1. I was in 1st grade and I didn't want to get on the bus to go to school. I was crying. I was waiting at the bus stop with my mom. When the bus pulled up, my mom opened my lunch box to show me the treats she packed inside. I remember seeing M&Ms and Cheetos and I smiled and got on the bus.
2. A girl used to bully me in P.E. in 7th grade. She was a mean and ugly girl with thin lips and braces. Years later I just happened to be in Montgomery and went to WalMart. I saw her. She had on a hairnet and worked behind the deli counter.
3. In France, I met up with friends at an all night-music festival in the streets. Techno music was blasting from a nearby cafe. I stayed on the sidelines and contented myself with laughing at everyone's antics. Suddenly, a tall, thin man with blonde dreadlocks approached me. For a second, I was afraid because I didn't know him and didn't know what he wanted or what he was going to say. He leaned in and said, "I just wanted to tell you how pretty you are," then turned around and walked away. I just stood there, stunned. He didn't look back.
4. I was in class, making a comment. I glanced over at a classmate sitting next to me while speaking and saw that he was staring at me intensely. It caught me off guard, and I quickly looked away and began to stumble over my words, briefly losing my train of thought.
5. I was a child, walking the streets of Philadelphia with my mom. I saw a homeless person for the first time, sleeping at the steps of a building. I remember asking my mom, "Why is that man sleeping outside?" but I don't remember her answer.
6. A teacher was reading us the book Love You Forever. It's about a boy who grows up whose mother always says "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be." At the end of the story, the boy is a man and says the same thing to his own child. My teacher got choked up at the end and could barely finish. I remember being alarmed. I was so young, I remember not being able to understand why that would make my teacher cry.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
People or A Part of My Life
Friend, 27
From Turkey, we had our last Starbucks coffee together at the Georgia Center. Met through "Global Friends." I learned a few words in Turkish. She improved her English. I learned about her culture. She learned about mine. She met my brothers and parents. I met her mom and fiance. For two years we stayed in touch, and I remember our first meeting at Jittery Joe's. Leaving now, back to Turkey for an engagement ceremony and then on to the UK for a doctoral program. She is a part of my life.
Professor, 34
Dominican, a high-school graduate at 14. Learned English on the fly. Genius. Harvard-bound. Tried to take me with her. I fell in love with her son. Four-year-old, honey-skinned, long-lashed, hazel-eyed, curly-haired, dimpled beauty. Hair after his mother's curls, a mane of auburn spirals. A tasteful, simple nose ring to set it all off. "No tears," she said, the last day. She meant it. It would just make her son upset. This is not goodbye. She is a part of my life.
Couple, 46
They got married when they were 31. They know what it's like. "Almost 15 years, now." I saw wedding pictures, 90s incarnations of familiar faces. A spacious house out in the country, cornfields in the backyard. No children. She wanted to adopt, but he never seemed sure. She didn't press him. When they said it was worth it, I knew they meant it. A new recipe: crushed pineapple, cherry pie filling, topped off with yellow cake mix and pats of butter in the oven at 350 for an hour. Easy, decadent cobbler. They are a part of my life.
Friend, 31
We're friends, but more importantly, so are our brains. We need to know about our lives, and our brains need to know what the other is thinking. We apologize for apologizing. God-ordained friends. Literally. She prayed, walked into the Ferg, and there was her teary-eyed answer standing there, all because of a mom with a poofy Pentecostal bow and a skirt. When we make history, it goes down in the annals. A baby on each hip. She does it. She is a part of my life.
Pseu-tor, (almost) 31
He wasn't always bespectacled. He was always a friend. Since post-undergrad (same job), grad (same Master's), and now, now. But going back and forth over that thin platonic line is draining. I'm done. But still, there are birthdays, comprehensive exams, the Globe, tiny desks in shared offices, a picturesque field lined with benches with a fountain where people exit the departmental building and go to regain their sanity. Where the social, academic, emotional, spiritual, and historical collide. He is a part of my life.
