Thursday, February 18, 2010

Lunchtime Lecture

We're not as strong as we think we are.

Ever.

We're so quick to finger point and question the contradictions of others without first confronting ourselves. I've done this more than my fair share of time.

Sometimes it is safer to indulge the present and do what isn't so spontaneous and meets the needs of what we are denied or what we deny ourselves all at once: pain, success, love, contentment...

A bad habit. "Nobody knows...," but you. And God. That's more than enough people aware of what you do than you're comfortable with.

But how else do you fill the void?
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Sunday, February 14, 2010

Sunday

I usually feel like people don't get me, and I usually think I'm right about that.

Maybe I'm not as forthcoming as I'd like to believe I am. Maybe that same forwardness throws people off.

With all I'm given, maybe I'm a sponge to some, meant to soak up all of their mess when they purge and cleanse themselves, leaving me soggy and dishelved in a corner somewhere.

Maybe I give out way too much love, more than I can replenish at once. Maybe there just isn't enough to go around.

Maybe, just maybe, someone out there does understand what I'm saying when I say it, can look at me and know that when I feel, I feel all.
Yours. Mine. Theirs.

Maybe that someone won't be able to handle it. And I won't know them. Or feel for them. Or love them.

I wonder how He did it?
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Friday, February 12, 2010

Everybody hates (still) Saint Valentine...

After years of observation and experience, it is safe to assume one thing about St. Valentine (or the numerous St. Valentines): everyone still hates him and one way or another wants him dead. Again.

Men of today want him re-dead because he costs them valuable money they could spend on beer, video games, or a flat-screen TV. Women want him re-martyred because they think that the men are going to kill him (again) anyway, though they hope that the conjectured belief of the Saint's life shines through anyway. Safe to say, people think they'd be happier without the commercial observation of Saint Valentine's death. Some think they'd be even happier without love or companionship.

I'm kind of a rebel to this philosophy. I love Valentine's Day and I love love. When this "holiday" comes around, I get more than a little excited, solely because I realize that it's not about me. It is about making the person (or people) you love feel special, reminding them that you care and, if you're committed, that you still find them desirable. When I walk through a retailer in January and early February, I don't think about what I should/could get from the racks or how I'd love to smash a glass heart vase, I think of how much my mother would love the heart shaped box of Almond Joy chocolates, or how one of my friends would laugh at the 8 X 10 Snoopy valentine card. The joy of giving and seeing others smile is what it should be about, not necessarily who should get you what and how much they should spend.

Your boyfriend or girlfriend, husband or wife could give you a break from chores as opposed to a new watch or bottle of cologne and the meaning would be just the same. Your partner could spend time with you and that would mean so much more than spending $80 on a dinner that barely filled either of you. Gifting is great; I enjoy giving and receiving gifts. But I'd rather have a kind offering than a gift from obligation, any day.

This is where the wires seem to get get crossed. I feel

Monday, February 1, 2010

Blinders off

My sisters Kristen and Rachel referred me to a verse today in the book of Isaiah.

Chapter 43, verses 1 through 10.

No time for citations, but essentially everything is already ordered; I have no control. Ever.

God wants me to know peace. And love. And happiness. But first, he wants me to know Jesus.

The excerpt from Isaiah lays out this plan. There will be low points--floods, fires, and famines, if you prefer the biblical. But in my life, sickness, loss, sadness, disappointment, heartache...but in all of these things, He wants me to come to Him. To heed Him. Not to do what seems best for me or what I determine will make my life easier. My life is not my own in that way.

In this mode, before hearing this Scripture, I woke up this morning anxious to get the day over with. Washed my hair. Showered. Prepped for the day....jewelry, clothing, socks and scents. God said "Cry. Be still. Listen". I did. Just like I did when he had the digital "penstroke" working last week.

I sat there, fully clothed and completely broken. All I wanted to do was work. That's all I have control over. Work. It is all I know these days.

God said, "Not today. Be still."

I resigned to His will. I couldn't even pick up BabyBerry, my constant companion, for a Twitter update.

He gave me no peace until, fully clothed, I lie in my bed under blankets. The calm was overwhelming. I think that was His way of hugging me, letting me know that he was there. I stayed there 3 hours, literally until I had his permission to get up

Did that provide closure or any real resolve? No, not really. But I know to wait for His blessing, I know not to stress and to keep living. I know that He will not overwhelm me with more than I can handle.

The storm is the prelude to the blessing. With my umbrella and galloshes, I'll remain humbled and faithful.

I can do no more than this.
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The Unspoken

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed wondering why, this time, I got what I prayed for.

But who am I to question God?

I was frustrated, I was broken and disappointed. My heart, hardened--with purpose, I believe. I prayed for words, for voice, through tears. Finally, tears.

Hours later, I woke up and began to speak. Silently.

I realized that this was not my doing alone, and I didn't question what was written. I just clicked "SEND".

Numbness.

I went a few days not speaking of the unspoken, but I assume the damage is done. I'm done, too. I think.

Still frustrated, broken and disappointed...but my heart...

Someone said this would be equivalent to an amputation...something so needed, so wanted, suddenly gone. For the sake of survival...

I wonder if there could be something more to this, if this is not what is supposed to be happening. But I have no control over that. Love is a funny thing. The only constant thing, really. Eternally.

I wish I could say more.