Last Wednesday, on my way home from work, I had a collision with another car in the middle of an intersection. I was in such shock that I didn't even realize the damage that had been done to the car. After I stopped shaking so much, I tried to open the door and couldn't figure out why it wouldn't open. So I resolved to crawl out my passenger side, which was very surreal for me, like I was living in a movie or something. When I finally got out and looked at the car, I realized why I couldn't open the door; the driver side of my car was completely smashed up! Later I saw that it was quite noticeable from the inside, too, so I don't know how I didn't see that before. The woman in the other car was so nice to me, and she didn't want the cop to give me a ticket, which was such a great blessing for me.
So I watched the annoyingly cheerful man from AAA tow my car away and went home. I got to my doorstep and couldn't find my house key amidst all the crap from my car that I had stuffed into my purse. I started throwing things on the porch and then finally decided to just ring the doorbell. Mary and Amber were met with my uncontrollable sobs, and when I told them the story, they tried to comfort me with some variations of "at least you are okay" and "at least you didn't get a ticket." But after three car accidents, these types of responses just don't satisfy anymore.
It makes me wonder how God would want us to react in such circumstances. Is it acceptable for me to sob uncontrollably, throw things on the porch, and say that things aren't okay? Would God want me to play the "at least" game and recount all the things that could have happened that didn't? Is THAT what should give me consolation? The way I see it, we could play the at least game forever. "Oh, you've been making out with random guys? Well, at least you're not doing drugs." "At least it wasn't worse." etc etc. And I'm all for keeping perspective about a situation and counting your blessings, but I think playing the at least game is dangerous. And it just doesn't work for me.
That's why I think the only safe response to my circumstances is to lean on grace. The fact is, I messed up. Maybe I'm a terrible driver. Maybe I'm a stupid, flaky girl with a crappy attention span. Maybe I just have really bad luck with driving. If any or all of those things are true, I will definitely not get any consolation from knowing that at least I didn't get a ticket. It might be that any or all of those things are true, but because of God's grace, it's okay. Because of God's grace, I didn't get a ticket. And I think if I play the at least game, I'm not going to see it that way. If I play the at least game, I'll just be comparing circumstances--Mine with another person's, or mine with "what could have been." And it might sometimes help to make me feel better as a quick fix, but the only real thing that will satisfy me is clinging to God's unending grace.
Looking back, I can feel God's love covering me, as I remember my mom running to me and then calling AAA to take care of the car. I can see God's grace offering me a hand so I can stand back up as He brings a compassionate woman and a lenient police officer so that I don't have to feel so ashamed and so I don't have to get another ticket. Because I'm a screw up, crappy things like car accidents are going to happen. But God always finds a way to remind me that He's taking care of me in the midst of the situation I find myself in. And that's the only thing that is going to comfort me after a car accident.
It sucks not to have a car, but what would suck even more is to miss seeing the ways God takes care of me by reducing His acts of love to mere statements of "at least it's not as bad as what could have happened." I crashed my car, but then, I got to see God's love made complete in the kindness of strangers, the grace of my mom, and the support from my friends. So yeah, at least I had that.
If there’s an upside to free falling, it’s the chance you give your friends to catch you. –Grey’s Anatomy
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
not heavy, just big
Several times last week, as I was packing and unpacking my car for Tabor's Annual Banquet, I told people I didn't need help because whatever I was carrying was not heavy, it was just big. Of course by the time I neared the 3rd floor after a few loads of big, but not heavy, things, I was really feeling it. Sure, it wasn't too heavy for me, but it definitely left me with some really sore arms. Apparently, to me, "big" means that I can handle it, whereas "heavy" would have meant that I can't.
But I'm thankful to know that heavy and big are different. When things are big, it can seem overwhelming, but there's hope because you can just do one thing at a time and take one step at a time. My friends Brittany and Allie got me through my freshman season of cross country with their encouragement that I need to focus on just one point ahead--the next mile marker, the next stop sign, the next lap--instead of focusing on the 3 more miles I have left to run. Running long distance can be heavy, or it can be big, depending on how you choose to look at it. A race is 6k, 3.7 miles, 30 minutes heavy. But I can't look at it that way, or I'll just not do it. I'll get out of it somehow, by contracting a hysterical injury or, worse, a real injury--whatever it takes, really. Or a race can be taken 8 minute average mile by mile, which makes it seem a lot more doable.
