Ch. 6: Ode to March

As if going to see Rosie Thomas wasn't enough, I got to meet her. AND she and I are both wearing felt hearts! 

RADIOHEAD!!!

At the start of April, I began to realize that leaving March was posing some difficulty. I normally do not have any attachments to months/times/seasons, even my birthday. But March was the best month that I have since I moved out to Atlanta. I love Atlanta; I have loved it since the day I got here. But that does not mean living here has been easy for me. Around February, I realized that I was so desperately craving to be known out here. I have an amazing group of friends out here who have made my transition to The South nothing but enjoyable. But February brought with it some news from back home that left me desiring a hug from someone who knew me—preferably my mom.

The month of March started with a bang. I got tickets to the sold out Radiohead show in Atlanta—my all-time favorite band. I went with three of my friends, and we sang along and danced, danced, danced. We were sitting in what felt like the last possible row, but it was such an amazing show. (Check that one off the bucket list.) In the same music vane, at the end of the month I had the chance to see Rosie Thomas, my favorite artist. Both shows were great, but Rosie Thomas was in a much more intimate space; Brittnye and I were sitting in the first row. March was a spectacular music month for me  :)

ChaharShanbeh Suri bonfire preparation

I had acclimated to my school environment the first week I was here, but acclimation to my church was much harder. Going to a mega-church makes meeting people much harder. But in March, all of that changed. I had one of those right-place-at-the-right-time moments and my friendships have snowballed from there. I now walk into a 2,000-person service, and I know several people. I also joined a small group! So now I have 2 hours a week where I can share the details of my life with like-minded women. I am really excited to see how this develops.

March also brought with it the first day of spring, which in my world, means Persian New Year. Although I did not have time to make my “sofreh haft sin,” and I am sure my roommates would not have appreciated a room of the house being taken up with gold coins, sprouted lentils, vinegar, and apples (a few years ago, my roommates made me cover several of the dishes because the whole house was filled with the smell of vinegar and garlic), I was able to celebrate Chaharshanbeh Suri. I build a large fire in my driveway (Justin, my roommate, made me size it down for safety reasons), and my roommates and I jumped over the fire. For those of you who do not know the significance behind the fire, I have a little summary for you:

Our little tree in the beginning stages of her growth

Chaharshanbeh Suri is translated, the Red Wednesday. It typically revolves around this festival of fire. As tradition states, bon fires are built with the objective on jumping over them. Good health or “ripeness” is supposedly obtained by jumping over the fire. Jumpers are to chant: zardi-ye man az to, sorkhi-ye to az man (My sickly yellow paleness is yours, your fiery red color is mine). This is a rite to cleanse you in preparation of the New Year—to burn off the impurities and sickness, and to get in return warmth and energy. The fires are supposed to burn all night, but we anxiously put ours out when we heard approaching fire trucks.

The three of us jumped over and over and over until we heard the fire trucks, and then we went to bed. And I kid you not, each of us felt refreshed in the morning, like we were waking up to a new season.

Around this same time, Brittnye and I became set on pruning a tree in our front yard. It became incredibly significant in my life regarding the overdue pruning that I had to do. So with dragging feet and much hesitation, I went to town on pruning my own life. Pruning sucks. It stings, it leaves a hole, and sometimes it leaves you feeling isolated. But as if my life was following the example of our beautiful tree, new growth started to occur immediately.   

This was waiting in the guest room
when I got to Todd and Jane's

The last weeks of March, and the New Year also brings with it finals. I had 10 written finals in four days. Usually I would cringe at the memory of a week like that, but this last finals week was the most relaxed and prepared I have ever been for a set of finals. I slept for about 8 hours every night (except the last night), I felt completely at ease sitting down to take each final, and the end result was better than I could have ever expected. I think I am starting to realize that early preparation is the key to crazy weeks like that—it has only taken me 2 and a half years of Grad School to pick up on this.

At the very end of the month, I got what I had wanted back in February. During my Spring Break, I was able to make a trip out to Augusta where my brother, Todd, and his wife live. I was able to spend time with someone who knows me. On my drive back to Atlanta, I was on the phone with a friend, and one of his first questions was, “did you get the hug you needed?” And I had. It was just what I needed.

