Being back at the house has been good. When I arrived last Tuesday, the kids were excited. G, K, and R have since left, but N, W, and J were still there with one new addition -- S. It surprised me how in the 2 months I was gone, J and W grew so much, especially W. And although I wish their circumstances were different, it was also comforting in this weird way to see that things are the same. I don't think that transitions, well, big transitions like a move, would be good for J and W right now. Even for N -- although he most likely would not act out like J and W, I can see him adding to the other hurts and hardships that he quietly files away within himself.
S is a character. She's only 4 or 5, but asked me last week if I wanted to know the new word she had learned that day. I told her I would love to know and she happily said, "DEVOUR." N looked up from the project he was working on and was like, "Huh?" It startled me too -- that was definitely not the word I was expecting. I felt my mind quickly beginning to question where she had learned that and in what context and what it said of her past and the experiences that brought her here and her understanding of it all, but I quickly stopped that part of my brain, smiled, and said in a very awe-struck tone, "Wow, that's a big word!" S smiled back, clearly proud of herself, and said, "I can spell it too. D-E-V-O-U-R." I was definitely impressed. Although S seems to have adjusted well, I worry for her. Knowing what I do of her history, at some point it has to come out, somehow. I hate that I expect this.
J continues to struggle and I continue to struggle in how to best handle his struggling. I wish he was old enough to understand that the things he holds on to -- the things he values -- will provide no value in the end. I know he seeks them (or, I think a better way to put it is that he is mildly obsessed with them) because he thinks they will give him the power and control he so much wants -- the stuff that will make life good and stable and fair, without pain. But as much as I try to tell him what really matters and what real power is in simple terms and concepts, he doesn't accept it not only because he can't but because he doesn't understand it: it's not the way his world has worked or works even now, no matter how hard we try, and he refuses to accept a world where he won't have the satisfaction of one day being above all those who hurt him. J is only 6 and although that saddens and scares me, it also gives me hope that there's still time.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
utopia
I began reading Utopia again. I was reading through the Clarence Miller's introduction, and stopped at the following: After all, dialogue is symbolic of open-mindedness, humility, and inquiry. It made me think of how I don't speak, or don't like to speak, and how I'd rather not talk than talk. It also made me think of how Jay doesn't respond when he and my sister are fighting, and how we are similar -- all the fights I've had in the past with people I love, the way I often stood or sat or laid there unmoving, eyes focused on one point, concentrating on hardening myself.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
the past couple of days i've found myself missing you. like, the other day, i was in bank of america preparing a check to deposit. i looked up as the automatic doors opened and for a split second imagined you walking through them -- me greeting you with a surprised smile, and us, hugging. not in a romantic way, but in a genuinely happy-to-see-you-way -- as old friends do. i wish we were in a place where i could call you to catch up, but life isn't always as simple as i want it to be. from experience, actions like these tend to get distorted and complicated.
Friday, May 22, 2009
what's happening to me?
i love fridays because npr airs story corps for a few minutes. i get to catch it on the radio right before I get to work -- it always makes me cry. this morning, i was literally sobbing. (this makes me think of ann moon. over the years i've heard multiple people talk about how she cries at everything, including television commercials. i have yet to witness this, or this side of her, in full.) today a father spoke about his visit to the vietnam war memorial in d.c. to honor his son who had died in the iraq war.
i'm not sure why i was crying -- i think it was a combination of being hit again with the injustices of war and violence (i tend to say "it's not fair! it's not fair!" as the waterworks ensue. i remember doing this while praying after watching nanking, and another time after reading something), seeing the brokenness and pain experienced as a result, but also the grace and providence of God in the midst of it -- His hand in it all. i wonder though, if I reacted in this way because I'm experiencing secondary trauma from my job. i didn't buy into it at first, or thought i was immune, but these days stories (news, movies, books, articles, sermons -- you name it) like this always make me cry! i've noticed too that whereas i used to enjoy watching dark and heartbreakingly realistic movies with lots of raw emotion, now i am a fan of: high school musical and twilight. i realized this last wednesday. while watching glee, andrew turned to me and said, "i never realized it jenn, but you really like cheesy stuff!" and all i could say was, "i know!!" i explained that because i see such crappy stuff on a daily basis, that these days i prefer to escape to lala land in my free time and enjoy being a part of a world where people like troy, gabriella, edward, and the cullens do exist and always do the right thing.
