MIA Writings Part 3

And here is the one I've been avoiding since I started this blog. . It's about one of the things closest to my heart. It's sort of a letter to one of the people I love the most in the whole world. At least that's the form it took on when I was processing it out.

Like clockwork. What has it been....2 years? Time to move again. New state. New start. And this time you are moving closer to me. I wonder what God's doing with that? I'm thankful. I miss you. I miss you at family gatherings. I miss you helping me conjugate spanish verbs. I miss you when things are really good or really bad. You should be apart of those. I miss you teasing me when it's not appropriate and your cocky sense of humor. I miss you singing off key and loudly in your southern drawl. I even miss being bored when you would tell me all about track and hurdles and pole vaulting.

I moved ya know? Following my dream. Chasing my horizans and all that jazz. And I talked to both of my parents, both of my brothers, and watched a video my friends made me from back home of everyone telling me how much they loved me and encouraging me. I've got great friends. Work is going pretty good and I love my school. Driving by Kyle field never gets old. I'm sitting on my back porch as the humidity fades and the cicadas are singing to me. But despite all of these things making my night, something just feels off. And it took me a while to realize it's because you aren't part of it. You should be. With that realization, a couple tears made their way down my cheeks.

Jimmy Holder is a retired Aggie around 80 years old. He came in and sat at my section for our Thursday prime rib special at Abuelo's. We talked for a long time and decided together that family isn't always blood related. It's the people that claim you. No matter what and unconditionally. I wrote a paper last semester that asked me to describe my family. I wrote about my three brothers. I have a picture of each of you. I have a blanket from Stephen's Air Force graduation I use all the time. I have a shirt Jon made me that he wore cheering me on in tennis and broom hockey games when I was 17. And I have newspaper clippings of every time you made it in the paper your senior year of high school for football. Even that featured article before the Clovis East...or was it West? game. I was so proud of you. I stayed up to watch 11 o clock highlights every Friday that season to see how you did. I claimed you then. I claim you now. If I don't hear from you again for the next 50 years, your picture will still be on my wall with those clippings as evidence that I still will be claiming you. But I'd rather have more recent ones.

I hate this. I hate that I have no idea where you are or what is going on. But it's a pretty safe bet you're hurting. I don't hear from you because you are running again. The heritage your parent's handed you. Your dad taught you how to shut your eyes and walk away. Your mom taught you how to escape and run. You took both lessons to heart and learned to survive. You grew up to fast and it shows in your eyes. If I had my way today would be the day where everything changes.
The heritage handed down would be killed burying the voices with them.The screaming and yelling and steady curses. Worthless. Too far gone. Hopeless. Lost cause. Disgusting. Perverted. A waste. Broken beyond repair. If I had my way, today would be the day that those voices would be silenced instead of what defines and owns you. But instead of letting Him set you free you drink away the pain and run to women to show you you're worthy of love. They can't ever answer your questions. They can't ever heal whats broke. So you take that something that takes you somewhere else and move away when it gets to much and start over. But nobody is fast enough to out run themselves, no matter how sincere.

I wish i could just make it all go away. Wash all the pain away and the things that wounded you from the time you were a little boy. I wish I could make them never hurt you again and erase every scar that you'll carry with you for the rest of your life. I hate that you hurt. I hate that it goes really deep. And I don't understand why God allowed all of this. But, He has. And even if it's hard to see He loves you and He is going to use all of it if you let Him. I wish I could have done a better job at being your sister. I wish I didn't hold back when I knew I shouldn't. But I was scared. I was scared that I'd push you away or do it wrong. And I wish I sent you that bible that you asked for. It still sits on my shelf, I highlighted every verse the Lord has given me about you in it. I didn't send it because it was my last hope. I knew after that I had to give you up and let go. I had to place you fully in His hands, that He would accomplish what He promised without my help anymore. And I was scared to let you go because I really want to see you be okay. And then I lost your address and you bounced out again. I wish I wasn't to scared to answer your questions or have those phone conversations when you asked that I had prayed for, but avoided when they came because I didn't want to mess up. I'm sorry. And I don't know what to do anymore. Or even what to pray for. I've even prayed for near death experiences because I thought maybe that'd do it. They happened. Twice actually. And still the longevity of a turnaround, or even inspiration for one, was short lived.

I asked Him to show me His heart for you. I read all over Isaish about how He yearns for you and will redeem you and heal the broken places and restore the years lost and how what He wants allowed to lay waste and be scavenged He will ransom, redeem, and restore. He will heal it and make life flow from it. He loves you, Kyle. He wants you. He's after you.

I've been praying for you for five years, one month, and 11 days. And when everything changes and you become more than you ever thought you'd be, I won't be surprised because I've known it all along. You are so much more. More than your mistakes, more than your past, more than you ever thought. You know how I know? Because He tells me. He tells me about His heart for you and His plans for you. He tells me because I hear Him and you don't. It doesn't makes sense to me. It never has. Why I am this person in your life? I've tried to stop it many times but I fail always. Now I accept it without question. I remember talking to you about it once and I'll never forget you telling me Did I ever think that it was because I would actually pray for you? You were so sure. I don't take credit for that either though, because I've stopped often only to get bombarded with messages and sermons and verses and reminders until I pray again just to stop the stalking. And I'm happy it's me. I love you praying for you. I love watching it work. And I love you. God's used you in my life too ya know? I think He put a portion of His love for you in my heart. It's like I can see this person beneath all the pain and lies and mess, the person you really are and were intended to be. And there is so much value and worth there. It's worth whatever price tag. And it's unconditional. And it's like I get His love more clearly for even myself through seeing His love for you.

5 years. One month. 11 days. If I were dying and had one last phone call, it'd be to you. I'd fight hell with a water pistol for you. I miss you. And I love you brother. Please come home. Please make it soon. Until then, I'll keep skipping "How to Save A Life," every time it comes on my shuffle and I'll take that "something missing" as just another reminder to pray.