Breakaway

Grew up in a small town

And when the rain would fall down

I'd just stare out my window

Dreaming of what could be

And If I'd end up happy

I would pray

Trying hard to reach out

But when I'd try to speak out

Felt like no one could hear me

Wanted to belong here

But something felt so wrong here

So I'd pray I could breakaway

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes 'till I touch the sky

Gonna make a wish

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Out of the darkness and into the sun

I won't forget all the ones that I love

I'll take a risk

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Wanna feel the warm breeze

Sleep under a palm tree

Feel the rush of the ocean

Get on board a fast train

Travel on a jet plane

Far away

And breakaway

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes 'till I touch the sky

Gonna make a wish

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Out of the darkness and into the sun

I won't forget all the ones that I love

I'll take a risk

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Buildings with a hundred floors

Swinging 'round revolving doors

Maybe I don't know where they'll take me but

I gotta keep moving on

Moving on

Fly away

Breakaway

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye

Gotta take a risk

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Out of the darkness and into the sun

I won't forget the place I come from

Gotta take a risk

Take a chance

Make a change

And breakaway

Breakaway

Breakaway...

Yesterday I was in my third day of working at the warehouse. It's been surprising to me how much I missed it. I've been able to move around, converse, and listen to music for 9-10 hours until close to midnight. It's been very different working the night shift, but at the same time, who cares? It's a job, and I've already worked 30 hours this week. That, my friends, is a blessing.

Anyway, I'm off track from what I really want to share. While my iPod was on shuffle, it played Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway, a song that I hadn't listened to in a while. It's funny, because this particular song was one that I listened to before I left Missouri and felt - just knew - that this was a sign that the Lord wanted me out of the state. One of my good friends said to me after I told her about my desire to move and had her listen to this song, "Dude, it's like God is speaking to you through Kelly Clarkson!" And really, the more I listen to it, the more it's like she was right.

I told this to another friend of mine, and she told me not to jump to conclusions. "Don't let yourself become manipulated because you're hearing something you really want in different things." That's a paraphrase, but I remember feeling hurt when she said that. It's a good thing to say, I know, but at the time I didn't realize that I really was hearing what I was supposed to be doing. It didn't happen right away, so in the two years that I was waiting to move, this song lost it's place in my life. Now here we are, one year later, and I'm hearing it again like it's the first time.

That's one of the things I adore about God. So many different ways to communicate.

So here I am, having broken away from my small town (still wondering if I'll end up happy) seeing those buildings with one hundred floors, miles away from the nearest palm tree but closer to the rush of the ocean... and I wonder why I didn't listen to this when I drove off on March 4th, 2010. (Probably because I'd bawl my eyes out before I got anywhere.) It's been a major encouragement to me for years and now here it is, as wonderfully refreshing as it was three years ago. Listening to it now, I'm virtually rendered a rambling idiot. I doubt this is the last breakaway I'll make in my life...

But that's a thought for another time. For now... this.

Is this what it's like?

I first heard the news through Facebook. It was late in the evening, Carly talking to herself as she fought the evil minions of Gannondorf, and I killing time before I took myself to bed. I saw a friend had posted an article, and suddenly, the whimsical feel of the evening faded as fast as a breath.

7.4. Two numbers that gave me pause barely had time to create any impact before two more did just as well a job.

8.9.

I can't remember the last time I felt absolutely frantic over a natural disaster. I desperately hunted for a news feed, anything that could give me constant update on what was going on in my beloved nation of Japan. Tokyo had been hit. What had happened to Tokyo? What other places where affected? Why don't I have a map of this nation with all of these prefectures memorized so this all doesn't sound so confusing? Why don't I have these places memorized yet?

Why do I care so little about a place I love so much?

Do those questions sound familiar? Looking back, I realize a lot of them sound the same when used in relation to someone we know who has passed away. Why don't I know more about it? Why didn't I try harder? What else happened? Why didn't I care enough?

For a split second it seemed like I was overreacting. I've never been to this beautiful nation, only admired all of the pictures of the majestic Mount Fuji and the countryside littered with cherry blossoms. I probably won't be going there any time soon. I don't even know anyone there. There was no one to worry about.

Except, in my mind, there was defiance to all of those statements. Japan has been a nation that's captured my heart since I was young. At ten years old, it was because of anime. At twenty-four, it's because there is a people there who are so lost and so blinded... and yet have small samples of the Answer staring back at them with nearly every glance. People were dying. Children have become orphans. Siblings have now become an only child. Trying to take all of it in was too much. Afterward, I went into bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, feeling absolutely powerless to stop anything that was going to hit Japan in the coming hours.

Is this what it's like to have a heart for a nation? To feel like your very breath has been taken from you, and that a small part of your soul has been threatened in some way? To wish with every moment that you could do something to help someone - anyone - even if you can't properly speak the language? That when aftershocks continue to rock what small measure of peace people find, you feel as though you're right there with them, teetering and wobbling on unsteady ground, wondering when the world will stop and you can finally pick your life back up?

I have a yen that I wear on a chain daily. I discovered this morning that I occasionally play with it, and, thinking about it further, I rub it when I'm nervous or distressed. The grooves on its face are as familiar to me as the back of my hand. I feel so very connected to this country and to the people who try to make a simple living day by day, and I feel just as lost as the rest of them when I wonder... is there something worse coming soon?

Is this what it's like when God places a nation on your heart? When you know that your only weapon is prayer, and somehow prayer doesn't seem like enough?

Unfortunately, at this time, it's all I've got. I continue to watch. I continue to pray. I urge others to do the same. More importantly, though... I wait.