I visited a friend's house the other day after coming back from Bossier. He'd been asking me to hang out for a while and I just hadn't had the time so I finally went over and watched a movie with him. It had been a long, bad day - as most of my days are here lately - and I kept fading in and out of consciousness on his couch and he cuddled me for a bit.
It was the best feeling I've had in a very long time and now I don't know what to do.
The whole situation has awakened in me the realization and absolute understanding that I cannot be in a relationship right now - despite the fact that that is the very thing for which I deeply, deeply pine. Ever since leaving his house almost a week ago, I have been daydreaming about going back and just letting him hold me. It was such a wonderful comfort, fleeting though it was, and I desperately crave such refuge from the unending chaos of my days.
What with two part-time jobs, the internship and my classes, I rarely have time to eat or sleep and have gone days at a time without showering. I am tired and coming apart at the seems and I need some glue to hold me together.
My friend was that glue for a few moments. He held me together for just a little while and I crave more of that comfort, that solace. I crave it unhealthily and from sources that should not be.
We are just a couple of friends, at the moment, hanging out watching movies, but after last week, already I just want to take all my problems to him and have him hold me til they go away - simply because I know he would. Already, I am inclined to go to him with all my troubles and hope he can make me feel better rather than taking my problems to God and knowing that he would fix them.
I can only imagine how much worse this inclination of mine would be if I were actually in a committed relationship. Already, I rely too much on man to get me through my hardships. I put too much stock in his abilities and, in so doing, turn my back on God.
All this is bad enough even before considering my friend's position.
I know that I can't be in a relationship - will absolutely not enter into one until I learn to lean more on God. That being said and understood, I still possess an unceasing urge to visit him and have him comfort me too. But what message does that send to him?
"I am a tease."
"I want you to come hold me whenever I need you, but I don't want to date you."
"I don't want to commit to you, but I want you to commit to me."
"Let's just be friends with benefits."
No one deserves that, least of all, a friend who's only been there for me. Least of all, me.
So what am I to do?
I am trying to learn to find comfort and hope in God's word and in his promises, but does that mean I am to utterly forgo my desire for human companionship?
Friday, July 17, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Fool
When my plans fell through I decided I would try to accept it was for the best. When my plans fell through, I decided there must be a reason. When my plans fell through, I figured maybe there would be some horrible storm that weekend that would ravage that beach and I and my friends were now safe from that. When my plans fell through I was bitter and angry and swore that I would remain so unless something drastically bad happened that somehow showed me a benefit to my plans falling through.
My plans were made for this weekend.
My uncle died today.
My plans were made for this weekend.
My uncle died today.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Leviticus Study: Part IV
All this hoo-ha - the sacrifices, the offerings - all of it is for the Glory of God - to remember his holiness and to be and remain holy so he can dwell among us. For we are the priesthood now. We are in the place of the priests of old. He wants to appear to us as he appeared to them. We are to follow his commandments, walk his path, love him, so that we maintain a holy he can live in. So that he can appear to us in all aspects of life, bless us in all aspects.
He will astound us with his presence.
Obedience or death. It was as simple as that back then. It is much the same now, but more abstract, less immediate. Aaron's sons disobeyed and offered strange fire to God with additives he specifically told them not to include. What happens? Insta-death. Consumed by the very fire they had no business fooling with. Nowadays, we disobey in the same ways but think we've gotten away with it because the death that comes, comes slower.
The Israelites almost had it easier. Their God was a frightening God. We see him now, though as the Buddy Christ - the best friend we can pay attention to - or not - as we please. Back then, he was something to be feared and he showed himself as such. I say that, but he could be doing so still. We don't see things as the Israelites did. We say that they saw all the miracles, they saw all the consequences, all the wrath. But we see it too. We don't recognize the miracles and the consequences because we are jaded. We think we know all, have seen all, and that all can be explained. We won't allow anything to be miraculous.
He will astound us with his presence.
Obedience or death. It was as simple as that back then. It is much the same now, but more abstract, less immediate. Aaron's sons disobeyed and offered strange fire to God with additives he specifically told them not to include. What happens? Insta-death. Consumed by the very fire they had no business fooling with. Nowadays, we disobey in the same ways but think we've gotten away with it because the death that comes, comes slower.
The Israelites almost had it easier. Their God was a frightening God. We see him now, though as the Buddy Christ - the best friend we can pay attention to - or not - as we please. Back then, he was something to be feared and he showed himself as such. I say that, but he could be doing so still. We don't see things as the Israelites did. We say that they saw all the miracles, they saw all the consequences, all the wrath. But we see it too. We don't recognize the miracles and the consequences because we are jaded. We think we know all, have seen all, and that all can be explained. We won't allow anything to be miraculous.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Leviticus Study: Part III
All these sacrifices - offerings to make up for sin - they seem so involved to us, so complicated. But to them, it was simpler than the alternative. He made it easy for them - they understood it as such even if we cannot - and now he makes it easy for us. Jesus died for us - we're set. But we just can't seem to accept it. Something that good - that simple - just can't be true.
"Sinner saved by grace - no more. Once a sinner was saved by grace, now that sinner is a Saint. For condemnation there cannot be for one whom Christ comes dwell in he."
"Sinner saved by grace - no more. Once a sinner was saved by grace, now that sinner is a Saint. For condemnation there cannot be for one whom Christ comes dwell in he."
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Pissed.
I hate making plans. With a sure and fiery passion. Plans come with expectations and the bigger the plans, the bigger the expectation, and the bigger the let-down when those plans fall through. I honestly don't get it. How often do I make plans? How often do I make a conscious effort to do something for me? So why can't it just all come together? Why does this have to be so difficult? Can't I just want this? Why can't I just want this and why can't I just have this? Is it really so much to ask? And now I feel selfish and now I feel immature and now I just feel like shit.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
...
I could be having a bad day. I could be stressed out and overwhelmed and near tears. I could be so tired and despondent that nothing seems worth the effort.
