Goodbyes.

I am not good at goodbyes. And after an email from a friend, some of this is getting a little difficult to digest, like the beginning of goodbyes. I am starting to say them. It isn't like I'll never return to L.A. or that this is goodbye forever. Just the "goodbye for now" is harder to say.

After this weekend, it got real. Clearly, I need to sip on the juice of joy, but that it is not always easy. I was at Opening Day for the Dodgers vs. Padres. I was torn as to which team to root for (though I am always Dodger blue at heart). Walking in to Petco Park for the first time was an adrenaline rush for a thousand reasons. This. Is. Real.

The other side of reality is hitting me. I will not be returning to the cozy classroom I have called my home for the last 9 years (or better yet, teaching for 14). There is a bitter taste still sitting in my gut over that. I am leaving my home in which I have lived all of 8 or 9 months, (which was, looking back), a big kickstart to this process of change. But what I leave is bigger than all of that. I am leaving a comfort zone. For the last (almost) 36 years, I have been in a 15 mile radius of a safe, familiar nest. And now I am moving 100 some miles away. Am I excited? Of course. Anxious? A little. Sad? Definitely. Ready? Yes.

But there is so much I am going to miss...

-The familiar smell of the grass on the fields I line each week.
-My own space. 
-The daily hilarity of my students (on that, I could write my own book).
-The laughter and daily joys of my colleagues.
-Starbucks Thursdays with Kim.
-Knowing how to get places (though I still get lost in my own neighborhood).
-Coaching.
-The Dodgers. 
-Being able to meet up with friends at the drop of the hat.
-Having dinner with my mom any day of the week.
-The Warehouse family.
-Grill 'Em All.
-Stella's babysitters. 
-Crying in church next to Robin and PK (almost a weekly occurrence for me still).
-The suburbs (though the city life excites me).
-Clifton's.
-The relationships with other schools and ADs.
-CR on Wednesday nights.
-Coincidental run-ins.
-Going to Julie's for dinner to party plan with her and Jessica (but this WILL still happen).
-My shops I love to frequent.
-Doing laundry at Jav and Stephanie's (though I think this will still happen from time to time).
-Plenty of parking.
-L.A. life.
-Jolie and dates with her cuties (I love being their Tia--and still will be).
-The Lakers (though this has been an embarrassing season).
-My closet.

The list will go on. I am sure I will add to it. So don't be insulted if you aren't on the list. It is just hard to say goodbye and some things I am just not ready to accept.

This is my life.

 My dear friend Julie said I would get to a place in this new life of mine and I would have this moment, when the realization would set in and I would confidently and thankfully say, this is my life. Smirk smirk. Yeah right, I would get that glorious moment. But February happened. The highest highs and the lowest lows. (Once again, cue the singing angels and their harps--for the good parts, of course).

Nothing special ushered in the moment. But it happened. It hit me gently like a ton of fluffy bunnies. Like soda pop and bubble gum. This is my life. For a split second, I teared up and let all other thoughts escape. This. Is. My. Life. And though I immediately wanted to text my friend Julie to sing from rooftops about the moment that had just occurred, I let it all sink in with, what I am sure, was a silly smile of pure contentment on my face.

The Pee Monster.

As that moment (as well as that weekend) has been engraved in my memory as a treasure, I would say that our lives are far from perfect. We have our flaws and imperfections. And reality makes itself known often and loudly like bullhorns and dragsters. Reality hits in moments like when I dropped the cup of red salsa on the carpet at lunch. Brought partially raw brownies to treat for my colleagues. Having tons of unanswered questions about what is to come. Or after talking smack about another's mishaps, my phone charger starts its own sparking party, burning the charger and the outlet as I drive down the road. Or like when I wake up at 4 in the morning today, in a puddle of Grandma Stella's leaking bladder (for the 10th time). This is my life.