The best part of a long race is, hands down, the sprint to the finish line for the last few hundred yards. There are always a few runners who are a steady few steps behind or ahead of you for the entire race, but at the end, it's a footrace to the finish line, and it's anyone's game. But usually, it's mine. I am a kick ass runner, for the last few hundred yards anyway. It's easier to give up your last few shreds of energy when the finish line is in plain view. The problem for me is that for most of the race, it's not. For me, it just feels heavy, and my body feels weak, and my legs feel weighted down, and my chest feels constricted. But what if it doesn't have to feel like that? What if running a long race well has more to do with how I look at it than how in shape I am? What if I could focus on just getting to the next mile marker? One step at a time. 8 minute average mile by mile.
The truth is, in the end, whether you choose to view the race as something heavy or as something big, your body will probably hurt the same amount, your legs will shake like jello squares, and you will be 97% sure that you are about to throw up all that you carb overloaded on the night before. That's why it seems to me that the only sane way to run a race is to view it as something that is "not heavy, just big." 8 minute average mile by mile, you can focus your energy on getting to that point, and once you get there, you can focus on the next marker. And you know what's so great about looking at it mile by mile? You get to have more than one kick ass last few hundred yards!
I'm not a great runner, but I never minded that. I always thought God had me on those courses to encourage others because when you're in the tail end of the race, there are fewer runners there to keep your adrenaline going, and when you run past the spectators, they are less enthusiastic than they are with the top runners. But I like to be there to encourage the other runners around me that this doesn't have to feel so heavy; it can just be "big," and you can handle it--mile by mile, step by step--trusting that because God has gotten you through the last mile and the mile before that, He will get you through this one, too.
But I'm thankful to know that heavy and big are different. When things are big, it can seem overwhelming, but there's hope because you can just do one thing at a time and take one step at a time. My friends Brittany and Allie got me through my freshman season of cross country with their encouragement that I need to focus on just one point ahead--the next mile marker, the next stop sign, the next lap--instead of focusing on the 3 more miles I have left to run. Running long distance can be heavy, or it can be big, depending on how you choose to look at it. A race is 6k, 3.7 miles, 30 minutes heavy. But I can't look at it that way, or I'll just not do it. I'll get out of it somehow, by contracting a hysterical injury or, worse, a real injury--whatever it takes, really. Or a race can be taken 8 minute average mile by mile, which makes it seem a lot more doable.
The best part of a long race is, hands down, the sprint to the finish line for the last few hundred yards. There are always a few runners who are a steady few steps behind or ahead of you for the entire race, but at the end, it's a footrace to the finish line, and it's anyone's game. But usually, it's mine. I am a kick ass runner, for the last few hundred yards anyway. It's easier to give up your last few shreds of energy when the finish line is in plain view. The problem for me is that for most of the race, it's not. For me, it just feels heavy, and my body feels weak, and my legs feel weighted down, and my chest feels constricted. But what if it doesn't have to feel like that? What if running a long race well has more to do with how I look at it than how in shape I am? What if I could focus on just getting to the next mile marker? One step at a time. 8 minute average mile by mile.
The truth is, in the end, whether you choose to view the race as something heavy or as something big, your body will probably hurt the same amount, your legs will shake like jello squares, and you will be 97% sure that you are about to throw up all that you carb overloaded on the night before. That's why it seems to me that the only sane way to run a race is to view it as something that is "not heavy, just big." 8 minute average mile by mile, you can focus your energy on getting to that point, and once you get there, you can focus on the next marker. And you know what's so great about looking at it mile by mile? You get to have more than one kick ass last few hundred yards!