But as long as no one knows, as long as no one can tell, I'll be okay.
But as long as no one knows, as long as no one can tell, I'll be okay.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Leviticus Study: Part II
Christ cannot live where there is evil. He will not dwell with it.
So what of when we sin? Does he leave us when we sin - when we allow sin in, do we put Christ out? But how can it be?
"I will never leave you." What of this promise?
He taught the early Israelites which offerings to offer when and for what trespasses against God. There were atonement offerings, sin offerings and, oddly enough, guilt offerings. He gave them an offering specifically for guilt. A way to escape that feeling when you're not sure what's wrong, but you have a feeling something is. That still small voice that whispers in your ear to let you know, even if you were unaware of it, somewhere, somehow, you have strayed.
Perhaps Christ is that voice. Of course he is. What I mean is, perhaps he is the guilt we feel that pressures us to force the sin we have - sometimes unwillingly - allowed in, out. Because he cannot live with it, but he has promised never to leave us.
Sin nature:
This seems an oxymoron to me. Sin is one of the most unnatural things there is. Pain. Lust. Deceit. These and other vices are unnatural, but these and all the rest are born of sin.
Sin was never meant to be in this world, just as we were never meant to know pain or suffering. We were meant to live in a paradise where only good things would prosper. Sin was not meant to exist. So how can it - in us - be called natural?
And if our God is so powerful, why has he allowed this? Why has he not abolished sin - made it unavailable to partake of? But then, he gave us a choice in this. He presented the tree to us with simple instructions and man allowed himself to be swayed. And we continue to be swayed by forces that were never meant to be known to us.
It was, is, and ever will be, our choice.
So what of when we sin? Does he leave us when we sin - when we allow sin in, do we put Christ out? But how can it be?
"I will never leave you." What of this promise?
He taught the early Israelites which offerings to offer when and for what trespasses against God. There were atonement offerings, sin offerings and, oddly enough, guilt offerings. He gave them an offering specifically for guilt. A way to escape that feeling when you're not sure what's wrong, but you have a feeling something is. That still small voice that whispers in your ear to let you know, even if you were unaware of it, somewhere, somehow, you have strayed.
Perhaps Christ is that voice. Of course he is. What I mean is, perhaps he is the guilt we feel that pressures us to force the sin we have - sometimes unwillingly - allowed in, out. Because he cannot live with it, but he has promised never to leave us.
Sin nature:
This seems an oxymoron to me. Sin is one of the most unnatural things there is. Pain. Lust. Deceit. These and other vices are unnatural, but these and all the rest are born of sin.
Sin was never meant to be in this world, just as we were never meant to know pain or suffering. We were meant to live in a paradise where only good things would prosper. Sin was not meant to exist. So how can it - in us - be called natural?
And if our God is so powerful, why has he allowed this? Why has he not abolished sin - made it unavailable to partake of? But then, he gave us a choice in this. He presented the tree to us with simple instructions and man allowed himself to be swayed. And we continue to be swayed by forces that were never meant to be known to us.
It was, is, and ever will be, our choice.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Leviticus Study
Slavery. I find myself contemplating this notion. The Israelites were enslaved for 430 years by the Egyptians before God delivered them. Our belief is that the people of God were delivered from slavery - that we were freed. But what are we to say to those non-believers who see it differently? It could be argued that the Israelites simply switched - were delivered from slavery to the Egyptians and entered into a slavery to God.
Instead of having Egyptians tell them what to do, God tells them.
Instead of being punished or rewarded according to how well they followed some Egyptian's commands, they are punished or rewarded by God.
Our pros are better with God: Do as I say and you will gain eternal life in a Heaven so wonderful you cannot fathom. The best an Egyptian could offer - but almost never would - would be high positions in the courts, wealth and riches - earthly goods that diminish with time.
But the cons are not in God's favor: disobey an Egyptian and recieve a lashing, lose food privileges, have your family taken away. Turn from God and you gain not only death, but lifetime upon lifetime of suffering in a Hell that never ends.
But the master who saved us - the master we have chosen - is one who cares deeply for us. He provides for us, nourishes us, gives us everything we could possibly need in return for our obedience - our continued choosing of him. And not for his benefit. He doesn't simply provide us with just enough to continue doing his work, he allows the good to overflow, allows for no limit, so that we may be free and unburdened to love him.
Maybe that's the difference:masters.
We have been freed from the tyranny of oppressors who would hold us down, hold us back, and give the barest minimum of what was needed to survive. We were freed from this by - and therefore have chosen - a master whose generosity knows no bounds. A master who offers us an eternity we cannot fathom in a Heaven we cannot understand. A Father so harsh as to offer us life or death. A Father so desperate for us to choose life that he sent his only son to take up our flak. He is master and Father to us all.
Jealous and compassionate. Kind and angry. He harbors a vengeful hatred toward the sin of which we partake, but he loves us so that he would none of us perish, no, not one.
This is the master I have chosen.
The one whom I call Father.
The one whom I call King.
The one whom I call God.
Instead of having Egyptians tell them what to do, God tells them.
Instead of being punished or rewarded according to how well they followed some Egyptian's commands, they are punished or rewarded by God.
Our pros are better with God: Do as I say and you will gain eternal life in a Heaven so wonderful you cannot fathom. The best an Egyptian could offer - but almost never would - would be high positions in the courts, wealth and riches - earthly goods that diminish with time.
But the cons are not in God's favor: disobey an Egyptian and recieve a lashing, lose food privileges, have your family taken away. Turn from God and you gain not only death, but lifetime upon lifetime of suffering in a Hell that never ends.
But the master who saved us - the master we have chosen - is one who cares deeply for us. He provides for us, nourishes us, gives us everything we could possibly need in return for our obedience - our continued choosing of him. And not for his benefit. He doesn't simply provide us with just enough to continue doing his work, he allows the good to overflow, allows for no limit, so that we may be free and unburdened to love him.
