Thursday, December 25, 2008

a night before change

It was the night before our Savior was born--in memory anyways-- and all I could feel was..this distinct awareness of being microscopic and alone in this hell of a world. It didn't matter that I had someone to see a movie with, and then someone to come home to. Or even that I know the true meaning of Christmas.. I was still apart somehow.

I was walking Louie and Dakota later that evening. It was just us three,under the stars and circling the lake on a quiet Christmas Eve. It brought to mind the famous Bible story of the three wise men...I wondered how they had felt that night. Certainly not comparable to my mood of bleakness. Instead, I imagined they felt a lot how I used to feel on Christmas Eve...Those times when I was snuggled up under the covers with new pajamas and freshly brushed teeth. I was impatient, and charged with eagerness of awakening to the presents Santa had left me. I couldn't sleep. I could hardly stay still. The excitement, the anticipation--could this be how the Magi had felt--walking miles, on the faith of a star, to meet the One who would save us?

I longed to feel that way for something bigger then life. I can't say how many miles we walked around that lake. With me praying..begging for a semblance of understanding. I was searching for a star to guide me somewhere..anywhere else.

Sunken and disconsolate, I ended the walk and drove home. I put in a worship cd--for it was still soon to be His day, whether I felt the "right" way or not.

Never underestimate the power of music. The power of words, composed with the melody of voices. Harmonized with the struggles and strengths of other human beings.
I was in tears within seconds. I was screaming within minutes. I was letting it all go..And I was comforted. For "Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness." Isaiah 41:10

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Odd Sundays & Callowness

I don't quite know what to do with myself today.

Thoughts are too incoherent to make a whole.

I am still avoiding You...
I painted my nails the color of Christmas, a happy red, far from how I actually feel.
I painted them on a Will Smith vinyl. And was almost done with the second hand before I realized that that is all I ever do with that record, which is rather disrespectful. Decided to put it on...Learned it was better for the nails.
I had an entire conversation with my dad today. And it didn't end in tears.
But a game of "Blurt" with Laura did.
Those crazy, hormonal thoughts had me sobbing about not knowing words--and yet I was an English major. It was disheartening irony.
I smoked a cigarette and oil pasteld a superman symbol on Victor's extremely belated birthday card. I then preceded to write him a poem of awful cheesiness.
I ate potatoes out of can and cooked broccoli for dinner. Potatoes..from a can.
I refused to read Ester or Job today.
Finished Blue Like Jazz instead.

"God risked Himself on me. I will risk myself on you. And together we will learn to love, and perhaps then, and only then, understand this gravity that drew Him, unto us." -Donald Miller

Monday, December 15, 2008

dally, dwindle, dawdle

You would think with school being out I'd be a little more relaxed...instead I'm bustling about through one task to another project, hopelessly chasing my tail, and pacing the house in utter restlessness.

Yesterday, I began a sketch book...only with my lack of drawing skills its morphing into more of a scrapbook type deal.

The day before, I came home from work--to clean my bathtub. I scrubbed. I used a toothbrush.I inhaled what's probably considered too much bleach. And rather then taking the time to enjoy my amazingly shiny and sterile work by immersing myself beneath lavender bubbles, I opted to do the dishes. My laundry.And Laura's laundry.

I have spent hours on the piano. Hours on the internet--Christmas shopping.Hours walking dogs that don't belong to me. Hours of frivolousness. But nothing compares to the hours I spent Monday (my official day of freedom) on MATA bus 285.

It was too tempting. If the bus would have just stopped a few feet further down Walker Avenue instead of blocking my path to the parking lot, time would have passed differently. But I was finished with classes, with finals, with thinking about birth control and its relations to chemistry. I was liberated. And the bus door was ajar. And the driver was smiling. And there was no hesitation.

I rode. I people watched. I thought. I learned Ms.Gerda's entire bus route. But I didn't come out any different a person, as I think I hoped for. There were no lessons or secrets learned. Just time spent, doing everything but what I've been avoiding.