today is the day of missing words,
Nyquil,
musings on sin and patience and unspoken things,
voices in the halls and lights on houses,
and the last vestiges of a sore throat.
5 months, 7 days, 56 minutes, and 49 seconds
of half-started plans
and the tiptoes of change;
the memories of shadow-life haunting the corners
realizing I've been Peter Pan in the un-usual way,
living not
watching.
Do I look tired?
"Tired," he says, knowing me, "but happy."
Merry Christmas, in the midst of the
best life.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
puzzle pieces
Today I found out that a couple I went to school with--you know, one of those couples that was together all through college, got married right out of college--is already divorced. It makes me sad, but I'm not surprised. Not that I looked at them specifically and thought yeah, that won't last, but I think I've outgrown a lot of my naivete about marriage as I've gotten older. I see the cracks a lot more--the ways things can go wrong, the relationships and personalities and situations that seem ripe for strife. Not that those marriages can't last--just that I think there's sometimes a tendency to ignore problems, push them under the rug, and that causes a much deeper, more serious set of issues. If I had gotten married in my early twenties, that's the kind of marriage I would have had, no matter who it was to; I was precisely the kind of person to ignore the problems, push things under the rug, convince myself everything was fine or that the status quo of not-so-good was normal.
When I was younger, I didn't put a whole lot of thought into what contributes to the longevity of a relationship simply because it was a given--of course marriage would last. You get married, you stay married. No other option. That perspective probably contributed to a lot of my dating choices--good guys, all of them--but I didn't really go beyond the surface of does he love Jesus? and is he a hard worker? to personal examination. That is, I had general standards about what I wanted in a guy, but hadn't even scratched the surface of who I was as a person and therefore had nothing individually specific. Each relational or potential relational situation was the same as the last.
When Rob and I first started dating, he asked me about my conflict style. Conflict style? I thought. It was the first of many fascinating conversations. Rob is someone who digs deep, who thinks things through. He asks thought-provoking questions and listens to the answers, then asks questions about the answers. He's guided me through thoughts and feelings so I can articulate what's actually going on in this head of mine. It's an incredible gift.
I'd come to a good sense of identity and self-actualization in the years after college, but these conversations helped me to place that sense, for the first time, in the context of a relationship with another person. Exploring our personalities and how they work together has given our relationship such vibrancy. We're aren't two people simply coexisting; we're two people in tune and aware of how the other person thinks and responds. We thrive together; we agree that we work better together than apart. And it's so much fun. There is incredible depth to our relationship, and we have a blast being together.
And conflict resolution? It's interesting...conflict usually drains me, but when we address issues, I never feel like we're fighting. It's more like we're working together to reach the best conclusion. It's oddly energizing, coming out the other side; we succeed together in finding a solution.
I feel like this post started out as one thing and turned into another, but that's okay. I started out thinking about divorce, and it made me start thinking about the confidence I have in our upcoming marriage. Confidence not that we'll never face problems, but confidence that in this time of knitting ourselves together, learning who the other person is and how we relate, we've built a vital foundation to work through anything that comes our way. Neither of us put much stock in "soul mates," but we have been faced time and time again with incredible proof that how God shaped us individually is what makes us fit so perfectly together. But beyond that confidence is the life-giving knowledge that in whatever we face, I'm marrying a man I can cling to as we pour our hearts out to God. As I think about the future, I feel only anticipation, excitement, joy, and, most of all, an overwhelming peace. This is going to be a heck of a life.
When I was younger, I didn't put a whole lot of thought into what contributes to the longevity of a relationship simply because it was a given--of course marriage would last. You get married, you stay married. No other option. That perspective probably contributed to a lot of my dating choices--good guys, all of them--but I didn't really go beyond the surface of does he love Jesus? and is he a hard worker? to personal examination. That is, I had general standards about what I wanted in a guy, but hadn't even scratched the surface of who I was as a person and therefore had nothing individually specific. Each relational or potential relational situation was the same as the last.
When Rob and I first started dating, he asked me about my conflict style. Conflict style? I thought. It was the first of many fascinating conversations. Rob is someone who digs deep, who thinks things through. He asks thought-provoking questions and listens to the answers, then asks questions about the answers. He's guided me through thoughts and feelings so I can articulate what's actually going on in this head of mine. It's an incredible gift.
I'd come to a good sense of identity and self-actualization in the years after college, but these conversations helped me to place that sense, for the first time, in the context of a relationship with another person. Exploring our personalities and how they work together has given our relationship such vibrancy. We're aren't two people simply coexisting; we're two people in tune and aware of how the other person thinks and responds. We thrive together; we agree that we work better together than apart. And it's so much fun. There is incredible depth to our relationship, and we have a blast being together.
