I survived another day at work.
I received some disappointing news today. Nothing catastrophic, just something I'd hoped for (and at the same time been afraid to hope for) that didn't pan out. I shed a few carefully hidden tears and then moved on.
My roommate and I chatted about that tonight. She had a similar, shed a few tears, then pull yourself together moment today.
I'm heading out in a little while to have coffee with a friend I haven't seen in at least a year, likely longer. If I'm not mistaken, she's travelled the world since I last saw her, so there should be lots to share.
I feel like I don't have a whole lot to say.
The weekend I had took a toll on my energy. I think that the outcomes of the weekend will ultimately be good, but right now I'm exhausted, and facing another week of work at a place that is immensely emotionally and spiritually draining.
I've been sleeping several hours a night lately. A supplement that a friend recommended seems to be helping. The flip side of that is that I've been sleeping deeply enough to have all sorts of wild and crazy and disturbing dreams. Not sure whether I prefer the sleepless nights or the dreams at this point, though a friend assures me that physically it's better for my goal to get my health back under control to be sleeping.
Anyway. I'm a rather boring person at the moment, so I think I'll stop here! There are thoughts percolating for better posts to come this week, but I need a free evening and a bit more energy to form them into words.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Things they don't tell you (freedom)
I spend a lot of time amazed at the things about life that no one bothers to tell you.
I wrote once on this blog about how I'd been having conversations with God about what freedom would look like, and he showed me a picture of myself in a beautiful skirt - a twirling skirt - spinning in a meadow.
Freedom is a word that's talked about a lot in the circles I hang out in. It's a great concept, and wonderful when it's been achieved.
But can I just say that I've never really heard it mentioned that it's a lot of hard work to get to. That it takes a lot of fighting and tears and hurt. A lot of gross moments of pulling things into the light and letting them be seen in all their disgustingness. A lot of struggle. A lot of moments when you're absolutely certain that nothing could be worth the price of what you're going through.
No one tells you that part.
No one tells you that freedom is rarely instantaneous.
No one tells you that often, when the Lord offers it, it still means you have to walk through all the shit to get to it. That you don't just sort of get airlifted over all the built up crap to the place of freedom, but that you have to negotiate your way over and around and through the crap to get there.
No one tells you that you might actually get there sometimes, and be so exhausted from the trip that you don't even realize you've temporarily arrived, and that you certainly don't have the energy to appreciate it.
It's an awfully beautiful thing, freedom, but no one tells you the cost.
I've been recognizing the cost again this weekend.
And maybe tomorrow I'll put on my twirling skirt and spin just a little to celebrate. But just at this moment, I'm caught by the fact that no one told me it would be this way. And I'm exhausted from the journey through it.
I wrote once on this blog about how I'd been having conversations with God about what freedom would look like, and he showed me a picture of myself in a beautiful skirt - a twirling skirt - spinning in a meadow.
Freedom is a word that's talked about a lot in the circles I hang out in. It's a great concept, and wonderful when it's been achieved.
But can I just say that I've never really heard it mentioned that it's a lot of hard work to get to. That it takes a lot of fighting and tears and hurt. A lot of gross moments of pulling things into the light and letting them be seen in all their disgustingness. A lot of struggle. A lot of moments when you're absolutely certain that nothing could be worth the price of what you're going through.
No one tells you that part.
No one tells you that freedom is rarely instantaneous.
No one tells you that often, when the Lord offers it, it still means you have to walk through all the shit to get to it. That you don't just sort of get airlifted over all the built up crap to the place of freedom, but that you have to negotiate your way over and around and through the crap to get there.
No one tells you that you might actually get there sometimes, and be so exhausted from the trip that you don't even realize you've temporarily arrived, and that you certainly don't have the energy to appreciate it.
It's an awfully beautiful thing, freedom, but no one tells you the cost.
I've been recognizing the cost again this weekend.
And maybe tomorrow I'll put on my twirling skirt and spin just a little to celebrate. But just at this moment, I'm caught by the fact that no one told me it would be this way. And I'm exhausted from the journey through it.