My parade has been peed on many times in the recent weeks. Life is messy. Literally and figuratively. It is a bit chaotic at times. It is unexpected. It is walking at times in blind faith. But somehow, I am always able to get back to the moment of...This is my life. The difference now in contrast from 6 months ago in is how I brace for the storms. And when they hit (as they are inevitable), thank God I have an umbrella and carpet cleaner because you just don't know if it will be a hurricane or a yellow puddle.  

Scars.

In church on Sunday, Todd talked about scars. It is a rare occasion that I don't cry in church. Today was no exception. As Todd shared about physical scars of his past, he said there are some scars we have in life that we should be proud of as it is proof we are living.

And as I think of my physical scars, I think of my cancer scar. It is a crooked line etched into my stomach. It is not beautiful in and of itself. However, it is beautiful for the story it tells. 7 years ago I was diagnosed with Stage III Ovarian Cancer with less than a 20% chance of survival. Thankfully, my scar shows that indeed I have survived by God's grace. 

There are scars harder to see. The ones of the heart. Though they are easier to hide, they often hurt worse than the physical scars. I have wounds that are healing still. Yet as Todd encouraged, after a while, you will look, and the scars will have vanished. Though you've been telling the story so long, you may not have noticed. There are stories of my past I've carried for so long that I don't want to carry them any longer. And in fact, the pain has lessened and the scars are starting to vanish. 

It starts with "and."

Let me begin by saying this journey is more like a documentary of how life is unfolding and how God is at work in me. In no way, shape or form am I arrogant enough to think that my life is any more special than the next guy that people will want to read the details of my life. I have been encouraged to journal the happenings of life as this has been quite a ride. This blog is for MY own reflection as I am sure that months from now, years from now, I will wonder how I got to this place or that. And this blog will be evidence of each piece that was masterfully orchestrated to get me there. If people are encouraged along the way in their own journey, then so be it.

So with formal introductions out of the way, let the blogging begin...

Why the ampersand? The ampersand is a broken infinity symbol that also means "and." Nothing lasts forever on this earth (though I wish it did). After fourteen years as an English teacher, there is also a great love for punctuation and words, in particular this lovely conjunction meaning "and."  This journey starts with the AND...

The last handful of years have been tumultuous at best. Hence the broken part in my ampersand. I was focused on simply doing what it would take to SURVIVE. I will spare the gory details of recent years as I am sure that some will surface in my blogging journey, but starting 2014, I knew that my longing for something more was leading to this as the year to THRIVE. Cue the sleeping lion starting to finally awaken. No longer did I (or do I) want to live in the safety zone. I have grown tired of making the safe and predictable decisions. Decisions that clearly revolved around the happiness of others rather than my own desires, dreams and goals. To be perfectly honest, I had built quite a home in the pig sty of life's problems. Though it was messy, I knew what to expect. It was comfortable in the mud. And it was easier to live in that drab. But as this has been my year to THRIVE, good gracious, was I ever in for the wildest ride yet. I had been praying that doors would open and close! Certain doors have been nailed shut with a thousand nails (and just to be safe, I am pretty sure that there are zombies waiting on the other side just to ensure that I don't go back to those places again). And some decisions are disappointing and beyond my control such as the low enrollment leading to my teaching contract not being renewed for next year. Yet there are other doors that are now wide open with flashing arrows ushering me in with angelic music playing in the background (It sounds better that way, right?!).

San Diego, Stay Classy.

All that to say, I am embarking on a new journey. In 61 days (but who is counting?), I will be transplanting my life to San Diego. I do not yet have a job. I do not yet have a place of my own. And I am moving from a place that I love and from friends that have been so faithful in my life journey. BUT...(and may I say that is a HUGE BUT(T)...) I am without ONE hesitation. Rather than think of all that I leave behind, I think of what I get to move toward. With a new city comes new adventure. I get to start fresh in a city that is incredibly beautiful. I will establish in a new place (yet still love my hometown). And the friends are a text or FaceTime away. This door is flung open wide. And being that God has been faithful, now is certainly not my time to doubt. Hopefully Grandma Stella Puppy likes cats.

And so, this chapter of life starts with the "and..."