Archive for October, 2008

The Blog About Halloween

{ October 31, 2008 @ 11:59 pm } · { Me, PG }
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I’m someone who finds significance in dates.  I realize that in the grand scheme of things, the date on which something occurred and its subsequent anniversaries is pretty trivial, but for some reason it’s something I’ve always noted and found meaning in.  New Years is the most obvious of examples for this – it’s the universal “Start Over” date for many.  New Years represents a time to look back and reflect, ponder the good and bad of the year past, and decide where to go from there on in light of what is observed.  For me, New Years has become far less enjoyable than it used to be.  That would be a great illustration of why my penchant for date-remembrance can be problematic, actually.  As the years have gone by, I remember far too may January 1st mornings accompanied by disappointment in circumstance or lack of profound and life-altering significance.  Consequently, the appeal of the holiday has dwindled.  Halloween is another date that falls under this category.

As a kid I was never allowed to celebrate Halloween.  When we lived in England, there were some in my family who lived near a town known to house one of the largest witches covens in the UK.  During the time surrounding Halloween, the town would be shut down for any traffic going in or out of the place as the activities which went on were somewhat less than pro-social.  England in general, at least at that point, wasn’t so big on the Halloween thing.  America seems to be far more interested in the idea of dressing up and candy and whatever else the holiday has become.  My first participation came when I was in my mid teens, but my experiences since have been varying.  There was one year where my wallet was stolen from within my purse at a party and my greencard and a decent amount of cash went missing.  That was probably the worst as far as the actual night and its nonsense.  Last year, however, at this point in the night I was dressed as a fairy with my former roommate at a party…and wondering how the hell I was going to get through the night and the days that followed.

Earlier in the day I’d been on the build site with Habitat.  It was an awesome day, full of fun as usual, then a group of us went out for drinks after the work day at Alcatraz.  Multiple pitchers of beer and rounds of shots later, the group dispersed.  I had someone give me a ride home as I didn’t want to chance making the drive myself – and it was that drive home which altered my life in a way I never would have dreamed possible.  A year ago today was the start of one of the most painful years of my life.  The relationship that began that night was the result of an error in choices, and then remaining in that choice instead of pursuing that which I knew would be better for me.

That evening I was supposed to hang out with someone I had met a few weeks before.  He was a guy from my church who I’d met through some mutual friends.  We’d hit it off immediately, gone out earlier that week, and we’d made plans to hang out on the night of Halloween.  Indeed, the phone call came…but as far as I was concerned, it was too late – I’d already messed up.  I beat myself up over the events of the early evening to the extent that I wrote off any and all possibility of being with the guy I was supposed to be with that night.  Ironically, he’s the one who has repeatedly re-surfaced over the last year and who has become an even more prominent character over the last few months.

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This year's contribution

Halloween, however, holds a bittersweet memory and brings with it a quiet and still sadness.  I was invited to a couple parties tonight, invited over to a friend’s to just hang out…none of which sounded appealing.  In fact, nothing sounded appealing except staying home with Asher and sleeping.  I’m far from a depressive person, it’s just tragically true that Fall and Winter hold many noteworthy anniversaries of life-changing milestones.  Or headstones, depending on how you look at it.

Anyway, there’s a lot which has happened over the last year.  Today’s anniversary I was reminded of last night when the reminder popped up on my computer – a tragic side effect of having the former significant other’s cell phone synced to my computer thereby placing all HIS programmed events on my laptop.  I have Jon Foreman playing in the background, which I noticed just a bit ago is rather ironic as well.  Jon Foreman was someone we saw play unplugged at RockHarbor one night when we first met, then listened to as his four EP’s came out over the last year, and who we saw live together in concert sometime back in February or March.  The fact that he’s on is merely by chance, but another thing that brings a sad sort of smile and an odd tug at the memory.  Sometimes I wish memories could be cut just as heart strings eventually can be severed.  Sometimes.