Did I shave my legs for this?
I was thinking this morning about the way music influences our lives. About the "soundtrack" of my life if you will. Much of mine could be played in country songs.
Now, before you all run away horrified that I do in fact not only listen to, but actually like country music, let me just say this: there is an awful lot of down to earth straight up truth and humor in some of those songs. And, just for the record, for all those authors who talk about how music influences their writing, let me just say that the soundtrack for the moments I'm writing is pretty much limited to dead composers, or artists who don't sing in English, so that their words can't interrupt the formation of my words. That means that these days I'm listening to a lot of Beethoven.
But I was thinking about one particular line from a country song I heard back in junior high today. I can't remember who sang the song, or even what it was really about, though I think it might have been Deana Carter, and I suppose the song must have been about a date that didn't go quite as expected. The line? "Did I shave my legs for this?" (in my head the emphasis is always on the "this".)
I heard it in the days before I was old enough to worry about shaving my legs, or really could have understood what the singer was referring to. But it made me laugh then, and it has stuck with me, coming back at all kinds of moments. It's come to symbolize the moments that just don't go quite the way you were hoping or expecting. When anticipation of one thing falls flat, and you find yourself dealing with something entirely other. It's become a mental category in my head - the "Did I shave my legs for this?" moments.
It's a wry sort of humor I suppose. But it works for me. To inject humor into situations that are often less than funny.
I was thinking about the line this morning (actually while I was shaving my legs!) and smiling ironically to myself.
I've been having a "did I shave my legs for this?" weekend.
It hasn't been the weekend I'd been hoping for or expecting. It hasn't necessarily been bad. Just different. And definitely in need of the injection of humor that comes from it being classified in the "did I shave my legs for this?" category of life.
Now, before you all run away horrified that I do in fact not only listen to, but actually like country music, let me just say this: there is an awful lot of down to earth straight up truth and humor in some of those songs. And, just for the record, for all those authors who talk about how music influences their writing, let me just say that the soundtrack for the moments I'm writing is pretty much limited to dead composers, or artists who don't sing in English, so that their words can't interrupt the formation of my words. That means that these days I'm listening to a lot of Beethoven.
But I was thinking about one particular line from a country song I heard back in junior high today. I can't remember who sang the song, or even what it was really about, though I think it might have been Deana Carter, and I suppose the song must have been about a date that didn't go quite as expected. The line? "Did I shave my legs for this?" (in my head the emphasis is always on the "this".)
I heard it in the days before I was old enough to worry about shaving my legs, or really could have understood what the singer was referring to. But it made me laugh then, and it has stuck with me, coming back at all kinds of moments. It's come to symbolize the moments that just don't go quite the way you were hoping or expecting. When anticipation of one thing falls flat, and you find yourself dealing with something entirely other. It's become a mental category in my head - the "Did I shave my legs for this?" moments.
It's a wry sort of humor I suppose. But it works for me. To inject humor into situations that are often less than funny.
I was thinking about the line this morning (actually while I was shaving my legs!) and smiling ironically to myself.
I've been having a "did I shave my legs for this?" weekend.
It hasn't been the weekend I'd been hoping for or expecting. It hasn't necessarily been bad. Just different. And definitely in need of the injection of humor that comes from it being classified in the "did I shave my legs for this?" category of life.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Headlines - Saturday morning
I had another rough night. Just at the moment I'm not up to writing properly. So here are some headlines that are catching my attention, and drawing my heart to pray a little.
LRA Rebels Commit New Atrocities
Obama Begins Historic Rail Trip
Chinese Women Want More Babies
Iran Executes Two Men by Stoning
Threatened Pakistan Schools Close
LRA Rebels Commit New Atrocities
Obama Begins Historic Rail Trip
Chinese Women Want More Babies
Iran Executes Two Men by Stoning
Threatened Pakistan Schools Close
Friday, January 16, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
