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Places and Faces

Here. Here I sit in a Starbuck on the corner of 18th and Columbia, nestled between Lanier Heights and Adams Morgan. In Roanoke, I’m just another face in the crowd. Here, I’m not even sure that I’m that.

When I decided to come up to D.C. for the weekend, I told people I wanted to visit to see the Smithsonian and take pictures to build my stock. That was true, but if I’m honest with everyone (and myself) I came for another reason.

I came in search of answers. Answers to questions that I cannot form into sentences or even into words. I came seeking God in the midst of a crucible season of life. It’s interesting how often I find myself in search of the one person I trust to be there for me AND have my best interest in mind.

My housemate for the weekend is a programmer from (what I guess to be) eastern Europe. He’s a friendly, awkward extrovert. He assures me that I’m “safe”, just “don’t stay out too late.” With a beautifully broken accent he says “don’t worry about car it will be fine!” in one breath and “I’ll go by tomorrow and make sure car still there and not broken…” the next. Honesty, it takes me back to living in Souq Mahata in Amman. I’m an alien. I’m out of place. I don’t belong here. I feel at home.

He has made sure to let me know that he can lead me anywhere I want to go and that “if [I] want nightclub with guaranteed 18-year-old” he can get me there. I smile and respectfully decline. Once upon a time, I would have been disgusted by such an offer, but I’ve seen too many faces to hate him for his bleeding humanity.

I’ve learned to see beauty in the most hideous of places. I have loved selfish and hateful people who didn’t give two flying frappes about me. I can love this broken man trying to find his way in the darkness. Ironic that he had me park in a church for the weekend. God does have a sense of humor when it comes to getting me where He wants me.

And he wants me here…broken, humbled, and yearning.

Here in the Capitol, I’m reminded that I’m just a District Twelver. I’m nothing. And yet I’m everything. I’m a revolution waiting to happen. Maye that’s why the government fears us so much. They know it only takes a spark to start a fire. I’m a spark. I am nothing. I am everything.

The Spirit burns in me and I know that I am on the right path. Carpe Noctem. It is more than a promise to me. It’s a battle cry. I wish to not live in fear begging God to save me from death. I want to live boldly and pray “make it a good death.”

This post is all over the place. It is an expression of me. There is no visible order. There is no conclusion. There are just places and faces. That’s where God is leading me. That’s where I’ll find my answers.

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