Sliding in the Rain...

I found myself in a crowd of people, raindrops on my face, Kirk Franklin and a full Gospel choir singing in the background. It took me a minute to fall into step with the people all around me, and every now and then I was nudged in the right direction by a man beside me. But soon we were all in sync, laughing and singing as the heavens above us broke open with flashes of lightning and peals of thunder. I saw beside me a few girls I had just met that day, earlier in church, from Arkansas. I had just had Thai potstickers and a strawberry smoothie. I felt completely at ease and happy in a crowd of predominantly African American men and women dancing and singing around me, and grateful that I could share in such a meaningful moment with these worshipping people. Even as Kirk Franklin stopped singing, the crowd continued, women singing one part, with the men echoing. It was utterly beautiful. Those moments of worship with a crowd of thousands dancing and singing their hearts out, laughing and crying out a heartfelt 'Amen!' will not be soon forgotten. I hope to never forget what it feels like to do the electric slide in the rain with good friends and a crowd of brothers and sisters of all different colors.

Simply

"I want to be free, free to dance and free to sing. Free to live and love and free to be me."

I do not want to think that this season is a season of my life going to waste. I don't want to think that the tears that I am shedding for him are tears wasted. I don't want to think of the nights without sleep as senseless and foolish. I can't help that when I dream this is what I see:

I stare at him for a moment dumbfounded. I see a smile on his face that is not a smile that the real Andrew Michael Smith would have on his lips. It is a cruel smile, a plotting smile. Suddenly I find words again, and my voice is at a full shout. "How could you do this to us? Why would you ruin everything? Why would you throw it away?" I am hysterical. I want to grab him and shake him, shake that smirk off of his face. Instead he calmly allows the police to lead him away- for good. I cannot bear the thought of it. This was my fiancee, the one who I loved more than anyone else.

I wake up, in anguish from the reality of the pain I felt in my dream. In reality, its not Andrew throwing away the future. Its me.
I couldn't sleep last night. He is coming home tomorrow and all that I can think about is how good it will feel to hold him again. I can't hold him, though. He is no longer mine to hold. I think of all the moments we've shared together. I can feel the pain of the harder moments, our struggles that we shared together, or supported one another through. I remember moments of joy, of laughter. I remember sitting out on a dock almost three years ago...

I sat on the dock, looking into the water, kicking my feet back and forth. I couldn't believe this was happening. The boy next to me was almost painfully quiet. This is what I had hoped for all summer. I turned shyly to him and waited for him to speak. It was perhaps the most awkward silence I had ever endured, but I didn't mind waiting, because I knew once we started the conversation, it would be good. I remembered all the times over the summer I had tried to catch his eye, being ridiculously loud and obnoxious during swim time. Kat and Sasha would mention me to him, without any interest on his part. Now he was sitting beside me, telling me he liked me. I remember, as swim time ended and I jumped into the water to swim back, I was incredibly excited but apprehensive. I didn't have a boyfriend yet, but I finally had the assurance that he was interested in pursuing a relationship.

Now I sit here, alone in my dorm room, contemplating what ending this relationship was going to look like, feel like. And there is only one word that comes to mind:
Hell.

I don't want to spend my summer moping, or constantly torn up over the loss of this love, but I can't escape the feelings. I have invited tragedy to my door, and I can't turn it away now. I have to face the decision I made and still try to enjoy life even as I tear it apart. I must learn and find peace in the fact that God still loves me. He made me with complexity, and it is my complexity that calls me to make decisions like this. I can only hope that I am making my Savior proud, and not continuing to mess things up. I feel like nothing that I do is right, that there is no good that will come from this, but I am comforted that despite all this, He loves me for me. He created me to be Sanyelle. Simply, Sanyelle. Hopefully, I can grow and learn from this, and continue to be me, pursuing holiness and maturity, honoring Andrew in whatever way I can through this. Perhaps he will grow as well. I can only pray...

Intense Moments for a Moody Student...