As she faced the sun they cast a shadow

As she faced the sun they cast a shadow

The Blog With Chicks

{ October 30, 2008 @ 11:42 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, PG-13 }
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I honestly have no idea where I’m going to go with this.  It’s almost 10 at night and my company left just a few minutes ago.  I need to shower before going to bed, but I also need to empty out some of the garbage floating around.  In reality, there is garbage on many levels – things I’ve kept quiet about for ages at the ardent request of others, feelings I’ve had and battled with and wrestled to come to terms with and rationalize and alter to fit into a more level and acceptable form than the chaotic and wrenching incarnation they truly are…and other such nonsense.  My chest hurts.  The entity that is said to reside somewhere within the upper torso and be the nucleus of a person’s soul hurts.  And I can’t help but wonder if once again the physical is a personification of that which is not.

I’ve written before about my conflict about being a “Chick”.  Maybe a definition of what exactly I mean by that would be useful in this particular blog.

Chick [chik] – noun

1. An overly emotional female who behaves in an impulsive, irrational, and annoying fashion – forgoing anything resembling logic and sound insight in favor of expelling her inner turmoil in a variety of outward behaviors which may include, but are not limited to: name calling, yelling, crying, screaming, bitching, manipulating, talking for the sake of talking, backstabbing, whining, being silent just to prove a point, stalking, or blogging. (haha)

2. A female with questionable judgement who will do anything, go anywhere, be anything, and believe whatever lies she wishes in order to make her reality all she wishes it would be and convince herself that the guy she’s fixated on really isn’t the degree of jackass he truly honestly is.

3. Something I never want to be.

Sadly, the reality is that in some areas, I’ve been quite the chick over the years.  Well, maybe definition 2 of Chickdom.  Definition 1 is the one I fight against, and have fought against for years, and years, and years…but really most intesely for the last year.  Where some females would voice information just to dig at another female, I’ve held back.  When faced with a situation where I could rise to the occassion and match bitch level for bitch, I’ve bowed out.  If there’s been a chance to flaunt something (or someone) that I have and rub it in the face of the girl who is badmouthing and being a chick – I’ve said nothing, sat back, and let them think they’ve had their victory…all the while either smirking in the corner, or shaking my head in a sad state of pity for the chicky individual in question.  Gosh.  Even this paragraph sounds like that Chick person I hate being.

And that’s my point.

I wrestle between labeling anything honest and forthright and brutally real as ridiculous, or recognizing it as an action of strength or something to be filed under “doing the right thing”.  For instance, if I know the one I’m hanging out with is barefaced lying to another girl about both his actions and interest, I’ve kept quiet so as not to be the dramatic Chick – when really, if I were in her shoes, I’d want to know what was actually going on.  Even now – simply stating that shoves this blog into the perilous sea of possible deletion…because overly dramatic and chicky bullshit drives me insane and anything which could be interpreted as such I try to keep on the private level.

As I also do with my feelings towards such males in my life.  Where do you draw the line between standing up for yourself and being a Chick?  Does telling him (in a calm, straightforward, and manipulation-free way) just how much of an asshole he’s being and how much he’s hurting you count as taking care of yourself, or being a dumb girl?  Do you just take whatever shinanegins they pull and let them figure out how wrong they were on their own, or do you call them on error of their ways?  When does legitimate calling out become nagging? And when do you stop caring about what they think of you, because really, you deserve a crap load better than they’re giving anyhow?

But that’s another issue…what if they guy in question is so much more than he is behaving?  The one currently in question (just as at least one other off the top of my head in the past) is someone with an amazing heart – absolutely amazing.  He’s a wonderful guy, has brilliant potential, is incredibly gifted in many ways…and yet what he’s doing doesn’t match up with his character.  And there’s another question right there: is his character truly shown purely by his actions, or is there more to it than that?  I know that personally I’ve done things which are contradictory to my character – that’s called being human and making mistakes.  So then, how much grace and patience is allotted to one who could be so much, but keeps falling…over, and over, and over…

There’s so much that could be said, but won’t be for now.  There’s plenty I feel which no one will be told.  I’m in a familiar place of disappointed numbness, where the heart retreats after mistakenly being allowed to come out into the open.  Even the brief conversation I just had with a friend just shut me down further.  God, I thought we were past all this?

The Blog With Static

{ October 25, 2008 @ 11:29 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I should be sleeping right now.  I know, however, that if I attempt to go unconscious the effort will be futile as my head won’t shut the hell up.  Head, heart, same difference.  The problem I’m having right now is trying to figure out what the heck it is that’s making me feel so on edge.