i'm not sure why i was crying -- i think it was a combination of being hit again with the injustices of war and violence (i tend to say "it's not fair! it's not fair!" as the waterworks ensue. i remember doing this while praying after watching nanking, and another time after reading something), seeing the brokenness and pain experienced as a result, but also the grace and providence of God in the midst of it -- His hand in it all. i wonder though, if I reacted in this way because I'm experiencing secondary trauma from my job. i didn't buy into it at first, or thought i was immune, but these days stories (news, movies, books, articles, sermons -- you name it) like this always make me cry! i've noticed too that whereas i used to enjoy watching dark and heartbreakingly realistic movies with lots of raw emotion, now i am a fan of: high school musical and twilight. i realized this last wednesday. while watching glee, andrew turned to me and said, "i never realized it jenn, but you really like cheesy stuff!" and all i could say was, "i know!!" i explained that because i see such crappy stuff on a daily basis, that these days i prefer to escape to lala land in my free time and enjoy being a part of a world where people like troy, gabriella, edward, and the cullens do exist and always do the right thing.
Sunday, October 1, 2006
soccer
i read an encouraging article in the Metro last week. It was about the Homeless World Cup -- a street soccer tournament created three years ago in South Africa to combat poverty and homelessness. the creators of the tournament hoped that the pride and discipline grown through the practice of soccer would help the homeless and the poor to overcome whatever difficult situations they are in. So far, 77% of those who have partcipated have gone on to make positive changes in their lives -- their stories are reassuring. a great program, a great model. It took place last week, 48 nations in Capetown. next year, Copenhagen.
the tournament reminded me of the program I was beginning around this time last year and have since completed -- "Risk & Prevention." I was telling Jenna and Eric in the car last Sunday that i always choose majors with obscure names -- "risk and prevention", "international letters and visual studies." I don't know why I choose these things because it certainly isn't beneficial, like many of the choices i've made or make. it could explain my current state of unemployment -- no one knows what the heck i studied! or, maybe, i'm the one who can't quite put the pieces together and would rather blame a name that's not my own. could be, maybe.
I have to admit that in these past few months where I have been jobless and oftentimes hopeless, I've wondered why the Lord planned for me to study film and Japanese and english, and then brought me to a place where I felt out of place: during orientation everyone went around and talked about the wonderful and interesting things they were doing to better the world prior to starting graduate school, how it motivated them to come to the program, to learn more... When it was my turn, I told them how I had been working in corporate america and had just come back from spending time in Japan. I tried to make it sound good and as charitable as possible but it was quiet and i sat down quickly. it was good to be there though -- to be with people who want to change the world in ways that will stick through programs like the one above as well as others involving social awareness and literacy, street children and brazilian martial arts, immigration and emotional development... I still wonder where this and all the other pieces fall or fit.
I was talking to Heidi in my room two Saturdays ago, after the race. Heidi is this petitepetite person with a big heart for community development, children and people and their stories, social justice. she only responds and speaks after thinking deeply about things; my words seem to just spill out, messy. hers are always sincere. She severely understands the importance of being emotionally aware and emotionally healthy, how important it is to process the large and small things that we experience on a daily basis or maybe just once. Heidi now lives on the second floor in Shinae's old room but she has made that place her own, comfortable and warm.
We spoke about many things -- it started with her night and then her day: how she went to a conference on North Korea, how she went out afterwards and felt different from the others -- how she sometimes wished she wasn't different. and then we spoke about faith and vision and the Lord being able, but also the necessity of approaching things strategically and systematically, open-minded and with wisdom if hope was for something more than surface level acceptance. I told her I liked how she was different and that it was important that she was; She told me that I had it in me too, that she saw it. I responded "yeah, maybe..." maybe something was there, but it had yet to take form -- it's a mushy little thing, like a blub or a blob. I tried to form it with the air in my hands to show her and explained something that has frustrated me more recently than it has in the past: it wants to become something but it doesn't know how or where to go, the shape of things.
jenny, in her email, suggested that its about obedience. "obedience belongs to us and everything else belongs to God. so all we have to do, is do the next thing that needs to be done. there are things we can control and things we can't control so don't dwell on things we can't control and the things of the past (mistakes, regrets) -- that's for God to deal with. all we can do is live each day obediently and do the next thing." thinking about it, what she wrote, reminds me of what I shared at the end of my testimony on my last Sunday at Nissin Church -- "...in my distress I searched the Word to try and understand how great men of faith in the Bible were able to live such lives for the Lord. The Lord showed me that the answer was very simple -- they walked with Him, every day..." every day.
