Train Tracks

"Riverside Station.  All aboard."

I was aboard, settled in my seat with a book, hoping I would reach the final chapter before reaching the train's final destination - LA Union Station.  After spending two nights in Redlands with my friend Jen, I was on my way back to LA.

My friend Marie had dropped me off at Riverside Station just after 5 - just in time to catch the train to downtown Los Angeles.  We had spent the afternoon together, catching up on over a year of life.  Marie is one of 5 California roommates I lived with in a near mansion home my final year in California, and I hadn't seen her since my extended visit the previous summer.

She and her sister attended a conference this past spring called Storyline - a conference I would love to go to, but can't, because it's complicated.  It's not overly complicated, but complicated enough for me to forego signing up for the February conference.  Still, I recommend this conference for anyone and everyone else.  Because the conference is about living out greater stories with our lives, and I think we all have the potential for more than what is currently in front of us.  But we have to awaken the more in order for it to come to life.  And this conference does just that. 

Click here to register: http://www.mystoryline.net/conferences/

I asked Marie if anything specific came out of the conference for her and she started telling me about how she's working towards starting up a microfinance company to help empower women in the developing world.  She wants to devote her efforts specifically towards helping women because women tend to apply their earnings towards their families' well being, while men in the developing world are more likely to squander their earnings.

I find it fascinating that women have had to take on the Genesis "curse" of both man and woman.

Not that I'm at all opposed to females earning an income; I'm a huge fan of it, actually.  It just seems in an ideal world, it should complement, or provide short term relief in times of economic hardship with job loss, rather than be the primary financial source for a family.

Then again, I know more than one happily married couple who have arranged life as such where the husband stays home with the kids, and the wife is bringing in the income.  But in those situations the men are actively staying on top of home life responsibilities.

And I write this as a single, woman in her "early" thirties - what do I know about the economics of marriage and family?  Except that when two people synergistically work together there is a more that cannot be obtained as a wandering, free floating agent.

Ah, the craving for more - it never goes away, does it?

Hurricane Sandy

Saturday evening, rather than heading out for another epic Hollyween party, I packed my bags and tweeted.

"off to penn station - booking it out of this city before hurricane sandy hits - see you soon LA!"

I had initially booked a flight for a Tuesday afternoon departure, but after my mother caught wind of Hurricane Sandy and she passed her concern onto me, I considered it might be a good idea to look into an ealier flight.

And so Friday evening, I called US airways,

(watching the weather on television has always been my mother's favorite...)

But when I boarded my plane Sunday morning I didn't consider my storage unit Chelsea, and the fact that it's underground....

Nor did I consider my car might be swept away from where I parked it in Queens. 

World Changer

"You are a WORLD CHANGER. And for you, world changing is not just a lofty idea, but rather it’s the reality of your life."

Who Are You?

Caught In Suspension

I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but I knew I needed to say something.  The unknown was getting to me; it had been since the 4th of July when I missed seeing him and the fireworks.

Instead of watching the display over the Hudson with him, I spent the evening out at the Hamptons.  Don't get me wrong; I enjoyed my time outside of the city with fun friends, but I also regretted not being with him that night.

I texted him, after a drink or two, and then fessed up to a friend, "I'm starting to make poor texting decisions."   She laughed, and we both set our cell phones aside to join the dance party in the living room.

I suspect my friend Thomas, pictured down below, may have also made a few poor texting decisions that night.  Either that, or he got a really high score playing some video game - perhaps Tetris.

After that evening I determined I would say something to him, before my departure back to Michigan.  But my determination was thwarted when I ran into him a couple of days later at a subway station.  He was out on some date with some other girl. 

With the "signs" not showing any favor, I left the city, leaving no hint in his mind that I might actually have feelings for him.  Besides, I argued, he and I were a horrible match on paper.  Feelings are feelings; I'd set them aside - like I have numerous times before.

But the communication, although minimal, continued over the summer.  And when he texted in August, "i miss you.  a lot."  I pondered more deeply the possibility, that maybe it would be worth it - to say something or, as the band Mae sings, "Say anything... I'm caught in suspension."

Yesterday we met up in a certain New York park.  He greeted me, "Hey there pretty lady... " reassuring me with his words, and a warm, welcoming embrace - it was time to risk my heart.

Some things in life are worth risking.
 

