I was flipping through my journal earlier, trying to find a note about a conversation I had a long time ago, and I came across this entry from December 2, 2013. It’s just so good, so poignant, that I wanted to share it:
[written from the Philippines, during the last week of the World Race] Tonight after worship and squad time, I bought an ice cream coffee drink and walked out to the beach with Shannon, Christine, [Sydney], Freweini, Katrina, and Lisa. We all sat facing the ocean and talked amongst ourselves… Eventually everyone sort of bowed out to go in for the night. But Shannon and I were in a conversation about UHC (naturally), so we stayed seated as others got up. As our conversation naturally fizzled out, I almost asked if she wanted to head in. But I hesitated and so our conversation continued. I told her about how I almost stepped down from UHC in Albania. We talked about leadership and how it’s allowed us to grow and develop. We talked for quite a while about becoming more self-aware and making discoveries of ourselves, especially in terms of how we relate to people, interact with them, work with or lead them. She and I relate a lot on this subject and I think that’s one reason why we get along and work together so well. We talked about re-entry and all the frightening and exciting things that involves. And we talked about how inexplicable this year is.
A photo probably taken that same night with Shannon and Jah-Jah
She described a moment she had with a street kid in the Philippines who was crazy high and how frightening and saddening that was. And as she told that story, I stared out at the sea and knew that I understood her more than anyone back home ever could, and yet I also have no clue what that memory feels like. I know there are so many memories like that in my own heart, but a lot of them won’t resurface right away. But one day, when I’m standing in line at HEB or idling at a stop light or going on a run, those memories will come rushing back to me in an unstoppable way. And those are the moments that cannot be easily shared with others. They’re too tender and sacred – too unspeakable. But maybe someday I’ll be sitting on a beach at night, talking with a dear friend, and one of those memories will slip its way into our conversation, and the sacrality of that memory will make us both feel so human that it hurts. And when I share it, they’ll know that they don’t really know at all what I feel, but they’ll also know me so much better because of it.
In life, it is so extremely important that we have these conversations and moments and memories that make us feel overwhelmingly, undeniably, altogether k n o w n .
Becoming Anyole 