It may well be the fact that the coming week has a few days worth mention in it.  There’s an interview, there’s a couple fun days at work, there’s the anxiety of trying to perform above par in a new aspect of work, add to that the knowledge that we’re approaching the end of another month…

…and that leads us to another possibility.  I’m still trying to find a new location.  Granted, the effort has been limited by the resources I have chosen to stick to.  The next place I try to call home has to be a certain kind of environment…and that’s not me being picky for the sake of being picky.  I’m realistic.  I know my self well enough to know what would be a good environment for me and what wouldn’t.  Add to that the need to find something that will be suitable for Asher as well – and things are a bit challenging.  So, I guess that could be it.

My mom’s home from the hospital, so that’s not it.  She went in due to passing out with a couple seizures involved.  Doctors kept her over night for testing…turns out she has something wrong with her heart.  We already knew this, but up until this point it hadn’t really reared its ugly head.  She has a follow up appointment with the cardiologist next week.  She says she feels fine, so that for the moment is good enough for me.

I had a conversation this afternoon with my eldest brother.  I told him a bit of what my week had looked like…leaving out the specifics of certain events but he knows me well enough to get the picture, I’m sure.  I told him about wednesday night – about being pissed off at a phone call I got, then set off by the knowledge that my best friend, her father, and my ex-boyfriend were going to be visiting the one from my recent past.  She had told me about the approaching visit so that I wouldn’t find out later and be upset.  In all honesty, the fact that they were going to his home with Bikers for Christ since he had been injured in a motorcycle accident, really wasn’t a big deal to me.  I was thankful that people I loved could potentially be used by God in his life.  For some reason though, the reality of two people who (in very different ways, obviously) have been closer to me than most would be visiting this one…it got to me.  I couldn’t identify why at the time…which led me to go straight over to my parents in hopes of processing things through and figuring it out…which led to a counter productive conversation and me leaving upset.  Wednesday sucked.  I told my brother about it, and then went through my feelings on the issue, added to my feelings about another character in my life…but that one is a completely different story.

Knowing today that the visit would be happening diverted my thoughts in that direction and I almost wished I could be a fly on the wall to see that interraction.  I know my ex, and I know how amazing he is, but I also know that when he first met this guy he hated him – and with decent enough reason.  The fact that he’s changed can only be a God thing.  Then my best friend…that one is also interesting.  I remember sitting on his (the guy to be visited) bed one night when I had the place to myself (he was out of town) and telling her the whole story of how things had gotten to the point they were…and I remember the hurt that she felt because I’d kept her in the dark and pushed her away while it all was happening.  It was fear that had made me do it.  Fear and shame, that is.  Her feelings at the time I think were mixed towards him, but after the whole thing ended I’m pretty sure they firmly planted themselves on one side of the fence.  Up until this, that is.  Again…I’m curious.

There’s still a lot up in the air for me.  The timing of everything going on seems to be so incredibly jacked up and all wrong.  My brother reminded me of his own situation and the timing of his relationship.  He helped put some things in perspective.

He also helped me to identify something which I had yet to be able to do.  I’ve been trying to figure out why I do things which I know will hurt me.  I go into situations which I know are bad, or I do things which I know will be damaging…and I had no clue why.  I’m no idiot, but I have made some pretty craptacular choices.  He said “You need to stop trying to punish yourself for things that God already has covered”.  Wow.  He’s right.  I am my own worst critic.  I hold myself to impossible standards, and subsequently fall short.  When he said what he did…something resonated within me and I saw things in a completely different light.

Today was constructive, as it turns out.  Even though I’m still feeling antsy and restless.

The above is likely as disjointed as I feel.  Eh.  Only seems appropriate to let it remain as such.

The Blog About John and Jesus

{ October 25, 2008 @ 10:51 am } · { Legitimate Insight, Me }
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This morning is a quiet one.  I haven’t had a morning completely to myself, with zero obligations or schedule, in ages.  My roommate is still sleeping, and I’ve only been up for about an hour and a half.  So far the morning has consisted of feeding Asher, switching laundry over to the dryer, starting a new load of towels to be washed, and putting away a completed load from last night.  After that was breakfast, during which I was reading through John.