Oh…and I officially became a Georgia peach (I got my Georgia license). March was a great month!

Ch. 5: Just when you thought I had stopped

When I was back in Los Angeles over break, one of my girlfriends commented that things must have been going really well in Atlanta because I have stopped updating my blog. That made me laugh. Yes, things are going really well in Atlanta. I am constantly amazed at how much I love it here. I was having a conversation with a classmate last night about how much I love LIFE University, how much I love Atlanta, and how much I love all of the new amazing people I have met over the last few months. But my lack of blog posts had to do more with stress and exams and less with me not having anything to write about. It seems like there is always so much going on in my life that I want to share with all of you back home.

My trip back to Los Angeles was an interesting one. Let me start off by saying, being away from your home (where your bed and clothes reside—for me, this is Atlanta) for THREE whole weeks is too long. I had packed for my trip in the middle of finals while concurrently packing to move into a new house. So when I got to Los Angeles and surveyed the wardrobe I brought with me, the words ‘what were you thinking when you were packing’ kept ringing in my head. Obviously, being such a trifle problem, everything worked out.

Being back in Los Angeles brought up a lot of emotions that I thought were resolved. I was surrounded by the people who love me the most, but I was more lonely than I have ever felt in Atlanta…where I have about 5 real friends. In Atlanta, I do not walk into the local Trader Joe’s with a pit of anxiety in my stomach that I might see Parker. I was able to leave a lot of that in Los Angeles when I made my initial trip to Atlanta, but it was all there waiting for me when I got back. As the weeks went by I felt more comfortable in my own skin, but that first week was excruciating.

It was great to see those that I love. Joy and I made it a point to see each other as much as we possibly could. I stayed with Katie my first two weeks back. Katy, Karen, Shira and I spent a good 12-hours hanging out over the course of 2 days (I have not laughed that hard in years). I was able to take my dad to PIHOP everyday in that last week I was there, and we followed it up with quality time at Starbucks. My mom and I had a girls’ day where we got manicures and lunch. I got to ride on Jon Mark’s motorcycle. I was able to sing Christmas Carols with my prayer group. And there are so many other people that I spent time with who made my heart smile.

But when I was back in Los Angeles, it did bring up a lot of comparisons between Atlanta and Los Angeles. I wrote this in my journal over break

I feel more grounded in California. My feet are planted. I know who I am here. I am safe here. I am known here. Being here is like a breath of fresh air.  … But I have so much anxiety here. I am constantly looking over my shoulder. I am watching my words. I am forcing a constant smile and laugh.

I feel free in Atlanta. It is not as easy there. It is the unknown.  But I feel lighter there. I smile more on the inside—and it is never forced. I never find myself missing Los Angeles. There is so much more of myself to explore. And that makes me nervous. I have a greater opportunity to make longer lasting mistakes. I am not known out there. I have almost no support. But I have growth, and opportunity, and most of all, I have me.

A couple of weeks ago I was driving and I had one those innately divine “God moments.” I have been struggling with the idea that maybe moving out here was not the right decision. Before I had even moved here I had resolved that this was the right decision for my career and wrong decision for my love life. And while I still thought this was the best possible decision I could have made for my career, I was starting to think it was also the wrong decision for me developing as a human being. I do not exactly know how to articulate this feeling, but I was starting to feel like I was one step away from falling off the edge. Anyways, I was driving through my beautiful neighborhood one day, and I had this innate flash: if moving to Georgia was going to be the demise of my life, or my heart, or my human-ness, I would not have been guided out here.

Before I moved out here I prayed, and quieted my mind, and meditated like crazy for direction. I did not want to make one wrong move.  And I did not get any real “for or against” direction. The only words I kept hearing were ‘whatever decision I made was going to be blessed.’

It might seem so minimal, but at that moment, that innate flash is exactly what I needed.

On a lighter note, I moved into an amazing house with two of the most amazing roommates. It might be the minor pessimist in me, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like one day they are going to turn into wretched people. (I know that is a bit dramatic.) But as more and more time passes, I am beginning to fully realize that I really have been blessed with two of the most beautiful people in Georgia as my roommates. They have become my closest friends. They have been a wonderful source of advice, and they are great listeners. I wish you could all meet them!