Mother, 53
Lady is what I call her. One of a kind. She usually knows everything, even if I don't tell her. And even though I roll my eyes when she dares to compare our times ("Mom, you met my father when you were 19! It's not the same!"), she has a wisdom called experience PhDs can't give. Smiling, voice goes up two octaves answering the phone, makes things the right way, good, the best. Cries when she laughs. Prays. Praise. She is a part of my life.
From Turkey, we had our last Starbucks coffee together at the Georgia Center. Met through "Global Friends." I learned a few words in Turkish. She improved her English. I learned about her culture. She learned about mine. She met my brothers and parents. I met her mom and fiance. For two years we stayed in touch, and I remember our first meeting at Jittery Joe's. Leaving now, back to Turkey for an engagement ceremony and then on to the UK for a doctoral program. She is a part of my life.
Professor, 34
Dominican, a high-school graduate at 14. Learned English on the fly. Genius. Harvard-bound. Tried to take me with her. I fell in love with her son. Four-year-old, honey-skinned, long-lashed, hazel-eyed, curly-haired, dimpled beauty. Hair after his mother's curls, a mane of auburn spirals. A tasteful, simple nose ring to set it all off. "No tears," she said, the last day. She meant it. It would just make her son upset. This is not goodbye. She is a part of my life.
Couple, 46
They got married when they were 31. They know what it's like. "Almost 15 years, now." I saw wedding pictures, 90s incarnations of familiar faces. A spacious house out in the country, cornfields in the backyard. No children. She wanted to adopt, but he never seemed sure. She didn't press him. When they said it was worth it, I knew they meant it. A new recipe: crushed pineapple, cherry pie filling, topped off with yellow cake mix and pats of butter in the oven at 350 for an hour. Easy, decadent cobbler. They are a part of my life.
Friend, 31
We're friends, but more importantly, so are our brains. We need to know about our lives, and our brains need to know what the other is thinking. We apologize for apologizing. God-ordained friends. Literally. She prayed, walked into the Ferg, and there was her teary-eyed answer standing there, all because of a mom with a poofy Pentecostal bow and a skirt. When we make history, it goes down in the annals. A baby on each hip. She does it. She is a part of my life.
Pseu-tor, (almost) 31
He wasn't always bespectacled. He was always a friend. Since post-undergrad (same job), grad (same Master's), and now, now. But going back and forth over that thin platonic line is draining. I'm done. But still, there are birthdays, comprehensive exams, the Globe, tiny desks in shared offices, a picturesque field lined with benches with a fountain where people exit the departmental building and go to regain their sanity. Where the social, academic, emotional, spiritual, and historical collide. He is a part of my life.
Mother, 53
Lady is what I call her. One of a kind. She usually knows everything, even if I don't tell her. And even though I roll my eyes when she dares to compare our times ("Mom, you met my father when you were 19! It's not the same!"), she has a wisdom called experience PhDs can't give. Smiling, voice goes up two octaves answering the phone, makes things the right way, good, the best. Cries when she laughs. Prays. Praise. She is a part of my life.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Hope
So, Friday I had one of those days that I dread having. Where I'm utterly unproductive, where I'm snuggled into a fetal position in a fluffy pink robe, my eyes swollen from tears of frustration and I can't motivate myself to eat anything other than a couple of packages of brownie bites. I couldn't even wait to get home from the library to get started. On the bus, even (which somehow makes things seem even more sad to me . . . what is it about bus rides that paints everything with a melancholy tone?), tears still managed to spill their way out. I can never hide it because even if tears don't fall, my nose and eyes immediately redden up. It wasn't until a gentlemanly young man sitting a seat away from me asked, "Excuse me, are you okay?" that I realized I was as noticeable as I'd feared being.
I do allow myself the pathetic luxury of wallowing in self-pity from time to time, but I'm getting better at not giving myself over to it completely and at least trying to snap myself out of it. I called and talked to a few people to give me an encouraging word. One of the questions I kept asking myself is, "Should I give up hope? Is it fruitful to still hope for something when the limitations and barriers have been clearly and repeatedly spelled out for me?" I mean, not give up hope in God, but give up hope in this particular situation. To me, to give up hope = to stop setting myself up for disappointment unnecessarily.