i'm not sure if that is what I've been doing, but whereas before that thing or mass (blub or blob) that I tried to explain to Heidi was sort of flat and pretty docile (maybe sleeping?), now it's lumpy and active and sometimes agressive, kind of like my sister sleeping beneath the covers after watching too many xfiles. Things that helped it grow: largely, my roommates. The Lord has blessed me immensely through them; it's rare to find people you trust very much. And I guess on the grander scheme of things it's because even though I can't say that I was walking with Him every day, He -- He was always walking with me. But, would i be okay if it never took form or if the blubblobthing was the right and final shape? I fear that all of this won't culminate into something big and terrific and what concerns me even more is that i'll never be able to understand or accept that this, this now, actually is the big and terrific plan: this is it, and there is nothing greater. i've been trying to pray that ultimately my hope and joy is in whatever the Lord has planned for me -- for faith -- but i get scared and disappointed when i think that some things may not work out.
Last Monday, I went to a reading with Liz. I think my favorite was Randi Triant, when she read her exerpt from her story "The Starfish." I wanted to ask her where her idea came from -- from the animal itself (its ability to regenerate a ray that has been cut off as long as its center is intact, that the severed ray can survive and regenerate without the center if it is a certain special species, the idea of cutting or separating oneself purposely in order to survive) or from a person or experience or from many different places... but instead i listened to her answer someone else's question about how to successfully execute a nonlinear narrative. Randi answered that she uses props. props help her to stay in place, she has a tangible something to go back to. the starfish was her prop, or, even more concretely, the jar that kept the single ray. I wonder what my prop is, the thing that keeps me centered and in place -- the thing I keep going back to --
i've thought and think that it is God, the Gospel: that God loves me and I know He does because He sent His son Jesus to die for me -- He made a way when there was none, He has a purpose a plan. Jeff reminded me of this a month or so when he debriefed me on Japan. (and since then the Lord has answered my prayer regarding my longstanding contention with missions -- that it's not a loss of culture or identity or diversity but the gain of peace and comfort that comes from knowing that you have a God who loves and cares for you, that this is something He will never compromise. there is no loss: all different but now with peace. i suspected that I wouldn't understand or share until i knew or believed these things. i wish i still remembered the moment when this all came to me it was either on my bed or on a run -- it was so clear, i think it was the run) Pastor Rojas' sermon today also did the same -- it was refreshing and good to hear a sermon that was loaded with the gospel, all about Jesus about God's love for us that He did it that He saved us and made us alive with Christ that He is the great initiator of all things that there is no salvation without grace that He loveloves us that we benefited from what Christ did for us that all we can say is "yes Sir!" -- it laid to rest a lot of the things that have been swimming in my head as of late: the things mentioned above as well as the things I keep my own.
in a smaller way, I guess it was that article, my prop. because what it did for me that day and what it has done for me since, each time i remember it, is remind me of the possibility of things. but not just the possibility of things, but faith that these things can and will happen. it keeps me focused and moving forward. in the months since i graduated, i began to, more and more, doubt the things I learned and studied, the things I believed in and thought were important the things that carried me. but the success of this program -- 48 nations, 77% changed -- renewed these things and helped me believe in the worth and victory of the programs we planned and of the people behind them, that they could do it and that their work would lead to a place good and excellent. it reminds me too that I can do it and the Lord can do it in my life -- i approached my job search with an added sense of gusto that day and right now there are some things that look promising, things that speak to God's faithfulness. i hope it all works out... but even if He doesn't do it, i'm okay. i think that i'm okay
the tournament reminded me of the program I was beginning around this time last year and have since completed -- "Risk & Prevention." I was telling Jenna and Eric in the car last Sunday that i always choose majors with obscure names -- "risk and prevention", "international letters and visual studies." I don't know why I choose these things because it certainly isn't beneficial, like many of the choices i've made or make. it could explain my current state of unemployment -- no one knows what the heck i studied! or, maybe, i'm the one who can't quite put the pieces together and would rather blame a name that's not my own. could be, maybe.
