Even though I have proudly and completely eschewed all forms of welfare (including not filing for unemployment when I was jobless for 5 months), if the healthcare bill ever passes, I’m getting on the public plan.

And then I’m joining a roller derby league.

Things I love about Denver:
1. Surprisingly not as cold as I thought. “Dry cold” means a lot.
2. Hooked on Colfax. Best coffee shop ever. I’m hooked on their Bhakti Chai. Sweet gingery goodness.
3. Snow. It’s fantastic. I love it.
4. Sunshine and blue skies. Deep blue skies.
5. The straight-up badassery of driving on deadly roads.
6. Being able to cook an entire meal without moving my feet.
7. The density of the population. Sometimes it’s annoying, but it’s nice being close to a metric ton of people.
8. Walking hither and yon.
9. The big window in my living room. Birch trees and squirrels and sunshine and snow.
10. Working from home and fixing awesome meals all the time.

Things I miss about Dallas:
1. Friends, of course.
2. READILY AVAILABLE PARKING SPACES. Woof.
3. Knowing how to get everywhere.
4. Being on the prayer team at Sojo.
5. Dishwasher. You should thank God right now for your dishwasher.
6. Long drives on highways to get anywhere. Great thinking time.
7. Office banter.
8. Not having the neighbors’ smoke waft into my home.
9. Fat Straws Bubble Tea
10. General lack of one way streets.

It’s snowing again. Second day in a row, second time since I’ve been here. It seems so strange that such a dirty looking sky could send down stuff that makes everything below it seem so clean.

I have a great wide, paneless window that is perfect for snow watching. It looks out on a handful of birch trees and roofs and off in the distance are two sky scrapers who disappear when it’s really coming down hard. When night falls, there’s a bright white light that shines on a close parking lot. It makes the snow turn into glitter.

Watching snow drift down makes everything inside me stand still and ache. In a good way.

At a wedding this year one of the bridesmaids thought she forgot to bring her shoes to the ceremony. Another bridesmaid piped up and said “Oh gosh! I was packing up this morning and God told me to bring an extra pair of silver shoes! You’re my size, right? Thanks God!”

A woman who was standing next to me leaned over and quietly whispered “I don’t think God deals in such trivial matters.” I disagreed as heartily as I could without risking blatant offense. Who brings two pairs of dress shoes to a wedding just because? Probability alone demands at least the possibility of divine intervention.

I’m glad I have a God who deals in trivial matters. And a God who pays my rejection no mind. Who abundantly blesses me, when I shake my fist in His face and openly question not only His goodness, but even His existence.

Hurt and perceived abandonment and rejection have swallowed me so completely in the past months that I haven’t let it sink in how much He has done on my behalf.

I did what I wanted and He has blessed it.

I have moved to Denver. I was able to keep my job that I *love.* My title is still office manager, even though the office is in a different state. I got up into the mountains at the start of winter, just after one of the heaviest snowfalls on record and I am greeted with a week of sunny, record-breaking warmth. I have met wonderful people, and discovered fantastic places.

They might seem trivial, circumstantial, unimportant, but to me, right now, they are all letters telling me quite eloquently that I am loved. Fully. Completely. Unconditionally.

So many people I want to love and understand me just can’t. There are so many people that I want to love and understand and just can’t. It seems to me that only One knows how to properly love. And He loves me just as much in my bitchiest, most unlovable state as He does when I’m as close to perfect as I can get.

I want to love Him more.

I’m supposed to write an article for work encouraging our clientele to dig deeper into social media. All I want to write to them is to not be afraid of failure, rejection, or wasted time.

I have friends who are going through some weird life changes. All I want to tell them is to not be afraid of whatever future looms before them.

But I’m dealing with fear myself. I’ve never come face to face with homelessness like I have here. My heart is torn for them, but at the same time, there’s always been this indoctrinated thought in my mind that there are enough programs out there that the homeless are only homeless because they don’t want to be responsible for their own lives. Therefore they aren’t worthy of my compassion, time or support. My love is glaringly conditional, and I’m afraid I won’t learn how to break that. I’m also afraid that I will break it, and some homeless person I interact with will give me lice. Really, really don’t want lice.