Last year (as in, at the beginning of 2007) I decided to make a new years resolution – something I’ve never done and am likely to never do again.  I think they’re nonsense.  Usually it just ends up being a novel idea which dies out after life comes charging in and you lose interest or focus.  This resolution, though, is one I am incredibly sad I never kept to.  My goal for last year was to learn as much as I could about the life of Christ.  I wanted to know more of Jesus the man in order to get a better picture of God.  My view of God has shifted and changed over the years.  When I was a child He was as real to me as any member of my family.  My parents used to get phone calls from the school asking that I please stop talking about Jesus, since I hadn’t shut up about Him during lunchtime…again.  I remember plenty of conversations as a child with my peers where explaining God was like talking about my best friend.  Things weren’t alaways so rosey, though.  I remember the first time I ever questioned the existance of God – I can clearly recal the moment, the setting, the thoughts, and the pain that went with it.  I was in fifth grade.

My relationship with God has had many ups and downs and backwards and forwards and all manner of doubts and fears.  There have been many times of joy, aswell, where I’ve known beyond a shadow of a doubt that every fiber of my being is screaming out in agreement that it was made for the sole purpose of worshiping the God of the universe.  On the flip side, there was also a time where I consciously said “God, I don’t care if You exist or not.  Stay out of this”.  God is a gentleman.  He did stay out, when asked, and the consequence was immediate.  Even though I was raised in the Church, have had amazing parents with incredible insight and faith, the most painful chapters of my life have been a result of the Church and its members’ actions.  It makes it hard to maintain a faith which includes a community when the community maims its own.

This was where the desire to know Christ apart from the Church came from.  As the year turned out, I lost sight of the goal, lost track of what I believed, let pain come in and cloud my better judgement, and I can safely say that as of today the last calendar year was hands down the worst of my life.  None of this I can or will blame on God.

I’ve often been frustrated about the manic relationship I’ve had with God.  I’ve mourned the loss of those “mountain top” experiences which often have preceeded some serious time in the metaphorical valley.  Overall, I’ve been completely confused as to why this up and down has been the story of my life since the fifth grade.  I’ve blamed it on my “wiring”, and how I’ve always been drawn towards the darker side of things.  In all honesty, it’s a daily battle to stay on any sort of moral high road (and obviously there have been a few seasons of failing misseribly at this ambition) and deny what is easiest and seems most fun at the time.  And as I said…I don’t get it.  How can a heart that, at the core of it, wants to be with and please God, be so torn and drawn to everything which He stands against?  How is it that I can one minute say I want Him to have full control over every aspect of my life, and then the next be engaging in activities I know directy counter His best?

As I said, I was reading through John over breakfast this morning.  I’m not sure if it’s because of the translation I have now (the Amplified…AMAZING), or if it’s simply the place I’m in, but as I read John 5:37 through the end of the chapter, I noticed something.  Jesus is talking to the people about their faith (or lack thereof) in Him, and how it is their trust and utter reliance which dictates whether or not they truly have faith.  I thought about it, and realized that that is likely where the up and down of my relationship with God comes from – I don’t trust God.

I believe in God, absolutely.  My head tells me to believe in what He says about himself, and my heart has had moments where it lets go and says “here, take over”.  These moments are never lasting because at the core of me I don’t trust that He is; first of all, in control; and secondly, truly has my best interests in mind.  A pastor at RockHarbor recently prayed with me and said “I get the feeling that you don’t believe God loves you as much as He loves everyone else”.  He was completely right, and that is where the instability and doubt comes from.

I may have a lot of head knowledge and I can offer all manner of encouraging and sound advice to those who ask – but when all is stripped and laid bare, Jesus seems to me like an unfaithful husband, and a disloyal best friend.

It’s ok for me to say this.  He already knew I felt it, anyway.

This is the problem with living a life where faith is dictated by the evidence surrounding you.  Evidence really isn’t objective.  It can be interpreted from many different angles and with many different bias and both can influence entirely different conclusions.  Take for example the main subject matter which has caused me to doubt God on most levels: my mother.