The Tour Part III

I slumped down against the back wall of the balcony, finally allowing a few tears to escape the captivity of my saddened eyes. 

I fumbled with my phone, rereading a text message my friend Steve had sent earlier in the evening - one that inquired if I would be joining him and a few others for a bite to eat following the service.  Steve asked again, in person, on my way into the church.  I told him I'd drop by for a bit, not going into detail about my departure from the city.

I sat for a few more moments, in the sacredness of my goodbye to a church I've grown to love.

As the chatter down below moved towards silence, I picked myself up off the ground, and moved towards the stairs, taking each step slowly, feeling the impact of my body against the wood boards.

My friend Ray East greeted me on the base step with a warm hug, and enthusiastic words to see me.  He continued on, going into how a former student of mine expressed to him how much she enjoyed meeting up with me recently.  As he spoke the tears well up once more, cluing him in.  I wasn't okay.

"Ray," I quivered as I spoke.  "I think I'm going to have to go back to Michigan.  I'm not well enough to stay in New York."

And then Ray, who is the most discerning, humble, and encouraging man I know, rested his hand on my shoulder and spoke over me, and prayed over me such a way, that finally made me believe...

I AM GOING TO BE OKAY.

I AM GOING TO GET THIS THROUGH THIS.

MY BODY AND SPIRIT WILL BE HEALED.

Ray believed for me.  Ray had faith for me.

He instilled in me the confidence I so desperately needed.

I WILL BE HEALED.

"Katrina," Ray explained, "I had migraines for 5 years, and thought I was going to have to go back to the Bahamas and have my mom take care of me the rest of my life." (His family is from the Bahamas, I internally noted - not quite the same as returning to the depressing winters of Michigan.)  But I'm healed, and I'm here in New York."  Ray went on to reassure me, I would be too. 

Someone was waiting to Ray's far right.  I apologized for holding up Ray on their way out.  I had taken only 2 or 3minutes of their time, but it was perhaps 2 or 3 of the most crucial minutes of my life.

As Nate and I walked over to join the others for dinner, my plans to "responsibly" step down from my leadership position along the way, shifted. 

Nate insisted, "You don't need to leave New York.  WE'LL figure this out.  WE'LL help you find places to stay until your housing situation gets worked out." 

I've never been so grateful for such stellar brothers of Christ.   Living life single is already hard enough, but to have quality men from my church step in for support and reassurance makes me an even greater fan of the local church. 

I'm not alone.  I'm part of a body - my local church body.  When I hurt, the healthy parts pull me up and into the life stream, so I too can get the oxygen I need.


Ray East

a former coworker/cubicle mate, author of The Life of Manny, professional life coach, elder at my church whose awesomeness was first mentioned to me by Scott Harrison a month before meeting him in person, who I still need to set up with my good friend Amanda from Portland

The Tour Part II

I carried my last load out to my car on W 87th Street with my decision made.  But it didn't feel like a decision; it was my default action.  Where else could I go?  I can't carry on as a vagabond and expect to get healthy.  Maslow insists, I need a home.

I crammed the remainder of my possessions into my trunk and as I did, the owner of nearby parked car requested a jump start.  I offered up my battery without any hesitation.  I was already plenty late to my Sunday night church service; another 15 minutes wasn't going to hurt.  Besides I wasn't going to hear the sermon; I was going to say a few fare wells and help my small group co-leader identify a replacement for me.

I drove South along the Hudson to W 22nd Street, determined I would hang with people from church for a bit, then start my drive back to Michigan, pausing in Pennsylvania to get some shut eye for the night.

I arrived in Chelsea shortly after the service finished.  As I crossed 8th Avenue, a couple of girls called out my name.  They were students I had worked with at The King's College.  They caught me off guard, and my interaction, to my regret, was minimal as we passed each other in the street.

At the church I found Nate, my small group co-leader and told him the news.  "Nate, I don't think I'm well enough to stay in New York."  I teared up as I spoke.  Nate was working the visitor's table, and couldn't leave his post.  I told him I'd find him later and entered the sanctuary, trying to find the guy who reached for my hand the previous Sunday.  But instead of finding him, I found another student I had worked with at TKC; I pulled myself together for some chit chat and then pulled upstairs to the balcony, away from the crowds. 

I couldn't keep face.