One person said, "you should never give up hope," and then quoted Romans 5:5. Hope maketh not ashamed. I started looking up all the scriptures having to do with hope. I guess I still wasn't convinced. What I mean is, I wasn't convinced that the best thing for me to do wasn't just to allow my hope to die. To lay down my expectation that some magical day, things are going to change.
Today was my day to teach the little ones. Love those guys. Today we learned about loving your neighbor. (To the tune of "Are You Sleeping?"): Love your neighbor, love your neighbor, Jesus said, Jesus said, I can love my neighbor, I can love my neighbor, you can too, you can too. I wasn't in the sanctuary for the message. This morning before even heading to church, there was a part of me that told myself, If he preaches on something about hope today, then I'll know. But how would I know if I wasn't even going to be in there during service?
Near the end of service, of course, parents come by to pick up their kids. Usually, by the time all the kids are gone and I finish making sure toys are put away and wiping down tables with Clorox wipes, service is completely over and I just pop my head back into the sanctuary to chat for a minute before heading home. But today, after all the kids were picked up and all put back in place, when I walked into the sanctuary, altar service was still going on. And the title of the message just preached was flashed up on the screen: "When All Seems Hopeless." I gasped.
There's a doggedly stubborn, skeptical part of me afraid to believe it more than coincidence. But there's another part of me who teared up (surprise, surprise) at the knowledge that God really does know where I am. Maybe He's trying to tell me that moving on and thinking about the situation a different way doesn't have to mean giving up hope.
I do allow myself the pathetic luxury of wallowing in self-pity from time to time, but I'm getting better at not giving myself over to it completely and at least trying to snap myself out of it. I called and talked to a few people to give me an encouraging word. One of the questions I kept asking myself is, "Should I give up hope? Is it fruitful to still hope for something when the limitations and barriers have been clearly and repeatedly spelled out for me?" I mean, not give up hope in God, but give up hope in this particular situation. To me, to give up hope = to stop setting myself up for disappointment unnecessarily.
One person said, "you should never give up hope," and then quoted Romans 5:5. Hope maketh not ashamed. I started looking up all the scriptures having to do with hope. I guess I still wasn't convinced. What I mean is, I wasn't convinced that the best thing for me to do wasn't just to allow my hope to die. To lay down my expectation that some magical day, things are going to change.
Today was my day to teach the little ones. Love those guys. Today we learned about loving your neighbor. (To the tune of "Are You Sleeping?"): Love your neighbor, love your neighbor, Jesus said, Jesus said, I can love my neighbor, I can love my neighbor, you can too, you can too. I wasn't in the sanctuary for the message. This morning before even heading to church, there was a part of me that told myself, If he preaches on something about hope today, then I'll know. But how would I know if I wasn't even going to be in there during service?
Near the end of service, of course, parents come by to pick up their kids. Usually, by the time all the kids are gone and I finish making sure toys are put away and wiping down tables with Clorox wipes, service is completely over and I just pop my head back into the sanctuary to chat for a minute before heading home. But today, after all the kids were picked up and all put back in place, when I walked into the sanctuary, altar service was still going on. And the title of the message just preached was flashed up on the screen: "When All Seems Hopeless." I gasped.
There's a doggedly stubborn, skeptical part of me afraid to believe it more than coincidence. But there's another part of me who teared up (surprise, surprise) at the knowledge that God really does know where I am. Maybe He's trying to tell me that moving on and thinking about the situation a different way doesn't have to mean giving up hope.
Friday, July 19, 2013
I'm supposed to be finishing my poetry comps list.
I'm also supposed to be moving on.
God, I hate talking about depressing things, but I can't just act like they aren't happening and that I'm not feeling the weight of them and that they aren't negatively affecting me. Because they are. Because I'm letting them.
Sometimes I feel like every time I get to a spot where I'm back on track, some little fox comes along to spoil my vine. It's quite frustrating.
I honestly feel like I'm trying to do the right thing. So, then, why do I end up feeling like I must be doing something wrong?