My mother had a childhood filled with heartwrenching facts and abominable situations which would anger even the most corrupt people who lack a conscience.  The aftermath of that was an echoing legacy that would take the better part of 40 years to overcome and work through…and remember, none of this was her fault.  Add to that the never ending parade of health problems: severe illness, gall bladder removal, intestinal surgery, cripling neck injury, chronic excruciating neck/back/head/everything pain which only prescribed liquid morphine could touch, heart problems, skin cancer, surgery on the spine, chronic fatigue syndrome, migranes, separated shoulder, arthritis, and many other problems/issues to do with her body.  And that’s just the physical bullshit.  Then there’s the situational crap which is a never ending list of car accidents (not her fault), accidents in general (not her fualt), character failings of “friends” around her, errors in judgement of leaders in the Church (I can be just as unbias as bias and can admit when those I love dearly make mistakes of their own…this is not one of those situations.), and likely things I’ve never been told because they know the interpretation I tend to make – WHERE ARE YOU GOD?

My perspective is this: How can God allow all this to happen to a woman who has done nothing but love Him and devote the entirety of her life faithfully to Him?  If I look simply at the situations and circumstances, it is easy to form this kind of standard argument:

1. God says he is a good God.

2. If God is good, then bad things shouldn’t happen to those He says He loves.

3. Bad things happen.

Therefore, God is a liar.

As I said earlier…evidence is not objective. Looking at what I just listed about my mother, lets apply a variety of subjective interpretations to the evidence provided.

My mothers childhood can be looked at one of two ways.  Either a) God was absent and cruel and is a liar, or b) God was present through it all, protected her from ultimate harm, and had a greater purpose.

These two perspectives can be applied to every situation in her life, really.  It’s all how we choose to look at things, I guess, so in reality – our reality is defined by our core belief.  In my case: Is there a God, or isn’t there?  That question really is the core…because to believe in God requires that you believe in what He says about Himself – and it’s an all or nothing kind of thing.  To say that something He says isn’t true means you’re calling Him a liar, thereby negating ANYTHING He says about Himself.  It’s all or nothing: either He is, or He isn’t.

To me, He is.  Even though, as we speak, my Mother is in the hospital…He still Is.

But how, then, is the question of trust and reliance addressed?  What does it take to make that transition from head knowledge to heart felt reality?  My quiet morning is continuing to be quiet.

The Blog About Being A Silly Girl

{ October 23, 2008 @ 9:00 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Me, PG-13 }
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There’s a friend of mine who commented about the nature of the majority of my blogs being utterly personal, and yet there’s a line in my facebook profile which states that I “don’t like to talk about myself”.  I had to laugh at this, becuase indeed there is a big discrepency between the appearance of the claim and the reality of this blog.  The claim its self was in regards to those typical “About Me” sections on all websites where a membership is required.  Whenever I see the box and the little caption of “Tell us a little bit about yourself”, I always skip it and occassionally return if I get bored enough.  My claim is completely true – I hate writing sentences about myself as if trying to define who I am in a collection of random sentences containing trivial nonsense.  As for the blogging…originally, it wasn’t generally about me.

I started writing a published version of my ramblings years ago, but most of them were more social commentary or random musings of elements of life – few of them contained details of my personal life and even fewer went into anything deeply emotional.  Over the years, things have gradually progressed to the point to where several of these things should be filed under “Word Vomit”, rather than merely “Blatant Overshare”.  My defense on this is valid, in my opinion.  The main reason why I write is to process and sort through the input/emotion/thoughts of something in order to figure a situation out or get over an issue that’s bothering me.  There are many which do not get published as they contain details which need not be shared with the general public.  The ones that get posted are usually free of any detail specific enough that anyone other than those incredibly close to me would be able to know exactly what and who I’m talking about.  (On a side note: the humor of this is when people assume they know who and what I’m writing about, when they’re completely wrong, and then they figure that whatever it is I’m talking about is aimed at them or for them to find or whatever other bull shit their assumptions become…I don’t work that way.  I don’t say things in order to hurt people or make them feel stupid or whatever other passive aggressive nonsense I’ve been accused of.  Can’t do it.  I’ve never changed a headline, or quote, or twitter, or whatever else to be aimed at someone in a tongue-in-cheeck and bitchy way…in fact, this ramble is the first thing I’ve written which is anything of the sort.  Gosh, moving on.)  I figure, whoever is reading is doing it by their own free will and can leave whenever they feel inclined.

