Fact #53

Writer's block on finals week is directly proportional to the length of the ABC Harry Potter marathon.


Having a really, really hard time concentrating on my final papers tonight.  I have been having a great deal of difficulty concentrating on anything, really.

To know me, and mean truly, deeply know me, is to know that I love stories.  A well-crafted story, real or imagined, captures me more than anything, especially lately, in an environment that appears to find them senseless...a waste of time.  Sometimes I have to write something down that happened that day, because it felt like it happened so perfectly, it was scripted.

The beginning of mine and Allen's friendship, for example.  I left our dorm around 2 am to meet up with a boy, a member of my drama team, who I was concerned about getting along with.  We were both very stubborn.  Before I left, Bethany asked me if it was wise of me to go, to meet with a boy, let alone a boy I didn't very much like, at so late an hour on a campus notorious for gossip.  I shrugged.  "It feels like a God thing.  Like we'll be friends for a long time after this."  The rest, for lack of better phrase, is history.

I feel like I'm drying up in a world that lacks a sense of whimsy.  Or adventure, for that matter.  I'm not promoting recklessness or a childish response to reality.  Maturity is important, absolutely.  But I don't think adulthood and maturity are synonymous with one another.  In fact, I'm beginning to believe adulthood is a fallacy, created by society to trick us into believing an age bracket makes us mature and gives us certain liberties.  Suddenly, potentially harmful activities are for "adults only."  Adult language, adult beverages, adult stores...why is any of it necessary?

So I return to my stories, where morals are clear and friendship is lasting.  And I bolster myself to create my own, regardless of the skeptical looks and rolled eyes and shaking heads.

Where do you see God working?

I feel like he is altering my perspective on the world.  Thing that were important, are suddenly nauseating to think about.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're a spark.  Don't lose your light."

How do you see God working?

Unsure again.  Sometimes I feel him prompting to speak out on certain things, or in specific situations.  When I do, I meet resistance.  Usually propelled by fear.  When I don't, I leave frustrated regardless.  I feel stuck in the mud.

Fact #47

God never lets you forget your true yearnings.


I think I was going to write about something snarky and intellectual, but God isn't letting me, so here we go.

Last night, while I was working on homework, I got up to make some toast and get my tea.  Pandora was playing my Alexi Murdoch station; you can find his music featured in the film Away We Go.  Then his song "All My Days" came on.

Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it's just too bright
As the days keep turning into night

My stomach lurched slightly.  I have been missing Allen intensely the past two weeks.  He visits on weekends, and I usually see him on Sundays for church, but every time we have to leave each other, I break down in tears.  It may sound incredibly naive, but through the death of his dad and my grandpa...we've become each other's family.  I know several people who would balk at that idea; we're not married yet, I get it.  But when you both have to watch a family member die...things change.  Christians say sex changes everything, and yeah, not about to debate that, but death does too.  And I would argue that the change is, while not the same, just as intense.  When he leaves the apartment, all feelings of home and belonging leave with him.  And it's not something that can be recreated with a few game nights and study parties.

So I was in the kitchen, and those lyrics wafted in, gripping my heart and twisting my stomach.  I set my toast down and set my hands on the countertop.  

Now I see clearly
It's you I'm looking for
All of my days
Soon I'll smile
I know I'll feel this loneliness no more
All of my days
For I look around me
And it seems He found me
And it's coming into sight

Immediately, my stomach filled with butterflies as I had a flash of vision that I can't explain as being an imagined thought.  Nothing fancy, no intense color or seraphim...just a family, two parents, four kids, sitting in their living room, reading and playing a board game.  The thing that stuck was a feeling of intense warmth and fulfillment.  I fell to my knees in the middle of the kitchen, head bowed, hands clasped, eyes brimming.  "God, if that is meant for me, thank you," was all I could utter.  And to my core I felt I was answered.

As the days keep turning into night
As the days keep turning into night
And even breathing feels all right
Yes, even breathing feels all right
Now even breathing feels all right
It's even breathing
Feels all right

Where do you see God working?

I really don't know currently.  All I want is to be married at this point, but we can't afford to.  We've been trying to focus on the joy of being able to continue to grow, but it's getting harder and harder the busier and farther apart we get.

What do you hear God saying?

"You're throwing out what's good for you.  Stop.  Go back."

How do you see God working?

Patience.  Always patience.  Not a fan.

Fact #30

People die.

It was my grandpa's birthday this past Tuesday.  He died March 10th of this year, while Allen and I were visiting for spring break.  If I were to be honest (and at this point, why lie?), his death was bittersweet.  We were very close, and I had the blessing of see him acquire a strong faith late in his life.  However, his health was going down hill for a long time.  While he was as stubborn as a mule and as spirited as...some incredibly spirited thing...the fight, to him, was futile.  And I don't blame him for growing tired of more and more medications, hospital visits, and nurse attention.  I can't say I wouldn't be the same.

Regardless, Tuesday was hard.  At the end of the week like this, I would normally give him a call and not even have to explain.  He'd quote his regular puns, ("A hard-boiled egg is hard to beat!") and I'd quickly forget about my problem altogether.  This time I found myself reaching for my phone, only to realize that I had no one to call.  No one like grandpa, at least.

On top of that, Allen's dad's death was reminded to us as I made the mistake of having Allen watch Big Fish.  If you haven't seen it, it is a great movie...so long as you're okay with crying a little.  In this case, we cried a lot.  "A man tells his stories so many times that he becomes the stories.  They live on after him, and in that way he becomes immortal."  I could say the same for both of those men; as they were filled with nothing but stories, oftentimes.  

Where do I see God moving?
In myself, reminding me I'm not alone.

What do I hear God saying?
"I am here. Find the quiet, and listen."

How do I see God work?
In art. I need to find an outlet to commune with God more.