who I want to be

Someday I will write more about my friend Alisa - but for now she is in hospice care, which means there is not much time for writing - just time for loving her and wrapping her up in every good memory and moment we can. If you have never seen or been a part of hospice care, it's difficult to explain. It is simultaneously the most brutal and beautiful parts of life - the absolute worst the universe can dish out, and the absolute best of the people surrounding you.



When Alisa and I chose this song for our Pinnacle kids to sing two years ago - we knew it was perfect. We told them it was about the girl everybody wishes they could be - but the girls they already were - we told them each what we found strong and beautiful about them. But if I'm being honest - the girl I always wanted to be is Alisa. Having her in your life feels being a nerdy freshman, when suddenly that cool junior asks if you want a ride home, and you end up cruising through life feeling braver and brighter and more beautiful than you ever have. Because she believes you are  - and what she believes - you become.



Suddenly I see, 

this is what I want to be . . . 



And everything around her is a silver pool of light.

The people who surround her feel the benefit of it - she makes you calm.

She holds you captivated in her palm.



If you haven't heard her sing - you have missed one of the juciest pieces of life. Her Christmas show was the first time that the beauty of someone's voice had ever brought me to tears. It's that good.



She fills up every corner like she's born in black and white. 

Makes you feel warmer . . . 



Because of her, I better understand who I am, who I am supposed to be.  There are very few pieces of advice I hold close to my heart and rely on every day - three of them are hers:

1) Those girls are watching - they're always watching

2) It's healthy to visit sad places - but don't move in, don't live there

3) You are enough. Just you - not what you do - just you - you are enough



This month we talked about what our business would be like if she got too sick to keep up with it.  She said, "You are the heart and soul of that place. I taught them to sing but you brought them together, taught them to be a family. You can do this without me."



She makes me feel like I could be a tower, a big strong tower yeah.

She's got the power to give, the power to be, the power to see . . . 



It doesn't feel like it. It doesn't feel like anybody can do anything without her.

But when I listen to this song - I remember to try.