Three months, three weeks in Los Angeles

"How come I end up where I started? How can I end up where I want?"-"15 Steps" Radiohead

Today, for the first time in a long while, I stopped and exhaled...As I sat on the patio of The Alcove in Los Feliz (my favorite coffeeshop, and best place to people watch), I reflected on my time here in L.A.--I am left with a growing, unexpected inward groaning for Colorado--for its beauty, the inhabitants, my "chosen" family...my community...but I know that I'm not done here yet.

 I feel as though I've accomplished so little, and then remember that I am NOT the one in control. And, as I look back, so many amazing things have occurred--I am not the same chick who started this journey, and I am so beyond grateful for that. I have to be reminded, always daily and sometimes even moment by moment, that I can NOT take the reins--that in doing so, I miss out on life-changing small moments...through laughter and joy, through tears and confusion. I have the tendency to wear the social "mask" while I retreat to that convoluted and neurotic world inside of my head. I feel alone and scared and defeated and disconnected at times, and have to force myself from that warm, but frighteningly dark cave.

I can only take baby steps to the sharp ledges that lay before me--to those small areas illuminated by my flashlight o' faith, and actively choose to trust that as I land, the light will grow beyond where I stand. At times, I trip and have no idea where I'm going--I throw the equivalent of a toddler's spiritual tantrum as I ask "why" on so many levels.  But ultimately, I'm okay. Because I KNOW that I stepped in obedience, and I continue to strive to do so. Because I've come so far from my grabby hands attempt at control, and my trembling with fear. Because regardless of who sprints out of my life, and who edges their way in--regardless of personal and professional triumphs and resounding failures...I am Loved. Completely. I am Walked Beside. Thus, I am beyond okay...I am great....Below is an essay that I wrote two weeks into my time here in So Cal--although perhaps a touch melodramatic, it encapsulates where I was, and truthfully, where I am now. I long for my "home" in Colorado, and I long for my eternal "HOME" as well. However, I am NO longer where I started, and await, breathless, for the twists and turns that lay ahead.

Again, thanks for reading- still not sure of where to go with this "self-aware" blog stuff-hope it helps someone, on some level.

TWO WEEKS IN LOS ANGELES

I walk along Hill Avenue, cloaked in safety in the midst of this clear night in Los Angeles. The Hillside Strangler and the Night Stalker both had victims here in Eagle Rock thirty some years ago, but tonight I feel awash in security and peace as I pass those departing the Eagle Rock Music Festival. I think…about nothing, really. And everything. Simultaneously. I can spy the city lights sparkling their beckoning in the distance-to the glorious and phenomenal, meaningless and empty promises that they offer, and they are eclipsed by the shadows of the Sierra Nevadas, whispering mystery and magnificence. I am amazed that coming from Colorado, I can find such beauty here…but I do.

The cacophony of jazz, punk, indie folk, and rap bands blend together down the hill at the 14^th Annual Eagle Rock Music Festival, and the enthusiasm of the various fans gives me a weird, surreal sense of community. Life happens here. LIFE happens here. Amid the grime and plasticity and the silent screams of the broken lives that weave between the streets of Eagle Rock, Silver Lake, West Hollywood, North Hollywood, Burbank, Santa Monica, etc. LIFE still sparks. And I hope.

I hope for the realization of dreams long ago dashed to the rocks. I hope for igniting my talents. I long for God to whisper through me Creatively-shining a light on His Grace as I open my arms and give of myself. Far from those I love, from familiarity, from surroundings that nourish me, I do not feel alone. I feel those in my heart as if they stand beside me. I feel excited. And I feel at peace.

As I explored the festival earlier, I almost tripped over a homeless man, passed out, and sprawled, spread eagle, on the cracked pavement pounded by countless Festival attendees. It made my heart hurt-to see his brokenness exposed like that. To gaze upon his greased hair…his leather and paper-like skin, and to watch others turn their heads in embarrassment and ignorance. In that moment, I feel so ashamed that my head grows soupy and blazing hot, because I too…walk away. Not only because I feel helpless to help this man, but in fear-fear that if I linger too long, others will discover that he is a reflection of me-that we are the same, really. Behind my fierce intelligence, amazing beauty and wit-yeah, I cannot even finish this sentence…

In reality, the difference, the ONLY difference, between he and I is that I scream and cry for help to the Only One who can truly help me and I receive answers, as he wordlessly screams and cries to the world and is met with a resounding silence. Any attempts to offer a hand of any sort will leave my own loneliness and inadequacy raw and exposed for all to see. And they will point and laugh and spit and mock. In a way, this man is braver than I could ever be…exposure is the only gift that he has left to give and he offers it willingly.

I think about him as I grow closer to my roof and bed (well, air mattress, but still)-realizing that without my Trust in God, I am only a step away from mirroring this man. And I wonder. I wonder aloud in crazy lady (“bonkers” crazy) fashion, “What the hell am I doing here? Will God really grow my talents and use me here? Was I really stepping in obedience by coming? Or will I mark this as the countless time I have failed? That the carpet of life is yanked out from under me and I am left, once again, to futilely grab at the broken pieces and mend them in some haphazard fashion?”

But, I know this time is different. I know that I am finally following a call I received eons ago. I know that my God has me. I know that like Joshua, the “mighty warrior” of the Old Testament, God has led me. God has shown Himself to me in so, so many different ways. He bear hugs me and pats me on the back to reassure me, but like Joshua, I need to be told countless times, “Do NOT be discouraged. Do NOT be dismayed.” And that “The Lord (my) God will be with me wherever I go”. I need to be told countless times a day, as in my own attempt to take the reins of my life, I forget that One much, much greater has them, and will never let go.

When I tread the looping slope of Hill Avenue three months from now, I pray that I am still wrapped in the embrace of Trust and Truth and Grace. I will still remain a mere step away from my browned and leathered hurting homeless friend, but I pray that I will look at the time elapsed and see that God has held my hand and guided me every step of the way.