seventeen. Only Four Minutes

If you had to tell your life in four minutes what stories would you tell...why are those ones the important pieces?

Here I go, start the clock.

I was born to a middle class family and lived in that way till I was 10 or maybe it was 11. France was my last name back then and my brother and I earned every bruise we gave each other. My baby sister was born when I was in Kindergarden. I remember that day at school and I was so excited to meet her.

6 years later I was pushed into the foster care system in America, a place not so kind to many of the children that quite suddenly find themselves there. This is where my adventures begin. Moving from shacks to mansions, dark- skinned families to light skinned ones; at every turn I seemed to be hurled into dealing with conflict, anger, violence, sadness, change, beauty, connection, and a heightened awareness of others and systems moving all around me. I tried new things learning that you can only understand different cultures by doing what they do. By eating their foods, attending their churches, communicating in new ways, not being allowed to communicate at all sometimes. In my heart, I felt I failed to fit in so like a chameleon I became a master of disguise, and even through all the painful feelings that come with daily conflict- I pushed to continue to find MY path. Basketball player one day, class clown the next, I soon found myself on the other side of system- working with youth in a crisis shelters, attending college in efforts to become a better social worker then the 16 allotted to me. Ironically enough, college was the hardest time so far. Freedom brought reality. No one was around to tell me what “perfect” was anymore so every morning became a brutal  stand off between the mirror and myself. No expectations, no pretending, no subscribed family to ask when I needed some advice about a boy, or a career, or what to do about the overflowing dishwasher.

I still kept pushing, but I was no longer pushing to find my path anymore- it became clear I needed to find myself first.

I made it you know? I graduated. Oh, and I started to find myself, but only through others. I found myself while serving others and committing my life to youth work. I found myself in the conversations about holistically changing systems that always seemed to disregard the youth they were working for. I found myself looking at the world from a tall mountain of ignorance and listening to stories far different from mine, even if the cover of the book seemed the same. It became a game for me to push the statistics about kids like me so I traveled the world. I dove into the struggle of deep inner healing so I could be a healthy role model. I said yes especially when things made me scared. The fire in my belly keeps growing for travel, for love, for struggle. 

I moved to Denver and checked a dream off my list. I volunteered for my country and learned to trust woman again in AmeriCorps NCCC. I moved with this great guy to Arkansas where I worked to build new programs for homeless youth. There I learned about leadership and the power of voices from even the littlest people in our society. I had a dog, I left the boy, I drank too much sometimes. I found God again still there standing right beside me as she always had been. All those places I had traveled, all those years of looking and I finally had a sense of what a home felt like in Arkansas- especially since my sister and loving friend made the journey with me to the south.

I realized how instrumental my grandmothers deep love gave me courage when I was young.

I lost an Aunt. The one that made me feel apart of a family I never was apart of. I think about her all the time. Her laugh, the sound of a can opening,  and pink tubes of mascara remind me of her beautiful soul. I wish she hadn’t decided to leave so soon. 

My grandpa made me promise him I would go on with school after arguing with him for years that I wasn’t smart enough. His long battle with cancer finally was over and at the end of his life was a new beginning for me at the Clinton School. 

From there it’s just a whole lot of giant waves crashing through me with opportunity. I traveled to as many countries as I could exploring and spending 8 months in amazement. In awe really. It’s hard to put here what that time did for me. I still only am aware of a sliver of the lessons for my life. Gratitude.

What I learned most is that I am a amateur in most things. That we can always be doing more listening. That I am loved even as a flawed chick and that there is no need to try so hard to hide that. Humaneness. 

South East Asia became a warm place for me not only because of the foods, the traditions, the deep respect for others process- but also because it is there that I found my tribe. Design work and a team who pushes itself to be the best it can be personally and professionally is a gift and I try to treat it as such. I returned home and everything felt different. I felt different, and what I wanted before no longer made sense for me. I am still sorting through all of that. 

 Last semester at the Clinton School and back to Thailand. I have no idea how the rest of my life will go, but surrendering to that brings a strong calm.