This is our home!!!

Brittnye is the most gorgeous woman inside and out—I honestly think she has a heart of pure gold. I do not know if I have ever met such a genuinely sweet person. 

Justin is hilarious and incredibly laid back. He has no problem calling me out when I am being ridiculous—which is exactly what I need a t this point in my life—but he does it in such a light-hearted way that I never feel judged.

And our house is beautiful. It is a Country House-Style home with a big beautiful front yard and back yard. It has a multi-level layout. I had never seen this before moving out here. It was comforting when Cristina came out to visit me because she was just as baffled by the layout. We have so much open space with this house—part of this is due to the fact that we do not have any furniture in here. But even when we do eventually fill the house, it will still be better than any apartment we could have found. At it is in the best neighborhood. There is an abundance of greenery, and wildlife; we are surrounded by the sweetest families and the most beautiful flowers. Everyday when I drive to and from school, I thank God for blessing us with such a perfect home.

I was able to spend New Years Eve with my old prayer group back in Pasadena. It was a potluck and Andrea wanted us to bring a food that represented our spiritual journey over the last year. I am not the most creative person, so these abstract requests are a bit of a strain for me. But I came to the conclusion of dark chocolate. I actually brought dark chocolate bonbons because I thought it would go over better than just a dark chocolate bar. But this was the perfect representation of my year.

New Years with Joy--my favorite hair twin!

Since my accident almost 2-years ago I have noticed a lot of my tastes and cravings have changed. I never used to like oatmeal, and now I could eat it every morning and still not have enough. I had always hated any form of egg, and now I will eat hardboiled eggs by themselves. And as most of you know, I have never liked chocolate. I have never understood chocolate, and I could always do without it. Throughout the years, friends, parents, and boyfriends have always thought I was crazy for detesting chocolate. I am not sure if it was due to the maturation of my taste buds, or the loss of half of them, but over the last couple of years I have started to really enjoy chocolate.

Opening the door to chocolate opened the door to the confusing world of dark chocolate. And every dark chocolate lover gives you this one promise: all you need is one square, and that will be enough to satiate. You might not think it will be enough, but if you are patient with it, and let it melt in your mouth, by the time it is gone, you will notice that your craving is gone. And it hit me—this was 2011 for me. I would get a small glimpse of hope, or a little piece of joy, and it never looked like enough compared to my gaping hole, but I sat with it, and I trusted, and it satisfied my soul.

And to end it all, boys. Somehow guys in Atlanta are less desirable than guys in Los Angeles. I am not even sure how that is humanly possible. Correct me if I am wrong, but back in California, we have this notion that any guy not from Los Angeles, has to be better. More of a gentleman, more romantic, more old-fashioned. I am in the South, THE SOUTH, and I find myself missing the Los Angeles manners. Something must be wrong with the world. I could write a dissertation about this, with the hours upon hours I have spent thinking about this subject, but I find it is just not worth it. And maybe I am not missing “Los Angeles” but missing someone in Los Angeles…


"When suffering comes into our lives, we should accept it with a smile. This is the greatest gift from God: to have the courage to accept everything He gives us and asks of us with a smile."
--> Mother Teresa

Ch. 4: I’ll be alright – just not tonight – but someday.

About a week and a half ago I was taken back to this memory:

When I was about ten years old I had a conversation with my grandmother in her broken English and my non-existent Farsi. She was trying to convince me to move back to Iran with her. From what I understood, she promised that if I moved to Iran that I would be married to a Prince—I would wear so many gold bracelets (the Persian’s understand the significance of the gold bracelet) that my arms would be covered from here, she points to my wrist, to here, she points to my arm mid-shaft. She informed me that I would have servants for every one of my daily tasks, and I would never have to work a day in my life. I have no idea the significance of this memory coming at the time it did, but I have to think that it prepared me for the events that proceeded.

My life in Atlanta is wonderful. To state the running theme again, I love it here. I know in my head that I made the right choice for my life…sometimes my heart is slow to follow.