If anything, I am learning that I must completely give up my desire to control things that are beyond my human ability to control. I am learning how futile it is. I'm learning that it also isn't really a matter of "letting God have control" than it is realizing I was never in control in the first place.
I must also remind myself that "moving on" isn't really moving on if I'm still hoping for things to work out the way I wanted them to. That would actually be the opposite of moving on, come to think of it.
There are some sobering things I'm having to come to terms with this summer. It's the realization that I'm going to have to handle some things alone. Things that no one will be able to help me decide, that no one will be able to help me implement, that no one will be able to help me see through to the end.
That is not to say that they cannot be done or that I won't have any guidance. I choose to believe that God is guiding me. But at the same time, the idea that I'm going to have to rely on myself is scary. That point in my life is here and will swing into full force once the school year begins. What I've been experiencing this summer is, in a weird way, trying to prepare me for it.
God, I hate talking about depressing things, but I can't just act like they aren't happening and that I'm not feeling the weight of them and that they aren't negatively affecting me. Because they are. Because I'm letting them.
Sometimes I feel like every time I get to a spot where I'm back on track, some little fox comes along to spoil my vine. It's quite frustrating.
I honestly feel like I'm trying to do the right thing. So, then, why do I end up feeling like I must be doing something wrong?
If anything, I am learning that I must completely give up my desire to control things that are beyond my human ability to control. I am learning how futile it is. I'm learning that it also isn't really a matter of "letting God have control" than it is realizing I was never in control in the first place.
I must also remind myself that "moving on" isn't really moving on if I'm still hoping for things to work out the way I wanted them to. That would actually be the opposite of moving on, come to think of it.
There are some sobering things I'm having to come to terms with this summer. It's the realization that I'm going to have to handle some things alone. Things that no one will be able to help me decide, that no one will be able to help me implement, that no one will be able to help me see through to the end.
That is not to say that they cannot be done or that I won't have any guidance. I choose to believe that God is guiding me. But at the same time, the idea that I'm going to have to rely on myself is scary. That point in my life is here and will swing into full force once the school year begins. What I've been experiencing this summer is, in a weird way, trying to prepare me for it.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Yes, I'm Going There
I normally stay away from the fray. You know, the morass.
But suffice it to say that last night's verdict in the Zimmerman trial was a gross miscarriage of justice. There's no other way to say it.
An unarmed teenager gets pursued by an armed man (even after the armed man was explicitly told NOT to pursue the teenager), and is shot and killed by the armed man. If Zimmerman had stayed in the car, Martin would still be alive. There's no way around it. Armed man pursues and ultimately kills unarmed teenager. How is there not anything wrong with that? Yet, he walks free.
If people wonder why there is such apathy towards our government and voting, such distrust in our justice system, especially among minorities, look no further than what happened last night.
As an older sister to two young black men, it scares me. It really scares and sickens me that this is America.
And we dare to say "with liberty and justice for all."
But suffice it to say that last night's verdict in the Zimmerman trial was a gross miscarriage of justice. There's no other way to say it.
An unarmed teenager gets pursued by an armed man (even after the armed man was explicitly told NOT to pursue the teenager), and is shot and killed by the armed man. If Zimmerman had stayed in the car, Martin would still be alive. There's no way around it. Armed man pursues and ultimately kills unarmed teenager. How is there not anything wrong with that? Yet, he walks free.
If people wonder why there is such apathy towards our government and voting, such distrust in our justice system, especially among minorities, look no further than what happened last night.
As an older sister to two young black men, it scares me. It really scares and sickens me that this is America.
And we dare to say "with liberty and justice for all."
Friday, July 12, 2013
Good, Productive Me
Yes. This is the me I want to be.
I only wish I had been this me as soon as I returned from Cuba. Ah, well. We can't be the me's we wish we had been back then. We can only be the me's we are now.
Interestingly, the more I have to do, the easier it is for me to get myself together. Or rather, the more I have to do and the closer the deadlines are to approaching, the more apt I am to get myself together. Let's be honest.