Being fearless is not an option. Fear comes. No escaping that. Courage is not the absence of fear, but bold action in spite of fear. It requires trust. Trust that things end up well, no matter how badly everything burns between here and glory.

I don’t want to live among the fearless. I want to commune with the courageous. Wherever they are.

A chronicle of the journey to Denver:

2 hours behind schedule, but finally on the road. On the run from johnny law, this ain’t no trip to cleveland.
4:38 PM Oct 29th from txt

I need ice cream and sassparilla. Unfortunately 40 feet of car is unwieldly.
6:11 PM Oct 29th from txt

Mel: i’m not in a wainwright mood. @adamdallas: are you in a wainwrong mood?
6:54 PM Oct 29th from txt

Trailer mishap. I’m pissed.
7:41 PM Oct 29th from txt

You know what this story needs police. Ooh! And make one of them break his night stick! AWESOME.
9:12 PM Oct 29th from txt

Enter psycho kitty stage left. He’s stalking the dead trailer. Will he fix it? Let’s watch.
9:23 PM Oct 29th from txt

And there goes a car towing another car. Show offs.
9:26 PM Oct 29th from txt

Super crowbar worked well enough, back on the road.
9:59 PM Oct 29th from txt

Tire was sparking. More crow bar plus ninja u haul driving skills made that sucker fall in. Now we’re on the wrong road.
10:12 PM Oct 29th from txt

Right road, moving wheels, hella behind schedule, but at least we’re moving in the right direction again.
10:20 PM Oct 29th from txt

Let’s get pulled over for 72 in a 65!
12:39 AM Oct 30th from txt

Add a pinch of adam’s suspended license ! And voila! I’m driving. Best. Trip. Ever. NOT!
12:55 AM Oct 30th from txt

I think this is what Levi Weaver must feel like on most of his tours.
1:32 AM Oct 30th from txt

Finally in amarillo. Nobody died. Only moderate bleeding, even.
2:16 AM Oct 30th from txt

And back on the road. Yeehaw.
7:15 AM Oct 30th from txt

First ice has been seen.
9:30 AM Oct 30th from txt

G’bye Texas.
10:03 AM Oct 30th from txt

Pretty snow is pretty.
10:41 AM Oct 30th from txt

Ray lamontagne on the stereo, taking in the snow-capped mountains. This is lovely.
11:17 AM Oct 30th from txt

Driving this beast makes me feel badass. Not gonna lie.
12:22 PM Oct 30th from txt

I just pwned some icy mountains. Very self impressed.
1:04 PM Oct 30th from txt

It’s almost tropical here in… Whatever city this is. Mel is pleased.
2:21 PM Oct 30th from txt

Making use of the ac.
2:58 PM Oct 30th from txt

I’ve got 2 hours to get to u haul, send adam to the apt, get a money order, pick up my keys, unload the truck and get to the airport.
4:43 PM Oct 30th from txt

Oh man. Looks like another night on the floor for me.
6:08 PM Oct 30th from txt

Won’t see my new place until 7ish. Drat.
6:21 PM Oct 30th from txt

Best sunset ever.
7:05 PM Oct 30th from txt

Exhausted. Trying to find a grocery store. Still haven’t seen the apartment.
8:10 PM Oct 30th from txt

Well. Everything’s still in the truck, but i’m here. End transmission.
8:55 PM Oct 30th from txt

This drizzly grey crap weather is wearing me down.
Moving is wearing me down. I’ve packed exactly 4 boxes, and keep coming up with lame excuses why I shouldn’t pack anything else.

I’m scared. Very scared.

And I’ve started missing people. A lot.

Right now a friend’s worship song is playing in the tab below the blogging software. The bridge is my favorite part. “Abba Father, I surrender.” Over and over. “Abba Father, I surrender.”

