is my innermost being. I can communicate now. I know my friends will back me up no matter what. 

I am beautiful. I am chosen by God to do things that I don't even understand. He has a plan for me. 

I'm in pain, but He has a plan. 

I don't understand, but He's right here with me. 

I'm confused, but He is my clarity. 

I'm exhausted, but He is rest. 

I'm emotional, but He is comfort. 

I overreact and that doesn't matter to Him. 

I let stress overwhelm me too often, but He cries for me to come to Him. Again.

I hurt. He knows. 

I know He knows.

Saying goodbye isn't easy, friends. Not at all. I'm just standing. 

"Why is it — the faster you attempt to heal from something painful, the more frequently it tends to haunt you? When will the ghosts under the stairs give up and go home? Why can’t I give them five bucks and the car keys and tell them to take the night off? If anyone knows the answer to these questions, please call me and we’ll discuss the whole thing over bowls of crunchy diamonds drenched in skim milk... Perhaps THIS, dear friends, is the hardest part of saying goodbye to someone; knowing you MUST move on even though every fiber of your being screams at you to obey your instincts to cling for dear life. Maybe that’s why the mountaineer must grit his teeth, dig in his claws and continue the climb, no matter the cost, no matter the odds, no matter the price. Every aching muscle screams at him to give up and go home but he MUST be strong, resilient, resolved and steadfast. It’s funny how the word 'integrity' means nothing until you stare Anguish in the face and tell her sister Agony to beat it...but of course, it goes without saying that my strength is not my own, for I’ve been given far more grace than I deserve. Despite such a daunting task, I rest assured because I know I am not climbing alone, and that’s a heartening thought." 

If anyone ever gets me a date with Adam Young, I will not decline. 

( Photos in this post are taken by my brother, Isaiah Beiser. FYI: www.isaiahbeiser.com )

Rest

"You're not going to leave me, You're not going to leave my side

You give me hope, give me grace

You give me life, guide my way

As this storm closes in 

You're the light that keeps me still.

You're not going to leave me, You're not going to leave my side"

<3

Memories

I am in an entirely whimsical mood today. I find great joy and appreciation in the way that words are read, sewed together, and ultimately perceived. There is such beauty in it, and to honor a master craftsman of the language that we speak today... I find it best to model my own work after such skill. Not in the sense that I might copy or pretend, but in the sense that the skill and art that has so carefully enraptured so many hearts and minds can continue to live on.

Will you go on a journey with me?

There will be adjectives, I must warn you. Beautifully crafted descriptions of far off places and distinguished thoughts about color and dreams.
I think that you should join me anyways. Adjectives are enrapturing, really.
There might be nonsense, because who really wants to live in reality? Of all places, really... is that where we are to end up? I find it much more time-consuming to create and display, to outlet my creativity through ways that ask us to even consider how we got there in the first place. What a goal.
But please, I'm rambling. Come on this journey with me.
Yes, I'm here. Yes, you may come. I offered you, didn't I?
Thank you.

Memories are tight-knit, woven together dreams placed off in a far, distant kingdom that holds raw emotion, fresh perception, and dead weight. What an odd place, really. To have so many things that could be both wonderful and terrible in the same kingdom. Welcome to Life. (But we're not constrained there right now, if I can remind you).
I find it the best to recall things that maybe I wish would have happened. Deep, hearty laughter. The kind that  you wish you could keep in a bottle with you so that when things around you are so tiresome and dreary you might pull it out and not only reminisce, but experience again. That would be quite the gift. Maybe smiles as well, because sometimes I don't feel like laughing and sometimes a smile can mean something that doesn't have to do with a joke or a flighty feeling.

Smiles. Wonderful things. A smile can make you feel rather important, especially if accompanied by a hug. To know your place is valuable and honored, to have the security in order that your life might be filled with such vivd, picturesque enthusiasm and you know absolutely nothing else. That's the life.

Remember when we looked down and saw the bright green grass under our bare, cold feet? The sun was shining brightly in the sky and I think I asked if it was ok that we were barefoot. You laughed, and I wished that I could bottle your laugh and keep it for later. For now. For moments like now, and for days like today. Oh, to have that laugh again and especially to have that laugh with the right momentum and feeling behind it, where everything completely matches up together and the only thing you think inside of your brain is "right".

Remember when I ran along the shore and the foamy, bubbly water tried to catch me? I dodged and ducked as the white sand flitted under my feet and the courageous heroine of honor and bravery came out to meet the headstrong world once more. What a dream. I slowly stopped as the frigid water rushed around my ankles and the sand began to give way underneath my skin. I lifted my head up to the sky and took the deepest, most fulfilling breath that ever could be taken by any human being who has the sense of freedom that can be experienced in moments such as these.
Oh, if these moments were real. If I could easily recant them like I am now.
Dread, why do you overtake me? Laziness, have I not yet had enough of you? I do have memories of my own, liar. Let me share them with you and also remind you that wild, fantastical fantasies are still perceived and obtainable. Watch me make them come true. Watch me dream. I dare you to make me stop.

Remember when I raced you on the pavement besides the park? I lifted my hands in victory as I realized you weren't running next to me. I happily turned around and let out a cry of victory as you laughed back and shook your head. You eventually caught up with me and encouraged me in my wild dream of victory and I felt like the world had no place for me to hide and I was champion. What triumph. What lifting of spirits. We would fantasize about vacations in the future and try to hold onto time for all that we had in order that we might control it. Foolishness. What frozen realization I have as I slowly understand that this bright memory has been hurtfully robbed from me. This must be why I don't enjoy reality quite as much as my imagination. Reality is quite real, and that can sting.
How about a memory that can be still looked upon with that smile and hearty laughter. I may exit out of my artful whimsiness as I try to accurately help you, the reader, perceive me in my memories. There are so many. I try to make them real in my head again sometimes.

Shopping with my sister and laughing until it hurts. Having the kind of conversations that you remember for days because you've exposed yourself into a world where someone can truly know you.

Capturing the moments that are meant to last longer than they do with photography.
Feeling the smooth sand underneath running shoes on the shores of Ocean Beach in San Francisco.
My father's laughter and sense of security. My mother's humor and kind heart.
My brother's absurdly accurate sense of style and opinion.
These are all good things, mind you.
My family that are not actually related to me. How I miss them so much. Moments with younger brothers where that intense laughter you wish you still had occurs on a regular basis. I want to take them with me where ever I go, across oceans and around mountains.
Can you all come with me?

These memories don't last forever, and sometimes the harsh push that is reality decides to creepily make it's way into your life and swiftly and ignorantly remind you that you are steadily not where you once where.
There must be a happy medium. Right?
I think the happy medium is that there will be new memories to be had. Will you come with me on that adventure? I'd much enjoy having you in my future, friends. Let's make memories.

a life is a life. precious in God's sight. honored and respected. 
i am a life. therefore I matter. therefore i deserve respect.