On my mind...

Here are just a few of the things I'm thinking about tonight, written in my preferred, rambling sort of fashion.

My dad and I had an argument the other night about idealism. He says that it is never a good thing, that it is just something that you have when you are young, and that it comes to no good. I maintain that it is a beautiful thing, and brings much good, though, when pressed, I admit to struggling to come up with the sorts of practical, concrete examples he was looking for.

I am just presently engaged in the re-reading of a number of books in the "Anne of Green Gables" series by Lucy Maud Montgomery. I've loved these books since I was a child, and I love them still. Unlike many, though, my favorites are not the ones where Anne is a precocious child, but the later ones, the coming of age stories, where Anne is a young woman, teaching, and negotiating life and relationships, finding her way in the world.

I was rereading a blog post I wrote back in October tonight, and a few lines caught me. I wrote, "I allowed Jesus to draw me deeper into Himself, and thus make me more fully myself, for I've discovered that the moments when I'm most alive, most myself, are the moments when I am most deeply connected to what Jesus is doing in a time or place." I wonder if I realized the truth in that statement as it rolled off my fingertips? The moments when I have felt most at home (and completely alien at the same time!) in my own skin are the moments when I have been most lost in Jesus, and the things He is doing.

Have you ever had an encounter with a complete stranger, where, though no words were exchanged, it made you pause? I had an encounter like that on the train this morning. I was listening to my ipod, and generally allowing my mind to drift in the fashion I often do early in the morning, when, at one of the stops, an older man stepped on the train. He was carrying tools with him, and had the hard, weathered look of one who has done manual labor in all sorts of weather for many years. He was completely unremarkable, like dozens of other commuters I see each day, and yet, something about him made me pause. I blame it on the prayer I prayed not so long ago, asking Jesus to truly let me "see". I couldn't tell you what I saw, but I puzzled on it for a couple stops. Finally, I prayed simply in my head, "I see you. I don't know what you are, but I see you. And I carry Jesus with me." He got off at the next stop. A strange non-encounter sort of encounter, completely forgettable, and yet, it's stuck with me all day.

I'm reading a book right now, and while I'm only 60 or so pages in, can I just say that so far I heartily recommend it? The title? "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. How can you go wrong with those done in combination? Funny, how, even though the author is not a Christian - her journey of spiritual discovery ultimately (at least according to the copy on the back of the book - I'm still in the "eat" section) takes her to a yogi and an ashram somewhere in India, I am hearing Jesus in some of her descriptions. I read the conversations she has with herself, and hear Jesus speaking back to her. Her description (chapter 4, I think, should you happen to pick the book up) of the first time she prays was beautiful, and tonight, I came across the following paragraph, in which she is describing her experience of severe depression and coming to the point of admitting that it is true of her, and that she needs help, and I understood, oh so perfectly, the emotions she expresses. She writes:

"When you're lost in those woods, it sometimes takes you a while to realize that you are lost. For the longest time, you can convince yourself that you've just wandered a few feet off the path, that you'll find your way back to the trailhead any moment now. Then night falls again and again, and you still have no idea where you are, and it's time to admit that you have bewildered yourself so far off the path that you don't even know from which direction the sun rises anymore."

And with that thought, I think I'm going to leave you for the night. I'm going to curl up in bed, read a little more, and then sleep.

See you around!