Skorts + Sno cones

I came across this picture today (thankfully social media didn’t exist when I was in middle school, so pretty much none of that experience was documented like it is for people now) and I just want to be this girl wearing a skort at Adventureland again.

You know…when feeling grown up meant getting to wear mascara and shaving my legs. When being independent was about getting rides from friends instead of my parents. When socializing involved rollerblading to get sno cones and jumping on a trampoline, because no one had cell phones that did anything except maybe let you play Tetris.

You know…before any of the hard parts happen. Before girls get mean, before parents divorce, before you get your heart broken, before stress is a normal part of life, before best friends leave, before guys become assholes, before the debt piles up, before loved ones get sick and die, before the rejections. This girl hadn’t been touched by any of that yet.

I’ve been trying to remember what it was really like to be this girl, but all I can think of is that she could eat a lot of raw cookie dough and Doritos without gaining any weight and was good at Zelda. It’s insane how many days we live and don’t remember. I spent 365 days being 13 years old but I can only vidvidly recall a few moments here and there. Does this mean that 13 years from now I’ll only be able to remember a few moments from what is my now? 

Woah.

Well, I think I’ll keep up these nostalogia vibes by listening to Fall Out Boy’s Take This to Your Grave album.

Love,

Taylor

 

 

When Dad Meets Daughter

There is this cassette tape I have. If you listen to this cassette tape you will hear a recording of my birth.

If you’re wondering…yes, it does feel strange to listen to labor.

But I get over the strangeness quickly when I hear a voice say, “Hi Taylor. Hi little girl. I’m your Dad.”

I am listening to my dad speak his first words to me. We’re making introductions. My mind is blown as I imagine this; this moment before all the moments to come. In this moment the only thing my dad knows about me is that I’m 7 lbs, 8 oz. and 21 inches long. The only thing I know about him is the sound of his voice…a voice I will grow to recognize instantly; a voice that I will always love to hear.

In my tiniest form I am not yet aware that-

This is the voice that will sing ‘Once Upon a Dream’ while he spins me in his arms and then tosses me in the air before I land, giggling, on my mattress. Then he will pull out his guitar and sing ‘Forever Young’ by Bob Dylan a million times.

This is the voice that will whisper in my ear before the sun rises to wake me up for a special breakfast.

This is the voice that will make me feel safe.

This is the voice that will direct my sister and I in home-made short films such as ‘Misson Possible’ and ‘Maddyella’.

This is the voice that will read me epic adventure stories out loud, character voices included.

This is the voice that will make me cry when it’s raised.

This is the voice that will pray over me.

This is the voice that will tell me I’m lovely (even when I have missing teeth, thick glasses, and bangs that are far too short).

This is the voice that will ask me questions. Constantly.

This is the voice that will make me laugh until my sides ache.

This is the voice that will give wise advice when asked.

This is the voice that will cheer me on through successes and failures.

This is the voice that will appear in countless postcards, Bible margins and wax-sealed letters addressed to me.

This is the voice I will trust.

I will always love this voice.

Love,
Taylor

 

 

 

 

At The Moment

I am…

–Suffering from Peter Pan Syndrome. Being an adult + the arrival of Summer = severe symptoms.

You start growing up accustomed to this work hard/play hard cycle of school life and then all of the sudden you’re in a NO BREAK EVER life. What?! Who approved this?

Can’t I just not reply to work emails for three months and then come back in September and pick up where I left off?

Remember the glorious adrenaline of the last day of school? It signified the arrival of the freedom months. It meant full days spent at the pool with your best friend, ingesting an ungodly amount of freezer pops. It meant mischievously prank calling boys who still had little girl voices, sprinklers and water guns, turning three shades darker without even trying, multiple sleepovers a week, eating tubs of raw cookie dough with Doritos and frozen pizza (metabolism…what’s that?), sweaty hand holding, building rafts at the beach, wearing a swimsuit 3/4ths of the day, road trips to thrilling places like Adventureland, and living completely unconcerned about what time you had to wake up in the morning.

Now Summer means sitting at a desk all day praying to God the office AC doesn’t break. It means forcing yourself to be productive when all you want to do is float down a river inside of an inflatable donut or take a nap in a hammock. It means still setting your alarm, still getting dressed, still paying bills, still feeling worthless after a workday, etc.

I’m not saying Summers aren’t fun anymore. They’re still the best. But you never get back those few months of blissful, ignorant, youthful freedom. And that is a tragedy. RUUUFIIOOO.

–Grateful for friendships near and far. I think something unique happens when people become friends because the universe brought them together in another country, for a specific amount of time, to experience something intense and out of the ordinary together. I’m not exactly sure why, but for me at least, there is a pull to keep those people close. Maybe because they’re my only few ties to a life altering experience. Maybe because we lived in places and spaces where all we could do was talk. For hours, days, months. My friend Melissande and I have been in a season of communicating frequently. It’s been 5 years since we were aimlessly wandering the streets of Morocco, but we’ve continued to share life over Skype and through cards/packages. My friend Sarah, who I met in YWAM, asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding this Summer- yeaaahhh! I’ve stayed in touch with the three people I interned with in Uganda, visiting and checking in with each other. Each one of them has really been there for me lately, even if we’re oceans apart. It means a lot. And I’m constantly blessed and amazed by the friends I have surrounding me every day. I don’t know why or how I got so lucky. As cliche as it sounds, they make me a better person and I would be in a far darker place right now if it weren’t for their love and zeal for life. So thank you (you all know who you are). A million times. Thank you.

–All about the little victories.  When you find yourself challenged beyond what you thought you were capable of, the small victories become all the more precious. Stress and worry have tried to swallow me whole the past few months, but there is one victory I have been relishing in: the absence of self-doubt. I believe in myself. Don’t ask me why the realization of that comes as a bit of a surprise. But I’m proud of myself. I know that I am capable. Of reaching new levels of health. Of obtaining my dreams. Of saying no. Of great love. Of conquering fear. Of gracefully embracing change. Of deeper faith. I’ve got this. Breathe. Keep your eyes open, your chin up, and your heart full.

 

Love,

Taylor