in the black street when it's all you really know.

Homework. I was doing it. Then, off in the distance beyond my open window, I hear a little voice. She was reciting something I heard on Disneychannel once, one of those commercials where the kids go on TV to talk about the cool job there parents had. She would say, "Hi, my name's ______, and my dad does this and this for a living." Then she'd end it with the catchphrase they kids also say on the commercial, "What a Life!" Gosh, when I looked out that window, I thought I was looking in a mirror. She reminded me so much of when I was a kid. She was pacing around on her scooter, saying this stuff, pretending she was on Disneychannel. When I was little, I'd just walk outside with either my handball or my basketball, and walk around the whole neighbor just making up stories or pretending to be on shows like on Disneychannel or something; just bouncing my ball. Beautiful memories of those days, of just getting lost in the stories I made up, being such great friends with these imaginary people. I use to do it everyday after school, I remember. My neighbor, who we call Senior, used to tell me to count how many times I bounce my ball. That actually made me a bit uncomfortable, because I hated it when people were outside at the same time I was bouncing my ball. I didn't like it, because it would appear I was talking to myself, and I hated imagining what a weird kid people thought I was seeing myself talking to no one.

But right as I looked out the window, her big brown eyes met mine, and she got this sheepish look on her face and all she could do was hiccup "Hi." I could've sworn I was looking in a mirror of when I was younger again.

It's really silly, once you think about it, how much I cared what people thought of me. One of the things I loved to do most was making up stories and bouncing my ball. It was my escape from the world. It was my own world. I loved it there.

But after a time, I just stopped. I stopped bouncing my ball. Why? I don't really know. It just kind of faded. Actually, I had gotten this big, soft ball from an arcade place and I would take that and hit it against my wall in my bedroom. It wasn't the same as outside in my Col De Sac, but I guess I thought it was better at the time because it was inside and I could be in my own privacy without having the fear of people wondering "Why is she talking to herself?"

When I reached an age when I stopped completley, my dad told me I should bounce my ball again. He said he thought it was a way of me clearing my thoughts and just a distressing thing for me, and it was. Not long after I stopped did I battle with different emotional problems. Kind of sad.

Now I still don't bounce my ball, but I wish I did. My neighbors would probably all come up to me and say, "Bouncing the old ball again Chrissy?" Even in one of my "get well" cards I got from my neighbors after getting an operation, it said "We miss hearing you bounce your ball. Get well soon."

You know what was the only thing that stopped me? I don't. Maybe it was maturing. Maybe it was no more time because of homework or something. But I feel like a big possiblity was that I unconciously let myself believe people thought I was strange, and I myself thought so too, and I stopped because of it.

Next time, I won't watch my little neighbor out the window, if she ever does recite Disneychannel again. I'll just let her pace by on her scooter. I don't want her to ever stop herself just because she sees someone watching her. I don't ever want her to believe she's strange just because she has an imagination she's willing to say out loud. That's what makes her beautiful, is her imagination. and her innocence.

"sees a young girl smile on the black street
clothed in innocence

Dancing and dreaming
like a girl she used to know
oh, little girl, please always
let your white stars glow.

Let your white stars shimmer
just like the snow
like them sparkle in the black street
when it's all you really know."

Between me and the Door (intented to be posted 10/3/10)

Transistion: summer, fall.

So I'm a few weeks behind. I feel like summer has just been everlasting, like it's seriously lasted for more than 3 months. So many things have happened over the summer, so many things have changed; including my mind and myself. Or at least I've attempted change.

Good change? Bad change? I don't want to label it. It's just God's change. It's what He wants. It's just Him blessing everything. Even if there's trials. It's a blessing. Everything is a blessing.

Memories of summer, and now transistioning into fall:
1. Forever Younglife Fridays.
2. Downtown West Covina, Jack's Mannequin narrating riding along the border of the shore on July 3rd.
3. Switchfoot narrating... everything.
4. Anything Jon Foreman sings narrating... everything.
5. Switchfoot narrating an amazing day on the beach with 4 of my best friends <3
6. Stars.
7. Letters.
8. Woodview Lane. Emphasis on that one. Driving up there, outlooking the city lights, waving hello in the ocean of the night sky. Talking to my mom about our same drive on that road on January 1st, and what resolutions we made. Quite sad, because we couldn't recall what resolutions we made.
9. Tears. Sad ones, sure. But mostly tears of joy.
10. Rain. In summer?! Yes. Pouring. Dancing in it. Dancing on it. Praying in it. The surplus the rain left in the sky. Sitting on a playground, singing songs and discovering many things. <3
11. Paper, pens.
12. My treehouse. And the canyon. My escapes from the world.
13. Reily Minton's house.
14. "Your Love is Strong" by Jon Foreman.
15. Dancing around to "Stars" by switchfoot, having a spazz attack playing metaphorical drums with two of my best friends playing metaphorical gutairs.
16. Fiction Family.
17. Toujour Votre.
18. So much more.

Did you actually read that whole list? Congratulations.

These, and like 40 other things are what made up my summer and part of my life. So many new doors are being opened, some doors even possibly being closed; but I don't like to turn and dwell and what I'm leaving, I only love seeing the glow of the new door being opened. But, I'll only open if He knocks.

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me." Revelation 3:20

Come Lord. Let me not be selfish. Let me not always change the subject of conversation continuously to something about me. Let me always think of others first. Subtract my selfishness. Subtract myself from...myself. Instead of talking all the time, letting words slip out of my mouth and thoughts slip out of my mind, let me listen to your knock and open the doors You need me to get to.

"Under the floor between me and the door there's a presence i cannot deny" <3