I'm not a great runner, but I never minded that. I always thought God had me on those courses to encourage others because when you're in the tail end of the race, there are fewer runners there to keep your adrenaline going, and when you run past the spectators, they are less enthusiastic than they are with the top runners. But I like to be there to encourage the other runners around me that this doesn't have to feel so heavy; it can just be "big," and you can handle it--mile by mile, step by step--trusting that because God has gotten you through the last mile and the mile before that, He will get you through this one, too.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
true strength
One of my friends, Jenn, recently was talking to me about reaching a breaking point. Sure, she has been strong through her circumstances, but if they keep compiling, she's going to reach her breaking point. It makes me think a lot about how God says he will never give us more than we can handle. I always wondered what that means because I guess we have to take what's given to us, right? We have to handle what's thrown at us. It's weird how that works because we have hope when going through difficult times that God doesn't give us more than we can handle. We have to have that hope, don't we?
During college, I experienced a lot of hurt with all the breakups with Ryan, and people were always telling me how strong I was to be places where he was. They said if they were me, they wouldn't be able to do that. But I didn't feel strong. I remember one particular conversation at our women's bible study when my friends said they think I'm strong, and I just started crying. I was trying so hard to hold myself together so I didn't crack, and you don't feel strong when you're just barely holding yourself together. But that is the hand I was dealt. What other choice did I have other than persevering through that difficulty? I didn't view it as strength because I didn't choose into that. I was just existing.
I do not know why God lets bad things happen to us. I don't know why He pushes us until we think we're going to break. All I know is that Jesus offers His strength to us to say "not my will, but yours be done." Which may not make grieving and coping any easier, but to keep hoping and trusting, that's strength. It isn't comforting to be told that you are strong for persevering when you actually aren't. What I was doing wasn't strength.
Strength is in the choosing to hope. Hope isn't something that just happens to you; you have to choose to have hope. You have to choose it every single day, be committed to it, and really, really believe in it. Because sometimes you won't want to. And honestly, you don't have to. You can live in a state of numbness. I did it for a long time. But sooner or later, you realize that having hope is really the only thing that makes sense. It's the only thing you can do. So choose hope, believe it, do it, and live in the freedom that it gives!
During college, I experienced a lot of hurt with all the breakups with Ryan, and people were always telling me how strong I was to be places where he was. They said if they were me, they wouldn't be able to do that. But I didn't feel strong. I remember one particular conversation at our women's bible study when my friends said they think I'm strong, and I just started crying. I was trying so hard to hold myself together so I didn't crack, and you don't feel strong when you're just barely holding yourself together. But that is the hand I was dealt. What other choice did I have other than persevering through that difficulty? I didn't view it as strength because I didn't choose into that. I was just existing.
I do not know why God lets bad things happen to us. I don't know why He pushes us until we think we're going to break. All I know is that Jesus offers His strength to us to say "not my will, but yours be done." Which may not make grieving and coping any easier, but to keep hoping and trusting, that's strength. It isn't comforting to be told that you are strong for persevering when you actually aren't. What I was doing wasn't strength.
Strength is in the choosing to hope. Hope isn't something that just happens to you; you have to choose to have hope. You have to choose it every single day, be committed to it, and really, really believe in it. Because sometimes you won't want to. And honestly, you don't have to. You can live in a state of numbness. I did it for a long time. But sooner or later, you realize that having hope is really the only thing that makes sense. It's the only thing you can do. So choose hope, believe it, do it, and live in the freedom that it gives!
Saturday, April 3, 2010
two bras
I have been in a weird place lately. Long story short, I haven't been engaging with God and pursuing my faith. I haven't wanted to. But God met me yesterday as I was tanning on my roof. I'm reading a book called Cold Tangerines, which was a gift from my housemate Megan. It was a big step for me to even start reading the book because I've been slowly disengaging with God, so much so that I even stopped listening to Christian music recently.
So I'm reading this book, and the author is going on and on about all this stuff happening in her life and how God is working in her life, and I thought to myself, "It's just not that simple. What about the world's suffering? What about Africa?" It bothered me that she was painting this picture of roses and sunshine. Well, wouldn't you know that the next chapter was about a trip she took to Africa. Any normal person, especially one who is purposefully not engaging with God, wouldn't think much of this... but I have never believed in coincidences, so I couldn't ignore it. God knew I was thinking about Africa. I thanked Him for putting that chapter right there, right after I had thought about it.