But the last few weeks have been incredibly trying. The thing I have realized is that every new nuisance that presents itself knocks me off center. And every new event pushes me further and further from center. Besides the obvious, the bothers me because I was so grounded in Los Angeles. I knew who I was. I was who I was. I knew where my worth resided. And that was that. And things are getting muddled out here.

Three weeks ago an event came up that forced me to contact Justin. And as most of you know, dealing with Justin is top on my list of LEAST favorite pastimes. Seriously, will this saga ever end? The one good thing (me and my silver lining) that came out of this was the 100% head and heart agreement that I have healed and moved on from that 4-year bump in the road. However, through this ordeal I have come to find out that he is getting married. (really!?) I probably have a lot more to say on that subject, but as this is a public forum, I will end it here. ((maybe the secret to finding happiness is drinking more whiskey and showing affection through aggression—sorry, I couldn’t help myself.))

Last week I received an email from Andrew. (…)The one name I secretly hope to see in my inbox every single time I check my email. And then…it is there. Events that surrounded the email included: leaving class for 30-minutes to cry behind a marquee. It was here that a tiny Asian man found me, and asked if I needed help. Complete lack of concentration for a few days—during midterm week, mind you. Mind running a mile a minute. Not getting the Radiohead tickets that went on sale last week (the whole purpose of the email). 

Everything turned out as well as it could have, and for the first time in six months we were able to have a normal interaction. I think he is back to his old self. But as a good friend once said, “I have inherent mistrust of flip floppers.” Whatever the case may be, I can honestly say that I am ready to fully move past this. (thank god!)

**disclaimer for my father: no I do not want you to kick anyone’s ass. I received a voice mail from him last week after an emotional phone call with my mom offering his ass kicking services. I love my baba-jaan!

And then two days later I received an email from someone else who will remain completely nameless. Most would not even know him by name, but everyone who knows my story knows who this guy is (have I given enough away yet?). This was the biggest “is-this-seriously-happening-right-now” moment I have had in a very VERY long time. It just reminded me of this awful creature that I at one time had the potential to become.

Did these three get together and plan this? Is there some little devil plotting my downfall? (don’t answer that)

My visit with Beth could not have come at a more opportune moment. I felt so lost and disheartened when I got on that plane Thursday. But seeing Miss Beth gave my heart rest for a weekend. She continually spoke truth over me and loved on me. There was so much to take away from my encounters with her this weekend, but this one sentence continues to ring in my ears: I think you need to fast from dysfunction. So simple, and yet so true. So mark this as day one of my fast from dysfunction!

My third day in Chicago, I traveled into the city by my lonesome. And it was glorious! I spent hours upon hours centering, and praying, and meditating—all the while walking the streets of Chicago.

We had a Doctor come and speak to our student body last week. He spoke on love and how to heal this world. And one of the points he made (in passing) set the tone for my journey to Chicago. He said something to the effect of: love can heal all wounds. Physical; emotional; love can heal. And I know that to be true. So often I do not hold on to that truth, but my life stands as testament to that. So I need to love. I need to love myself. I need to love my God. I need to love everyone I come into contact with on a daily basis. And through this, I know I will find wholeness.

The reason I mention the interaction with my grandmother 16 years ago, is because it reminded me that I am royalty. Whether I marry and Iranian Prince or not, I am dearly beloved. And I need to start holding myself to that regard before I can expect others to recognize that in me.

--> Short plug for Bethie: She is doing what she was made to do in Chicago. It was so encouraging to watch her as she blossoms! And I love her as deeply as I would a sister  :)

Ch. 3: I made it to the one month mark!

Today marks one whole month that I have been in Atlanta. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop with my emotions about moving. As if I am going to wake up one morning and be completely homesick and devastated that I made this move. But that has yet to happen. ((which makes me really happy)) I like it here. I miss home. I miss my friends. I miss PIHOP (so much!). But I am very happy here. I have a classmate who is from New York City, and last week we were talking about why we both love Atlanta. He put it perfectly when he said, “everyone is nice here, and the smile all the time, and everything you need is just down the street. Why would anyone not want to live here?” And that is my feeling exactly. I am allowing myself the opportunity to hate it once the weather changes, but for now, I absolutely love it here.