I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. This move feels like the biggest fuck up I’ve ever thought of committing. And at the same time, not going feels worse.

And at the end of the day, the very last thing I think about, the Truth that lets me go to sleep at night, is this:
At the very least, whatever comes of it, if I flounder miserably, if I lose touch with all the people I love so dearly, I’m not being controlled by fear. I’m doing what I think I should do. My mind and my emotions can wander and rave and lament as they please, my feet are still walking the path they know they should go.

I should go. As much as I don’t want to go, I need to go.

So what do I say now? Geronimo? See ya ’round? Let the wild rumpus start.

In the past 15 minutes I have been fearless, triumphant, scared, terrified and fearless again.

Kind of the name of the game these days. When there’s too much to focus on, and the mind goes wonky.

Why am I most proud of myself when I’m on the verge of sheer stupidity?

Maybe it’s because only stupid things scare me, and I love when I can work up courage inside me when all my instincts are telling me to do just the opposite. It is the ultimate in self-mastery. It is the hardest thing I can do, and succeeding in it is the ultimate rush.

A lot of you are in the same place right now. On the verge of big changes. Milestones. Joining. Separating.

If you were here, I would raise a glass right now. I would toast our future, wherever that might take us. To all the consequences, good and bad that are tied to our decisions. To the effort we make to be the best that we can be. To the fruits of all our labors, be they monetary, emotional, or completely intangible. We are what we are, and it’s pretty damn beautiful.

I’m glad I know you.

I went down to Houston last weekend. I’ve been down several times since the family moved back to our old hometown, but they were out on vacation, and this was the first time that allowed time for meandering trips down memory lane. The house we lived in when I first started driving. The long-gone pool where I learned to swim. The places I used to go to church, meet friends, be a kid, grow up.

While the trip as a whole was a blast, the historical tour was a remarkable drag. I don’t want to be who I was then. Not remotely.

Working in marketing has been fun- learning about manipulation on a macro scale is something everyone should learn, if only to be wary of all the ways you are pushed in ordained directions every single day. The office has been abuzz recently with chatter about logos. Logos are to marketing what flour is to bread, seems to me.

I drove around the geographical locations of my history, and my mind wandered to this article that you might have seen recently. It felt like I was remembering old logos of myself. I’ve always had dark hair, and the same last name, but almost everything else has morphed one way or another. There have been numerous re-designs, a million makeovers. Which is to be expected, I guess. Growing up and developing personalities and standards and aesthetics is never a static process. I was a first class dork in Houston. And judgmental and rude. Still comes out more than I’d like it to, but As a whole, I think the difference is vast.

Some of the inner workings remained the same, though. Up until recently I always had a desire to win. All the logos have dreamt of being icons. Firmly rooted in a deep desire to combat any obstacle, leap any hurdle, control any rogue emotions, soothe any destructive purpose, bring kingdom, see God, rule myself and the world.

And in this last year my mind and heart have shorted out on all the things that have not made sense, and my logo has kinda taken on a Comic Sans feel. Crass and artless, depressing and ignorable. It’s a shitty logo, phoned in by a 12 year old.

But I don’t really know what I’m selling anymore. I still have an inkling of trust that the next logo will be something inspiring. A fierce brand, that when you look at it, it makes you feel powerful, alive and safe at home all at the same time. But I don’t know when that will come. Or why I’m stuck with Comic Sans.

Hit the reset button, already. Please. Please?

Sifting through old emails brought up a really great one from a dear friend and mentor. This part was worth sharing:

Training for any goal no matter how grand is not wildly exciting and few have the discipline to train well. Those in professional sports talk of running stairs, swimming laps for hours but the outcome of great discipline is great results. Many people dream of great results, victory, inner circle status, but they don’t have the daily disciplines to chunk life down into daily routines that get them to the top of their game. They lose site of the goal, get distracted or have a weak will. It also involves defining what “great” means to you personally. And it includes believing that God wants the best for you. You have been granted one life to live. Make it count. Be bold, be heroic, be kind, love, delight others, believe in yourself, God and others.