It jogged my thoughts to predestination and foreknowledge and free will and all that good stuff. I love that stuff. And I realized, maybe it's none of those things. It's not like God planned everything ahead of time and then just watches it happen. Plan or no plan, the point is, God doesn't just sit up on a cloud and watch things happen. That's the thing about our God... He is actually with us! I think that God has made me to be a certain woman and prepares me for things... it's like we're walking down the street together, and He says, "Hey Jess, let's walk this way towards the diner" because he knows that I'm hungry for pancakes. It's not like I had the thought about Africa, then he stuck that chapter in there. No, he was present with me as I read and got upset, and our next turn on our journey was reading about Africa.
It's a bit like a mischance of wearing an outfit requiring two bras on a date--one bra for support and one sports bra because otherwise, the shirt would be too low-cut (just in case you find it weird to wear two bras). God knew you might want to go let things go too far, so He prepared you for that by having you wear that outfit with two bras. It seems like a mischance at the time because it kind of ruins that moment. Sure, taking off two bras is absolutely possible, obviously, but it does make it more difficult. God was walking with you, and you didn't know why you chose that outfit, but God knew why. It was extra protection to keep you safe. Or me, or whoever.
God walks with me. He leads me. Even when I'm pretty darn content with walking my own way, he's still working. In every moment, He is present. That's love for you. I experience love when someone meets my needs/wants without me asking for it. That's what God did for me when I was on the roof yesterday. I was so stunned, so deeply in love, that all I could do was grin and say, "Thanks God... you knew I wanted to hear about Africa. You knew it."
So I'm reading this book, and the author is going on and on about all this stuff happening in her life and how God is working in her life, and I thought to myself, "It's just not that simple. What about the world's suffering? What about Africa?" It bothered me that she was painting this picture of roses and sunshine. Well, wouldn't you know that the next chapter was about a trip she took to Africa. Any normal person, especially one who is purposefully not engaging with God, wouldn't think much of this... but I have never believed in coincidences, so I couldn't ignore it. God knew I was thinking about Africa. I thanked Him for putting that chapter right there, right after I had thought about it.
It jogged my thoughts to predestination and foreknowledge and free will and all that good stuff. I love that stuff. And I realized, maybe it's none of those things. It's not like God planned everything ahead of time and then just watches it happen. Plan or no plan, the point is, God doesn't just sit up on a cloud and watch things happen. That's the thing about our God... He is actually with us! I think that God has made me to be a certain woman and prepares me for things... it's like we're walking down the street together, and He says, "Hey Jess, let's walk this way towards the diner" because he knows that I'm hungry for pancakes. It's not like I had the thought about Africa, then he stuck that chapter in there. No, he was present with me as I read and got upset, and our next turn on our journey was reading about Africa.
It's a bit like a mischance of wearing an outfit requiring two bras on a date--one bra for support and one sports bra because otherwise, the shirt would be too low-cut (just in case you find it weird to wear two bras). God knew you might want to go let things go too far, so He prepared you for that by having you wear that outfit with two bras. It seems like a mischance at the time because it kind of ruins that moment. Sure, taking off two bras is absolutely possible, obviously, but it does make it more difficult. God was walking with you, and you didn't know why you chose that outfit, but God knew why. It was extra protection to keep you safe. Or me, or whoever.
God walks with me. He leads me. Even when I'm pretty darn content with walking my own way, he's still working. In every moment, He is present. That's love for you. I experience love when someone meets my needs/wants without me asking for it. That's what God did for me when I was on the roof yesterday. I was so stunned, so deeply in love, that all I could do was grin and say, "Thanks God... you knew I wanted to hear about Africa. You knew it."
Friday, March 19, 2010
Boy Meets Girl
Boy meets girl. Boy buys girl a drink, or two, or three. He has something more in mind than casual conversation and a few laughs at the bar. It's the thrill of the chase really, and he's hoping that it will end up at her apartment. Cuz he likes a good conquest. He likes feeling like he has won. And it's a symbiotic relationship because what she desires is to feel beautiful and precious and worthwhile. All the attention he's giving her and the way he's looking at her sure makes her feel desired. "He could be flirting with any girl here, and he chose me." Though both have been through this routine before, both have followed through before, and both have regretted it before, they still carry on with the game. He thinks that winning her affection will make him feel like a conqueror, strong and victorious. She thinks that winning his attention will make her feel beautiful. And it does. For tonight anyway.