There has been one hiccup since I have been here. It happened 2 weeks ago, and it is so insignificant that I will only say this: Southern Boys -1   Me – 0. They might not be as great as they seemed when I was back in California.

The school is unreal. I am so happy here! I love everything that my school is doing and everything that they stand for. The president is a shaker and a mover. And I love that. I feel like I am involved with the leading force in chiropractic. Even with all the negatives that came with making the choice to come out here, I really believe that made the best choice that I could have made!

It is crazy how quickly time is flying. Joy and Robert are getting married in 6 weeks! And I will be back in California. I cannot wait to see all of my girls again! Todd’s wedding is the 17^th in Pennsylvania, I will have a quick stop in Texas,  and then I will back in California for almost 3 weeks!!! I hope we have a sunny Christmas this year.

Chris Garcia sent me an email last week asking me if I ever giggle at the different accents here. Prior to moving, I told everyone about my huge distain for southern accents. They have always sounded weird to me. But now that I am here, I am really starting to like them. I walked past a group of people having a conversation, and I caught myself thinking about how cute all of their accents sounded. The best part is how everyone gets a lot more Southern when they are talking about their family, or something back home. Like they have been suppressing the accent this whole time, but when they are talking about their truck back home, it just has to come out. And I love it! I see this as huge growth for me personally.

Another strange Atlanta-ism is how I feel safer here just by nature of it not being Los Angeles. People have stopped me a few times and brought me back down to reality. One time I left my laptop on the passenger seat of my car while I went to lunch with a friend. Now, my car was in the school parking garage the whole time, but he was a little shocked that I willfully left my computer in plain view.

The other night I went to take the trash out and I decided to walk to the trash compactor because I have been inside most of the day. It is a bit of a walk and because of this, we usually drive the trash over. But I live in a gated community, so I feel very safe walking around at night. My roommate gave me a little scare when she said, “I wouldn’t walk there alone at this time if I were you.” I did, and it was fine, but I think I need to realize that Los Angeles is not the only dangerous town in America.

On Wednesday my roommate and I had people over and we carved pumpkins. It feels more like home every time I do something like this. And my pumpkin turned out really well! Everyone's pumpkins are still sitting on our front porch, and they are a happy sight to come home to everyday--especially when they are lit up. The kitty in the picture is Buddy-Elvis. He is the most loving and lovable cat ever. 

I started reading this book that my cousin gave me before I left. It is called “Choosing Gratitude.” Obviously, it is all about making a conscious effort to be more grateful for every season of your life. Like I said above, I am very happy here. I think Cleveland closing down was one of the greatest blessings in disguise that has led me to Atlanta. But I still fall into this awful pattern of not being grateful. I think I am outwardly grateful with most people, but inwardly I still host pity parties for myself because my life does not look the way I thought it was going to even a year ago. One of the things this book says to do is to daily repeat: Cultivate in me a grateful heart. So this is the first thing that I have placed on my bathroom mirror and I repeat it to myself multiple times a day. For those of you who saw my bathroom mirror back home, you will know this is the first of MANY things that will end up on my bathroom mirror.

I will leave you with something else that I look at everyday, and it warms my heart! 

Shauna made this for me just before I left. 

(the back of the frame) And I miss these 3 girls more than anything! 

 Love you! Miss you!

- Meggie

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Ch. 2: 12-days of Southern Living

It is odd to think that I have only lived here for 12 days—it feels like so much longer. Everything is going really well. The weather has been really nice and Fall-ish. Classes are going well. And I am making friends like crazy (as predicted, the “new girl” appeal is in full effect).

Since my last post, I started classes, said ‘goodbye’ to my father (who flew back home on Monday), and received and unpacked everything I shipped out here. I must say that unpacking is one of the worst things ever. Next time I make big move, I might just pay the extra million dollars and get people to pack, ship, and unpack for me.

My first day of school was nothing like what I had expected. I did not have a schedule, so I got to school by 6:45 and sat in the admissions office with about 50 other students that were having scheduling issues. I was not seen until 10am. It felt like they were hazing me—seeing how much I could take. I then proceeded to sit in the academic advisors office for an hour and a half while he typed up a schedule for me. The end result was me walking out of his office with 11 classes and 3 audits, but somehow getting Fridays off this quarter. Here’s to 3-day weekends for the next 3 months. YAY!