Anyway, I wish I could remember this feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that I feel when I know I've put in a decent amount of work for a day on the days that I'm feeling like a pudgy slug who hasn't been to the rec all summer and who doesn't want to get out of bed and who shamelessly procrastinates like a mug and who looks out of the dreary window and mopes around in the melancholy morning nibbling on stale donuts and drinking half cups of day old coffee. Eww. It has been raining inordinately lately, though, for real. Like, isn't it July? Aren't we supposed to be complaining about the scorching Georgian sun? At least I haven't had to water my veggie babies in like a month.
I've just been having a bit of a tough time this summer, truth be told. I mean, not just with getting it together, but with being emotionally preoccupied. I'm just now getting to the point where I'm able to truly chill out about it.
Maybe I'm just saying this, but maybe it's true . . . anytime there are, er, possibilities in my life, I get mad distracted and go into my little mind wandering world. Particularly at times when I can least afford to. Perhaps the good Lord knows that I can't handle a PhD program and the dynamics of a relationship at the same time. Maybe I technically could, but wouldn't do well at either.
Everything is going to be SO different this coming fall. First of all, the professor I adore is moving on to bigger and better things. She's not my major professor, so it's not like my committee is jacked up or anything (and my major professor is amazing, by the way), but she's the awesome, genius lady who stands up for the students like no one else does in the department. I'm going to miss her and her little boy who is my amorcito. I know we'll stay in touch, and if I play my cards right, I might get a little taste of the bigger and better stuff she's doing, but still. It's just not going to be the same. Secondly, I'll be teaching for the first time here. Not like I haven't taught before. Not like I haven't taught at the university level before. Nothing new. But I'm nervous because I don't have a feel for what teaching looks like here, and, well, we all know how my last teaching experience went. (If you don't, suffice it to say that it involves the adverb badly.) I know, what I'll be doing a month from now is universes away from what my last teaching gig was all about. But still. Thirdly, I won't be taking classes anymore and am afraid I will feel disconnected and isolated while I hole myself up studying for comps. No more being "that girl." You know, that girl who won't shut up in class? (Or, as I've been told, the girl who people rely on to talk during seminar because they didn't read.) I'm afraid it's going to suck. But I guess I'll just have to make more of an effort to get out and stay connected with my colleagues. And I guess I will see folks around since I'll be teaching and so will they, (not to mention the craploads of meetings and "teaching circles," etc. that I was blissfully able to skip my first two years) so . . . maybe it won't be too bad.
Here's to the continuation of my productive streak!
I only wish I had been this me as soon as I returned from Cuba. Ah, well. We can't be the me's we wish we had been back then. We can only be the me's we are now.
Interestingly, the more I have to do, the easier it is for me to get myself together. Or rather, the more I have to do and the closer the deadlines are to approaching, the more apt I am to get myself together. Let's be honest.
Anyway, I wish I could remember this feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment that I feel when I know I've put in a decent amount of work for a day on the days that I'm feeling like a pudgy slug who hasn't been to the rec all summer and who doesn't want to get out of bed and who shamelessly procrastinates like a mug and who looks out of the dreary window and mopes around in the melancholy morning nibbling on stale donuts and drinking half cups of day old coffee. Eww. It has been raining inordinately lately, though, for real. Like, isn't it July? Aren't we supposed to be complaining about the scorching Georgian sun? At least I haven't had to water my veggie babies in like a month.
I've just been having a bit of a tough time this summer, truth be told. I mean, not just with getting it together, but with being emotionally preoccupied. I'm just now getting to the point where I'm able to truly chill out about it.
Maybe I'm just saying this, but maybe it's true . . . anytime there are, er, possibilities in my life, I get mad distracted and go into my little mind wandering world. Particularly at times when I can least afford to. Perhaps the good Lord knows that I can't handle a PhD program and the dynamics of a relationship at the same time. Maybe I technically could, but wouldn't do well at either.
