Aila

Hi. My name is Aila, and I'm scared to death.

Not a bad scared. More like a: "......... WHOA" that has pierced me as far and deep as anything can. Let me explain.

You may have seen my face before under a different name - Courtney. Well, she died. THANK GOD. She was so uncertain, so fearful. She hid from everything and everyone. She could not discern truth from what she heard. She had no love of people. She did not know who she was, what she was doing, or where she was going. She was shattered. She hurt. She could not weep for someone else. Her preoccupation was only with herself. She fought for nothing. She fell for anything. She was a prisoner. She was weak, hopeless, isolated. She was desperately lonely. She was purposeless.

She no longer exists.

It took about a year and a half for her to diminish, but she is gone. Nothing that she was remains - save her likeness, which I bear.

But my name is Aila. And don't you forget that. I am nothing like her. And my life is about to change drastically.

I am about to move out of my parents house for the first time in over 19 years. Granted, I'm not moving far, and I will not be on my own. But I will still be out. Away from certain brands of negativity that sometimes seem to stifle me, away from a set of opinions I've always lived with that aren't mine. Away from the safety net of my parents' provision, away from the comfort of having someone else make the hard decisions and sacrifices that I would just rather not think about. I am moving into a giant building with more than 30 other individuals.

PS - I'm definitely an INTROVERT.

And I really really really don't want to be that kid - you know the one. The person everyone wishes would get kicked out, or would quit early. The person no one invites to do anything because they're tired of dealing with them. The annoying roommate. The one intern left outside the community because no one likes them. That kid.

I am also painfully aware that I am walking into a community with set groups. It's not nearly as bad as other groups that I've seen - and struggled in. But it's there. There's that one group where everyone hangs out together allllll the tiiiiiime. They have their little inside jokes, and I'm pretty sure they even have a name for themselves now. There's the another circle of people who have known each other since forever. There's groups of guys that are all into sports and that's the glue that keeps their posse together. There are girls who have already chosen their best friends.

Awesome.

I love that they all have such strong little families. Really, I do. I love that they don't compete with each other, that the groups mix and have fun, that nothing is exclusive. But the ghost of Courtney's past whispers sometimes....

However, I suppose if no group adopts me and no new group is formed, I will remain as I am. I have always been somewhat of a loner.

Time to remember the moment I knew I needed a new name:

It's been a month ago today. The leadership retreat. She said the words I needed to hear. She spoke feverishly over and over again. "You belong. You belong. You belong. You belong..." I broke like I have never broken before. It was the last wall. I lay on the floor, crumpled, crying my eyes out. I don't cry in front of people. But there I was. And it was beautiful.

I asked to be shown who I was.

"Your name is Strength,

your essence is Love,

your breath is Courage,

your shadow is Restoration."

"You connect the unconnectables."

[guess He didn't feel like speaking in plain language?]

And everything changed. The last bit of Courtney died in that moment, and a new name was put on my heart.

Aila (eye-la) means "light-bearer; from the strong place"

I've come to understand in this last month just how powerful and fall-reaching - how unconditional - real love for another person is. I didn't know change like this was possible. How crazy is it that when I am still, when I am working with my hands and no concentration is required, I'm not thinking about Aila? I'm not worried about what my hair looks like, what someone else is thinking of me, what cool thing that just happened that made me happy [Courtney loved to relive moments over and over]. I think about my XL Group girls. I think about my best friends. I pray for them constantly, all the time. I think about my family in Christ [who, incidentally, are those people in all those little groups that the ghost of Courtney whispers about]. I think about what I can do for them. I realized it the other day - I love people. I'm patient enough to put up with all different brands of crap, and hard-headed enough to refuse to give up on anyone, no matter how retarded they [think they] are.

I've never loved anyone before. Not like this, anyway.

I love them so much, I bleed for them. I cried for my Loves this morning because I know they are broken, they are hurting. Loves whose families are falling apart, Loves who are fearing great change, Loves who are isolating themselves again [and pushing me away], Loves who haven't got a clue. I am a warrior in the front lines of these battles. I wouldn't change that for the world! Why? Because I love these people. I love them with everything I have.

The hard part was giving it back to God, to refuse to worry. Worry changes nothing, and prevents me from enjoying the life I've been so infinitely blessed with. It's my natural inclination, though. So I did it - I gave it back. Not my battle. It's His. Because I love them, and now I can break anew when they call me or text me or facebook me with new pain; it won't overwhelm me.

Once upon a time, Courtney was told she was not a nice person, that people couldn't possibly like her. She was told she was overwhelmingly selfish, and mean. She was told that God would not want her to do things for Him, would not want to use her. She was told she would never make it to where she was aiming for. She was told she was responsible for other people's pain. She was told she was ugly. She was told she was stupid. She was fed all sorts of horrible, nasty lies from all different people - not all of whom meant to cause her harm.

It's amazing how the truth didn't just set her free - it released Aila, an entirely new life.

I was reading a friend's blog today, and was struck hard in the place where I write [there is a cavity where my mind, heart, and ink overlap] by his last words. I would like to steal his ending because I just loved it, it gave me goosebumps, and just because I can:

"... you can't un-jump a cliff. Pray for me."