All that to set up the fact that I’ve held off from writing lately due to the annoying level of dramatic tripe which may pour forth from my head and onto the screen and out to the unwitting public.  There’s your warning.

I hate drama.  I hate the dramatic crap which people pull on each other and the stupid situtions which make you squirm at the end of the day.  I hate anything which draws out an extreme emotion and I attempt to avoid it like the plague.  I lived for years boarded up to the world and the typical pitfalls of being a female and enjoyed being the one on the outside of twisted, stereotypical, and painful situations that those around me fell into.  I made some monumental mistakes, don’t get me wrong.  Instead of doing the usual nonsense most teenage girls do on a regular and frequent basis, I instead went for the more high profile and unusual situations.  Not sure why that is, but it’s the way life was from teens through early twenties.  Then I decided to let people in and start actually risking the metaphorical edition of the heart.

Didn’t turn out so well, in my opinion.  Until I made that gigantic blunder, I didn’t know what it felt like to find out that the guy you’re seeing just slept with someone else.  I didn’t know the pain of the phone call that was expected but didn’t come in the form desired.  I didn’t know what it would feel like to be lied to and have those lies turn everything about your reality upside down.  I never thought I’d be the girl who got screwed over by someone unable to put themself in another’s shoes and realize the effect of their actions.  I never wanted to be “one of those girls” who’s day was shot to hell by some guy’s heartless actions.  I never wanted the affections of a man to matter.  I didn’t want to feel, or care, or give a shit about anyone who could potentially hurt me.  In the end…none of that matters, because I did risk, I did feel, I did know, I was lied to, I was cheated on, I was hurt, I was disappointed, I was betrayed, I was led on, and on many occassion – I was skrewed over.

I was a silly girl.   I am a silly girl.

There are many times where I am angry at God for making me the way I am.  I am completely relationally driven, and have been burned so badly in that area of my life that it seems God is playing one rather protracted practical joke on my life.  I have made some seriously bad decisions, of this I am well aware.  The blame for that one can’t be put on God.  The anger comes comes in at the way my heart tends to operate.  I fall for the wrong people, at the wrong time, in the wrong place.  I would rather have been one of those girls who never wanted to get married and then met someone and BAM their world changed.  As the years go by, I see characteristics I hate begin to come out in ways I never thought they would.  I’ve never been a “chick” about trivial crap with guys.  I’ve been pretty laid back and not cared too much what they do and don’t do, figuring if it’s the right guy and situation it’ll work out and if it’s not it won’t.  I’ve never nagged, or bitched, or complained, or manipulated, or been overly emotional – ever.  I hate that crap.  Yet, now, I’m caught in a place where I’ve had to fight to hold back the words which I desperately want to yell.  I’ve had to keep certain facts to myself, even though if I were in the other’s shoes, I’d want to know.  Perhaps I respect other people’s wishes TOO much, or maybe I don’t call people on their nonsense nearly as much as I used to.  By no means was I a doormat or pushover in relationships – far from it.

As we get older, things sure don’t simplify.  I’ve learned plenty about relationships, be it friends or otherwise; life, be it good or bad; and God, be it in times of sorrow or joy.  My confusion is the space between what I know and what I feel and do.  That’s where the correlation becomes shakey.  I’m not sure why this is, but this season in life is demanding I figure it out.

The Blog That Turns The Corner

{ October 15, 2008 @ 8:58 pm } · { Blatant Overshare, Legitimate Insight, Me, PG }
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The past two days have been pretty cool.  Today wasn’t so remarkable, so we’ll leave it out of it.

Monday was another eventful day at the workplace.  I had one “special” child leave campus on four separate occasions – the first two of which required my sprinting abilities to be put to the test.  The second one involved me getting kicked a couple times.  The third fieldtrip I had nothing to do with on purpose – I ignored the call, as I had other things to take care of.  The fourth time the dum dum decided to run ended up in front of the fire station, on the side walk, in a floor restraint, then finished with six staff having to haul the kid into the van as he refused to move and made himself 300lbs of dead weight.  This kid sucks, on most levels.