I have to admit that in these past few months where I have been jobless and oftentimes hopeless, I've wondered why the Lord planned for me to study film and Japanese and english, and then brought me to a place where I felt out of place: during orientation everyone went around and talked about the wonderful and interesting things they were doing to better the world prior to starting graduate school, how it motivated them to come to the program, to learn more... When it was my turn, I told them how I had been working in corporate america and had just come back from spending time in Japan. I tried to make it sound good and as charitable as possible but it was quiet and i sat down quickly. it was good to be there though -- to be with people who want to change the world in ways that will stick through programs like the one above as well as others involving social awareness and literacy, street children and brazilian martial arts, immigration and emotional development... I still wonder where this and all the other pieces fall or fit.
I was talking to Heidi in my room two Saturdays ago, after the race. Heidi is this petitepetite person with a big heart for community development, children and people and their stories, social justice. she only responds and speaks after thinking deeply about things; my words seem to just spill out, messy. hers are always sincere. She severely understands the importance of being emotionally aware and emotionally healthy, how important it is to process the large and small things that we experience on a daily basis or maybe just once. Heidi now lives on the second floor in Shinae's old room but she has made that place her own, comfortable and warm.
We spoke about many things -- it started with her night and then her day: how she went to a conference on North Korea, how she went out afterwards and felt different from the others -- how she sometimes wished she wasn't different. and then we spoke about faith and vision and the Lord being able, but also the necessity of approaching things strategically and systematically, open-minded and with wisdom if hope was for something more than surface level acceptance. I told her I liked how she was different and that it was important that she was; She told me that I had it in me too, that she saw it. I responded "yeah, maybe..." maybe something was there, but it had yet to take form -- it's a mushy little thing, like a blub or a blob. I tried to form it with the air in my hands to show her and explained something that has frustrated me more recently than it has in the past: it wants to become something but it doesn't know how or where to go, the shape of things.
jenny, in her email, suggested that its about obedience. "obedience belongs to us and everything else belongs to God. so all we have to do, is do the next thing that needs to be done. there are things we can control and things we can't control so don't dwell on things we can't control and the things of the past (mistakes, regrets) -- that's for God to deal with. all we can do is live each day obediently and do the next thing." thinking about it, what she wrote, reminds me of what I shared at the end of my testimony on my last Sunday at Nissin Church -- "...in my distress I searched the Word to try and understand how great men of faith in the Bible were able to live such lives for the Lord. The Lord showed me that the answer was very simple -- they walked with Him, every day..." every day.
i'm not sure if that is what I've been doing, but whereas before that thing or mass (blub or blob) that I tried to explain to Heidi was sort of flat and pretty docile (maybe sleeping?), now it's lumpy and active and sometimes agressive, kind of like my sister sleeping beneath the covers after watching too many xfiles. Things that helped it grow: largely, my roommates. The Lord has blessed me immensely through them; it's rare to find people you trust very much. And I guess on the grander scheme of things it's because even though I can't say that I was walking with Him every day, He -- He was always walking with me. But, would i be okay if it never took form or if the blubblobthing was the right and final shape? I fear that all of this won't culminate into something big and terrific and what concerns me even more is that i'll never be able to understand or accept that this, this now, actually is the big and terrific plan: this is it, and there is nothing greater. i've been trying to pray that ultimately my hope and joy is in whatever the Lord has planned for me -- for faith -- but i get scared and disappointed when i think that some things may not work out.
Last Monday, I went to a reading with Liz. I think my favorite was Randi Triant, when she read her exerpt from her story "The Starfish." I wanted to ask her where her idea came from -- from the animal itself (its ability to regenerate a ray that has been cut off as long as its center is intact, that the severed ray can survive and regenerate without the center if it is a certain special species, the idea of cutting or separating oneself purposely in order to survive) or from a person or experience or from many different places... but instead i listened to her answer someone else's question about how to successfully execute a nonlinear narrative. Randi answered that she uses props. props help her to stay in place, she has a tangible something to go back to. the starfish was her prop, or, even more concretely, the jar that kept the single ray. I wonder what my prop is, the thing that keeps me centered and in place -- the thing I keep going back to --
i've thought and think that it is God, the Gospel: that God loves me and I know He does because He sent His son Jesus to die for me -- He made a way when there was none, He has a purpose a plan. Jeff reminded me of this a month or so when he debriefed me on Japan. (and since then the Lord has answered my prayer regarding my longstanding contention with missions -- that it's not a loss of culture or identity or diversity but the gain of peace and comfort that comes from knowing that you have a God who loves and cares for you, that this is something He will never compromise. there is no loss: all different but now with peace. i suspected that I wouldn't understand or share until i knew or believed these things. i wish i still remembered the moment when this all came to me it was either on my bed or on a run -- it was so clear, i think it was the run) Pastor Rojas' sermon today also did the same -- it was refreshing and good to hear a sermon that was loaded with the gospel, all about Jesus about God's love for us that He did it that He saved us and made us alive with Christ that He is the great initiator of all things that there is no salvation without grace that He loveloves us that we benefited from what Christ did for us that all we can say is "yes Sir!" -- it laid to rest a lot of the things that have been swimming in my head as of late: the things mentioned above as well as the things I keep my own.
