i went too deep.  i dove too fast.
i better paddle up, gotta give them back their air.
i hit them too hard, knocked it out of them.
gotta go back, gotta surface.
keep it light, keep it fluffy.
keep it small talk, homework talk, how was your day talk.
they haven't been there, couldn't have been there, maybe don't wanna ever get there.
but that's what i've got.
that's what i've learned.
gotta talk about what matters first, cause who knows how long you've got.
a day, a week, a month.
you can fill in the gaps later, but first let's get real.
let's talk about what He's done, what He's doing and what you hope He does.
about where He's taken you, or where He hasn't but you wish He had, and want Him too.

but i can't.
i gotta keep it simple, on the surface.
i gotta dance around the cultural unspokens that i don't know yet, just like i had to learn them across the pond.
back to the beginnings.
back to the basics
back to baby steps and fumbling falls.

leaning on Him.
learning again and again.
being humbled and realizing how little + small i am all over again.

trying to find why He has me where i am, just like He had me there then.
and i'm learning, He's softening my heart, opening my eyes to see + giving me a love for people, just like He always has done.

so...

it whelms up like a beast.
well known and familiar, but different at the same time.
it's stronger now, like it's been kept in its cage too long, and now it needs to stretch. 
but it needs more room because when it was squished down into the cage, it has been growing. 
a little taller, stronger, hungrier, with a drive that was deeper than ever before.
and it knows...
it knows that, if it really wants, it can. 
it can do what it wants.

wings spread, legs aching to move.
the air is too thick, suffocating on the very oxygen that your body needs, but it's not what it wants, craves.

rush, wild, change, unknown.
free, throwing off the shackles that hold it to the ground and soaring.
stretching out the cramped, experienced appendages that have knowledge written all over them.
each bump, line, scar and ridge speak a thousand words.
experience: taste, sound, touch, sight.

it's restless and wild and beautifully dangerous.
it's thrilling and lovely and has a seductive voice that always calls for more.
never enough. 
always growing on more, needing more, starving for more.

and when you've starved it too long, and the hunger is too much, and your arms grow tired from holding the cage shut, you give.
you relax your muscles, stretch your cramped, stretched white fingers and sigh.
and as the crack slowly opens, it stirs.
smelling what it craves and longing with all it's passport-stamped heart that it may fly free.

but for now, no.
nothing more than a crack.
so out slips a paw: tough for walking, stained red with dirt, wet with rain, and soft for walking with care for the places it steps.
and the tip of a barely fraying wing, not enough to be old, only just starting to really be comfortable + strong.
going where it needs without rubbing or getting too sore.

and  i snap.
frantic for the bag, keys, camera, anything.
book, pen, paper, grasping for something, just enough for now.

so i go.
dust behind me, sending minimal words forward when necessary, scribbling words, a plea of "get me out of here" on my lips.
dust behind me, road ahead.
nothing but: it, myself, the sky, dust + cows.

and as much as my heart aches, and it growls in impatience, sometime i must turn back.
brake, stop, reverse, eat my dust on the way back.
one gritty mouthful after the other like a child caught lying chokes down bubbles. 
tracing tracks back to the beginning, slowly easing the wing back in the cage. 

and it's just enough for now, just enough to ease the gnawing ache inside it.
so i stroke it's paw, wishing almost more than it's wild, racing heart that i could open the cage + let it shine in its full glory.
but not now. 
not yet.
there's a time when it will be only us.

it's wings free + ready and my word "go." and we're off.
back where it's comfortable, where it's free and wild and life is abundant.

but not yet.
not yet.

i like my valley.

where the clouds paint the mountains purple, where narnia is my backyard + the coffee shops play ed sheeran.
where i paint peeling wood white... which turns my hair turns white before its time.
where nowhere is safe from people you know, where everyone knows your face, or at least they should.
where everyone has a cousin who has a friend, who knows yours.  and everyones happy about it.
where it starts to really get hot when logically it should be cooling down, when the little hand touches three + the sun starts to really burn your skin.
where farmer tans are strong but peoples ties to their gardens are stronger.
where the places rarely change, but the people do.

coming back i see just how much i've changed.  i knew it, mentally, logically, physically i felt it.  but only now, being back on the roads i walked + standing next to the building that once felt so tall, do i really feel it.

i'm different.  i've changed.
my eyes are opened to the world beyond, i've seen, smelt + felt so much.  and i'm learning how to not just come back, but to come back well.

to not be a steam roller of opinions + convictions developed over years of learning.  but how to take advantage of the opportunities He brings for me to share what He's taught me. 

i'm learning how to stretch + grow at the rate He has for me.  and knowing that my story is different than others, but it's just right for me.  even when it seems crazy, crunched and wacky to others.

i'm learning how to learn... again.
i'm re-learning culture in some ways that i hadn't realized i had lost it.

 and i'm looking forward to starting the next learning curve that is bible school.  i'm gonna have teachers that aren't my mom (perks of being homeschooled), i'm gonna have roommates that aren't my siblings, and i'm going to learn how to live on a continent half-way around the world from where my family is. 

and it's gonna be good + hard.
it's gonna stretch + pull me in ways that living in burkina never did.
it's gonna open new opportunities for me to grow + it's gonna demand that i lean further into the Lord than i've ever had to.

and as i stand here on another "ledge" of life, looking into the next section ahead of me i feel inadequately ready.  knowing that i will need to fully rely on the Lord, as well as the lessons that He has already taught me + the gifts that He has given me, some of which i'm sure i don't yet know. 

but He does, He's got this.