Falling in Love with Life Again

I'm listening to Neil Diamond as I write this. Why? Because he's amazing.

I've spent the past week getting away from it all, before the summer starts. As a youth program director, my summers are non-stop, and I knew I needed the time to catch my breath in order to make it through the next three months of my extremely cool life.

Over the course of the week, I took time to pray and seek direction. Too often, I think, we all lose sight of where we should be going, because where we are doesn't allow us the time to step back and view our lives from a distance. I've felt a strong pull in so many directions lately, and it's been nothing less than overwhelmingly emotional and confusing. I rediscovered myself this week.

I've been touched by so much anger lately. Anger at Christians who don't act like they should, mostly. Anger over homophobia. I read new things almost daily about people spreading their agendas of hatred and intolerance throughout the world. It makes me sick. I've felt like I needed to do more, but haven't know just exactly how to do it.

I remembered, this week, how outspoken I used to be, before I started working for the church in 2005. I was so much bolder, unwilling to be cowed by the hateful, frightened ignorance of people who obviously didn't know what they were talking about. I actually got my job at the church by facing down homophobia, not letting them get away with a bigoted decision that would only hurt the youth of our church.

So what happened? I let the church push me down. For fear of losing my job and my ability to be there, doing what I do for our teenagers, I stopped speaking out as fervently. I stopped announcing my presence in the world, so to speak. I stopped writing.

This week, I had a chance to see all of that for what it was. All I've really published since taking the youth director job at White Rock have been a book I'd already finished writing, one short story, and a whole slew of weird haikus. I see now that by letting myself be silenced at work, I simply went silent. My writing was always bold, delivering balls-out messages about my opinions, my faith, acceptance of others, and the power of diversity. The stories in my head in recent years were no different, but I couldn't put myself out there like I used to. I knew that if I did, I risked everything. I already have to tell parents, "Don't let your sons or daughters read my first two books. I was in a different place when I wrote them." Subconsciously, the whole idea of saving my job has been stifling me as an artist with something to say.

But that's not the only thing I've been carrying for the past five years. When I wrote my latest book, I was all excited to write the next four books in the series. The story is about the power of diversity, of course, but it's also about the power of friendship. Shortly after I finished the first book, I lost my closest friends.

I could never get back into the story like I had been. I lost the feel of it. I couldn't relate to the main characters anymore. Relationships are everything to me, and I put so much from my relationships into my writing. When my most powerful friendships broke, they took my heart with them. I struggled through a deep depression for most of those five years. I felt alone, unlovable. I wondered if I'd ever find the sorts of friendships I'd had again. Now that I'm thinking more clearly, I'd say that I hope not. Those friendships broke, because the people on the other end gave up on themselves, and left me to my own devices. One of them even left the state. How does one write a believable saga of friendship, when he no longer believes in it?

I'm still in contact with both of those old friends. I never see the one in California, but we talk sometimes, briefly, on the phone. Never do we venture anywhere near the closeness we once shared. The other friend, I've reconciled with. We talk on the phone and even get together on occasion. I'm learning about the new person she's become, now that she's confronted her inner demons and healed from the path she took before, and I'm enjoying it. Still, neither one of them is an every day friend anymore. They can't be. Life pulls us all along, and our individual paths tend to separate us from people, even if we do stay friends. It's no one's fault. If we stayed where we were when we were in our late teens and early twenties, we'd get stale, never grow. We'd die, at least as far as the parts of us with anything worth while to contribute to the world are concerned.

This week, I found myself again. I hadn't even realized that I wasn't broken anymore. The busyness of my schedule just hadn't allowed for enough self-analyzation. I realized who I needed to be from here on out. I need to be that bold writer again, with something to say. I need to be outspoken again, to refuse to be silenced. I also need to keep being the youth director. I need to keep doing what I can to guide and encourage our youth. These are both incredible gifts to me from God, these skills, my courage, my way with words. I must never again let one set of gifts snuff out another.

I realized that I've healed. I'm no longer heart broken. I may not have the kind of friends I used to, but I have love. I have devotion. I have people who believe in me and respect me. Friends, students, mentors, God. I'm whole again, in a way that I never thought I could be.

Near the end of the week, ideas began to flood my mind, the way they used to, when life itself and writing were my only outlets. I couldn't turn them off. To my surprise, the first slew of ideas were about that series I couldn't get back; about my metrognomes. I fell in love with the story again. I started taking notes, adding new ideas to the old, remembering little details I'd included in the first book that I'd forgotten, seeing how it would all tie together. I became passionate about this story, the way I was when I first started writing it. I wept over scenes, as I outlined them, feeling the emotions of the characters. I came back to life as a writer, and I knew that I could be the unfrightened, outspoken social activist, writing my books, sharing my ideas again, and I would be a better youth worker for it. I've always been outspoken about my feelings on social issues with my youth, but I haven't let them see me living what I feel. I haven't let them see me risking myself for truth and justice. So now I will write these books and stories I've been holding back. I won't fear the questions they may raise. I will speak out for their messages, and for myself, and for my youth group.

I knew I'd truly become that writer again last night, when a story, fully developed, popped into my head and wouldn't grant me any peace until I got up and started writing, so I did. I wrote pages and pages. This used to happen frequently, when I let my mind be open to whatever would come. It's a weird, creepy, demented story, like the ones I used to write...and I'm not afraid to write it.

I'm ready to embrace you again, World; The new me, who is the unapologetic culmination of all my gifts. My eyes are on you, and through my words and my actions, I will be a voice and an example that calls you out on your every injustice.

I've fallen back in love with life.