And conflict resolution? It's interesting...conflict usually drains me, but when we address issues, I never feel like we're fighting. It's more like we're working together to reach the best conclusion. It's oddly energizing, coming out the other side; we succeed together in finding a solution.
I feel like this post started out as one thing and turned into another, but that's okay. I started out thinking about divorce, and it made me start thinking about the confidence I have in our upcoming marriage. Confidence not that we'll never face problems, but confidence that in this time of knitting ourselves together, learning who the other person is and how we relate, we've built a vital foundation to work through anything that comes our way. Neither of us put much stock in "soul mates," but we have been faced time and time again with incredible proof that how God shaped us individually is what makes us fit so perfectly together. But beyond that confidence is the life-giving knowledge that in whatever we face, I'm marrying a man I can cling to as we pour our hearts out to God. As I think about the future, I feel only anticipation, excitement, joy, and, most of all, an overwhelming peace. This is going to be a heck of a life.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
the age of moving forward
24, it seems, is the age it all decided to hit. Everyone says it's right after college--the friends getting married, other friends having endless babies. Right after college was three years ago for me, and at the time I thought, Well, so much for that. My three best friends were still in school, sure, but none of them were dating (not by choice; I like to think we were selective, but mostly we were just bewildered as to why we couldn't find anyone at school we were interested in dating). I wasn't aware of the emotional mess I was at the time, so it was only, oh, a year and a half, two years ago that the thank God I didn't find someone stupid enough to date me at that time awareness hit.
A year and a month ago, my three best friends came out here to visit me in my (fairly) newly Zen, contented life. We sat around a table and wondered when it would start for us, this so-called life of moving forward. Most of us were settled in careers, which was comforting, and I thought, in my Zen-contentedness, It will start soon. In the next few years, one of us will meet someone. And then another one, a little while after that. And we will follow, in bits in pieces. That is how it will be for us.
I like to think I was sort of right, though the timeline was, apparently, seriously way more compact than I expected. That conversation was April, a year ago. In May, Grace met and started dating Scott, who she will marry this August. In June, Amy met her Scott (we shall have to come up with nicknames. So far I am calling them "Grace's Scott" and "Amy's Scott," which is a bit too clunky). And in May, two weeks after Grace met her Scott, I met Rob.
In March, I went to three weddings. I have another the end of this month, another the beginning of next month, another in July, Grace's in August. Another friend called me last week to tell me she's engaged. A childhood friend had a baby two weeks ago. Various friends across the country either have less-than-one-year-olds or are pregnant. It's as though this moving-forward-life decided to happen everywhere all at once.
As for my own moving-forward-life...well, it seems that three years was precisely the right amount of time to wait.
A year and a month ago, my three best friends came out here to visit me in my (fairly) newly Zen, contented life. We sat around a table and wondered when it would start for us, this so-called life of moving forward. Most of us were settled in careers, which was comforting, and I thought, in my Zen-contentedness, It will start soon. In the next few years, one of us will meet someone. And then another one, a little while after that. And we will follow, in bits in pieces. That is how it will be for us.
I like to think I was sort of right, though the timeline was, apparently, seriously way more compact than I expected. That conversation was April, a year ago. In May, Grace met and started dating Scott, who she will marry this August. In June, Amy met her Scott (we shall have to come up with nicknames. So far I am calling them "Grace's Scott" and "Amy's Scott," which is a bit too clunky). And in May, two weeks after Grace met her Scott, I met Rob.
In March, I went to three weddings. I have another the end of this month, another the beginning of next month, another in July, Grace's in August. Another friend called me last week to tell me she's engaged. A childhood friend had a baby two weeks ago. Various friends across the country either have less-than-one-year-olds or are pregnant. It's as though this moving-forward-life decided to happen everywhere all at once.
As for my own moving-forward-life...well, it seems that three years was precisely the right amount of time to wait.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
dear closet introvert
my blog posts are so infrequent now, mostly because life is running at such a nonstop pace. it's a good thing--my life is endlessly full, and I love it that way. for a while there, I was successfully balancing family, friends, boyfriend, work, life with God; and then, this month, everything has been thrown out of balance for no particular reason. it's been heavy on work, heavy on boyfriend, middling on family, and light on friends, and, most frustratingly, light on God.
it was bothering me, this falling off the map, this feeling that I was letting life happen to me rather than living it with intentionality. and then, today, everything clicked.
my closet introvert is once again demanding attention, and I've been ignoring it.
work is just busy and crazy and needs to be done, so there's been lots of that. and it's draining me more than usual because I've gone so long without being truly alone. this is probably the longest I've gone without hitting a wall, which is mostly thanks to Rob--he's a place of rest for me; no other person gives me such a sense of peace, a sense of home and being and quietness. being with him recharges me, so I've been able to handle more of nonstop life for longer.
