In my shoes.

I love that the internet makes it possible to dream. Not only daydream, but the ability to step into someone’s shoes, and walk a mile in their worn soles. I love that with only a few clicks, I can live in Paris. I love that through pictures, I can be at a meeting in a pub in England, catching up with long lost friends. I love that the internet has changed our human experience that we might live our lives with a little more grace, a little more color, and a little more creativity.

Words are warm at my fingertips. They flow from my fingers like paint, giving me a medium by which I might paint you a picture.

Once upon a time, I visited New York. I was there helping a friend, however I was essentially alone- free to roam in the {not yet *my*} beautiful city. I’d only been once before, and that was for a measly 20 or something hours. This time, I had a week.
 Quite frequently I see large groups of people wandering around Canal street, and I feel depressed for them. Yes, they are in New York, but they are not IN New York. They are not experiencing New York like a breath, they are looking at New York like a movie.

The song “Eleanor Put Your Boots On” grabs on to what is my New York and turns it into an auditory film reel. Press play, and watch read.



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The screen is black, then there is light. There is dust on the first few blurry bits of film. The scene comes into focus, and you see a girl, riding on a train. She is reading a small paperback book, and warm yellow sunlight is streaming through windows of the subway car. The train rattles and shakes over it’s tracks, dipping though Brooklyn, finally coming to a rest at Mermaid Avenue. The sky is clear blue, and the wind is crisp. Water is near.

Old roller coasters sit in the lot nearby like dusty shells, praying for spring to arrive, and life to begin again. Nathan’s Hot Dogs is closed for the season, bright yellow paint threatening to peel



The girl walks on the boardwalk, and sits on a bench, looking at the blue water, feeling small.





                            fade to black.







The girl is walking down shady sidewalks, praying that the rose-colored buildings would be real, and not just a figment of this beautiful daydream.










The girl is on a boat, giving her hopes and dreams to one person, pinning everything to that one moment. Later she will laugh and roll her eyes, but at that moment, she is physically present and she is nowhere to be found.








 The girl is sitting in a park, a cool breeze swirling around the block, Though it is dark, lights are everywhere; though her metal table all but disappears in the night. She looks over to see a fountain, illuminated and glowing. It’s so happy and sad and etherial all at once, she is silent.  Mind and soul take a collective inhale.

She has yet to land.

Life In Abundance.

Click through to be transported over to my other blog, Graceland. :)

Have a happy Easter!

Canopies of hand drawn stars.

I sit in my storage unit, my life packed up in cardboard boxes. That verse about losing your life and finding Christ? I packed up my life... Does that count?

How is it that the orange and yellow glare of the plastic subway seats sometimes feels more like a home to me than my own skin?

There is something comforting and fully eternal about rusted, painted-over beams, reaching upwards to support this stone and brick cave, home to fiery silver trains. This fluorescent cavern, breathing with humans as they climb up dirty cement steps to the ebbing metropolis above.

These trains glide over stilted platforms which threaten to snap as the machines rush past.

Many nights I sit in the flickering glow of candles upon white walls, and listen to Elizabeth Gilbert spell the tales of her life letting go of the past and praying on rooftops with star studded midnight indigo skies.

It teaches me silence. It teaches me to have a conversation with God-to know Him as an intimate part of me, not as some kind of overbearing father who lives by rules and hates the earth. No. This God is quiet, like a friend, sitting in the room with me, there for me to lean against and cry with, like He is reading a magazine, letting me know that everything is going to be okay as long as I trust him.

I sleep that night, underneath my canopy of hand-drawn stars, and feel God's closeness as he hugs me and reminds me that His presence is my place of rest, like a long soak in a bathtub. Warm water, which smooths out the scaly patches of my soul.

If I filmed everything I saw, I would run out of storage to keep track of it all in a day. Everything around me is stunning and complex and it takes a journey to see it. The most I can hope for is to paint a word picture, and provide a soundtrack to help illustrate the scene.

 I sit on a train and look out the window at snow of the ground, and stone bridges rush past as we race underneath them. On my way back home, I see the lights of the city wink at me. We ride by train stations with intricate staircases and that signature golden bumpy part near the doorway... Public transportation's yellow brick road.

I live my life in the air. I'm learning to let go. I'm learning to hold on most tightly to things that I cannot touch... The presence of God, friendships with people I hold dear, words by writers that challenge and inspire me. Music that sweeps me off my feet and spins me into a new reality. The fragrance of a good cup of coffee. Sunlight streaming through train window onto my face.

These are experiences which feed my soul, these are things which are so much more eternal than bathtubs and laundry and things.

I'm going to be sticking around in New York a bit longer-planning to jump over to Australia on one visa, instead of two. This is partially because I am still working out finances, and partially because I'm not ready to let go yet... I'm still charmed by the old brick buildings and the electric energy which makes up New York. My relationship with my church and my pastors has only grown since I decided to stick around a bit longer... I choose to not see this as a coincidence.

I am here, I am learning, I am growing, and I am learning to let go of my insecurities, and hold on to the parts of my world which are truly eternal.

We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us! But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love. (1 Corinthians 13:12, 13 MSG)

Plans.

2012 for me was a year of incredible change. I launched into full-blown adulthood (as much as one can, really) and I moved around New York SIX TIMES. I also learned to listen. God is so good, so full of grace, that His words are like a beautiful song. Listening to God for me, meant opening myself up to plans that are not my own. I am learning to accept God's timing, because he loves me so dearly. His plans are always better than my own. I would sell myself short if I only went by what I thought was okay or appropriate.

My plan was a small college in Virginia. God's plan was a small college in the heart of Manhattan.
My plan was a career in publishing. God's plan is a life of serving, wherever that may lead; that I might help others know the fullness and plan for their lives, written by the creator of the universe.

When I think small, God thinks big. When I see impossible, God blows my mind. When I am scared, I cry to our Father who is kind and holds me, reassuring me that my future is great and extensive, and only beginning.

It is easy for me to take credit for God's work, and yet it is equally easy for me to take on the feeling of loss, blame or failure if something doesn't work out according to my idea. God has never failed me, though I, in my own decisions and my own small mindset have let myself down. Point is, I have pride in who I am supposed to be, somehow believing that I play a larger part in my life, than willing follower of the plan that God has for me.

Moving to Australia isn't a cheap trip. It's costly, and a little complicated, and yet I know that it is a part of my future. I cannot provide the excess for myself. I can, however, open myself up, and allow God to work. I have a Paypal button at the end of this post, and on the top corner of my blog. Anything you can do would be greatly appreciated. Have enough frequent flier miles for a one-way trip to Sydney? I'm your girl. And if you can't contribute financially, hug your family, and pray that I continue to grow in this journey.

Thank you all for your support and prayers thus far. I look forward to the future with you all.

Love,

Molly