One of the other incidents of the day included a pretty rough situation with a more violent kid, myself, my Boss, and the top Boss Lady.  The first part of it was taken care of with no little effort by me and the Boss.  It was later on in the situation (once we’d controlled it for the most part) and after quite a bit of fight that the Boss Lady arrived and aided with the restraint.  The whole story its self is far more interesting with the details we’re not supposed to talk about, but the point of me bringing it up isn’t because of the story its self – it’s merely to make it a point of reference.

I met with my counselor later that night and we went through quite a bit of what had been happening since our last meeting – some of it to do with various relationships in my life, some to do with work, and much to do with the future.  I relayed some of the stories which had happened (including the ridiculous one with the obscene kid a few weeks back) and went through some of my thoughts on careers and schooling…etc.  She remarked about “selling myself short”, and I didn’t understand what she meant at first.  She explained by listing exactly what it is I get myself into on a daily basis and pointing out how much of an anomaly my sort of mind set is.  The main point was this: I put myself into physically dangerous situations on a daily basis, willingly, knowing that both psychological and physical harm could happen to myself and the others involved.  And I like it.  She pointed out that most people wouldn’t do this on purpose, including herself.  Oddly enough, I’m so used to the sorts of situations we deal with with these kids (remember, we’re not talking children…we’re talking teenagers who are emotionally disturbed and prone to violence) that it doesn’t phase me to step in between two larger-than-me male students, separate the two, and potentially then have to physically restrain them until they’re once again safe.  I’ve been kicked, hit, bit, spat at, thrown around, pushed into various objects and walls, almost thrown down staircases, and had enough work days that ended with sore muscles from having to hold my own against a kid trying to re-gain control of the situation.  I guess what we do isn’t so normal, and from what I’m noticing now, it’s something that not many would put themselves in to.

As I said, though, the odd part is that I love it.  The risk of it, the physical demand of it (which isn’t always a part of it, though frequently is), the need to constantly be aware and in pro-active and problem averting mode, and whatever else is required of me…it’s something I get a rush from.  My job keeps my interest like no other job has.  It also has taught me a lot about myself and what I’m capable of – which is far more than I’ve given myself credit for.

When talking with my mother and going through this, I almost braced myself for the expected scoffing that would come after acknowledging that perhaps what I do shows some sort of strength or character.  As I waited and braced myself for the eye rolling…it didn’t happen.  She agreed.  I then voiced what I had said to the counselor – that I feel like I am rarely taken seriously, whether it be physically or otherwise.  The predisposition to underestimation is towards friends, co-workers, but mostly family.  I’ve felt ridiculed and slighted for my lack of athletic ability and supposed “laziness”, and it’s caused me to believe that these things are true and my believing otherwise is merely wishful thinking.  Mom looked at me and said “where in the world would you get that idea from?”.  Um.  You?  And my brothers?  I’m just sayin’.

Just her denial of this belief was like removing blinders and made me see myself in a completely different light, and it’s a light which is far more akin to reality now that I actually consider the facts.  I am by no means weak, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.  My job takes all manner of strength, and life has dealt plenty of rough hands over the years.  I’ve been through more nonsense and seen more than people with a decade of lifetime over me.  No, by no means do I deem myself to be superior – we’re all too unique and with different gifts, experiences, and characteristics to be fairly compared to each other.  The cool thing, though, is that the last two days gave me something I haven’t had in quite a while – a genuine excitement for the future.

It’s pretty amazing to consider the posibilites of the next few years and the years beyond them.  Removing limitations of underestimation and low expectations opens up a whole new level of posibilities.  School didn’t seem like such a burden, and more of a training ground (I know, I know…) and relationships an asset rather than a life or death necessity.  Of course there are some relationships which mean more or less than others.  There are still hopes for a certain future and a certain path where that may lead.  The amazing thing is that God did indeed put me here, for now, and at this time and place for a reason.  The way He put me together is nothing to be upset about, and the passions He gave are also far from irrelevant.  We’re chess pieces, the way I see it – all part of the master plan of the One who began and still runs the show.