in a smaller way, I guess it was that article, my prop. because what it did for me that day and what it has done for me since, each time i remember it, is remind me of the possibility of things. but not just the possibility of things, but faith that these things can and will happen. it keeps me focused and moving forward. in the months since i graduated, i began to, more and more, doubt the things I learned and studied, the things I believed in and thought were important the things that carried me. but the success of this program -- 48 nations, 77% changed -- renewed these things and helped me believe in the worth and victory of the programs we planned and of the people behind them, that they could do it and that their work would lead to a place good and excellent. it reminds me too that I can do it and the Lord can do it in my life -- i approached my job search with an added sense of gusto that day and right now there are some things that look promising, things that speak to God's faithfulness. i hope it all works out... but even if He doesn't do it, i'm okay. i think that i'm okay
Sunday, September 10, 2006
I wish you could hear me
or, I wish you were here with me
I tell myself that it is foolishness --
maybe it's the "emotional blockage" that we (not you and I but them) talked about tonight,
to keep things distant but close, controllable and mine.
Relationships don't work that way.
whatever it is, I thought about you on the beach today.
and yesterday I tried not to hope that I would see you.
but I did, and I didn't.
when we do talk, it's awkward. and I don't know if I like you. but something always brings me back.
or, I wish you were here with me
I tell myself that it is foolishness --
maybe it's the "emotional blockage" that we (not you and I but them) talked about tonight,
to keep things distant but close, controllable and mine.
Relationships don't work that way.
whatever it is, I thought about you on the beach today.
and yesterday I tried not to hope that I would see you.
but I did, and I didn't.
when we do talk, it's awkward. and I don't know if I like you. but something always brings me back.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
in boston
I've been walking around, spaced out, with my back turned to the Lord for quite some time now. I think it began in January... No, it was before that. Even in Japan, I think that although I was walking toward Him, my head was turned the other way (if you can picture that), screwed on backwards, whatever you want to call it (yes, it was very uncomfortable and yeah, many times I didn't know where I was going). This week, I decided to turn back. Sunday, I took my first glance (behind the left shoulder), just to make sure. And I saw Him there. I knew He'd be there, but I didn't get that "why are you there? why are you always there?? aaaaaharhgafblah just leave me be" (my rendition of Job 7:17-19) feeling, the one where you sort of shoo away with your arms and hands and kick with your legs and feet. Instead, a feeling of quiet resignation, submission. "Yeah, I'm ready..."
It didn't come as an epiphany, a huge realization, or a bonk on the head. It just came and I just turned. It came as I was leaving one service to go to another, walking to the T - it was a thought, silent and clear -
I didn't get what I want.
That's what it essentially came down to. I turned my back on Him because He didn't give me what I wanted. Pretty immature, huh? The past year I shared this reason and that as to why I was struggling: I thought of it as a combination or culmination of all things that had recently happened and in years past. But as I deconstructed I saw that I myself laid at the foundation of my disatisfaction with the Lord. Maybe it's a repercussion of being the youngest of two - Brain's words - "Quit your whining!" - rang all too true, quite poignant although taken out of context. Underneath this "wise" 24 year-old is a bratty, selfish kid who got so caught up in her own stuff that she forgot who God is, what place He holds. I was disgruntled for not getting my piece of cake and I let that feeling stew until I found myself hesitant, fearful to go back, separated, at a distance, displaced in His house and skeptical of His family... How quickly I forgot what I learned that night at Gusto with Soo and Shally - that the Lord never promised me so many of the things I held on to. What He really promises is in His Word. And I was reminded of this again as an excerpt from Narnia was preached to me -
"Are you thirsty?" said the lion.
"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the lion.
"May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.
The lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise," said the lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the lion.