The loud crunch of one car smashing into another set my heart racing in my chest. I couldn't see past the side of the bus stop, but I instinctively jumped backwards. The car right in front of us sped away, through the intersection, with a large dark SUV on its tail. The SUV pulled alongside the car. The window was down, and a hand holding a gun emerged.

I sat on a rooftop with three of my friends, enjoying a removed view of the city. It was a clear night and the skyline shone beauitfully. The moon glowed above us intensely, and the Big Dipper twinkled dimly above my head. I enjoyed the various conversations of my friends, the guitar playing and singing Ruth provided. It was chilly, but not too cold. It felt so good to be in the open, up on a roof, four stories above the streets below. The skyscrapers stood magnificently in the distance, and a random firework sparkled on the opposite horizon. I loved standing up there, my arms spread, enjoying freedom from the imposing buildings and having nothing between me and the sky.
We left late. Later than we planned. By the time we reached the bus stop not far from Rachel's apartment is was 12:45. There were people out and about, and I didn't feel particularly unsafe. There was a cozy bar on the corner, windows and doors open, showing people within enjoying drinks and good company. Ruth called the CTA- 20 minutes before our bus would come. I suggested we start walking, in hopes of finding a place to eat along the way. Chuck protested, saying it was safer to stay where we were. Ruth, Rebekah and myself decided walking would be better, so we set off. We came upon a Burger King a few blocks down and Ruth and I decided to run in and grab something to eat. Unfortunately, only the drive thru is open all night. So, driven by our hunger, we decided to go through the drive thru. We stood at the intercom with no luck. I thought perhaps we could just walk up to the window. There were three cars ahead of us, so we decided to return to where Rebekah and Chuck were waiting at the intersection.
We crossed back over to the bus stop and decided to wait there. Chuck suddenly suggested that we step back closer to the building behind us. I was momentarily confused until he pointed out that a car that had just passed seemed to notice us and had specifically turned around to approach us. At this point I began to get a little nervous. The car pulled up and two men asked how to get to club Excalibur. Ruth and I decided to go ahead and give them directions from where we stood a safe distance back on the sidewalk. Just as we finished explaining, I heard the smash of another car hitting the one right in front of us. I couldn't see the other car at first, but the guys asking directions wasted no time trying to get away. As they accelerated through the intersection, the SUV came alongside them. The passenger in the SUV pulled out a gun and leaned out the window.
I felt sick with terror and turned. I did not want to witness this. I didn't want to give the gunman any reason to turn the car around and come get the four of us, witnesses to the hit and run and now for some act of violence. As the first car got away, the SUV turned around. I thought to myself a lot of things that can't be repeated here, but I also took the moment to let God know I would prefer not to be shot down outside of Burger King on Chicago Avenue. We began to turn and walk quickly the other way, my heart racing and my body trembling. The SUV didn't pass us again, and we decided to stay at a bus stop about a block away from the one we had just been at.
I must admit, I was terrified, and I have never been so scared before. I have never been so close to a gun in the hands of someone who meant it for ill, or at least been aware of such. I have never felt the need to bolt like I did in that moment, to get away from these two cars and the feud that was escalating between them. It took a few minutes for my shaking to stop, for my heart rate to slow, for me to feel secure and not worried about a gunman in a dark SUV.

Where Do I Begin... The Art of Giving Myself Over.