but today I finally realized I need to stop for a second and breathe. so I finally chose a night of quietness and being alone, and I am so relieved. I didn't realize how much I needed it until I chose it, and then I felt as though this burden was being lifted. peace. quiet. reflecting, relaxing, feeling like my time is my own. time to recenter. I may disconnect a bit more than usual for the next couple of weeks, just to find that balance again. I want to get back to spending reflecting time with God rather than reading a rushed chapter before collapsing into bed. to not letting so much time pass between seeing or talking to friends. and I should probably listen to my closet introvert a little more often, which is what I say every time this happens, but my extrovert self is a lot louder and more fun :).
it was bothering me, this falling off the map, this feeling that I was letting life happen to me rather than living it with intentionality. and then, today, everything clicked.
my closet introvert is once again demanding attention, and I've been ignoring it.
work is just busy and crazy and needs to be done, so there's been lots of that. and it's draining me more than usual because I've gone so long without being truly alone. this is probably the longest I've gone without hitting a wall, which is mostly thanks to Rob--he's a place of rest for me; no other person gives me such a sense of peace, a sense of home and being and quietness. being with him recharges me, so I've been able to handle more of nonstop life for longer.
but today I finally realized I need to stop for a second and breathe. so I finally chose a night of quietness and being alone, and I am so relieved. I didn't realize how much I needed it until I chose it, and then I felt as though this burden was being lifted. peace. quiet. reflecting, relaxing, feeling like my time is my own. time to recenter. I may disconnect a bit more than usual for the next couple of weeks, just to find that balance again. I want to get back to spending reflecting time with God rather than reading a rushed chapter before collapsing into bed. to not letting so much time pass between seeing or talking to friends. and I should probably listen to my closet introvert a little more often, which is what I say every time this happens, but my extrovert self is a lot louder and more fun :).
Thursday, January 13, 2011
consuming
Did I get too comfortable to care?
When did love become unmoving? When did love become unconsuming?
If You're all You claim to be, then I'm not losing anything.
This has been the week (or two) of falling on my face.
I am a thorn in your crown. But You love me anyway.
I do this. I live a comfortable life. I think I can coast. And I try. But it's a battle, this life of following Christ, and coasting means that I'm ignoring the battle, pretending it doesn't exist.
I am the nail in your wrist. But You love me anyway.
Thus the falling on the face thing.
This week has been a battle. It feels like everything I've ever struggled with is crashing down on me all at once. I feel utterly and completely weak.
Which, of course, I am.
I am the man who yelled out from the crowd for Your blood to be spilled on this earth-shaking ground, with this sin in my heart tried to bury Your grace; and then alone in the night, I still called out for You.
You love me anyway.
And so I've reached today, exhausted, but full of hope and the promise of joy. Because in weakness and giving up, I'm no longer complacent. I'm flat on my face, but flat on my face before Him; I'm clinging to grace and finally saying, God, this has got to be You. I give up control I never had to begin with.
And I'm going to keep fighting. Fighting the urge not to care, and the urge to feel like a failure, and the urge to do go it alone. Because this is the truth God has whispered into my heart this week:
You are My precious child. Your weakness means that you can finally see My strength. When you fall upon My grace, I will hold you. You're not a failure. We're only getting started in this chipping-away process, this molding and forming and shaping to be like Me.
Forgetting what the world has told me, Father of love, You can have me.
When did love become unmoving? When did love become unconsuming?
If You're all You claim to be, then I'm not losing anything.
This has been the week (or two) of falling on my face.
I am a thorn in your crown. But You love me anyway.
I do this. I live a comfortable life. I think I can coast. And I try. But it's a battle, this life of following Christ, and coasting means that I'm ignoring the battle, pretending it doesn't exist.
I am the nail in your wrist. But You love me anyway.
Thus the falling on the face thing.
This week has been a battle. It feels like everything I've ever struggled with is crashing down on me all at once. I feel utterly and completely weak.
Which, of course, I am.
I am the man who yelled out from the crowd for Your blood to be spilled on this earth-shaking ground, with this sin in my heart tried to bury Your grace; and then alone in the night, I still called out for You.
You love me anyway.
And so I've reached today, exhausted, but full of hope and the promise of joy. Because in weakness and giving up, I'm no longer complacent. I'm flat on my face, but flat on my face before Him; I'm clinging to grace and finally saying, God, this has got to be You. I give up control I never had to begin with.
And I'm going to keep fighting. Fighting the urge not to care, and the urge to feel like a failure, and the urge to do go it alone. Because this is the truth God has whispered into my heart this week:
You are My precious child. Your weakness means that you can finally see My strength. When you fall upon My grace, I will hold you. You're not a failure. We're only getting started in this chipping-away process, this molding and forming and shaping to be like Me.
Forgetting what the world has told me, Father of love, You can have me.
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