when the soles meet the sidewalk

[Two of the little ones at the blind school.

If you want to learn about love and joy, hang out with these kids.]

I went running tonight for the first time in months. Sheeew, that was some rough goin'. There were points where my body just did not want to move forward.

In response to a disheartened email, a wise friend once wrote that when he gets tired on long runs, it's usually just a matter of looking around him--of noticing the beauty of the things he's passing. "I notice the sore spots and the pinging spots and then I shake out my arms and keep running. I've always made it home."

We go through a lot of crap here on this earth, at least in my friend group we do. We lose people we love, we get our hearts busted, we lose jobs, or can't find them in the first place. Our parents are alcoholics, divorced, indifferent, or in loveless marriages. Our siblings can't get it together and, unfortunately, neither can we. We're insecure about our bodies, our intelligence, our future, and our faith. We can't find God in churches, in our parents religion, or in ourselves, so we read books and we discuss and we sift and we sort, until we land somewhere close to Him--we hope.

Tonight on my run I saw pink and orange clouds, a child picking flowers with his grandma, and the cutest little asian boy trying to hit a tennis ball like his daddy. I thought about my dear friends who listen to all my junk, and continue to ask about it because they know I'm a verbal processor. I thought about my parents and how they never get off the phone without telling me they love me--sometimes two or three times. And suddenly I was so grateful--in the midst of my lungs heaving and my legs aching--I was grateful for the ability to run at all.

landed...but not here yet.

[Smiley and Nikkita: faculty kids. fast friends.]

I'm back and sitting here on my bed--bag still packed, legs still unshaved, India still coating my heart.

My watch says it's 1:25am there. All the kids are tucked in their beds, the bugs and bullfrogs are making strange noises, and the earth is breathing a sigh of relief for the few short hours of rest the sun is giving it. In about four hours the alarm will clang and they'll start to get ready for the new week of school--a new week without their American friends.

The goodbye was hard--oh it was hard. I don't know how it's possible to connect and attach to people so deeply in just two weeks, but somehow I manage to do it. There were hugs all over, teary faces, and promises of seeing each other again--soon. Sally told me that I was taking some of their hearts with me, and she was keeping some of mine here, so I have to come back, because then we'll all have whole hearts again.

I uploaded all the pictures from the trip and have been looking through them with a dull ache in my little heart. I know that Sally's right. I know that some of my heart is still there. It's with Nikkita and Smiley playing the hand slap game. It's at the Blind School, holding three hands on my right and four on my left and running down the sidewalk with giggling little girls. It's playing with the Sunrise Orphanage children at the river--heart so full and amazed at their beauty, but also so heavy because the word "orphan" just got really real. It's laughing with Sally about Jessi and I putting our Sari shirts on backwards. It's in our little guest house, with our humble team of six, laughing over meals and always, always, taking it one step too far. It's doing highs and lows in the evening and praying with hearts so wide open that God can't help but pour in. It's sitting at the evening program, with Angelee "seeing" me by playing with my hair and bracelet, listening to 160 children sing at the tops of their lungs, so out of tune that I feel like I can sing too. It's in the morning mist that hugs the awesomely shaped mountains, in the car with Varma trying to teach me Telugu, and in those last heartfelt goodbyes to my friends--who just two weeks ago were strangers.

Yes, India got me, just like I think we knew it would. I'm just not sure I was prepared for how hard it was going to hold on.

Hello, India. Nice to meet you.

Well, we made it. Turns out that India is quite the distance from our little apartment in Seattle--over 24 hours of travel to be more accurate. Those flights were pretty long, but when you mix it with movies, Set, sleeping and music, it's not TOO bad.

Right now we're in Hyderabad and staying in this little hotel just off the airport. Nick and Ben came in a couple hours after us and are still sleeping in their little beds. We'll wake them up soon so they can eat some breakfast, and then we'll have worship before catching our flight to Vizak. From there we'll get picked up by an Asian Aid worker and visit the Slum School there in Vizak to assess what we'll need to do to take the the kids on a picnic later in the week.

I can't believe this is actually happening. I remember MONTHS ago when Jim (president of Asian Aid) and I had our first conversation about this potential opportunity. It was a conversation in passing, really. He mentioned that he'd love to do a summer camp program for the blind kids in India, and I mentioned that I had lots of friends with blind camp experience who had a heart for this kind of stuff. Nothing happened for awhile, but then a couple months after that plans started to happen, the team was made, and tickets were bought. Crazy.

Nick just came out. I haven't seen him since we parted ways in Seattle, but here we are on the other side of the world, embracing and talking animatedly about our traveling experiences. Apparently the Emirates flight was the bomb dot com. Good. I'm glad they had a good time.

Anyway, we're all up now so I'm going to go. It's going to be the first time the whole team is together. I love these guys and feel so blessed to be experiencing this with them.

If you want to continue to be updated about our trip you should follow our trip blog at: heartsightcamp.blogspot.com. All six of us will be updating that one frequently.

Okay, bye friends! Keep us in your prayers if you think about it!

for navya.

One week from today India is going to be calling my name--shouting it, actually. Me and five of my good friends will be on a plane, about to get our worlds rocked and our lives changed.

But before any of that happens, you've got to be ready for it. Ready in a lot of ways, but right now I'm talkin' about physically ready. Like, packed, planned and prepared. I am none of these things. I'm concerned that I won't be any of these things until the night before--and that will just not do. So today I decided to knock out one of the big things on my list.

One of the many things I'm excited about for this trip is meeting the little girl I sponsored through World Vision. EXCITING! Her name is Navya, she just turned six, she likes to jump rope, and she's adorable. ADORABLE. It's so crazy but I already feel so much love in my heart for her. I think about her often and really pray that she has food in her belly and laughter in her heart. I can't wait to meet her, I really can't.