Everything is going to be SO different this coming fall. First of all, the professor I adore is moving on to bigger and better things. She's not my major professor, so it's not like my committee is jacked up or anything (and my major professor is amazing, by the way), but she's the awesome, genius lady who stands up for the students like no one else does in the department. I'm going to miss her and her little boy who is my amorcito. I know we'll stay in touch, and if I play my cards right, I might get a little taste of the bigger and better stuff she's doing, but still. It's just not going to be the same. Secondly, I'll be teaching for the first time here. Not like I haven't taught before. Not like I haven't taught at the university level before. Nothing new. But I'm nervous because I don't have a feel for what teaching looks like here, and, well, we all know how my last teaching experience went. (If you don't, suffice it to say that it involves the adverb badly.) I know, what I'll be doing a month from now is universes away from what my last teaching gig was all about. But still. Thirdly, I won't be taking classes anymore and am afraid I will feel disconnected and isolated while I hole myself up studying for comps. No more being "that girl." You know, that girl who won't shut up in class? (Or, as I've been told, the girl who people rely on to talk during seminar because they didn't read.) I'm afraid it's going to suck. But I guess I'll just have to make more of an effort to get out and stay connected with my colleagues. And I guess I will see folks around since I'll be teaching and so will they, (not to mention the craploads of meetings and "teaching circles," etc. that I was blissfully able to skip my first two years) so . . . maybe it won't be too bad.
Here's to the continuation of my productive streak!
Monday, July 08, 2013
Ecclesiastes 3:11
Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. (New Living Translation)
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. (King James Version)
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He also has planted eternity in men’s hearts and minds [a divinely implanted sense of a purpose working through the ages which nothing under the sun but God alone can satisfy], yet so that men cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. (Amplified Bible)
He makes everything beautiful. Everything has a time. I can't see the entirety of His plan.
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end. (King James Version)
He has made everything beautiful in its time. He also has planted eternity in men’s hearts and minds [a divinely implanted sense of a purpose working through the ages which nothing under the sun but God alone can satisfy], yet so that men cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. (Amplified Bible)
He makes everything beautiful. Everything has a time. I can't see the entirety of His plan.
Friday, July 05, 2013
Is Love Enough?
I knew it was going to happen. We all know, don't we? The downswing.
My last post was so bursting with positive energy, part of me didn't want to follow it up with anything else that wasn't equal in its I-am-confident-superwoman, it's-all-gonna-be-all-right brilliance. But life is life. I'm no less confident, no less sure that it is going to be all right per se, but I am sort of pensive today and maybe sort of questioning my present emotional state of being.
First of all, what I'm sort of wondering is if I've ever been in love. I mean, I think I know what it is, and what I think it is, or rather, what I feel I know about it, is that it is not a "feeling." It is not some magical movie moment where a bunch of tingly feelings and rainbows and unicorns all converge in some warm and fuzzy fireworks display. Rather, I'd like to think of it as a knowing. A confidence. I believe that saying "I love you" is less how you feel about someone and more what you know about someone. I know who you are. And I love who I know you are. It's something akin to a fact rather than a declaration.
I see it as appearing plain as day. Like frustratedly looking for your keys (I do this quite often) only to find them in the most obvious place that you somehow overlooked. There they are, plain as day. They were there all along, waiting.
Have I experienced this? I'm afraid to believe that I have. Because if I have, then . . . it puts me in a tough spot at present.
I'm too old for absolutes. When it comes to these matters, that is. Nothing is set in stone. All I'm saying is that right now, it's a little difficult for me to keep calm and carry on, as it were.
Aside from the am I/aren't I conundrum, second of all, is the question of whether it's enough. What I mean is, even if you know for sure that you love someone, that you love each other, is it enough for a relationship to work? Is knowledge of each other and each simply loving who the other person is enough? As unromantic as it sounds, I don't believe so.
If a partnership is going to work, then each person also has to be able to meet the other person's needs. Let me qualify that and say that no human being can meet all of another human being's needs. I don't think one person is meant to meet all of another person's needs. But the most important ones have to be met if it's going to work for the long haul. Spiritual, emotional, financial, intellectual, sexual . . . these are just a few examples of the types of needs, that, if not met by both parties, could possibly make a partnership a total no go.
Some things can't be fully understood until after you're married, I suppose (if you're living a Christian life, which I am striving to do), but for the most part, you know good and well what you're signing up for. Some people just ignore the signs that important needs won't be able to be met. Some people go into things believing that love is enough.