I myself don't trust guys enough to sleep with them. At the discussion I was at last night at LVC, Pastor Ron said that the mechanics of it are pretty easy. It's the actual relationship part that is difficult. But I disagree, I always thought that the mechanics would be hard. Thus, I wouldn't trust a guy enough to be vulnerable like that. I don't trust that a guy won't be thinking that he assumed I'd look better naked than I actually do. I don't trust that a guy wouldn't make fun of me the next day with his friends. I would have to really know someone and really love someone to be that vulnerable. Can I trust that man enough to know that he isn't using me? That he sees me as more than an object to fulfill his needs? That takes time to find out. Does he find me beautiful and precious enough to love and care for me on a long term basis?
I realize that not every sexual relationship is the story of a one night stand in a bar. But I do know that getting someone to sleep with you doesn't actually make you much of a conqueror. Winning a woman's heart is a lot harder than winning her body for a night. And having someone want to sleep with you doesn't make you beautiful. When someone sees you as more than a hot body, when someone wants to know you and take care of you and live life with you, that's a man showing you that you are precious.
I dated a guy in high school who tried to push me further physically. And he did manage to push me slightly further than I meant to go. Which probably made him feel really good about himself. And I want to say that the joke's on him because it wasn't really that much of a feat... but I don't know how to say that without sounding like I was easy. So this poem kind of better explains what I mean. (I hope)
"You Win"
Do you feel a sense of accomplishment
now that you’ve stolen my innocence?
Do you feel better about yourself,
knowing you could charm me with your smile?
Did I keep you entertained for a few months
so you wouldn’t have to be alone?
Or was I even less of a person to you than that?
If you wanted to feel big and manly by stealing my innocence,
you should have known you’d never have succeeded.
But I know I didn’t make that clear enough.
And I take the blame for that completely.
If you wanted to feel better about yourself by tempting me,
you should know that enchanting a high school girl is not that hard.
Though I thought I was smarter than one of those girls,
as it turned out, I was nothing more and nothing less.
If I kept you entertained so you wouldn’t have to be alone,
you should know that perhaps I was using you for the same reason.
Although my reasons were purer than yours,
I admit that loneliness may have skewed my perceptions.
I don’t know how you viewed me or why you were with me.
I don’t know if your reasons had anything to do with me;
even considering these negative possibilities,
I question whether I was even that much of a person to you.
You should know that if you had wanted to break my innocence, you did.
If you had wanted to charm me momentarily, you did.
And if you had wanted to be entertained,
I suppose you took care of that yourself by playing your little games.
So if I was just a pawn in your game, you win.
But in the end, I will not allow any way you have made me feel
to dictate where I go or who I will become.
You will not haunt my past because I’m stronger than that
and I wouldn’t let you, of all people, get in the way of real love.
So if you want to look at this from your narrow vision,
where you are great and special because you conquered,
You win. Congratulations.
6/25/07
I myself don't trust guys enough to sleep with them. At the discussion I was at last night at LVC, Pastor Ron said that the mechanics of it are pretty easy. It's the actual relationship part that is difficult. But I disagree, I always thought that the mechanics would be hard. Thus, I wouldn't trust a guy enough to be vulnerable like that. I don't trust that a guy won't be thinking that he assumed I'd look better naked than I actually do. I don't trust that a guy wouldn't make fun of me the next day with his friends. I would have to really know someone and really love someone to be that vulnerable. Can I trust that man enough to know that he isn't using me? That he sees me as more than an object to fulfill his needs? That takes time to find out. Does he find me beautiful and precious enough to love and care for me on a long term basis?
I realize that not every sexual relationship is the story of a one night stand in a bar. But I do know that getting someone to sleep with you doesn't actually make you much of a conqueror. Winning a woman's heart is a lot harder than winning her body for a night. And having someone want to sleep with you doesn't make you beautiful. When someone sees you as more than a hot body, when someone wants to know you and take care of you and live life with you, that's a man showing you that you are precious.
