Vendredi/Samedi/Dimanche

I spent this weekend with my older sister and my brother-in-law and my younger sister and my niece to be. There were brownies and coffee and coffee and coffee.
And my best friend.
K showed up. I was tired as ever and worried about French homework and in mid-laughter when she walked through the door in her red shoes. I didn't know, I didn't realize it was her. It was like a dream. I really believed it was a dream, because if you knew how many times I imagine her walking through a door where I am, you might be sad for me. But it was real.
It was real this time.
We sat shoulder to shoulder on a yellow couch and I was too happy.

I learned so much this last week. Here is one of my best things.
You will never truly be happy until you realize that your life is not about you.
Here is my worst thing.
I want to make people laugh. I don't know how to do that, and never before this Friday have I wanted more than ever to make people laugh.

Life is all colors and bliss these days.
I don't know what I want. I don't know who is going to walk through my door. I don't know what to do.
And that is not a sin.
Not knowing is not a sin. Because my life is not about me. The most fabulous thing about that though is that I know it. So here's to coffee and making things and going places and seeing people and "Madeline" and not knowing.

Here is to not being sure.

the british man who gave me a ring.

dear fleur.
i had a dream last night. i don't think i really liked it. it kind of scared me. but i think i like that. don't get me wrong. i hate being scared. but sometimes,
i like being
unsure.
doubt is a beautiful thing sometimes.
and i don't know
why.

•
i was a missionary. in south america. with 2 other young men. one was british. the other was american. like me. i didn't really know them. we were sent together for some reason. i don't remember their names.
then we were kidnapped.
by guerillas. 4 of them. and they took us into the jungle. we slept in a little hut. they would chain us to a metal bed frame buried into the ground every night. i fell in love with the british man. i don't even know why. but i did. maybe it was because we made such a good team. we preached to our captors together.
and they didn't understand a word we said.
but we made friends with them somehow. they didn't really mistreat us. they laughed with us. they tried to talk with us. we shared everything with them. and they even let me read the bible to them every night before we would go to sleep. before they would chain us up.
one of them was named paolo.
things were that way for 7 months. we were 'happy hostages.' woke up. chopped wood. made breakfast. preached. laughed. cleaned dishes. did laundry. read the bible. went to bed chained up. for 7 months the 3 of us did that.
then one day, they took us and lined us up.
and they shot the boys. both of them.
they shot the british man i loved.
and then they turned away.
i wept over the bodies. and screamed after the guerillas. "why paolo? why?" i shouted. and he turned to me. said something to the others. and walked back towards me. then he took his gun and showed it to me. he showed me how to shoot it and load it. then he laid it at my feet. and opened my hands as i was still crying, and filled them with bullets. then he took a ring off of the british man's finger, and put that in my hands too. then he touched my hair and said something. i knew it meant 'God bless you.' and he walked away.
my dream jumps ahead 2 years.
i'm on a sidewalk. sitting next to the british man's little brother. he looks just like him. i am crying. the ring is on my finger. i am not a missionary anymore. my head hurts.
the young man is shaking.
but he prays with me. for paolo. for me. for him. for his mother. he prays. long. hard. and sure. his voice is good.
my head stops hurting.
he takes a ring off of his finger and puts it on mine. on the same finger as his older brother's.
he asks me to go back to south america with him.
i say yes.
•

i wake up.
i have no idea what any of that means.
but i think it's nice.
scary.
and nice.
because i like when i have to guess what God is trying to tell
me.

love, bell.