finding joy, again.

I hoped that ringing in 2017 and starting fresh would wipe clean the pain, confusion and doubt that 2016 was weighted with. It didn't. In fact, it grew heavier and darker.

I kept quiet, lost in the maze of it all.
Until one night as I was wrapping up at work, a text came through that ripped me into a thousand shreds. Another one.
I rushed home, hoping my Lyft driver wouldn't notice how hard I was biting my lip to keep the tears back. I ran straight from the door to the foot of my roommates bed. In the warmth of her friendship, I broke. I broke from the text. I broke from the months of mind games and fights. I broke from the words that ripped at my identity. I could keep quiet no longer. I spoke, and she listened. I wept, and she prayed.

A few weeks later, I ended a relationship that wasn't right and was swept into a sea of love from every corner of community.

Over the next few months, the revelations, healing and favor came pouring in as I changed positions within the company I work for, bought my dream Subaru and began a hefty dose of counseling. Change began to infiltrate every area of my life.
I craved it.
My dear friend followed her heart back to California, and I moved to a new part of town with a few other close friends. Our ministry team for the youth group dissolved from one set of four to a new set of four - which brought a new addition to my Portland family. Not only did those individuals become some of my best friends, they introduced me to Jon Brown. 

Let's talk about him for a moment shall we? 

It's June at this point. Though healing was real, the year had been heavy and I was convinced that relationships were not for me despite what I once thought. If genuine love was at all defined by my last experience - I was out. Better off on my own.
My friends had dropped Jon's name a number of times at this point, always tying it to a humble and swoon worthy characteristic. My ears would perk up any time he was mentioned but I was too scarred and afraid to notice.
Better off alone, I told myself.

One unexpecting Sunday evening - I met this Jon fellow. He was shy, wore a See See's trucker hat, and as I stood next to him in worship, I could hear the passion exude deeply from his lips. Later that night, he shared with our mutual friend that he thought I was gorgeous and would love to opportunity to get to know me. Upon hearing that, I was flattered. But this man that sung with passion didn't know my story, or my year, and surely if he did, he'd snap out of that crush real quick.

Three weeks after meeting, my friends invited both Jon and I to a jazz festival. I remember arriving a bit late and seeing his See See's hat from afar as he admired the musicians on stage. It wasn't long after I sat down that Jon launched in to a slew of get-to-know-you questions. 

Don't show him that you're shattered, I thought. Don't show him the mess that you're still cleaning up. Wow he's kinda cute, wait, no, stop. Walls up, Kels, you can't do this again. You can't survive another damaging relationship. 

Let him be, walk away.

Our friends had no hesitation in creating opportunities for us to be in the same room. A week later, a group of us ended an evening out to drinks, and surprise, Jon was coming. He again launched into another round of get-to-know you's and ended the conversation with telling me I was beautiful and then asking if he could take me on a date. 

I was shocked. He is kind, attentive, and bold? Who is this guy.. 

I said yes, because frankly, I lost all other words of the english vocabulary in that moment. Also, I was intrigued. And he had those dark swoon worthy curls sticking out from under the See See's hat. 

When the night was over and goodbye's were said, I drove away. It was on my drive home that I began to panic. Not just a little anxiety, but a full on there-is-an-elephant-on-my-chest-am-I-dying sort of panic attack. 

I wasn't ready. I couldn't do this. I wanted him and everyone else to be far away with zero access to my heart, my thoughts, my emotions. Zero access to me. This was not happening. 

I told him a sliver of my story. I told him, essentially, why he was wasting his time on me. I was a damaged lost cause, or at least it was safer to elude to that with him rather than lead him on. I'd heal, I knew it, but by then his crush would be long gone.

Thinking he'd text me back with an aloof "thanks for your honesty, see ya around" message - I was pretty stunned by his response of encouragement and honor. 

Okay, I see you Jon and your good heart, but stay back.

I proceeded to have one of the best summer's of my existence. 

It was a summer to heal, and a summer to rejoice. 

