Splash down in the silver screen Into a deep dramatic scene I swim through the theater Or maybe I'm just a dreamer Like a kite in the bright midday Wonder stole my breath away Shy sonata for Mercury The stars always sing so pretty
It took us so much effort to get there. Between car mishaps, the long, hot, sticky, harried trip to Denver, and the long walk to Bluebird theater, I was exhausted. On top of that, they nearly confiscated my water bottle at the front door (not good when it's over 90 degrees and you have some health issues). By the time I got inside, I collapsed into a folding chair as the opening act was in progress. The music was so loud. The lights were so bright. Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so tired. I didn't think it would be worth it.

But then the opening chords began. And the lights came up. And Adam came onto the stage. I forgot my pain, I forgot my tears. It was beautiful.

I didn't think dreams could come true until that night. Everything about it defies description. I don't even know what to say.
He sang The Real World, Deer in the Headlights, Plant Life. He sang Cave In and Tip of the Iceberg, which I was not expecting, but loved. He sang Gold—and let me tell you, he sang the "go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ld" part amazingly in person. He also sang Meteor Shower which was incredibly beautiful to hear sung live. I teared up. You could really feel the beauty of the moment, and feel the honor and worship Adam was giving to Jesus. There are few times that I have felt as close to God as I did then.

And then he sang Angels. Oh my gosh. There is absolutely nothing like screaming WAKE ME IF YOU'RE OUT THERE at the top of your lungs. That was quite possibly my favorite part. It was amazing and... breathtaking. Literally.

I'd rather waltz than just walk through the forest...Adam himself was... amazing. I had worried beforehand that he wouldn't be as good live. Boy, was I blown away. He's just as good in person, and even better. I literally could not believe that he was in the flesh. I couldn't believe I was there. At some parts of the concert I just closed my eyes and listened, pretending that I was listening to the CD at home. It sounded just like it. It was that good.

About halfway through the concert, he sat down at the piano and sang Plant Life. I loved seeing him play the piano, and Tess really loves Plant Life, so that was definitely a highlight. It's also the only song in which I took a lot of pictures, since I had a moment to breathe. The rest of the time? I was screaming my head off and dancing and drinking in the wonder.


The lights were truly stunning, and definitely made the concert a beautiful experience. I will never forget it.


One word to describe the night? Magic.

It was pure magic.

This picnic will soon depart Real life, I'm sad to see you go I'll miss you with all my heart But I'd rather be alone 'Cause I couldn't live without Sunsets that dazzle in the dusk So I'll drag the anchor up And rest assured, 'cause dreams don't turn to dust

I got braces (finally) on September 21st,and since then it's been two weeks full of major transition. Case in point:

• I wish they made soft chips. True, it would defeat the purpose of having chips to crunch, but at least us poor braces-folk would have the ability to enjoy the flavor of chips without risking a bracket emergency.
• An upper arch isn't fun, and a lot harder than I thought it would be. Especially when you get food stuck up there. Which happens often. Too often.
• I look better with braces than I thought I would.
• My orthodontist and the hygienists are the nicest people ever.
• Despite being paid less, the ortho-hygienists do most of the work. It's nice to talk to them while they do. I even have a favorite now. (Hi, Megan!)
• People with braces should have some kind of superhero status among the rest of the world. I have solved this problem by assuming my new superhero idenity: Metalmouth. Nice to meet you, folks.
• Having a bunch of metal in your mouth isn't very cool. I wonder if I'll set off metal detectors at the airport now.
• It's harder than you think, having braces (hence the whole superhero point I made above). You have to brush your teeth after every meal (something that I forgot to do today...oops) and you can't eat certain foods. Oh, joy.
• But in the end, it will be worth it. My teeth are already much straighter now and I'm happy with this fact.

P.S. - I reached my 6-year-anniversary of blogging yesterday. Yeah, I'm ancient. Thanks, guys, for making my blogging experience so awesome.

I saw the autumn leaves
Peel up off the street
Take wing on the balmy breeze
And sweep you off your feet
And you blushed as they scooped you up
On sugar maple wings
And gazed down on the city below
Ablaze with wondrous things
Downy feathers kiss your face
And flutter everywhere
Reality is a lovely place
But I wouldn't want to live there. 

- The Real World, Owl City

—

She was my mentor, my encourager, my friend. She came alongside me during one of the hardest times of my life (read: the teenage years) and supported me. She was beautiful, an inspiration. I loved her so much, not only for what she did for me, but because of who she was.
And then suddenly, without any warning, she was gone.

She cut off all contact. Not a word. Not only that, but she did so because of reasons that were later proved to be unfounded. There was a sting of betrayal with her departure. And I found myself with a broken heart, in tattered shreds, trying to pick up the pieces.

I don't even know what to say. I could try to generalize about how generally relationships like these hurt... but the truth is, that's not even close to what I feel about it. My heart was kicked to the curb. Raw, bleeding, broken.

It's been a few months since then. I'm still not over it. Yes, there is healing. Eventually. I don't know if I'm there yet.

Reconciliation would be wonderful, but sometimes it's not possible. In this situation, it seems that way. As I mentioned, she's cut off all contact. I've thought of writing her a letter, but I don't know if she'd even read it or respond if I tried.

I recently experienced reconciliation with another fractured relationship of mine, and let me tell you this: it was beautiful. God made a way when there seemed to be none. Suddenly months and months of unresolved issues and pain seemed so much less significant, not so crushing. And all I want is to have the same thing here, with this friend. To hear from her, even if it's just one last time. To know that she doesn't hate me. To have her apologize, to tell me she still cares. So that I can move on. So that I can heal.

