notes from the field.

Confession: it is a deliberate choice of mine to not quote a particular Taylor Swift song after my 22nd birthday, until my 23rd, but I’m breaking that today. Oh boy am I feeling 22. She said it’s a time of being happy, free, confused and lonely at the same time / it’s miserable and magical.

She was right, huh.

I believe we live life in seasons, to quote a podcast I listen to; we move from beginnings to new beginnings. It is helpful to acknowledge what season you’re moving in right now. I do not have a word for mine. I do have a lot of days, a lot of hindsight, a lot of one-liners in my journal for all the days I seem to lose my words.

I know what this season looks like: it looks like rain. Like my worn-out flats. It looks like a home-work-home routine, every day, almost Kafka-esque.

I know what it sounds like: like quiet. Like pre-downloaded Spotify tracks. Like the low hum of the aircon unit, or sometimes the printer.

I know what it feels like: loneliness. Do you ever wonder what the other 24 contestants feel like when they watch one of their peers crowned as Miss Universe? When I watch a coronation, although they’re blurred by depth of field, I look at the ones who didn’t win. They’re smiling and clapping and from contestants they become spectators.

This season feels like that. I don’t feel like a loser, in particular, but I feel like I’m in the blurry parts of the good photos. Like I go home in my slippers carrying my heels and nobody knows my name.

It got me asking, too, do friendships move in seasons? Is there an inherent sense of permanence to them or do only the lucky ones get to keep theirs? By experience, I feel like my life moves slower than my friends. They’re in different places now, geographically or career-wise or whatever, and they move up, and although I love them and cheer them on I can’t help but feel blurry.

I shut these thoughts down every day. Choose to be happy and rejoice and genuinely give myself up.

You can only sit through so many conversations before you start becoming a wall. I sit there quietly but my soul is screaming, can you please listen to me

I even wrote, “.. I guess I’ll just die to self everyday and hope they love Jesus enough to do the same for me.”

Last week I was in a room full of people celebrating the life of a common friend. They were so loved. They found their tribe. Maybe one day I’ll find my tribe, too. Maybe one day I get a room full too. In this same event I cried because the loneliness materialized. I sat in a table for good for 12. Just me and my brother. It’s funny now that I think about it.

The only way to survive this wilderness is to hide in God. David did that all the time. He knew where to go. And he wrote in hiding, too. That’s what I try to do. The hiding’s easier than the writing. But we’ll get there.

I’m trying to be more human because machines don’t have friends.

My heart has been crying out, too. Lord, ang unfair po. Why are you asking me to let go of their lapses. Why do I have to adjust again. Why forgive them for dropping me (again). I need love from them and you tell me to love them regardless. why do you keep emptying me

I know how selfish that transcript sounds. Christ literally emptied his self, and died, to bring me where I am today and I spend my prayer time whining about human relationships. Jesus has been incredibly patient with me and incredibly kind and in His word I read that one day, the veil will be removed and I will see His face, and will understand, and the longing grows. Earth is so lonely. I don’t belong here.

 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

1 Corinthians 13:12


Here’s to all our seasons. May we grow. May we flourish. May we be seen and heard and invited to things. But even if we are not, and in this loneliness, may we find peace.

And the next time I write – I hope tell you some good news.

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