I sit on the El with my backpack between my feet, leaving the seat next to me empty. I leave my ipod at a moderately low volume in order to be able to hear the automated voice announcing the stops. A woman sits down beside me, so close that our shoulders brush. I continue to stare out the window with my headphones in my ears. She pulls out a book. The walls are up. I look out the window at the platform and see countless businessmen and women on their blackberries, with bluetooth devices in their ears or headphones connected to their ipods. Walls. Everywhere. Those without a phone to their ear or an earbud in hold books. There are millions of us in the city. Some are lonely, some are socialites. Some of us just can't bear to be exposed as disconnected, whether our connection is to a friend on the other line, the author of our book, or the voice singing sweetly in our ears. What would happen if we actually had to face the people rubbing shoulders with us? The woman sitting close beside me, the person jostling against me as we lurch around a corner?
I wonder what life would look like if we weren't surrounded by our walls of ipods, books, newspapers, and blackberries. I wonder what life would look like if looked the stranger across from me in the eye instead of staring at a blank cell phone screen.
He doesn't have a wall as he steps on to the El. He holds a can of diet Sierra Mist in his hand. I glance up at him as he steps through the door and sits across from me in a single seat. He places his backpack between his feet. This young man makes quick work of the can of soda and sits it on the ledge beside him. I silently disapprove. Perhaps he'll throw it away when he leaves. I continue to watch him (its hard not to as he is sitting three feet across from me, and its him or the rear end of the man standing close beside me). He looks up to catch me looking at him. We hold eye contact for a split second and I look away. He pulls out a phone and connects some headphones. I watch as he drops the phone down the front of his shirt and then pulls it down and into his jacket pocket. He then pulls out a journal. I am officially intrigued. I too like to write while I'm on the El. I silently approve. He soon gives me no reason to be ashamed of my people watching. The young man begins to crane his neck to see around the people standing around him. Focusing more towards the ground, he seems to be searching for something, looking left and right with such intensity I have to restrain following his eyes where they roam. He does this for a few moments and then quickly jots something down in his planner. I can't imagine what he could possibly be writing and searching for in the crowded El. I continue to stare, probably in a rather rude manner, as this man searches and scribbles. I wish I could ask him what it is he is writing. If he himself is a writer. He looks down at the ground between our feet. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny. I hate for people to look at my feet. I uncross and cross my legs while watching him jot something down in his planner, silently hoping he is not making note of my feet... I prepare for my stop and stand, taking one last long look at this curious gentleman and his inquisitive gaze.
I ended up in Lavazza, sipping an Italian-esque chocolate milkshake, talking to Ruth as she bustles around behind the counter preparing an interesting concoction of gelato, chocolate, whipped cream, and peaches.
I leave Lavazza as the sun sets in the west, leaving the city in a cool, dusky shadow. My headphones are back in and Jimmy Eat World blares in my ears. Its a bit chilly, but not unpleasant. I take some obscure side street that I had never walked down before and enjoyed the trees with the street lights shining in their leaves, giving them a pretty yellow glow. Instead of my usually brisk pace, I slow to a stroll and, for once, enjoy being alone. I pass an old Scottish church that has scaffolding built up all around it and notice that behind all of the platforms built up around it there is a rather quaint old building. The scaffolding intersects with the branches of a tree. It looks like some elaborate, out-of-control tree house. I smile at the thought. I walk past Washington Square Park and smile at a man walking his dog. He smiles back. It is pleasant to come across a person who isn't disturbed by the thought of making eye contact with a stranger.
I think as I walk...
I hate the idea of someone making guesswork of the matters of my heart. I don't like to be looked in the eye and told how fucked up I am. So, please don't.
But I know I have to hear it.
I lay in bed that night and my mind races, as usual. I can't stop thinking of Andrew. And when I face the facts and know that it is only going to get worse, I toss and turn. How on earth do I get to the point where I am ever going to be okay? Its more than I don't want to lose him. Its more than me losing the security that he gave me. Its more than me fearing for my future. Its more than I have an issue with surrender, with faith, with loving, with having joy. Its an insurmountable barrier of all things I need to 'fix' in my life, in my heart. I feel so far from okay.
This is the part of me speaking that is dreadfully far from a 'spiritual' perspective. I know I need to learn to give myself over to the healing hands of my Father. I need to submit my broken heart to Him and let Him do a redeeming work. It will take time, and at this moment I still feel fairly shattered.