Maybe that's the difference:masters.
We have been freed from the tyranny of oppressors who would hold us down, hold us back, and give the barest minimum of what was needed to survive. We were freed from this by - and therefore have chosen - a master whose generosity knows no bounds. A master who offers us an eternity we cannot fathom in a Heaven we cannot understand. A Father so harsh as to offer us life or death. A Father so desperate for us to choose life that he sent his only son to take up our flak. He is master and Father to us all.
Jealous and compassionate. Kind and angry. He harbors a vengeful hatred toward the sin of which we partake, but he loves us so that he would none of us perish, no, not one.
This is the master I have chosen.
The one whom I call Father.
The one whom I call King.
The one whom I call God.
Monday, June 15, 2009
This one knows what she wants...just not how to get it.
I want things to go such the opposite of the last go-round. Slower, tamer. Nothing hurried, nothing rushed - but everything slowed down, savored, appreciated.
I've had the relationship filled with frenzy and lust. I've tasted the relationship based solely on physicality and have been left wanting.
I want a slow burn. A passion that rises and falls, pitches and rolls. I want a social relationship as well as a much more demure private one. I want the kind of relationship where it's okay for me to call after a long day and say "Can I just fall asleep in your arms with my head on your chest, please? Would that be okay?" And it would be.
I want the kind of relationship where he feels free to call me after a bad day and say "Babe. I don't want to do anything tonight. I just want you to come over. We can watch a movie or just sit in the dark or whatever. I just need you here." And I would feel comfortable with going.
I want a relationship of passionate comfort. I want to find a companion who is on my path - I wan us to continue our walk together.
I've had the relationship filled with frenzy and lust. I've tasted the relationship based solely on physicality and have been left wanting.
I want a slow burn. A passion that rises and falls, pitches and rolls. I want a social relationship as well as a much more demure private one. I want the kind of relationship where it's okay for me to call after a long day and say "Can I just fall asleep in your arms with my head on your chest, please? Would that be okay?" And it would be.
I want the kind of relationship where he feels free to call me after a bad day and say "Babe. I don't want to do anything tonight. I just want you to come over. We can watch a movie or just sit in the dark or whatever. I just need you here." And I would feel comfortable with going.
I want a relationship of passionate comfort. I want to find a companion who is on my path - I wan us to continue our walk together.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Can't take the heat
I have heard it argued that excessive cold is preferable to excessive heat. Some say that in winter you can at least continue layering clothing until you warm up, whereas, in summer, one can only - acceptably - remove so much clothing in effort to cool down; and that even in naught but one's own skin, the heat can still be swelteringly oppressive.
I can understand this notion. It makes perfect, logical sense. Still, I must beg to differ.
Heat - together with the ever-present humidity - is oppressive, sticky, clingy; suffocating, even. Difficult to escape and the cause of much relief come a cool shower or a dip in the pool or entrance to a well-aerated room.
Cold, on the other hand, is sneaky. It creeps up next to you, crawls beneath your skin and seeps into the bones. It takes icy hold of life-giving veins and rasps its rattling breath through your very blood. The cold is patient. It will sidle, and take its vicious hold slowly, imperceptibly, until no amount of clothing, no number of blankets, no amount of hot water or proximity to flame can break its iron grip.
I think I'll take the heat, thank you.
I can understand this notion. It makes perfect, logical sense. Still, I must beg to differ.
Heat - together with the ever-present humidity - is oppressive, sticky, clingy; suffocating, even. Difficult to escape and the cause of much relief come a cool shower or a dip in the pool or entrance to a well-aerated room.
Cold, on the other hand, is sneaky. It creeps up next to you, crawls beneath your skin and seeps into the bones. It takes icy hold of life-giving veins and rasps its rattling breath through your very blood. The cold is patient. It will sidle, and take its vicious hold slowly, imperceptibly, until no amount of clothing, no number of blankets, no amount of hot water or proximity to flame can break its iron grip.
I think I'll take the heat, thank you.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Worth What?
He is my Light and my Salvation, but He is also my Shield.
If you want me you have to go through Him and the only way to Him is through His Son, Jesus, the Christ. Go though the Son to get to the Father and just maybe He will allow you access to this beloved Daughter.
I am worth so much in His eyes.
I am not worthy because of anything I've done.
There is no thing I could do to earn the worth He has assigned me. I am worth all the blessings He has sent me simply because He made me in His image and because He loves me.
If you want me you have to go through Him and the only way to Him is through His Son, Jesus, the Christ. Go though the Son to get to the Father and just maybe He will allow you access to this beloved Daughter.
I am worth so much in His eyes.
I am not worthy because of anything I've done.
There is no thing I could do to earn the worth He has assigned me. I am worth all the blessings He has sent me simply because He made me in His image and because He loves me.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Understand
I had a very different view of you then. You were mysterious, you were strong, you were curious but unafraid. You were sure. Even when you were uncertain, you knew you didn't know and you also knew you would figure it out. You exuded confidence. You were everything I wanted to be so, naturally, I found it - and you - very attractive.
Mind you, I still find those things attractive. Only now, it's more because I've found some semblance of those things within myself rather than pining over them in another.
It's just that I've come to know you better. I discovered that you are, in fact, fallible. I discovered this before we dated, but after I'd realized I was in love with what I'd made you out to be in my mind. I believed I was in love with you, but I was much more in love with the idea of you. I took the things I loved about you and made them your entire being, utterly ignoring what made up the rest of you that didn't fit into my picture.
That's not to say I never loved you. I did and I do. But I have since overcome my love of - and need for - the ideal in favor of becoming the strength and confidence I require from others.
Mind you, I still find those things attractive. Only now, it's more because I've found some semblance of those things within myself rather than pining over them in another.
