Last autumn I chose it, this path that leads forward. A dream shouted so loud that ignorance was no longer an option. I listened because I was forced and oh was I scared. It was inconvenient, it was impossible, it was childish. No! 

It became real when spoken aloud: I want to be a writer. In reality it came out more like, "uh... well.. I think that um... I want to, like, write... or something." Then people started to believe in me and those shaky, timid words; I was floored. They did not laugh in my face. They did not tell me I was incapable. They'd grin these big grins like they were on my side, my people, my home team. 

To hell with insecurity and doubt! I was going to do this. I was going to chase after a dream despite the circumstances in which I'd uncovered it. I was going to move forward.

So I have. I started writing whatever I knew to be true. Whenever I could. I started doing things I like, or hoped I'd like, things that'd stretch me. I started talking about it (a lot), sharing, and reaching out to those I admired. Because my people believed in me, I believed in me. I still do.

Right now, 'forward' looks like a bunch of risks. Fighting for a spot in another major against my way-more-capable-than-me peers. Joining a team of people covering the Pope's visit to America and running a student organization- both with total lack of knowledge and experience. Being in a position where I'm not doing much of the looking up anymore; instead all these eyes wait expectantly and I literally feel so inadequate.

Nine times out of ten I just feel like I'm drowning and sinking. Until I look around and see it's not water that fills my lungs, but grace. Oh sweet grace! It covers me and tells me that not knowing is just fine. Grace is washing away my worries and my fears and binding the tears and filling the gaps. 

I am moving forward, sometimes hesitant, other times heel-clicking, but always prodded along by my Father's loving whispers. This trail is rocky and dark and untimely- and I wouldn't turn around for anything. 

A band I'm real fond of, The Paper Kites, just released their sophomore album and it was written and recorded wholly based on the theory that our most creative hours lie between 12 and 4 A.M. I'm more of a mid-morning worker, but the whole record ended up being so incredible that I decided to try it out- headphones on and candlelight flickering in pitch black darkness. So everything above was thought up, written, edited, and compiled based on that concept, two nights in a row. Night-owling will not be ritual nor routine, but every once in awhile I may come crawling back to the peace of morning's black hours for more time uninterrupted, and more magic.

Inspired by & Written while listening to:

twelvefour - The Paper Kites

Fear - Ben Rector

Moving Forward, Glorious - Colony House

I'm Still Young - Spencer Simmons

Slow It Down (live) - The Lumineers