Darlin Co

en el piso 55

Darlin Co
en el piso 55

on the 55th floor

Today marks day two post-irma. Today marks over 60 hours of eating, and binge watching Netflix and good books, of studying Jeremiah, and looking at my city fix itself like young ones stacking up legos. Being humbled by volunteers and saddened by the loss of eight elderly people.

Our heat suffocates us. 

We've been blessed by the juxtaposition of community and natural selection. Our "primal' instincts are at a all time high, but so is our sense of compassion. I've seen people invite neighbors over for some cafecito and asada; yet those same people with bruised fists.

I've taken this time to focus on priorities. Focusing on my study of the word, my communion with family, and my community. 

Monday as we drove back home, we were welcomed to sweltering heat but every single one of our material things intact (a privilege). I've lived in my neighborhood for over seven years and never exactly felt a part of it. Maybe it was my pride. But as I sat down in our worn out beach chairs near the pool, and conversed with some neighbors I saw our beauty. Despite the portable hookah, and overbearing smell of cigarettes and kush, I saw joy in the face of Cubans jumping into water mixed with debris from the storm. I conversed with aspiring artists well into their forties about Japan, and gentrification. I spoke to old neighborhood friends about university, and this hurricane's chaos. 

I sit here now, downtown Miami in my fingertips, uprooted trees scattered everywhere and only see mercy. I sit here and I think about ministry, I think about old passions buried somewhere and inspired to see them rise, I look around and picture these twenty sweet years of life and wonder what the next one will bring me. 

I'm finishing school. -right?

I'm going to grad school. -right?

Will I ever go to seminary?

Will I continue to mend these broken relationships?

Will we ever get out of the hood?

Will I ever get married?

I said I was a writer last year and all I've proven is inconsistency. 

(selfish thoughts in the midst of disaster)

God, you take these storms and we literally praise you. Through chaos you have shifted our focus to what is most important. And I thank you for this vulnerability. I wrote a whole poem on how it does not suit me, but it fits me well.