I dated a guy in high school who tried to push me further physically. And he did manage to push me slightly further than I meant to go. Which probably made him feel really good about himself. And I want to say that the joke's on him because it wasn't really that much of a feat... but I don't know how to say that without sounding like I was easy. So this poem kind of better explains what I mean. (I hope)
"You Win"
Do you feel a sense of accomplishment
now that you’ve stolen my innocence?
Do you feel better about yourself,
knowing you could charm me with your smile?
Did I keep you entertained for a few months
so you wouldn’t have to be alone?
Or was I even less of a person to you than that?
If you wanted to feel big and manly by stealing my innocence,
you should have known you’d never have succeeded.
But I know I didn’t make that clear enough.
And I take the blame for that completely.
If you wanted to feel better about yourself by tempting me,
you should know that enchanting a high school girl is not that hard.
Though I thought I was smarter than one of those girls,
as it turned out, I was nothing more and nothing less.
If I kept you entertained so you wouldn’t have to be alone,
you should know that perhaps I was using you for the same reason.
Although my reasons were purer than yours,
I admit that loneliness may have skewed my perceptions.
I don’t know how you viewed me or why you were with me.
I don’t know if your reasons had anything to do with me;
even considering these negative possibilities,
I question whether I was even that much of a person to you.
You should know that if you had wanted to break my innocence, you did.
If you had wanted to charm me momentarily, you did.
And if you had wanted to be entertained,
I suppose you took care of that yourself by playing your little games.
So if I was just a pawn in your game, you win.
But in the end, I will not allow any way you have made me feel
to dictate where I go or who I will become.
You will not haunt my past because I’m stronger than that
and I wouldn’t let you, of all people, get in the way of real love.
So if you want to look at this from your narrow vision,
where you are great and special because you conquered,
You win. Congratulations.
6/25/07
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Green Dress
For tradition’s sake and for tradition alone,
I wear green today.
I can play along with tradition’s silly rules.
In truth, it’s fun to be a fanatic, go all out,
And fancy everyone else apathetic
As I apply my green eyeliner with a smirk.
(I even wear green underwear,
though no one will see it.
Now THAT’S dedication.)
I never wanted to be one of those people
who wore blue or brown or yellow,
it just doesn’t make sense—
why would you NOT wear green today?
But I don’t even know what St. Patrick’s Day is.
I start to wonder
Why do people wear green?
Why NOT blue or brown or yellow?
What are we even celebrating?
The year I was grieving too much to get dressed that day,
Someone asked me where my green was.
I felt oddly ashamed for breaking tradition.
It was the one time that I just didn’t care,
And someone called me out on it.
I know my friends have a right to keep me accountable,
But why?
I’m not even Irish.
I don’t know why we’re wearing green
Or why we’re drinking beer,
But I can go along with it.
I like playing the fanatic,
even though it’s meaningless--
I mean there’s really no other way to describe it, is there?
It's just silly, empty, meaningless tradition
if I can’t even tell you who St. Patrick is.
The only thing I know is that I’m supposed to wear green,
And lucky for me, I look damn good in my green dress.
Monday, March 8, 2010
E is for Evaporation
I'm grateful that the snow has finally melted away. It's weird though how hard we have to work to dig our cars out after a snowstorm, and then a week later, the snow just melts anyway. What's up with that? You work so hard for something that just disappears.
My life has had a reoccurring theme of evaporation lately. For instance, the other day at work, I worked all day to edit a document and got so much progress done, and then the document just disappeared. I had forgotten to save it in a different location, and then it was gone. None of my work counted for anything because it was just gone. You can imagine my anger. It was pretty much a broken record of the f-word repeating in my head. A few weeks ago, my ipod just decided to delete everything on it. Sounds like no big deal, but you have no idea how long I have worked to organizing everything perfectly. Countless hours have been spent to organizing my music and videos just so. It's all gone now. I recognize that these situations do not matter much in the grand scheme of things. But they are like physical representations of why I'm actually angry.
The reason I've actually been angry is because my relationship with Ryan just evaporated into thin air. What does that mean about the 2.5 years of my life spent trying to make something work that wasn't ever really working in the first place? I am not consoled by the thought that it was a growing period and that sometimes relationships don't work out, blah blah blah. The whole thing just evaporated. Which makes me feel like, well, why did I bother?