So, one of the big things on my list was to make something for her--something meaningful that she could keep for a long time. Chris Clouzet and Emily Wilkens voted a backpack. So a backpack it is...

Our living room is a mess. A disaster, really. I'm surrounded by thread, pins, and fabric, and having a hard time motivating myself to clean it up. It turns out that little baby backpacks made with love take about six hours to make. Jessi was a good cheerleader all the way through, coming in clutch for the hard decisions, like fabric colors and strap length.

Tomorrow is going to be crazy--and then it will snowball from there, probably. From now on checking one thing a day off the list isn't going to cut it. Well, two things, I need a shower, and that's definitely happening tonight.

it's of the essence.

Dear Time,

I don’t get you. I really don’t. You seem to be a little confused, if I’m being brutally honest, and I thought I’d take this opportunity to point out how you’re doing it wrong (people love that).

Now, don’t let this go to your head but I’ve been thinking about you a lot. And I think the problem is that you’re too empathetic. You want to feel the way that I’m feeling so you end up mirroring where I’m at instead of trying to balance things out. This is not necessary, dear Time.

You see, when I’m having fun, I need you to put your cape away. I know there’s something in you that makes you want to just soar when I’m having a good time—but I’m gonna need you to chill out in those moments—these are the times when I need you to drag your feet.

You know when I don’t need you to drag your feet? When I’m heartbroken. When I don’t get what God is doing. When it’s 3pm on a workday. When I have to pee and it’s 40 miles to the next gas station. Those are the times when I need you to do your make-days-seem-like-minutes bit.

I feel like I spend my life waiting for you to pull back curtains and show me what you’re up to—and you seem to drag that process out until I actually forget that I’m waiting for you. That’s your proudest moment isn’t it? When one day I wake up and realize that I don’t need you any more—I no longer yearn for you to heal and I no longer yearn for you to tell—because you’ve already done it with a subtlety only you can achieve.

So, I guess what I’m saying is… you’re unpredictable and I’m impatient…I'm trying to pin you down and you're trying to be illusive...and I wish that one of those variables were different. But, seeing as here on this earth we play by your rules, I guess it's me that needs to change, you stinker. So here's what I've decided--I’m going to trust that you know what you’re doing. After all, you have yet to let me down. So cheers to you, dear Time, that's quite the power you've got. Use it wisely will you?

fight for your right to party

I have six or seven unpublished posts in my "edit posts" bin. There have been a lot of things I've wanted to write down, remember, get your reactions from, or vent about--but I always seem to get pulled away just as my body starts to sink into the hot tub of blissful writing mode.

That's kind of my life lately, really. I've had the wonderful privilege to have visitors for the past couple weeks--but that makes for a lot of fun and not a lot of down time. And this girl needs down time--especially lately.

We're going to India in about a month. Is that right? Oh man. One month. One month to buy tickets, get visas, order supplies, PLAN the trip, pack, do, a, bunch, of, other, random, things, and remember to breathe. There have been countless times during this process where I've had to REMIND myself who this is for and why it's all worth it. Because, MAN, it has been quite the journey.

The weather has been amazing for the last few days here in Seattle. And when lady Seattle chooses to drop her cloak of gloom and rain, you get to see her for what she really is--a sight to behold. Everything is lush and green, with white tipped mountains that stand proudly on each side like the Queen's guards --with Her Highness, Mt. Rainier, looking down at us with a powerful presence that I'll never be able to articulate.

I was complaining about never seeing this beauty because of the rain and one of my friends said, "Yeah but if you didn't have the rain this city wouldn't be half as beautiful."

It's the rain that does it. It's the rain that's going to make India sweeter, my pride take a bow, my heart grow stronger, and my communication get better. There's been a lot of stuff to deal with in these past months, but I'm coming to a place where that's okay. It's all part of the process and part of the growth--and if it's hard, that probably means there's something beautiful and good coming. That's the hope, anyway.

really? really.

I woke up this morning with part of my eye sealed shut.

Wait a minute... I've had this before... dangit! ... do I have pink-eye again!?

I crawled out of my friend Lindsey's bed and made my way to the bathroom. Yup. There's the goop, there's the pink, there's the frustrated face of Tara. Wham bam, NO thank you ma'am, I have pink-eye.

For those of you who don't know, I had pink-eye TWICE in February. It was ridiculous, and frustrating, and all around inconvenient. So having it now, again, feels extra discouraging.

I think it's also discouraging because it's kind of the icing on the not-so-good-cake when it comes to these past two weeks. These past two weeks have been rough, to be honest.

And

I

just

want

a

break

through.

I just want to feel like my life is making sense. I want to feel like it is full and good and on the right track. But when you add up worries of work, the heart, broken friendships, India, finances, insecurities, my lack of spirituality, and the ever constant feeling of just not quite being enough of what I'm 'supposed' to be being--somehow life loses its zest. And, frankly, I'm tired of not feeling zesty. I'm super tired of it.

Camp MiVoden and Wawona are starting up today. Many of my closest friends are gearing up for a summer filled with sun, children, laughing, and memories. I wish I was there with them. It's kind of lonely knowing that they're off the communication grid for a couple of months. Camp is a different world--and when you're in that world it's hard to make time to connect with people who aren't in it. And I think the anticipation of that has made me kind of bummed.

It's a funny thing, this working-woman life. You have to be really intentional about how you spend your time--and thus far I've kind of sucked at it. Eck. Actually, I don't really feel like writing about that. I've written enough about melancholy things for one post. Someday though I'm going to purge my brain of these thoughts I have on being in the "real world" as we call it--whatever that means.

Until then, it's time for more drops in this itchy eye of mine.