It's just that I've come to know you better. I discovered that you are, in fact, fallible. I discovered this before we dated, but after I'd realized I was in love with what I'd made you out to be in my mind. I believed I was in love with you, but I was much more in love with the idea of you. I took the things I loved about you and made them your entire being, utterly ignoring what made up the rest of you that didn't fit into my picture.
That's not to say I never loved you. I did and I do. But I have since overcome my love of - and need for - the ideal in favor of becoming the strength and confidence I require from others.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
At long last
The thing is, you caught me at a bad time. I was young and ridiculously naive. You may as well have been dating an adolescent. You were dating the mindset of a 13-year-old.
I'd had it fixed in my mind for so long that you were my one. I'd made this perfect little world where we eventually lived Happy Ever After and I nourished the thought for a long time.
It was fixed so firmly in my mind that I didn't care what we did because you were my first and last everything. It didn't matter how far we went because it just didn't matter - we had forever.
But it did matter because I knew we didn't have forever. I knew we wouldn't last. Somewhere in there, I knew you weren't my one and the times when I got upset with myself and with us were the times that that realization escaped my carefully constructed bubble of obliviousness and tried to choke me with its dream-shattering truth. I preferred to ignore the dirty knowledge that lurked beneath my pristine fantasies and continue with my happy-go-lucky ideals; and toward the end, I was - sadly - able to accomplish that with more ease.
I was stupid.
I was idealistic.
I was stubborn and I was viciously and embarrassingly and unforgivably naive. Except you did forgive me - you told me as much.
I am sorry that I subjected you to me. You know I'm sorry and I won't apologize anymore because it's over. It's not just over between me and you, it's over between me and my fantastical delusions.
At long last, love, we can call this finished.
I'd had it fixed in my mind for so long that you were my one. I'd made this perfect little world where we eventually lived Happy Ever After and I nourished the thought for a long time.
It was fixed so firmly in my mind that I didn't care what we did because you were my first and last everything. It didn't matter how far we went because it just didn't matter - we had forever.
But it did matter because I knew we didn't have forever. I knew we wouldn't last. Somewhere in there, I knew you weren't my one and the times when I got upset with myself and with us were the times that that realization escaped my carefully constructed bubble of obliviousness and tried to choke me with its dream-shattering truth. I preferred to ignore the dirty knowledge that lurked beneath my pristine fantasies and continue with my happy-go-lucky ideals; and toward the end, I was - sadly - able to accomplish that with more ease.
I was stupid.
I was idealistic.
I was stubborn and I was viciously and embarrassingly and unforgivably naive. Except you did forgive me - you told me as much.
I am sorry that I subjected you to me. You know I'm sorry and I won't apologize anymore because it's over. It's not just over between me and you, it's over between me and my fantastical delusions.
At long last, love, we can call this finished.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
All we need is...
This is beauty. So amazing how this is designed. Green leaf on brown tree against white clouds in blue sky.
The natural complementary colors.
This cannot be photographically captured. Its true likeness cannot be revealed through paint or pencil or any other medium. Our eyes were meant to find this beauty.
We need this.
He designed our eyes to take this in. We were made to be comforted by His sight.
Green against green against brown against white against blue.
We see this and are renewed. We comprehend what is natural and good and we find brilliant serenity.
We find hope.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Trust...or lack thereof
So I met this guy today.
His name’s Jeremy, one of Jenny’s friends and we all went to eat.
He’s a very insightful person. Very keen. He frightens me just a little.
He talked to Jenny (and, offhandedly, me) for what seemed like ever about the type of person he thought she was. They haven’t known each other for that long, from what I gathered, and he was talking about what he thought of her when they met.
He seems to be able to read people well. It’s disconcerting.
His analyzation of Jenny got me to thinking about how I am.
I determined this.
I’m not a very trusting person. I don’t have a whole slew of close friends. Veritable dozens of acquaintances, but few people I would out and out call “friend.”
The thing is, you have to work to be my friend. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s kind of true. I probably don’t let people in enough. You have to try to get to know me before I’ll put the slightest bit of trust in you. And I do mean try. You have to actively pursue me and my friendship. I need to know that you’re willing to invest time and effort into getting to know me. I need to know that you actually care. I need to be secure in the knowledge that you are not some passerby and that you have the intent to stick around. I need to know this before I let you in.
This is a fact about me, but not one that I generally spread around. It happens whether the people around me know it or not. Usually, honestly, whether I know it or not. But I got the sense that this Jeremy either had already (unlikely) or could easily (possibly) glean this little tidbit of information about me. And I don’t know this person, so the thought makes me real uncomfortable.
There are parts of me that everyone gets to see. There are parts of me that only my friends see. Then there are the parts that are strictly between God and me, because I don’t trust anyone with everything. There is no one person on this earth I feel I could trust with every part of me, no one I feel that comfortable with.
Jeremy made me think about why.
I know people with trust issues. I know lots of people with lots of issues. The difference between them and me is they all have good reason. Every person I’ve ever spoken to about trust or lack thereof has had some prior horrendous experience (or two, or several,) that has made him leery of trusting even the people closest to him.
This is understandable.
I, on the other hand, have had no such experience. I have not been deeply wounded by the betrayal of such absolute trust. I’ve not so much as been scratched. I have placed my absolute trust in absolutely no one, and so, have avoided being burned. Call it an exercise in preemptive self-preservation. If I let no one in, I can (and have) altogether avoid the heartache which I have not (yet) personally experienced, but been witness to far too many times.
I’ve seen what trust does. Scratch that. What misplaced trust does. I’ve seen the damage it causes. I am always the person who sees. I have always been the one who has to clean up the mess it leaves behind. I have always had to be the shoulder to cry on. I have always had to be the one who was ready to talk about it any time and every time, day or night. I have always had to be the person who’s there no matter what, rain or shine, up or down, for better or for worse, until your suffering doth plague me to death.
I have not been hurt by a trust betrayed, but I have witnessed far too man low points from far too many loved ones due to far too many breaches in a trust placed far too willingly and far too deeply within one entirely undeserving of such.