Before snow evaporates, it gets really ugly from dirt and stones and all that road gunk. It gets pretty gross. By the time the snow is tainted by all that grossness, you just can't wait for it to disappear. But it evaporates and leaves all the junk behind. So did I really put all that work into shoveling for something that would just disappear in a week?
But it never really disappears I guess. The snow either seeps into the ground or goes back into the air. It's not gone. And it leaves behind the junk which kind of settles again on the road. It's the unseen aftermath that kills you. And part of the reason it kills you so much is because you can't see it. No one can see it except for you, so you kind of wonder if you're going crazy. What are you left with? The only proof that it even happened is that your back is really sore from the shoveling. It all melted away and left you standing there alone.
The snowstorms this year were pretty brutal, and I was digging my car out for hours sometimes. And when it's all done, you just stand there... numb and exhausted, not really sure where to go from there.I think snow is really beautiful when it's falling down from the sky. It's peaceful, and it's pure and untouched. I look forward to it. But at this point, I wonder whether that beauty worth the work you put into it or not.
But such is life. We work and toil, and for what? It's all going to evaporate. There is nothing new under the sun. I think that's supposed to be freeing, but why does it make me feel so trapped? I just wanted the work to count for something. I just wanted the time not to feel wasted.
And yet, such is grace, reaching down for me, telling me that I have nothing to work for--it is finished. There's still this pesky business of shoveling. Why do we bother? It's just going to disappear. As Mother Theresa said, "What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway." After all, "In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway." Grace says it isn't about the final product or the work, it's about moving and serving and having hope, no matter how many times things evaporate.
My life has had a reoccurring theme of evaporation lately. For instance, the other day at work, I worked all day to edit a document and got so much progress done, and then the document just disappeared. I had forgotten to save it in a different location, and then it was gone. None of my work counted for anything because it was just gone. You can imagine my anger. It was pretty much a broken record of the f-word repeating in my head. A few weeks ago, my ipod just decided to delete everything on it. Sounds like no big deal, but you have no idea how long I have worked to organizing everything perfectly. Countless hours have been spent to organizing my music and videos just so. It's all gone now. I recognize that these situations do not matter much in the grand scheme of things. But they are like physical representations of why I'm actually angry.
The reason I've actually been angry is because my relationship with Ryan just evaporated into thin air. What does that mean about the 2.5 years of my life spent trying to make something work that wasn't ever really working in the first place? I am not consoled by the thought that it was a growing period and that sometimes relationships don't work out, blah blah blah. The whole thing just evaporated. Which makes me feel like, well, why did I bother?
Before snow evaporates, it gets really ugly from dirt and stones and all that road gunk. It gets pretty gross. By the time the snow is tainted by all that grossness, you just can't wait for it to disappear. But it evaporates and leaves all the junk behind. So did I really put all that work into shoveling for something that would just disappear in a week?
But it never really disappears I guess. The snow either seeps into the ground or goes back into the air. It's not gone. And it leaves behind the junk which kind of settles again on the road. It's the unseen aftermath that kills you. And part of the reason it kills you so much is because you can't see it. No one can see it except for you, so you kind of wonder if you're going crazy. What are you left with? The only proof that it even happened is that your back is really sore from the shoveling. It all melted away and left you standing there alone.
The snowstorms this year were pretty brutal, and I was digging my car out for hours sometimes. And when it's all done, you just stand there... numb and exhausted, not really sure where to go from there.I think snow is really beautiful when it's falling down from the sky. It's peaceful, and it's pure and untouched. I look forward to it. But at this point, I wonder whether that beauty worth the work you put into it or not.
But such is life. We work and toil, and for what? It's all going to evaporate. There is nothing new under the sun. I think that's supposed to be freeing, but why does it make me feel so trapped? I just wanted the work to count for something. I just wanted the time not to feel wasted.
And yet, such is grace, reaching down for me, telling me that I have nothing to work for--it is finished. There's still this pesky business of shoveling. Why do we bother? It's just going to disappear. As Mother Theresa said, "What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway." After all, "In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway." Grace says it isn't about the final product or the work, it's about moving and serving and having hope, no matter how many times things evaporate.
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