Endless nights of staying up late with friends both new and familiar, spontaneous midweek dinners a the coast, watching the moon block out the sun in the middle of Oregon, and so many evening walks. It was a summer filled with laughter and happy tears and vulnerable late night chats and mini road trips. I was feeling like myself again. 

Alive, filled and able to dream again slowly but surely.

During a trip to Bend with my roommates, I saw a banner that said in bold letters "these are the days". I bought it as an Ebenezer of sorts. 

These were the days. 

After months of quiet, slow processing and a few beautiful conversations between Jon and I amongst a sea of our friends - I had seen all I needed to see. Jon's heart and character are by far the most genuine of any man I've ever been intrigued by. The way he spoke to me, our friends and about others was full of love and conviction. He serves his community well and listens intently to the heartbeat of our God. He was someone I could feel safe around, someone who valued my process, my thoughts and my heart. One night at church, just before my big trip, I passed him a note asking him if he'd still like to go on that first date. He ran across the church annex and spun me around shouting YES for the whole city to hear. His ever so patient wait was over. 

It was a victory for us both. 

See, in May I had promised my heart I would never rush it again. I promised I would be kind to myself and allow for slow processing. I told myself if anyone tried to come in and rush that process, that I would kindly ask them to leave, without shame or guilt. I would trust my instincts from here on out and bend the rules for no man that sought after my affection. Aching from the pain of allowing myself to be pushed around, I swore, never again. Never again, Kels. 

Jon wanted to date me the moment he met me, but yet he encouraged me to heal and take my time regardless of if any outcome would be in his favor. He prayed for my healing. He told our friends he knew that he may never have the opportunity to take me on a date, but he would care for and encourage me regardless, taking each day as it came. 

The pressure was always off. 

There was never a weight. 

There was never a time frame. 

There was never a demand. 

There was never a harsh word or comment. 

This man was safe and to be trusted. And let me tell you, our first date was so filled with JOY. Not only for us, but for our community of people that had fought for my healing and for his.
It was incredible to get to say yes to this man, my friend, after months of already knowing he was worth saying yes to.
It still is incredible.

And that's the beginning of my story with Jon. 

The end of my 2017 year held many precious memories and moments. I traveled to Thailand to see one of my very best friends. Got to have a sleepover minus the sleep with a handful of my favorite young women who I get to walk alongside as they journey through their middle school years. Celebrated my 28th year under an apartment sized blanket fort with so many dear hearts. Road tripped to Lake Tahoe with my people to rest and see another of my very best friends. 

I celebrated. I cried. I prayed. I laughed, maybe more this year than several combined. 

Because - that's what you do with community. You celebrate together. You eat together. You cry with one another when life feels unbearably difficult. Or you cry with another when breakthroughs are happening, and they are real, and long hoped for. You pray, going before Jesus with one another, and stand in the gaps together. 

And you LAUGH. Especially in our home on Corbett, do you laugh.

As with any story, as with any year, there are countless side stories and details that make the greater narrative possible. 

Laced throughout and within the stories of road trips and times with friends are the stories where I was met by the power of God in the counseling room with Susie. The story where I wept into the floor during worship as a few close women in my life contended in prayer for my healing. Story after story after story of Jesus breaking through my pain, my confusion, my doubt, my anger.

I was met again by His gentle, yet fierce love and grace. 

He spoke to me in that quiet whisper He is so well known for. 

And when he spoke, my story shifted. When he moved, so did my perspective. 

He is the reason that life has come back into my eyes. 

He is the reason that I can hope and dream and laugh. 

He is who I hold on to when moments of trauma and anger arise, as they do, and He's there.

He's always there.

I believe He was there at the foot of my roommates bed as I sobbed and shook with grief.
He was there.
And with love in His eyes, He made a game plan for my healing.

The weight of doubt, confusion and hopeless that 2017 began with, is no longer.

He has saved me, again.

He has turned my story of hardship into thriving, again.

And with that, I welcome twelve new months to unravel my heart into my community, into my relationships, my ministry, my work, my art, my city.

To unravel my heart into His. 

Here's to finding joy, again. 

And again. And again.