So why would I want to?
Having cleaned up the mess more times than I can count in my short life span, why on earth would I desire to place my trust in anyone? Though my experiences are little more than secondary, they have all been quite traumatic enough. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for those on the receiving end.
Is that enough?
Is the sight of such pain – from the outside looking in, fearing the intensity of the inside of that pain – enough to dissuade me from taking such a risk? Is learning from the mistakes of others to keep from making my own logical? Rational? Acceptable?
For right now, yes.
Right now, the fear of being in the center of the very mess I’ve cleaned so very many times is something of a paralyzing agent. I expect I’ll feel differently one day. I even hope so. To trust someone completely is a component of love and I hope to achieve that one day as well.
His name’s Jeremy, one of Jenny’s friends and we all went to eat.
He’s a very insightful person. Very keen. He frightens me just a little.
He talked to Jenny (and, offhandedly, me) for what seemed like ever about the type of person he thought she was. They haven’t known each other for that long, from what I gathered, and he was talking about what he thought of her when they met.
He seems to be able to read people well. It’s disconcerting.
His analyzation of Jenny got me to thinking about how I am.
I determined this.
I’m not a very trusting person. I don’t have a whole slew of close friends. Veritable dozens of acquaintances, but few people I would out and out call “friend.”
The thing is, you have to work to be my friend. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s kind of true. I probably don’t let people in enough. You have to try to get to know me before I’ll put the slightest bit of trust in you. And I do mean try. You have to actively pursue me and my friendship. I need to know that you’re willing to invest time and effort into getting to know me. I need to know that you actually care. I need to be secure in the knowledge that you are not some passerby and that you have the intent to stick around. I need to know this before I let you in.
This is a fact about me, but not one that I generally spread around. It happens whether the people around me know it or not. Usually, honestly, whether I know it or not. But I got the sense that this Jeremy either had already (unlikely) or could easily (possibly) glean this little tidbit of information about me. And I don’t know this person, so the thought makes me real uncomfortable.
There are parts of me that everyone gets to see. There are parts of me that only my friends see. Then there are the parts that are strictly between God and me, because I don’t trust anyone with everything. There is no one person on this earth I feel I could trust with every part of me, no one I feel that comfortable with.
Jeremy made me think about why.
I know people with trust issues. I know lots of people with lots of issues. The difference between them and me is they all have good reason. Every person I’ve ever spoken to about trust or lack thereof has had some prior horrendous experience (or two, or several,) that has made him leery of trusting even the people closest to him.
This is understandable.
I, on the other hand, have had no such experience. I have not been deeply wounded by the betrayal of such absolute trust. I’ve not so much as been scratched. I have placed my absolute trust in absolutely no one, and so, have avoided being burned. Call it an exercise in preemptive self-preservation. If I let no one in, I can (and have) altogether avoid the heartache which I have not (yet) personally experienced, but been witness to far too many times.
I’ve seen what trust does. Scratch that. What misplaced trust does. I’ve seen the damage it causes. I am always the person who sees. I have always been the one who has to clean up the mess it leaves behind. I have always had to be the shoulder to cry on. I have always had to be the one who was ready to talk about it any time and every time, day or night. I have always had to be the person who’s there no matter what, rain or shine, up or down, for better or for worse, until your suffering doth plague me to death.
I have not been hurt by a trust betrayed, but I have witnessed far too man low points from far too many loved ones due to far too many breaches in a trust placed far too willingly and far too deeply within one entirely undeserving of such.
So why would I want to?
Having cleaned up the mess more times than I can count in my short life span, why on earth would I desire to place my trust in anyone? Though my experiences are little more than secondary, they have all been quite traumatic enough. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for those on the receiving end.
Is that enough?
Is the sight of such pain – from the outside looking in, fearing the intensity of the inside of that pain – enough to dissuade me from taking such a risk? Is learning from the mistakes of others to keep from making my own logical? Rational? Acceptable?
For right now, yes.
Right now, the fear of being in the center of the very mess I’ve cleaned so very many times is something of a paralyzing agent. I expect I’ll feel differently one day. I even hope so. To trust someone completely is a component of love and I hope to achieve that one day as well.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Discomfort
So we did this mission/retreat thing called Engage.
The point was to engage and affect the Ruston community through acts of service.
I prayed to be taken out of my comfort zone, to be made uncomfortable in the interest of obtaining growth. I distinctly remember praying "I know it won't be fun or easy. I know I won't like it while it's happening. But I also know it needs to happen if I am to progress toward You."
I prayed that Friday night. Saturday afternoon I got my wish, and I was right. I hated it.
We stood in a circle and called out number, 1-4, to ascertain our groups. Someone to my left starting the numbering, so I was one of the last people to speak and was, therefore, not paying much attention to who was going where. My group assembled by holding up four fingers and finding all the like-numbered persons. When we were all there, I looked around and realized I was the only female in my group.
My first reaction was blind panic. I held still while I let my eyes frantically scan the room for some kind of escape, some plausible reason I couldn't be alone in this group of guys. I found nothing. We all sat down, my heart racing, and began the discussion on which service acts we wanted to undertake. I thought here, for sure, I would have some say.
I wanted to wrangle buggies in the grocery store parking lots.
I wanted to clean dorm rooms.
I wanted to clean gas station bathrooms.
I wanted to do anything that didn't involve direct interaction with strangers.
Everyone else in my group wanted to shuttle the students from The Center for the Blind to wherever they needed to go.
I was vastly outnumbered.
At this point in time, I was miserable.
I wanted to be around girls. I wanted to be around friends. I wanted to be where I was comfortable.
It was only later that night that I realized I'd gotten exactly what I'd asked for, and that it was a wonderful thing - that everyone involved benefited in some way or another.
When we got to the housing for the blind students, I met Mrs. Kathy. She needed to do some shopping at Mal-Mart and was in desperate need of a female's help. As the only one in our group, the lot fell to me.