Regardless of how I'm feeling right now, I know that, in the end, it isn't enough for me.
My last post was so bursting with positive energy, part of me didn't want to follow it up with anything else that wasn't equal in its I-am-confident-superwoman, it's-all-gonna-be-all-right brilliance. But life is life. I'm no less confident, no less sure that it is going to be all right per se, but I am sort of pensive today and maybe sort of questioning my present emotional state of being.
First of all, what I'm sort of wondering is if I've ever been in love. I mean, I think I know what it is, and what I think it is, or rather, what I feel I know about it, is that it is not a "feeling." It is not some magical movie moment where a bunch of tingly feelings and rainbows and unicorns all converge in some warm and fuzzy fireworks display. Rather, I'd like to think of it as a knowing. A confidence. I believe that saying "I love you" is less how you feel about someone and more what you know about someone. I know who you are. And I love who I know you are. It's something akin to a fact rather than a declaration.
I see it as appearing plain as day. Like frustratedly looking for your keys (I do this quite often) only to find them in the most obvious place that you somehow overlooked. There they are, plain as day. They were there all along, waiting.
Have I experienced this? I'm afraid to believe that I have. Because if I have, then . . . it puts me in a tough spot at present.
I'm too old for absolutes. When it comes to these matters, that is. Nothing is set in stone. All I'm saying is that right now, it's a little difficult for me to keep calm and carry on, as it were.
Aside from the am I/aren't I conundrum, second of all, is the question of whether it's enough. What I mean is, even if you know for sure that you love someone, that you love each other, is it enough for a relationship to work? Is knowledge of each other and each simply loving who the other person is enough? As unromantic as it sounds, I don't believe so.
If a partnership is going to work, then each person also has to be able to meet the other person's needs. Let me qualify that and say that no human being can meet all of another human being's needs. I don't think one person is meant to meet all of another person's needs. But the most important ones have to be met if it's going to work for the long haul. Spiritual, emotional, financial, intellectual, sexual . . . these are just a few examples of the types of needs, that, if not met by both parties, could possibly make a partnership a total no go.
Some things can't be fully understood until after you're married, I suppose (if you're living a Christian life, which I am striving to do), but for the most part, you know good and well what you're signing up for. Some people just ignore the signs that important needs won't be able to be met. Some people go into things believing that love is enough.
Regardless of how I'm feeling right now, I know that, in the end, it isn't enough for me.
Monday, July 01, 2013
Your Life Is Now
I'm on a positive kick after talking to mi mejor amiga earlier today, so I'm going to go ahead and write this now so that when I get into my little dramatic bouts of melancholy, I can look back on this and get my head right.
Part of what we were talking about is the fact that we are living our lives now. So many times we envision ourselves at some point in some indeterminate future, believing that our lives won't truly begin until we get to that point. We worship this idea, we build a shrine to it. We hold on to it for dear life, and then become extremely discontent with our lives when things don't exactly happen the way we had envisioned. We still cling to it. We mourn it. That life that could have been. That life that should have been. The life that isn't.
What I have come to believe from experience is that we have to let go of what could have been/should have been, but isn't. Completely let it go. Because this is the thing: How can we expect God to give us the desires of our heart when we're still clinging to what we thought should have been? It's only when we let go of that idea, let go of the way we thought it should have worked out, let go of our preconceived notions of the life we thought we wanted at this point in time, let go of it completely, that God has the chance to give us something we never expected. It's only when we let go of it completely that we open ourselves up to receive those things God has for us that go beyond what we ever conceived for ourselves.
There are things beyond our control, but there are a whole lot of things within our control, that are within the scope of our ability to achieve. I say whatever it is that you want to happen in your life that you can control, go for it. Do whatever you need to do to make it happen. Don't live your life thinking that it will only truly begin in some indefinite future.