The Blog That Is Blank

{ October 12, 2008 @ 9:54 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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There are moments in life which defy words.  For whatever reason, the combination of letters and consequent nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs and any other part of speech strung together to create a meaningful thought (unlike this sentence) just can’t convey what the person is experiencing.  I say experiencing because it’s not necissarily a though, feeling, or state of being.  So what’s left?  That’s what I’m getting at…things that words just can’t justify.

I’m in a place which isn’t all that remarkable, gotta say.  This weekend has been amazing, and odd, and in some ways life changing (really, every moment we have in life is life changing as it steers our lives by the choices we make) but all around…indescribable.  Saturday night should have been epic.  I went to Newport to see Phil Wickham in concert.  I’ve adored his music for the past year or two and am blown away by the gift God has blessed him with.  Basically, the night was a worship experience and it should have been amazing…like standing on a rock just off shore as a wave crashes in front of you and you feel the cool mist of the ocean spray – just a drop of the raw power and majesty of God’s creation.  Yes.  There have been nights of musical enjoyment which equate to such lofty words.

Phil was amazing.  Absolutely brilliant.  The songs themselves were perfect, each performed better than an album can possibly represent.  I sat directly in front of the stage, letting the lyrics and music do their magic…only they didn’t.  That’s the odd place I’m talking about.  A completely blank, open, and…I don’t know, space.  I was beyond confused.  Here I am, desiring nothing more than to worship and…nothing.  Unusual to say the least.

Remember…Phil was amazing.  Really superb.  My issue has nothing to do with him.

And yet, it triggered something in me.  That night my head wouldn’t shut up with lyrics from that evening, and even this morning I awoke with the same soundtrack.  It’s like when you run upstairs to do something and the minute you do you forget what you were there for?  The analogy its self is pretty irrelevant, as it’s the feeling of not being able to pick out the exact prick of thought which is just on the tip of your awareness…but not.  There’s something.  I know there’s something, and I don’t know what it is.

Even church this morning was a blank status.  They even played “Your Love Is Strong” – my FAVORITE Jon Foreman song…nothing.  After the service there were three people who, one after the other, shared some sort of word or picture they’d had for me.  Usually, when these hit accurately, I cry like a baby.  Today, all of them were accurate, all of them were relevant, and all of them should have reduced me to tears.  None did.  And that was incredibly odd.

Then as the day went by I still found myself rather blank (redundant, but it’s the best descriptive word I can come up with at the moment) and lacking the ability to effectively communicate whatever it was that I was experiencing.  Then tonight, I made my way to Rock Harbor, but this time wasn’t so blank.  I had knowledge that there were to be two of six possible characters which could affect me in some way, shape, or form.  I almost didn’t go simply because I knew the effort of seeking them out would be such a big distraction.  I did end up going, as it turns out, and I did run into those two I knew would be there.  Nothing.  In their case, that’s a good thing, as one has been mentioned WAY too many times in blogs past.  The music was great.  The teaching was relevant and sound.  I did my usual trip to the cross…and blank.

I’m honestly not sure what the deal is, but I do have a bit of a guess.  In the past I have let my emotions govern the way I see God.  I’m happy, so God is good.  I’m sad, so God is absent.  Or both of those in reverse.  This season is a lesson in faith.  To have faith when the emotions don’t back it up.  To believe even when the evidence I would like to see isn’t there.  To trust, even when everything is so unsure.  I over analyze everything (possibly even today) and one thing I’ve noticed lately is that all my brain activity and abundance of thoughts forms a really convenient baracade around the heart issue – my heart.  My thoughts, feelings, desires, whatever, all matter to God.  The thing is, I’ve walled up around so many people that He has been put in that mix.  I rationalize my faith – I don’t just let go and risk to believe that God is God, and he adores me.  Maybe that’s the point.  Maybe it’s not.

The blank isn’t quite as bleak as it was before, but it’s still there.  Honestly, I should find it a relief to not have such clutter in my usually over-active head.  I would like to be relieved, but it’s so unfamiliar that I find it hard to do so.  I keep thinking “what’s wrong?!” instead of just letting it go.

Maybe that’s it – risking enough to let go.