We piled into cars (I rode with Devin - not only a guy, but a guy I didn't know - and once at Wal-Mart, I was left alone with Mrs. Kathy.
I can't even begin to describe how much fun we had.
I described cuts, and colors and styles to her while she told me about herself and her family. She is, by far, one of the most interesting acquaintances I have made in a very long time. She told me she used to live in Ormond Beach, the place where my Uncle owns a beach house and where I spent much of last summer.
She told me about her three children who have remained close over their years of growing up and who, somehow, all wound up living in Atlanta.
She told me she was shopping for clothes to wear over Easter when she would go to visit them.
We met back up with the boys after a long hiatus in which we got lost, they got lost, they lost us and a mysterious cab driver showed up just in time to save the day.
Mrs Kathy and I exchanged phone numbers and e-mails and I've agreed to take her shopping whenever she needs it.
The woman is so interesting and the day was so great and once it was all over I realized it all stemmed from major discomfort that I was forced to deal with.
If I hadn't been trapped in that group of boys I would not have met Mrs. Kathy. If I hadn't met Mrs Kathy, I would have missed out on an awesome acquaintance.
The whole experience was stressful in the beginning and for most of the throughout, but so much good came from it.
Discomfort and growth do go hand in hand.
The point was to engage and affect the Ruston community through acts of service.
I prayed to be taken out of my comfort zone, to be made uncomfortable in the interest of obtaining growth. I distinctly remember praying "I know it won't be fun or easy. I know I won't like it while it's happening. But I also know it needs to happen if I am to progress toward You."
I prayed that Friday night. Saturday afternoon I got my wish, and I was right. I hated it.
We stood in a circle and called out number, 1-4, to ascertain our groups. Someone to my left starting the numbering, so I was one of the last people to speak and was, therefore, not paying much attention to who was going where. My group assembled by holding up four fingers and finding all the like-numbered persons. When we were all there, I looked around and realized I was the only female in my group.
My first reaction was blind panic. I held still while I let my eyes frantically scan the room for some kind of escape, some plausible reason I couldn't be alone in this group of guys. I found nothing. We all sat down, my heart racing, and began the discussion on which service acts we wanted to undertake. I thought here, for sure, I would have some say.
I wanted to wrangle buggies in the grocery store parking lots.
I wanted to clean dorm rooms.
I wanted to clean gas station bathrooms.
I wanted to do anything that didn't involve direct interaction with strangers.
Everyone else in my group wanted to shuttle the students from The Center for the Blind to wherever they needed to go.
I was vastly outnumbered.
At this point in time, I was miserable.
I wanted to be around girls. I wanted to be around friends. I wanted to be where I was comfortable.
It was only later that night that I realized I'd gotten exactly what I'd asked for, and that it was a wonderful thing - that everyone involved benefited in some way or another.
When we got to the housing for the blind students, I met Mrs. Kathy. She needed to do some shopping at Mal-Mart and was in desperate need of a female's help. As the only one in our group, the lot fell to me.
We piled into cars (I rode with Devin - not only a guy, but a guy I didn't know - and once at Wal-Mart, I was left alone with Mrs. Kathy.
I can't even begin to describe how much fun we had.
I described cuts, and colors and styles to her while she told me about herself and her family. She is, by far, one of the most interesting acquaintances I have made in a very long time. She told me she used to live in Ormond Beach, the place where my Uncle owns a beach house and where I spent much of last summer.
She told me about her three children who have remained close over their years of growing up and who, somehow, all wound up living in Atlanta.
She told me she was shopping for clothes to wear over Easter when she would go to visit them.
We met back up with the boys after a long hiatus in which we got lost, they got lost, they lost us and a mysterious cab driver showed up just in time to save the day.
Mrs Kathy and I exchanged phone numbers and e-mails and I've agreed to take her shopping whenever she needs it.
The woman is so interesting and the day was so great and once it was all over I realized it all stemmed from major discomfort that I was forced to deal with.
If I hadn't been trapped in that group of boys I would not have met Mrs. Kathy. If I hadn't met Mrs Kathy, I would have missed out on an awesome acquaintance.
The whole experience was stressful in the beginning and for most of the throughout, but so much good came from it.
Discomfort and growth do go hand in hand.
Friday, March 20, 2009
I think I will probably never understand...
Love, you are my child.
Mine and mine alone.
I love you to depths you cannot understand.
Yes, you are precious to me.
I love you through a time that means nothing.
If I tell you I will love you for a moment, it means I will love you for a year.
If I tell you I will love you for an hour, it means I will love you for centuries.
If I tell you I will love you for today, it means I will love you for millennia upon millennia.
So try, try my dear child, to imagine what it means when I tell you I will love you for always.
You are my beautiful and wonderful child and with everything that I AM, I love you - more completely and for longer than you will ever know.
My love, my child, my beautiful one, I love you.
Mine and mine alone.
I love you to depths you cannot understand.
Yes, you are precious to me.
I love you through a time that means nothing.
If I tell you I will love you for a moment, it means I will love you for a year.
If I tell you I will love you for an hour, it means I will love you for centuries.
If I tell you I will love you for today, it means I will love you for millennia upon millennia.
So try, try my dear child, to imagine what it means when I tell you I will love you for always.
You are my beautiful and wonderful child and with everything that I AM, I love you - more completely and for longer than you will ever know.
My love, my child, my beautiful one, I love you.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Do you need me?
Do you need me for anything?
Honestly.
Do you need me for anything at all? Because if you don't, I'll just go.
It hurts me to be around you. Not because you're mean or inattentive, or indifferent. Not because you're happy. But because being around you reminds me of everything I did wrong. Being around you reminds me of what a horrible person I was to you.
So if you don't need me for anything, I'll just remove myself from your presence, if you don't mind. Because you remind me that I am not good. I will probably always remember everything of which you inadvertently remind me, simply because you were the first to gain entrance into my heart. I will always carry with me the lessons I learned from wronging you - but I'd rather it be a passive remembrance as opposed to being accosted with it at our every meeting.
