goodbye.

After feeling the sadness of missing the wedding of a dear friend in September, I began to realize what this time in Costa Rica has really been about…more then Spanish and Young Life and culture. This post has been in formation for the last couple of months and it seems only fitting that in my last two weeks here, it is finally ready to share. I hope you enjoy the rawness of heart shared here. 


It’s a weird feeling. The world going on without me. But one I have to accept. Because it is not my world anymore. Well, okay, it is my world and always will be my world – it is world I will always be a part of. It shaped me. Made me who I am. The world that holds my family, friends, loved ones. The world that holds my fun-loving childhood, my agonizing teen years, all four and half years of college and that awkward post-grad year that no one warns you about and is always the hardest. So many laughs, secrets, tears, memories – all held, bound to this world. This world that is now a part of me. For better or for worse. But it is no longer my reality.

My reality is this beautiful view of the mountains outside my window, this cup of coffee warming my hand and body, the sounds of Spanish floating up to my room from down the stairs. My reality is dirty buses and sometimes sketchy taxies, the constant feeling of fatigue from translating another language in my head, cat calls from strangers, relationships via Skype. What a strange feeling – that my now reality is not the world I once knew so well. It is no longer the comfortable, known place I cherished for so many years. And if I’m honest, I don’t really know that place anymore. Or at least, the girl who used to live there.

If I met her on the street now, I think I would be sad for her. For this girl who thought she knew exactly who she was but was really hiding - motivated by fear, unsure of herself, with layers and layers of protection so carefully placed to shield herself from the flaming arrows her precious world threw at her. But with these layers of protections, she was not really living. Sure, she was safe. It’s easy to be safe. But by living safely she grew more and more comfortable with the half living. The unfull life. She grew comfortable behind these fortified walls, sitting with the broken pieces of her soul scattered around her. Trying to make sense of them all. Safe and sound. Or so she thought.

The moment that girl stepped off the plane, she knew. She knew she would no longer be the same. Something deep within her was awakened once again. And a new reality was formed. And now, the longer I am here, the further I travel from this girl - this girl I used to be. And the more the layers are pulled back, the closer I become to this person I was created to be. Alive. Real. Able to feel. Unafraid. And so, while things carry on in my other world and it is sometimes sad to watch them go by, I am here. This is me. This is my reality. I would not change it for anything. I, in fact, could not change it.

This new life is like breath to me. With each deep breathe I take, healing happens. Sure, scars begin to form and do bruises ever really fade? But in the midst of the brokenness and pain and hurt and disappointment that are so easily hidden from the rest of the world, in the midst of layer after layer being pulled, stripped, removed, forced off - I am laid bare. But in this place, I am also made new. Because in the midst of it all, a new kind of joy is found. Because by allowing the heart to feel the hard, my heart is freed to truly feel the good. To feel and see and touch and hear and taste the beautiful graces of life that got lost in my mission of self protection.

This is a life worth living. And so I am learning to say good bye to this girl that I once was. Although a piece of her will always remain, she knows it is time for her to go. And I did and do and will grieve the loss of her and the comfort of who she was. But as I am laid bare and vulnerable before Christ, a new person is forming.

A real person.
An alive person.
A person who is no longer content with the life of counterfeit fulfillment.
A girl who is set free.