Cloudy Night

As I lay in my bed last night, I looked out my window for the first time after dark. Normally the blinds are closed, but last night, I left them open. From where my bed sits underneath the window, when I am lying flat on my back, I can look up and see mostly open sky. A high rise in the distance intrudes upon my midnight show, and the lights from Culby glare in my eyes. But for the most part I am privy to a view of the deep blue night sky, a dark ocean for white ghosts to sail smoothly and silently upon, borne by the cool summer breeze. I watch, content for a moment, as the shadowy clouds slowly creep through the patch of night. The sky glows with the lights of the city beneath it, and the clouds seem more like smudges against the shimmering night waters- their shipness upsetting an otherwise still night. But I am thankful for the clouds and their slow voyage past my window. They give me a sense of peace, of normalcy.
I lay, gazing up at the clouds, thinking of all the things that normally plague my restless mind. I think of love, of God, of family and my longing to be someplace more like home. I thought about the blog I had last posted 'You expect too much'. I think about one thing in particular that I wrote. I said that I wanted nothing more than to be with Andrew. It is true, that at some moments I am so overwhelmed with my desire to be with him again, to have that peace and sense of security. I feel my heart swell at the thought of hugging him and never letting him go. My chest heaves as I try to contain my sorrow and longing and all the pressure of all my emotions wanting to break free and tumble out in my tears. It is true, that sometimes I think that I need Andrew, that without him I am incomplete and insecure. But as I lay there last night, watching the clouds and measuring their speed by how slowly they creep past my window sill, I felt a sudden sense of shame.
I thought back to David's words in his Psalm:
"...there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!'"
David, in this time of hiding from Saul, literally had no one to call friend. He had no one at all. Still, God, His Savior, was enough for him, in every sense. In reality, I am not alone, although I am now without the person that I love the most. And for me to think that I should say 'I want nothing more in this moment than to be with him again' instead of thinking 'I want nothing more in this moment than to experience You and Your refuge' seems outrageous to me. Jesus Christ holds the universe together by the power of His Word, and I cannot let Him fulfill any of my needs at any given moment? He is my Savior in all aspects. He loves me more dearly, more tenderly, more infinitely than any man will. He knows my needs before I do, before I have a chance to pray them. He takes care of the noisy pigeons squabbling underneath the Brown Line outside the window, and I don't think He is capable of taking care of me?
Today I read Psalm 144 and 145. Here is what struck me about 145:

"The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The LORD is good to all, and his mercy is all that he has made... [The LORD is faithful in all his words and kind in all his works.] The LORD upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you you, and you them food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing. The LORD is righteous in all his ways and kind in all his works. The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. The LORD preserves all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy."

This is absolutely beautiful and comforting to me. Yhwh is essentially my everything. He is all that I need at any given moment. I need to trust Him and surrender to Him.

You expect too much

You expect too much of me. How could You possible forget that I am nothing more than a weak, selfish human. I want nothing more in this moment than to take him back. Why would You deny me this? Why do You always ask so much?

A Severe Mercy

Today, in a desperate attempt at feeling peace and comfort amidst a storm, I read Psalm 142 and 143. They read:

"With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. When my spirit faints within me, you know my way! In the path where I walk they have hidden a trap for me. Look to the right and see there is none who takes notice of me, no refuge remains to me, no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.' Attend to my cry, for I am brought very low! Deliver me from my persecutors, for they are too strong for me! Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me."

"Hear my prayer, O LORD; give ear to my pleas for mercy! In your faithfulness answer me, in your righteousness! ...My spirit faints within me, my heart within me is appalled. I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done. I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O LORD! My spirit fails! ...Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way that I should go, for to you I lift up my soul..."

