The Ramblings of A Muse

The past two days have been rather interesting.  There hasn’t been anything earth shatteringly important or life alteringly relevant – at least nothing that has a direct impact on the state of MY life.  I only clarify because yesterday contained an event which indeed changes the course of the life of someone very close to me.

Yesterday I was one of three people who helped orchestrate the proposal of a close friend of mine to his girlfriend of a few months.  No, that last piece of information isn’t the focus of where I’m going with this – it’s sadly only a mention used to better finish off the though with a more appealing sentence structure.  This friend is someone who has been a very important character in my life since sophomore year in high school.  I like the fiance since she seems to be a good person as well as a sweet girl.  I am indeed happy for them and wish them the best.  It’ll be fun to walk this road with them.  Sort of.

That’s where we transition from useless pieces of information to the heavier and sometimes overly personal side of things.  After the proposal went down, there was of course the excited chatter that followed.  There were inevitable re-caps from individual perspectives on the event, and memories on all sides dating back moments to years prior.  Somewhere amidst the voiced appreciation for our efforts, planning, and execution of the event, my now-engaged-friend said something along the lines of “…and of course I’ll be around to do the same for you two when you guys get engaged”.  For a moment, I wondered if he was referring to two of us as a joint idea, since we had indeed been an item for over a year nearly five years ago.  Thankfully, it was soon implied that the offer was for the two of us separately with whoever we ended up with.

And that’s when things went tumbling down hill.

The subject of engagement, marriage, and babies has been something overwhelmingly present of late.  Everyone I was in youth group with at church is now married if not married with children.  Most of my high school friends are in the same boat.  It’s still strange to realize that we really are at that age – that elusive “grown up” phase we all strove for in high school is where we have managed to land smack dab in the middle of now.  When did that happen, exactly?

Granted, I chose a rather unique route out of high school and from there forged my way through the road less traveled far far away from the ‘normal’ realm of those my age.  My growing up wasn’t normal.  Now, my grown up status isn’t so abnormal, just different than I would have pictured a decade ago.  I didn’t think things would be like this, that’s for sure.  At the same time, I didn’t firmly decide they would be anything different than this.

I never really hoped for anything specific as I was growing up.  The only real thing I wanted was that single life long relationship and a home of my own.  Sounds cheesy, cliche, and perhaps mundane to some, but to me it was the important things in life.  That was then, though, and since then I only allowed myself to mentally go there in fits and starts rather than to focus on the notion as a realistic dream.  I’ve mentioned the mentality before, so to some it won’t come as any surprise that the reason behind this lack of aim is a fear of hope.  Having been proposed to by the wrong person in the most heinus of circumstances at 17, been the subject of ring shopping for someone else at 19, then thinking I’d actually met the right one and been nearly engaged at 21…only to be completely abused by the first, become the ex of the second (my call), and then been broken (at the time) by the third…the fantasy has given way to more of a ‘yeah right’ mentality.  Well, the ‘yeah right’ is a way of keeping the dream at arms distance as that feels much safer than allowing it to become a legitimate hope.

As I said: hope is a four letter word.

After today’s Christmas Eve service at church, I find my self still holding hope at a fearful arms distance.  The service today was great, as usual, and the message was wrapped around the idea that Jesus was sent to bring us Hope.  Obviously, there’s more to it than that, but it was the general theme of the evening.  To be honest, my mind was miles away and a year ago, and my heart was barely touched by what should have been rather moving.  Yesterday’s proposal…today’s hope…neither shake the cold that’s been wrapping its self around me like a cruel cloak for the last few months.

I can say what I know to be true: that Jesus really is our source of hope, and that all things are in His ever-capable hands.  I can go on about how I have no need to worry or fear the future because He has known every moment of my life before I took my first breath.  I could give many an inspiring and well worded theory on love, life, and God and the wonder of it all.   I could.  I have.  My penchant for honesty, however, dictates that I forego what is probably more appealing in favor for what is well, honest.

The reality is, I may know better, but I still fear.  I may see things for what good they are for others, but I still hurt for my own past.  I know God is in control, but I still doubt for my future.  I may know right from wrong and logic from the irrational, but my heart still chooses what it can’t have.  It is incredibly frustrating to have a head and heart at war with each other within the same body.  It’s frustrating, and tiring.

It’s Christmas Eve, and my house is silent.  It’s unwelcome, but fitting.