What does one do in a situation like this?

I have absolutely no idea.

I'm praying because God is having to heal my heart and hers, reconciliation or not. And I'm hoping, praying, that someday, she'll choose to contact me again.

Could she? Yes.

Will she? I don't know.

It's times like today where my heart aches to have what we once had. Painful reminders crop up of what we once shared, but what is now suddenly just memories on a page. This friendship is no longer living, breathing, alive. It is over.

And that is what hurts the most about it.

Because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

A dull ache fills my heart now as I type this, because no matter how you slice it, it's over, she's gone, and I have to move on with my life. But try as I might, the pain is still there. So is the hope that she'll contact me, that we'll run into each other again. All I want is to hug her, to know that everything is okay, and to maybe rebuild what we once had.

But I don't have that. I can't see her, hug her, talk to her. Not anymore. And it stings.

Being a teenager sucks. (Sorry to whip you around and suddenly change topics like that. But I'm sure you can agree.) It's so hard. My dad validated me in that this evening--saying, "Your mom and I know how hard this is. We want to support you."

That meant the world to me, because I am struggling. So much. But that's what teenagerdom is about. It's what growing's about. I'm pushing through the soil like a bright green plant. Growing, reaching. Restless. I'm growing so dang much through all of this. So much is changing. Life has handed me a ton of lemons.

Time to make some lemonade, I suppose?

So life as a teenager is a shot in the dark. Because we have no idea where we're going or what we're doing half the time. And sometimes you get shot in the dark, wounded out of nowhere, by those who love you most.

It hurts so much. But we're going to get through this. I'm going to get through this. There are better days ahead. (Hopefully in that magical time of life that starts with a 2 and ends with a 0.)

Seriously. I can't wait for it to get better. And I wonder when it will. I can't wait till it does. Come on, God. Bring me to a better place here.

And until then, I'll watch the summer stars to lead me home.

It hasn't felt like fall yet. Not until this morning, when I woke up and I could tell before even opening my eyes that it was raining. The gray light leaked in through my blinds and I sat up and peeled the blinds away from my window, only to see my window mottled with raindrops and condensation. I went downstairs and felt that familiar chill on my skin, that chill that says, Fall is here.

And so I've been enjoying this rainy day, and I just got dressed into a sweater and fingerless gloves, because this is the kind of weather that deserves such a thing. No, I'm not completely happy. Life has been hard for me lately... really hard. But this rainy day, ironically enough, has cheered me up a little bit.

And so I'll sit here and try to ignore my headache, and let these words flow. I haven't been able to write lately, so this is glorious. It feels like me again.

Last night I was having a hard night. Mom and I were standing in the kitchen, and she opened the kitchen window and beckoned me to smell the rain. I love the smell of rain. Then she took me by the hand and dragged me outside, the joy sparking the air between us, and we stood on the front porch and drank the air in. Then my brother came outside and dared me to run down the steps into the front yard, which I did, and we ran around the dew-soaked grass and I felt the mud slightly squish beneath my toes and I loved it even though I'd just taken a shower. "Tag, you're it," my brother said and darted off and I chased him like I haven't been able to in a long time, forgetting for a little while the pain in my hips and in my head. And for once I actually tagged him, but whether this was because he was sore from football or was humoring me remains to be seen. It made my night.

After we'd skittered around the lawn for a bit, the energy in the air faded. I stood there looking up at the purplish night sky and thinking about the stars, and looking at the black outline of the tree branches above me. I remembered something my mom  had read me from the book Beautiful Outlaw by John Eldredge—about how sometimes we're closest to experiencing Jesus when we're in nature than we ever are by using words to understand or describe him. I held my hands out to the sky and just let that thought wash over me for a second, feeling close to Jesus again.

I looked down the street at a lonely streetlight that has always captivated me, and I debated whether I wanted to walk down there. Just in front of it, I saw a square of moonlight on the sidewalk, and I got it in my head that I wanted to stand in that light. So I took off across the lawn and our broken-up concrete, walking with my bare feet and all, until I was standing in the moonlight. It didn't feel any different, and sadly the moonlight looked prettier from a distance. However, down the sidewalk there's a tree, next to the streetlight. I've always loved that streetlight and its tree, for reasons I can't describe. The golden light filters through its branches and it's one of those things that seems like it's so much more than just a streetlight. I don't know how to describe it. I wish you could see it and feel the things I do.

So I just stared at it, thinking about how much I wanted to bottle this moment, this moment of adventure, of spontaneity, and how much I wanted to write about this feeling... whatever it was. The wind howled around me with its whistling chill, and I couldn't help but feel so, so small. I still don't know what happened in that moment, or what it is that I felt. But I felt like I was experiencing all the things I read about, all the things I hope to capture in my writing. What is that feeling called? Beauty? Hope? Adventure? All of the above? I don't know, but regardless, that moment was beautiful. It's one of those moments that make life seem worth living, and remind me that life is so, so much more than what it seems.

I have these moments a lot more than you'd think—the ones I can't describe, the ones that make me feel like a dreamer more than ever. Do you have them too?

I went inside, with mud caked on my feet and a new hope in my heart, and I felt much better. No, my problems didn't go away. Yes, I am still dealing with grief and sadness and pain. But I have hope. And that makes me feel brave.

This morning I'm not feeling totally amazing, but that hope is still slightly there, with the presence of my sweater and this rainy day. There's nothing better.

Oh, and do you like my sweater?

(The title of this post is from Sadie Hawkins Dance by Relient K. If you haven't heard it, go and do so. Now.)