I'm not saying I'm 100% happy all day, every day, 24/7, with where I am in my life. I still have a lot of work to do. I don't even know what "100% happy all day, every day, 24/7" even means or if it's even part of the reality of being a human being in this fallen world. But what I can say is that the past few years, I've taken steps toward living the life I want to live. I'd always wanted to learn a third language after doing the Spanish thing. I applied to a study abroad program and won a scholarship to spend 6 months in France. Je l'ai appris. I had a horrible, soul-draining job. I quit it and applied to a PhD program so that I could put myself in a position that would open more doors for me and perhaps put me on the path towards a career that I enjoy. I'd always wanted to learn how to play the guitar. I borrowed one from a friend, found an instructor I could afford, and went for it (getting a brand-new guitar from my generous brother in the process). I'd always wanted to learn how to garden. I staked my claim in a community garden plot, not knowing what the heck I was doing, but did what I could and now I'm obsessed with my "veggie babies" and learning all kinds of vegetable recipes. While I can't make the "perfect man" (whatever that means) fall in love with me, I have been very honest and forthright with men who are interested in me about what I want, how I feel, where I stand and what I expect. I've found that people admire my candor, that I've saved myself a bit of time and maybe a bit of heartache, and perhaps that I've inspired people who are serious to step up to the plate. Why complain about how men treat you and how "there aren't any good guys out there" if you don't believe you should be treated a certain way and if you don't set expectations for the type of relationship you want?
Your life is happening right now, and whatever it is that you've "always wanted to do," put yourself in the position to do it right now. Write your own story now. When you're in His hands, you can't go wrong.
Part of what we were talking about is the fact that we are living our lives now. So many times we envision ourselves at some point in some indeterminate future, believing that our lives won't truly begin until we get to that point. We worship this idea, we build a shrine to it. We hold on to it for dear life, and then become extremely discontent with our lives when things don't exactly happen the way we had envisioned. We still cling to it. We mourn it. That life that could have been. That life that should have been. The life that isn't.
What I have come to believe from experience is that we have to let go of what could have been/should have been, but isn't. Completely let it go. Because this is the thing: How can we expect God to give us the desires of our heart when we're still clinging to what we thought should have been? It's only when we let go of that idea, let go of the way we thought it should have worked out, let go of our preconceived notions of the life we thought we wanted at this point in time, let go of it completely, that God has the chance to give us something we never expected. It's only when we let go of it completely that we open ourselves up to receive those things God has for us that go beyond what we ever conceived for ourselves.
There are things beyond our control, but there are a whole lot of things within our control, that are within the scope of our ability to achieve. I say whatever it is that you want to happen in your life that you can control, go for it. Do whatever you need to do to make it happen. Don't live your life thinking that it will only truly begin in some indefinite future.
I'm not saying I'm 100% happy all day, every day, 24/7, with where I am in my life. I still have a lot of work to do. I don't even know what "100% happy all day, every day, 24/7" even means or if it's even part of the reality of being a human being in this fallen world. But what I can say is that the past few years, I've taken steps toward living the life I want to live. I'd always wanted to learn a third language after doing the Spanish thing. I applied to a study abroad program and won a scholarship to spend 6 months in France. Je l'ai appris. I had a horrible, soul-draining job. I quit it and applied to a PhD program so that I could put myself in a position that would open more doors for me and perhaps put me on the path towards a career that I enjoy. I'd always wanted to learn how to play the guitar. I borrowed one from a friend, found an instructor I could afford, and went for it (getting a brand-new guitar from my generous brother in the process). I'd always wanted to learn how to garden. I staked my claim in a community garden plot, not knowing what the heck I was doing, but did what I could and now I'm obsessed with my "veggie babies" and learning all kinds of vegetable recipes. While I can't make the "perfect man" (whatever that means) fall in love with me, I have been very honest and forthright with men who are interested in me about what I want, how I feel, where I stand and what I expect. I've found that people admire my candor, that I've saved myself a bit of time and maybe a bit of heartache, and perhaps that I've inspired people who are serious to step up to the plate. Why complain about how men treat you and how "there aren't any good guys out there" if you don't believe you should be treated a certain way and if you don't set expectations for the type of relationship you want?
Your life is happening right now, and whatever it is that you've "always wanted to do," put yourself in the position to do it right now. Write your own story now. When you're in His hands, you can't go wrong.
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