Being back from Rome
isn’t a failure,
it’s an iteration…

I said this… 2019

It’s been eight weeks… 

It’s been eight weeks since I walked the streets of Rome, Italy

eight weeks since I’ve savored the taste of cacio e pepe with aqua frizzante
or had my morning caffe e cornetto
eight weeks since I’ve savored the walk on split-stoned streets
the vibrant greens paired with orange hued buildings
all around me
eight weeks since I’ve seen my neighbors,
my housemates,
my fellow Cinese shop owners,
my car wash friends,
my 2 best baristas
eight weeks since I’ve worshiped in another language
it took eight weeks to finally write this letter

this may be the quietest eight weeks of my life thus far
for so long I had nothing to say
[more like I had the world to say] 
but my mind, my heart, my fingers
couldn’t bring my pen to the paper…

eight weeks have gone by
like eight years
and yet the time I was there
felt like an eternity

p a r a d i s e

everything I had dreamed of
and more
somehow I came back to the place of my birth,
the place I’ve called home, and felt like a stranger

it’s crazy how life does that to you…

Transition is a confusing time.

I reflect on the reasons why I went to Italy in the first place
I knew early on that I was going into a new season
every part of my experience confirmed that for me

upon return for a visit

upon visiting the Bay Area
I thought I’d be here for no more than six weeks
and yet here I am
unsure of when my return will come

it’s easier to say that the plan is definite
it’s easier to assume that this is an easy transition
it’s easy to start to believe the comments “I’m so glad you’re back for good”

I can’t really rebut that statement just yet 
I can’t see the end in sight
but I know that there is more to my story than this

A few things I know for certain…

I’m called to the nations


I am a creative artist
to my core

more than just dance…

some newer discoveries…

I have a voice
that’s meant to be heard

I never thought my voice would be used in the capacity that it is now
I was comfortable letting my voice speak through my movement.
I’ve been challenged more recently to utilize my voice in other capacities… 
my singing voice
my speaking voice
my written voice

They are all avenues that I love to express, but never put intention behind sharing those gifts with the world
somehow I felt that once it was extended beyond myself, it would remove the intimate significance they gave me

I sing as a form of worship
[or karaoke on a good day]
I never thought my voice was something that needed to be heard.

I write because I love the combinations of syllables
I’ve written poetry and other creative writings 
[and many of you may know] 
love note taking

I am still getting used to what it looks like to call myself a writer,
… to think that people value my writing so much,
that they’ve hired me to write for them, is surreal to me. 

It’s always been a part of my creative expression,
I just didn’t realize how integral it’s been.

… kinda like my choreography

the choreographer sits on the sideline, usually with a headset, or in the third or fourth row, watching from a distance as the work that came from his or her hands heart and feet are expressed for the world to see

I’ve been happy with
being on the sidelines
in the background
hidden in plain sight.
I’ve been content with being invisible,
though every part of my soul wants to be seen.

So I’m coming out…

no more hiding my talents

I’m wrestling with the tension of being in a place of transition. But I also want to relinquish what I have within me. I don’t want to be like the man that decided to bury his treasure, instead of giving or investing it. I don’t want to be the person hiding my gifts my talents, expecting a different end result. I am choosing to give all that I am, all that I love, all that I create, through all my mistakes. Of course, even speaking about what I have to give makes me feel 100% inadequate, and gives me very quick flight response. But I can’t let fear keep me from fully pursuing all that’s within me.

Turning Point

a few weeks back…

My pastor, Keira Smallcombe spoke on Psalm 139, and it really re-framed my perspective on who I am and who I was created to be. She spoke of Moses in one of her many examples. He was split between multiple identities, being a Hebrew boy who was raised as royalty in the Egyptian court. He lived among them, but was not of them. And when returning to the land of his people, he was of them, but didn’t look, or act, or behave, or think, or even walk like them. And yet he was the one destined to walk that different road, being trained, equipped and prepared to be the one to deliver his people. There was no known path set before him, no example, no role model that looked the part. He literally walked his own unique path. The fear that must have gripped him when he realized he didn’t have anything to follow but faith. And by that simple fact, given his experiences… how could he not believe that God was real?

i feel this…

It’s a gripping place to be… in that tension
of recognizing that the path ahead is so clouded
… that I could walk into a tree at any moment.

It’s exhausting to rehearse the possibilities of what is to come.

Yet the reward will be so much more worthwhile after I’ve endured
this season of wilderness, of discovery, of potential, of possibility,
of learning to trust God when there literally is no water.
… and finding it rushing through the well springs of a struck stone.

m y    r e s o l v e:

Am I confused?


Was this what I had planned?

     absolutely not.

Will I prevail?


Am I defeated?

     absolutely not.

I don’t have all the answers.
I don’t even know all that I need.
I do know that I will continue to press on,
no matter the cost.

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