Tuesday, January 26, 2010

every new love is just a shadow

pictures from saturday. i need to stop taking all vertical pictures. i just think they're best that way. laurie and i finally got to spend some time on the roof. we watched some kids play in the courtyard. it was sunny and warm and i remembered that winter is hard and i need to be easier on myself.
when i lived in arizona, i worked a meaningless job at a front desk of a hotel. i loved my life there. and so, i thought, when i moved back to pittsburgh, a meaningless job would be great. it would give me the energy for my friends, my church, the rest of my life that i sometimes was missing when i worked at the hill house, breachmenders or teaching in the city. so i moved home and got a job downtown at a daycare - the job was easy. the kids were easy. the parents had money. the job had very little meaning for me. the kids were cute - but they didn't need me. and i didn't need them. after what felt like a very dark few weeks / months in pittsburgh, my thinking stopped being so circular. i started to actually figure some things out.

i find that most of my life is spent remembering the things i've already learned. i'm always forgetting the lessons i'm learning.

we didn't get martin luther king off - which was the first MLK day in the history of my life that i've worked. i was downtown near the august wilson center and there were families pouring into the center - i was hoping, while waiting for the bus, that one of my kids from the hill house or miller might show up. i watched a family walk into center and i started to cry. a mom, a dad, a daughter and a son. they were happy, and proud. i was reminded of Quentin, a high schooler i worked with at the pittsburgh project. one time he got into some trouble with a visiting high schooler from michigan - it was a pretty racially charged argument. his mom told me, "i'm sure these kids think that Q is from a broken family - but he's not. he's got a mom, and a dad, and a sister who love him. i've got a good job, so does my husband, and we love our kids." i remember watching this kid, who was pretty tough, melt into sweetness and gentleness when his 2 year old sister came around. when the 86B arrived, a woman and i bumped into each other when getting onto the bus - she touched my shoulder, called me baby, and we both laughed. she let me get on first. i got onto the bus and probably cried most of the way home.

this is a pretty long winded way of saying that i either need to be living on the edge of the grand canyon (or - some place awesome like colorado or wyoming or in yosemite) or i need to be working with kids who need me. and who i need. i knew this before. and somehow i forgot. but luckily, we can remember these things easily. quitting my job served as an awesome reminder that i haven't forgotten everything. that i'm still alive, and free, and what matters to me will never change. that even though my flame isn't burning as brightly as it has, or will, that the spark hasn't completely gone out.

so i got a new job at the hilltop community center. working with kindergartners. and i'm excited. and i get to work with kristin. and there are windows - views all the way to downtown. i'll be able to see the birds fly at 5. and i'll be able to watch the sun set. and i will seek Him, and i will find Him.