My new school is a wee-bit larger than my old school. (read as: my Life University is massive compared to Cleveland.) And somehow, a number of the classrooms were incorrect on my schedule. By the time I had left the academic advisors office, I had missed my two morning classes and most of my 11am class. I slowly and awkwardly found my way to the room number that was written on my schedule, just to find that the room number was not correct. The professor I found in the classroom, Dr. Vanderslice, took pity on me and helped me find what room my actual class was being held in. This whole process took about an HOUR! Sweet Dr. Vanderslice walked back and forth across the campus to help me find this classroom. He also showed me where some of my other classes would meet. I felt like it was my first day of Jr. High—a day most of us do not ever want to repeat.

Tuesday felt similar to Monday. I was late to the majority of my classes because I could not find them, I did not have the materials that every other student did, I ate lunch by myself, and my dad had left the day before. It was a hard day.

But from Wednesday on, things started to feel like home. I am finally starting to find my way around Atlanta (with the help of my trusty phone navigation). I have gotten lost about two-dozen times, but I have seen some of the most incredible neighborhoods filled with massively beautiful homes. For those of you who know about my obsession with beautiful homes, you will understand how this adds to the appeal of Atlanta. The freeway system here is a series of circles. (WHAT!?) Yup, circles. Most of the streets are not on any sort of grid. Turning right to go South can have you going North in about 200 feet. It has been nothing short of an adventure.

I want to stop here to tell you a little story about my mother:  My mother is the most patient and amazing woman I know. So whenever she would miss an off-ramp, or we would get lost, her response would always be, “well, this is an adventure,” said in the happiest tone. And I swear I hear her voice every time I find driving around the streets of Atlanta, completely lost. **I know that this last sentence will terrify my mother. Don’t worry mummy; I only get lost in very nice and well-lit neighborhoods.

I was at a philosophy talk on Friday night, where 30 of my peers gathered in a very intimate setting to listen to our school’s president speak. It was phenomenal! The talk energized me about my profession, and really confirmed my decision to come out here. At the end of the talk I had students coming up to talk with me about my transition—all offering any support that I might need. Even the president pulled me aside for a few minutes to talk about my move, our alma mater (UCLA!), and how much I miss Los Angeles. I felt like I was being handed my 2-mintues of popularity, and I reveled in it. It was the best way to end my first week of school in a new city.

I have gone to North Point Community Church for the last 2 Sundays. For those of you who do not know, North Point is a mega-church in Atlanta. They have the main church, and several satellite churches. I have been attending the Buckhead satellite. This church is about 5-times the size of CA. The church shares a parking lot with a mall. They hire parking attendants to funnel us in and out of the lots. It is massive, and crazy. It is very different than what I am used to. But the pastor, Andy Stanley, is amazing.

Last weeks message had me in tears. The message was titled: When God is inattentive. It was all about God still being God, and still being faithful in despite of your personal circumstances. One thing I do love about this church is that they put up on the video screens key sentences that they deem important. I like it because it gives me time to write it down and internalize it. My favorite one from last week was: your personal circumstances do not necessarily coincide with how God feels about you. Anyone who has walked with me in the six-months knows that I have struggled with that statement.  Andy mentioned times when God leads you out into the desert and our response should not be to lose faith, but to look back at all God has faithfully carried us through. (!!!)  I felt like he had read my last blog (or my journal) and that he was talking directly to me. That is always such a wonderful reminder. I was telling a friend about a month ago that I do not have too many pillars in my faith (sorry for the Islamic reference), but there are two things that I inextricably know: There is a God. And he passionately and affectionately loves me. I think I might need to write that one on my bathroom mirror.

To finish off the weekend I did my first “HOTlanta” thing. I went to the Atlanta-Green Bay game. It was such a great game. And I was with some really great new friends. Oh yeah, and we won!!! My voice is still hoarse from yelling, “GO PACK, GO” for the majority of the game…and the majority of the walk back to the car.