Today I find myself broken. God has pulled away the crutches that have replaced Him, leaving me with no one else to turn to. Almost literally. Yesterday, I found out that because of an online banking error, all of my money was moved to savings from checking, leaving me with just a few dollars in my checking account. I was unaware of this transfer, so I continued to spend money as if there was 500 dollars in my bank account rather than 10. Needless to say, I overdrew my account and lost almost all of my money in fees- leaving me with 200 dollars. Today, I owe Moody 700 dollars. I have no way to pay it. I can't even call anyone back home for help. My cell phone service was dropped today, presumably because my dad could not pay the phone bill. If he can't pay the phone bill, how on earth can he help me come up with 500 dollars today? The Gap didn't start giving me hours today. I work today, tomorrow, Monday, and next Saturday. And on this meager amount of hours, I am supposed to be able to pay off my debt to Moody. I am despairing. I feel like the only option I have is to admit defeat and go home. I will be getting 40 hours a week, but not until the week after next...
I find myself crying out to God, just as David did. I feel alone and helpless. I have a few friends to turn to, but they can't help me. I can't call Andrew anymore. I can't allow him to continue paying for my school bill. For once in my life, it is just me, and God. I pray that He can do a miracle, that He can provide for me 500 dollars to pay Moody today. My faith is small. Worst case scenarios race through my mind. What if I have to leave Moody? What if I can't afford to come back in the fall? How can I possibly survive a summer at home? How can I get a job? What will become of my future? How can I afford to stay in school? What will I do without the few friends that I have? I am scared. But I cry out to God. "My spirit fails! Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning!" God, what are you going to do?

Yesterday I read "A Severe Mercy". Straight through. It was suggested to me by a friend. It is the story of Sheldon Vanauken and his wife, Davy. Sheldon and Davy share a love that is strong and passionate, obtaining a oneness that set their love apart. Their pagan love was sheltered in the Shining Barrier that they had created for their love. They were the epitome of 'us'. They shared everything with one another, the same interests, passions, dreams, and desires. One of their greatest desires was for timelessness. Together they moved to Oxford, where they met some Christians, who, to their surprise, actually made Christianity seem like something worth considering. Through the shepherding of their friends, and C.S Lewis, Davy and Sheldon came to faith. Their pagan love was now lost, and they came under the control of Christ. Davy gave her whole self to Christ. Sheldon did not. He soon became jealous of Davy's new lover. He loved God, no doubt, but not like she did. He wanted to ask her to stop reading the Word so much, to enjoy more poetry with him. He knew he could not ask that of her. Davy knew where Sheldon's heart was. She knew that 'us' was more important to him than God. It was becoming 'us and God', but it must be 'God and us'. She prayed that God would take her if it was necessary to allow Sheldon to give himself wholly to God. That their love would die so that he could know God more.
About a year later, Davy died. God gave Sheldon a severe mercy. It was through Davy's death, through the breaking of their Shining Barrier that Sheldon would come to know God has Davy had known Him. Sheldon had to let his love die, which was a painful process that took place for the two years following Davy's death.
This synopsis of course does the book no justice. It was beautifully written. I cried nearly all the way through it. I would not begin to compare my love with Andrew to Davy and Sheldon's love. They were lovers for over a decade, and Andrew and I were lovers for merely 2 and a half years. But I will not write off my own love as insignificant. As I was reading the book, I first had some peace about my break up. I thought to myself, it is possible to have a love like that- a marriage of true minds. I want to hold out for a love like that. Then as it began to talk about Davy's death and the collapse of all that Sheldon knew, I began to question my own decision of forsaking a love. I love Andrew Smith. I love him dearly. I want him in my life. I want him to love, and to be loved. I don't want to think about life without him. Yet, I see that for both of us, it has always been about us and God. And like Davy, I have always been closer to God and us. I didn't have it, but I believe I was closer. Andrew had become so much to me. He was my best friend. He was the one that I could call and talk to about anything and everything. He helped me pay for my school bill. He never let me go without. I didn't need to trust God for these things, because Andrew was these things. We both needed a severe mercy. Even now, my heart is sick with love that I can't have anymore. I have to say goodbye to Andrew and let our love die if either one of us is going to get to know God as our all and all.
God has brought me to a point in the last four weeks where there is no where else for me to turn. I am without any help at the moment other than His help. I am at the point where I cannot call to anybody for rescue except for my Savior. (What a novel idea!) I have to trust Him to provide, and if He doesn't provide, that He will be enough for me no matter where I end up. If I end up at home without any of my friends and my church family, He will be my sustainer and all that I need. If I stay here at Moody and work all summer long, He will be my provider and all that I need. I will continue to subject myself to His Severe Mercy until I can say with full confidence like David, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!"