8 months ago I didn’t just move to New York. I work born again. I died my first true death and left everything I’d ever been afraid of in Texas.
I remember looking at my mom, my little brother and sister, my grandmother, and my step-dad for the last time as I choked back warm, salty tears. For a moment it felt like a silent movie. No words were said after our good-byes but the looks on their faces said it all.
I saw the fear in my mother’s eyes, the sadness in my sister’s. The courage in my brother’s eyes and the understanding that this is what I needed in my grandmother’s. My step-dad and I have had this really bumpy relationship. One fueled by a power struggle that I think only men who aren’t blood related (but are forced to share parts of a person they feel they owe the world to) go through. Even the look in his eyes said he was going to miss me but had no worries.
Sometimes I don’t know how I’ve made it this far. It so doesn’t feel like 8 months. It is in these moments where I have encounters with God the most. It is because of Him that my life feels a movie. Even on the days where the cast, crew, props, script and site are all shot to hell, I know that He is working on my behalf.
Although I recognize that, I still have to admit that life here is a struggle. A struggle I am slowly learning to love because it teaches me so much. Some days I wake up feeling lost and defeated and then somehow still manage to go to bed feeling like those feelings were supposed to be felt. Only so I could understand the true meaning of what persevering means. What persistence offers. And who God is.
I can’t thoroughly explain the level of growth I’ve experienced so far. I guess if I stated that I’d never felt like a man until I moved here one would possibly get it.
I am such a different person these days. One that isn’t defined by masculinity, or the lack there of, the opinions of others, or the conforming mentality that society attempts to shove down all our throats. A person who isn’t afraid to admit how scared he is, or how confused he is. How unsure he is, but most importantly a person who isn’t afraid to be honest about it all. My life is no longer measured by how much I can lift but how many times I can get back up even when I feel like the knock down life had given me felt like the best solution.
People ask me what I do in New York and are surprised when it’s not attempting to act, sing, or dance. To model, or to be famous. I am here strictly to live, to figure me out, and to understand life a little better. At least for now. I heard once that purpose isn’t handed to you, it is revealed. How can I possibly walk into my purpose without first going through some things? There is no revelation in comfort.
In this very moment I am learning to just be. I can’t control everything, and sometimes the best way to get ahead is to prepare but not expect. I am not perfect and because God meets me in my mess and still finds reasons to bless me beyond my expectations, I have to be content in the valleys just as much as I am on the mountains.
I call my mom at least once a week telling her I want to come home. It didn’t hit me until writing this that I only do it because going home means running to a box with no challenges. That is the easier solution considering there is so much power left up to no one but me here. Living in New York City I see no box, and the challenges are part of the reason.
I don’t know what is in store for me in the future. I just hope that I can make an impact on this world just as much as it has made an impact on me.
Until next time,