It's not that I don't want to learn from my mistakes, but being reminded of everything makes me feel like I'm worth nothing. Remembering my actions, in light of yours, makes me worry I will never be worthy of what you had to offer me - in any form. I would like to believe that I am worth the effort - even that I could significantly lessen the effort by working on the problems that shone through between us. But it's difficult to do when I can't seem to get past what it did to us.
I feel my life would be easier if I removed it from your realm of existence. I feel I would be more adequate in my attempts to move on, if you were not there to witness. But if you tell me you need me - for anything at all - I would consider staying. Not because I desperately seek your approval, not because I enjoy torturing myself, not because I feel like I owe you whatever you could ask of me. I would stay because if you needed me, if there were something I could do to make your life better, I want to be able - and willing - to do that for you. I don't want to hold a grudge. I don't want to hate you. I don't want to stop caring about you. If you have a need I can fulfill, I will do my best to comply because I still want to love you, to be your friend.
So I ask, once more.
Do you need me?
Honestly.
Do you need me for anything at all? Because if you don't, I'll just go.
It hurts me to be around you. Not because you're mean or inattentive, or indifferent. Not because you're happy. But because being around you reminds me of everything I did wrong. Being around you reminds me of what a horrible person I was to you.
So if you don't need me for anything, I'll just remove myself from your presence, if you don't mind. Because you remind me that I am not good. I will probably always remember everything of which you inadvertently remind me, simply because you were the first to gain entrance into my heart. I will always carry with me the lessons I learned from wronging you - but I'd rather it be a passive remembrance as opposed to being accosted with it at our every meeting.
It's not that I don't want to learn from my mistakes, but being reminded of everything makes me feel like I'm worth nothing. Remembering my actions, in light of yours, makes me worry I will never be worthy of what you had to offer me - in any form. I would like to believe that I am worth the effort - even that I could significantly lessen the effort by working on the problems that shone through between us. But it's difficult to do when I can't seem to get past what it did to us.
I feel my life would be easier if I removed it from your realm of existence. I feel I would be more adequate in my attempts to move on, if you were not there to witness. But if you tell me you need me - for anything at all - I would consider staying. Not because I desperately seek your approval, not because I enjoy torturing myself, not because I feel like I owe you whatever you could ask of me. I would stay because if you needed me, if there were something I could do to make your life better, I want to be able - and willing - to do that for you. I don't want to hold a grudge. I don't want to hate you. I don't want to stop caring about you. If you have a need I can fulfill, I will do my best to comply because I still want to love you, to be your friend.
So I ask, once more.
Do you need me?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
To each her own?
Take 1
An open fire. Hot dogs and sausages to roast. S'mores - or just the chocolate. Ice cream and homemade deserts. Tye dyed shirts - and then tye-dyed people. Card Games. Wii. "Oral S- .... - urgery!" Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein. Sir William Thatcher. "Hellen Keller always wins!" Michael Jackson and bleach - - - we can be ironic when we wanna be. 20-something friends dressed in black, crashing and leaving a pet mouse in their ninja-mysterious wake.
Take 2
An open fire. Every person in sight with a drink in hand. Every breeze a breath of stale alcohol. Unnecessary violence for unknown reasons. Boisterous talk of hypothetical sex-capades. Laughter. Cuddles. Lapses in memory and/or self. Sitting in the dark with good friends, listening to good music. Alcohol-induced petit mal siezures. Vomit. First-aid training first-hand.
Who is to be found wanting?
An open fire. Hot dogs and sausages to roast. S'mores - or just the chocolate. Ice cream and homemade deserts. Tye dyed shirts - and then tye-dyed people. Card Games. Wii. "Oral S- .... - urgery!" Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein. Sir William Thatcher. "Hellen Keller always wins!" Michael Jackson and bleach - - - we can be ironic when we wanna be. 20-something friends dressed in black, crashing and leaving a pet mouse in their ninja-mysterious wake.
Take 2
An open fire. Every person in sight with a drink in hand. Every breeze a breath of stale alcohol. Unnecessary violence for unknown reasons. Boisterous talk of hypothetical sex-capades. Laughter. Cuddles. Lapses in memory and/or self. Sitting in the dark with good friends, listening to good music. Alcohol-induced petit mal siezures. Vomit. First-aid training first-hand.
Who is to be found wanting?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
And people wonder why I want to leave the South
Ignorance abounds.
I am used to this. I have grown up with it, come to expect it.
In this place, African-Americans were oppressed, ridiculed, and generally hated as little as 50 years ago. Today I am still treated differently because of the color of my skin, only now, instead of blatant hatred and prejudice there is a timid, eggshell-lined path that most people feel the need to tip-toe through just to get near me.
"I saw this black girl the other day and, let me tell you, she was all kinds of ghetto...no offense, Amaris."
"He was this tall, scary, black man...no offense, Amaris."
"Negra is spanish for black...no offense, Amaris."
It's really ridiculous. I am not offended by the word black. It's a very general word used in everyday speech. But if you feel you need to apologize for it after you've said it, that's a pretty good indication the context in which you used it was negative, to say the least, and you shouldn't have said it in the first place.
It's one thing to be affronted with these people every hour of every day. It becomes a pattern and you get used to it. You learn to simply and suddenly become deaf when a comment comes up that elicits that "no offense" which is ten times more offensive than the comment itself.
It is another thing altogether to come across genuinely ignorant people who do not even see their lack. Granted, this does not happen all that often, but instances like today make me want to flee as far from this place and its skewed, if sometimes well-hidden, ideals as possible and never look back.
Today I sat in class and listened to a girl who has consistently proven her ignorance with every parting of her lips. She felt the need to open her mouth again - some urges are best left suppressed - and dug herself a nice little hole from which I don't think she'll be escaping any time soon.
