le 2 juin

Today is Melissa's birthday, and as she is all the way in France, (and because I forgot to send a card), I thought I would write a little birthday blog post in her honor. It's a conglomeration of things I love about her, and a few of the memories we've shared together. 

Melissa is hardworking. She gets up early, and after a cup of coffee and time spent in God's Word, she is busy and productive all day. I am always impressed with how efficient she is. She gets so much done.

She has helped me move into multiple apartments and when moving into this last one, she was the main "assembler" of my furniture--futon, bookcase, etc. And who do you think painted my shelves and table for me? Yep, Melissa. I don't know what I would have done without her. 

 

Erika helped, too.

Melissa is wise, and I often go to her with life's important questions, such as, "Which mattress should I buy?"

But seriously, knowing she is grounded in God's truth, I love having heart-to-heart's with her on the phone, Skype, Facetime, etc. What a blessing of an older sister! She is someone who I love to model my life after. Even when I was little, I copied every thing she did. Melissa loved it! 

Melissa is also super creative. She has helped me organize and decorate not just my apartment, but my classroom on multiple occasions.

She's hilarious and totally goofy. She wears hot pink plastic sunglasses because they were a great deal!

Not only is she funny, but she makes everyone around her laugh and have a good time.

It's a little hard to tell, perhaps, but my brother is dying laughing from something Melissa said or did.

Melissa makes you do crazy things as well.

Like pose as a statue in a French zoo...

 ...and do random one-legged push-ups on the side...

...and jump off of super high dives off the coast of St. Malo.

She is super intelligent and loves to play games. 

Melissa is also a huge encourager. She encourages me in my writing and is the first person to whom I send my new works. When I would go on runs, she would come meet me at the end, cheering me on to finish well.

She loves the country--and thinks she is country! 

She loves with her whole heart.

And personally, I think my sisters are simply stunning!

I was able to spend one summer with her in Rennes, which included picnics on the beach, lunch dates at cute cafés, and castle road trips.

Roadtrips with her are the best. We've been on several. She tolerates my overly enthusiastic (dramatic) appreciation for everything. Our favorite roadtrip pastime was choosing a book neither of us had read, and then my reading out loud to her while she drove. 

I got to spend Melissa's 29th birthday with her in Rennes, and today, I'm sorely wishing I could be back there with her again.

I love you, Ita. 

You're the best big sister a person could ask for.

Happy Birthday!

A Hidden Grief, A Silent Sorrow

Have you ever lost someone who was so close to you that you didn't know how to explain life without mentioning their name? Remember the tears? The twisted anguish--like two metal rods twisting around in your stomach squeezing so tight you weren't sure you would be able to catch a breath? Remember how suddenly alone you felt? 

Remember all this. 

Now, imagine that same person actually isn't dead, but alive. The only problem: you will never see that person again. At least you don't think you will. There is always the possibility, but never the certainty. The hard part is, you can't talk to anyone about this person because they just wouldn't get it. They would try. A few might come close. But unless they actually know the person they will never fully understand the hole they leave.

So, what do you do? 

You cry when no one is looking. You hang up pictures in your room. You talk less about the person in public, but your journals are filled with their name. Years pass. People remark how well you've healed. They don't know that one sight, one smell, or one triggered memory can cause the tears to come flooding back. It's a sorrow you can't explain. The wound is re-opened. The pain is deep. 

For me, a TCK, this grief is not caused by a person, but a place. 

when left alone with my thoughts on a cold winter's night...

The Furlough Year

It is,

a Paradox of Time: 

     at once both exceedingly long and much too

          short.

It is,

a Physical Irony:

     meant for rest and yet constantly

          on-the-go.

It is,

an Emotional Whirlwind:

     sorrowful goodbyes swirling into joy filled

          hellos.

It is,

a Returning Conundrum:

     where is home and do I belong

          there?

It is,

a Weighty Transition:

     pack. what?  settle. temporarily? explain. 

          how?

It is,

an Awkward Intermission:

     Lingering remnants of the past bleeding into unknowns of

          the future.

It is,

a Comical Relief:

     laughing over habits of the third world showing up

          in the first.

It is,

a Distinct Dichotomy:

     belonging here, belonging there, but never belonging

          anywhere.

It is,

an Unspeakable Loneliness:

     cannot be explained, cannot be seen,

          simply is.

It is,

a Well-Versed Speech:

     pictures that show four years of life and ministry,

          any questions?