My friend Brandon reminded me before I left that I am safe. So I will leave you with that. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I miss you guys all SO much. I miss CA. I miss the beautiful Los Angeles weather—it is raining here right now, and I know it is currently 90 degrees back home. And I am having to fight this feeling of loneliness that is starting to rear its head again. But I know that I am safe.

I cannot express how much I love you guys. All of your calls/emails/texts have left me feeling so uplifted. A day has not passed by where one (or several) of you have contacted me to tell me that you miss me and you are thinking of me.

I love you, I love you, I love you!

Miss Megan

Ch. 1: The Move

As I changed the Time Zone on my Mac, it hit me: I LIVE in Atlanta now. My father and I arrived Friday night after 4 days and 2,500 miles. I’ll tell you what; the drive across the country is not a short one!

On the first day we stopped at the Grand Canyon, and we both stood in awe for hours. I do not know how anyone can look at something as beautiful and massive as the Grand Canyon and not respond with praise to the one who created us. It was one of the most astounding things I have ever seen.

On the second day we did nothing but drive…and drive…and drive. We covered almost 900 miles in one day. I know now that was just unfair to do to another person. We had a “hard” day to say the least.

Day three we made it to the International House of Prayer, Kansas City. This was my favorite stop of the entire trip—and I think my father would say the same thing. We got there just in time for Misty Edwards.  (I may or may not have planned it that way.) It honestly felt like all time stood still the moment we entered The Prayer Room. Two and a half hours later, and completely refreshed, we were back on the road.

And on day four we finally made it to Atlanta. You know how marathon runners will tell you that the last few miles of the race feel like nothing—as if you are running off of pure adrenaline at that point? Well that is how the last four hours felt. Once we left Nashville—which is one of the coolest cities I have ever been in—the drive flew by, and was so exciting. By the time we got into Atlanta, I was ecstatic.

** I have to pause here for a moment to tell you about my emotional process: I have been so surprised/impressed with my heart through this whole journey. When I first decided to drive out to Atlanta, I had this picture of myself crying until we reached the Grand Canyon. And I did nothing of the sort. I was incredibly prepared for this new chapter in my life to begin. Even as I write this, I miss you all so deeply, but am not sad that I left. I have such hope that this was part of God’s plan for my life.  

About 5 months ago, the director of PIHOP, Cheryl, said that she saw this next season of my life as God calling me into the desert where He was going to be intimately present, and I would come back a changed person. I have held on to that word/promise/prophecy with all the trust I contain.

One morning I was praying at PIHOP, and I so clearly heard Hosea 2: 14-16:

"Therefore, behold, I will allure her, And bring her into the wilderness, And speak tenderly to her.   I will give her back her vineyards, And the valley of Achor for a door of hope; And she will respond there, As in the days of her youth, And as in the day when she came up out of the land of Egypt.  It will be in that day," says Yahweh, "That you will call me 'my husband,' And no longer call me 'my master.'

I felt like God was speaking these words over me—like He was promising me that my trip to Atlanta would be like this. Two days later, Cara, one of the girls in my prayer group, prayed the same words over me. This holds so much meaning for me because I have experienced so much loss over the last year. So many things have changed in my life over the last year that I have had no control over. And I am left back at square one—a place I honestly never thought I would see again. The promise of restoration in the verse above is what I am holding on to. I believe that my time in the wilderness (and if you only saw where I lived you too would call it wilderness) will yield back the vineyards I have lost, and then some.

…Like I said, I have high hopes for the next 2-years.

Saturday morning dad and I drove about an hour to IHOP Atlanta (are you starting to see a theme here?). It was so peaceful. I look forward to the hours I will spend in those chairs, just sitting. However, it is an hour away. I am finding out that when people say ‘Atlanta’ they do not actually mean Atlanta. Like the people who call The Antelope Valley, ‘Los Angeles.’ So I will probably spend more time streaming the KC Prayer Room then I will actually at IHOP Atlanta…in Lawrenceville.

As of right now, I am sitting on the floor of my room because my furniture does not arrive until tomorrow. But I am surrounded by cards and notes from my dearest friends. I feel SO very loved and supported in this new chapter of my life.

Please continue to keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

With SO much love,

Megan Haléh

My new address:  2015 Lake Park Drive SE apt H   Smyrna, GA 30080