We were on the topic of college football rivalries, discussing how volatile they can become and how senseless it sometimes seems. From this, we made it to the topic of high school football rivalries and how they can be much the same. Kitty felt the need to interject into the conversation her feelings on the dangers of wearing Ouachita gear to a Bastrop Rams home game. Her reasoning against such a faux pas, and this is from the mouth of the racist horse herself: "Those black people..." Here, she realized she'd done something wrong. She picked up the cue only from the wide-eyed and even wider-mouthed reactions of every face in the room - black, white and in between.
She tried to salvage her statement: "Well, I mean, there are different kinds of black people, you know. The black people in Bastrop are stupid!"
At this point, she turns to the only "spots" in the room, myself and a Navy-enlisted young woman, who, I can only conjecture, was about ready to put that 'kill a man with your pinky' rumor to test and continues: "Not like you two. Y'all are smart and good, but the black people in Bastrop are just stupid!"
At this point, I stopped listening. Not to be mean, but because it was necessary. It was imperative to that ignorant child's life that I become deaf quicker than any instance has ever called for, that I turn my face from her and try to forget she existed, that I keep my lips tightly sealed so as not to release the diatribe that would surely have spilled forth otherwise.
And this, in a classroom; a classroom on the campus of an integrated and equal-opportunity school; a school located smack in the midst of the Bible Belt, where "love your neighbor" is not a comandment, but a threat.
Is it any wonder I wish to leave this place behind?
I know I cannot fully escape this, wherever I may go. But since coming to school here I have encountered far too many Kittys. Granted, she is the only one, so far, to speak so bluntly, and that only thanks to her lack of a decency filter on her mouth. But she is there in every "no offense," in every sideways glance after a racial comment, in every observation of my "proper" way of speaking and in every comment made about my supposedly being "white" because I'm not "ghetto."
So yes, I wish to escape this place. I wish to escape being forced to deal with ignorance such as this on a daily basis. I wish to escape being followed around in nice stores. I wish to escape the looks, the whispers and the outright racism that explodes when I decide to date outside of my race. I wish to escape the genuine look of absolute shock when I don't chop the ends off my words or accentuate every syllable with a crick of the neck.
I wish to escape the falsity of the South and am prepared to travel as far north as necessary to do so.
Canada, here I come.
I am used to this. I have grown up with it, come to expect it.
In this place, African-Americans were oppressed, ridiculed, and generally hated as little as 50 years ago. Today I am still treated differently because of the color of my skin, only now, instead of blatant hatred and prejudice there is a timid, eggshell-lined path that most people feel the need to tip-toe through just to get near me.
"I saw this black girl the other day and, let me tell you, she was all kinds of ghetto...no offense, Amaris."
"He was this tall, scary, black man...no offense, Amaris."
"Negra is spanish for black...no offense, Amaris."
It's really ridiculous. I am not offended by the word black. It's a very general word used in everyday speech. But if you feel you need to apologize for it after you've said it, that's a pretty good indication the context in which you used it was negative, to say the least, and you shouldn't have said it in the first place.
It's one thing to be affronted with these people every hour of every day. It becomes a pattern and you get used to it. You learn to simply and suddenly become deaf when a comment comes up that elicits that "no offense" which is ten times more offensive than the comment itself.
It is another thing altogether to come across genuinely ignorant people who do not even see their lack. Granted, this does not happen all that often, but instances like today make me want to flee as far from this place and its skewed, if sometimes well-hidden, ideals as possible and never look back.
Today I sat in class and listened to a girl who has consistently proven her ignorance with every parting of her lips. She felt the need to open her mouth again - some urges are best left suppressed - and dug herself a nice little hole from which I don't think she'll be escaping any time soon.
We were on the topic of college football rivalries, discussing how volatile they can become and how senseless it sometimes seems. From this, we made it to the topic of high school football rivalries and how they can be much the same. Kitty felt the need to interject into the conversation her feelings on the dangers of wearing Ouachita gear to a Bastrop Rams home game. Her reasoning against such a faux pas, and this is from the mouth of the racist horse herself: "Those black people..." Here, she realized she'd done something wrong. She picked up the cue only from the wide-eyed and even wider-mouthed reactions of every face in the room - black, white and in between.
She tried to salvage her statement: "Well, I mean, there are different kinds of black people, you know. The black people in Bastrop are stupid!"
At this point, she turns to the only "spots" in the room, myself and a Navy-enlisted young woman, who, I can only conjecture, was about ready to put that 'kill a man with your pinky' rumor to test and continues: "Not like you two. Y'all are smart and good, but the black people in Bastrop are just stupid!"
At this point, I stopped listening. Not to be mean, but because it was necessary. It was imperative to that ignorant child's life that I become deaf quicker than any instance has ever called for, that I turn my face from her and try to forget she existed, that I keep my lips tightly sealed so as not to release the diatribe that would surely have spilled forth otherwise.
And this, in a classroom; a classroom on the campus of an integrated and equal-opportunity school; a school located smack in the midst of the Bible Belt, where "love your neighbor" is not a comandment, but a threat.
Is it any wonder I wish to leave this place behind?
I know I cannot fully escape this, wherever I may go. But since coming to school here I have encountered far too many Kittys. Granted, she is the only one, so far, to speak so bluntly, and that only thanks to her lack of a decency filter on her mouth. But she is there in every "no offense," in every sideways glance after a racial comment, in every observation of my "proper" way of speaking and in every comment made about my supposedly being "white" because I'm not "ghetto."
So yes, I wish to escape this place. I wish to escape being forced to deal with ignorance such as this on a daily basis. I wish to escape being followed around in nice stores. I wish to escape the looks, the whispers and the outright racism that explodes when I decide to date outside of my race. I wish to escape the genuine look of absolute shock when I don't chop the ends off my words or accentuate every syllable with a crick of the neck.
I wish to escape the falsity of the South and am prepared to travel as far north as necessary to do so.
Canada, here I come.
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