Mexico

My spirit has felt off for a few days now with a heaviness. I feel like I am holding the mic and have been staring at my feet unsure of why I asked for this opportunity. I have talked to Jason a lot lately about my upbringing, moving around a lot and having my heart all over America… I told him it’s been something that my subconscious just doesn’t want to put down, but I couldn’t fathom why. I sometimes feel like a secret agent because I know three languages, one of which is Spanish. I have overheard WAY too many awkward things because people chose to speak freely, I mean… “who would understand!?” (I have blushed way too many times to count, just FYI… it happens a LOT.)

Earlier this week Mexico had a record breaking storm coming for it… (Picture the devastation of an EF5 tornado across a large portion of Mexico…) my head and heart were in agreement that this was exceptionally scary. I lived there for a year and a half before coming to Tulsa. I made many trips to central and southern Mexico as a child and I have MANY heart-family members down there (We named Gemma after a child I taught in bible class and I have nieces and nephews I haven’t been able to hug in over 4 years). I know you guys get what I’m saying, but my heart wants to paint a clear picture… that storm was going for my heart. In a turn of events that no one can easily explain, the storm quickly downgraded to a tropical storm once it made landfall. The “miraculous” nature of this was not predicted. By nature, hurricanes are strongest in warmer waters… which the coast of Mexico is full of. If that Cat 5 storm had made landfall at full strength, I am not exaggerating to say that 100s of thousands of impoverished people would have been in mortal danger.

So we all know that my heart paints pictures and wants to give you all the full effect… but among my great joy and relief for my loved ones to be safe, I am reminded again of how far my roots reach. I didn’t grow up “normal”… which I was naively bitter about while growing up. We spent holiday and vacation money on long drives to Mexico to serve and love on people I couldn’t understand or communicate with. A PRIVILEGE that I didn’t understand, nor did I truly see, until I lived in Mexico as an adult. At this point when I hear people talk about going to Mexico, I always envision rural or inner city… but frequently I’m met with descriptions of places like Acapulco or Cozumel.

I know I am not alone in this, which makes this sentiment even richer. I have many relationships with others who have experienced the heart of Mexico. But I want that family to grow. I may have grown up as a nomad moving and traveling quite a bit (a freaking cool experience in hindsight)… but my heart is beginning to realize what I missed. I feel like I’m dancing a new dance and I don’t know what to do with my hands. I saw this storm approaching and saw my newsfeed fill up with prayers and support for the country I love and my eyes filled with tears. Thank you for loving on my heart family. I sometimes don’t feel worthy to claim that beautiful country as a second home, but that’s my truth- my story. I have spent too much time trying to pretend like this longing has faded. So, this is for you, mis queridos… this is a portion of a poem I wrote in 2010.

“Desde que les conocí, han sido un parte de mi.
Si,les quiero, mis corazónes, y tengo un millón razones.
Y cada amanecer me acuerdo que no estan aqui a mi lado.
en mis sueños siempre ustedes serán”

Roots

This fall it has been four years since Jason and I first began to grow together as friends. As our paths converged, I felt like a train about to crash. I was consumed with how out of control my life felt at that time. I was considerably independent already. I had lived away from home since I was 17. God had always placed "framily" in my path right when I needed them, so I knew this time would be no different... but my soul was so tumultuous.

This time I was moving to live near family, my brother. He helped me find the internship that brought me to the Tulsa area, but we were working at different churches all summer, making it a little tricky to see each other at times. Still, it was so nice to have him near. Before that summer I rarely slowed down to make myself (my family) a priority. Making time for family is not only for my family members, but for myself. It's so vital for the human heart to create roots... to maintain them and feel connected somewhere. A healthy plant is a plant with deepening roots. Those are the plants that bear fruit, folks.

I found myself being nomadic. Nomadic is not inherently unhealthy. Nomads often make exceptionally deep connections, it's just not common to make "traditional" connections. Tab's version of being a nomad was like being a plant that was frequently transplanted, but never to a larger pot. That's not to say that "deeper" wasn't an option, I just didn't make time for deeper. Deeper was scary, but why?

In a deeper pot there is more room... in more room, there is more freedom, options, etc... but with deeper roots, it becomes harder and more complicated to uproot. When I day dreamed about the future, I just felt confined. New jobs, new relationships, new residence, new routine... a whole lot of roots! What if I didn't like what I planted myself into? What if a couple of years down the road I didn't like the pot I chose!? "The deeper I go the harder it will be to leave!" I told myself it was about the details... It would be too much work to acclimate to a new city, new job, new apartment... but truthfully, I was terrified of rooting my heart into a new place. Growing roots isn't scary. No, knowing you can never return to the way things were is what's truly scary. So I chose another small pot.

If I were being objective here, I would point out another aspect of what it means to choose a small pot. Some people grow in roughly the same place their entire lives... their primary relationships basically chosen for them by circumstance, not by choice. Their days are filled with tradition, family, routine and rhythm. Much like my nomadic comfort zone, both of these paths WORK and suit the lifestyle they accessorize. Both the house-plants and the nomadic-plants make attempts to experience the other's lifestyle. This isn't because one is better than the other, it's because both are beautiful OPTIONS.

So what does "healthy" look like?

Surely the house-plant deserves to explore when they desire it and the nomad-plant deserves to find a sanctuary when they need it. More to the original point, what's a nomadic girl to do when she transplants herself to Eastern Oklahoma, gets married and deepens her roots?!

Baby steps and balance.

She shops for a bigger pot, she gets her hands dirty exploring her new boundaries, then she breaks the smaller pot. Larger plants can still transplant when necessary... but when a plant has expanded and grown into it's new space, it cannot go back where it came from and still hold onto it's new growth. Onward and upward, friends!

From moving cities and states every other year, to now living in small town Glenpool, owning a 3 bed, 2 bath home! For the first time in my life my nomad-plant day dreams include things like weekly game nights and sporting events, white picket fences and drive in movies... it's scary and amazing all intertwined! This nomad is dabbling, getting a delicious taste of house-plant life, things that wouldn't make sense in my old lifestyle. I'm finding a sanctuary.

Which plant are you?

Is it time to buy a larger pot?

Is it time to make room for new?