- and that night in the bathroom thinking about Job and how what I went through is beans (dude, not even beans) compared to what He endured and yet his eyes remained fixed while mine wandered all over the place. All those times where I told myself that I'd never deny Christ, but like Peter jumping ship at the first sight of rough waters. How foolish to think that strong meant self-reliance, independence
But Sunday, for some reason I accepted what was given to me rather than ask question after question and turn the blame on Him for things that I had wanted, asked for, and done (I think someone was praying for me, or, simply grace?). Only two days before as I awkwardly waited for praise to start, I scribbled in my notebook "Lord, how can I sing you praise when I am feeling like this? You remind me that it's not about me, my condition, the state of my heart... It's about you. But Lord, what if I don't - or can't - believe with my heart and all of me that the words I sing are true? ... ... What do I do? Please help me Lord. What do I do? Is that what it means to take a step of faith? To sing empty words and hope that my heart will be changed? Hope that something magical will happen? Or, hope that nothing will happen but that You would be glorified? That you would be pleased with a trying heart..." And now, this.
I don't see the year or so I spent in my head as time wasted. Yeah, in a way it's unfortunate and I do wish that certain happenings had been more meaningful to me, more heart-friendly, made a deeper impression. But they didn't. That's just where I was, where I'm trying to get out of. I walked around in a daze with the world and people moving around me but with nothing sticking, thinking about everything while trying to remain unaffected by it all, and although I knew that real strength is coming back after being hurt, I wanted to choose to be superficially strong by walking away from it all, tears in eyes but head held high, extra careful not to step where I stepped before, careful not to make the same mistakes twice (remembering what Leslor always says: "hurt me once, shame on you. hurt me twice, shame on me!), careful not to fall. Somewhere along the way, while I was thinking about all this strength stuff, I remember this thought entering my brain: "duh, of course true strength isn't walking away. who has to have the greatest strength? God. and at what point did He exemplify this? on the cross. yeah, you're hurt, but who was most hurt? Christ. Did Christ walk away when He was most hurt by His Father? no. THAT Jenn, is real strength. being hurt, knowing you'll be hurt, knowing it will hurt, but going - doing it - anyway. you have your scars, but you are all the more resilient, glorious" At that time, I shooed that reminder away as well. I didn't want to hear it. And as I shooed away, what kept coming back were all the things I had walked away from, a lot of regret.
I remember as 2004 came to a close telling myself and others that "2005 is going to be great. 2004 sucked, so 2005... 2005 is my year. 2005 is going to be great." and I remember not even a month ago telling Goot over the phone, "2004 sucked. so did 2005. i have no hope for 2006, so 2007 - that's my year! 2007, here i come!" and as I said those words, somewhere in the back of my mind someone said, "Jenn, the year isn't over...!" hm, maybe it was Goot. or God? but still, even though September, October, and November are always the best months, I had little hope. now, I think, Maybe 2006 won't be so bad? This is where the real strength kicks in.
it's beautiful out,
there are many things I miss
It didn't come as an epiphany, a huge realization, or a bonk on the head. It just came and I just turned. It came as I was leaving one service to go to another, walking to the T - it was a thought, silent and clear -
I didn't get what I want.
That's what it essentially came down to. I turned my back on Him because He didn't give me what I wanted. Pretty immature, huh? The past year I shared this reason and that as to why I was struggling: I thought of it as a combination or culmination of all things that had recently happened and in years past. But as I deconstructed I saw that I myself laid at the foundation of my disatisfaction with the Lord. Maybe it's a repercussion of being the youngest of two - Brain's words - "Quit your whining!" - rang all too true, quite poignant although taken out of context. Underneath this "wise" 24 year-old is a bratty, selfish kid who got so caught up in her own stuff that she forgot who God is, what place He holds. I was disgruntled for not getting my piece of cake and I let that feeling stew until I found myself hesitant, fearful to go back, separated, at a distance, displaced in His house and skeptical of His family... How quickly I forgot what I learned that night at Gusto with Soo and Shally - that the Lord never promised me so many of the things I held on to. What He really promises is in His Word. And I was reminded of this again as an excerpt from Narnia was preached to me -
"Are you thirsty?" said the lion.
"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the lion.
"May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.
The lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise," said the lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the lion.
- and that night in the bathroom thinking about Job and how what I went through is beans (dude, not even beans) compared to what He endured and yet his eyes remained fixed while mine wandered all over the place. All those times where I told myself that I'd never deny Christ, but like Peter jumping ship at the first sight of rough waters. How foolish to think that strong meant self-reliance, independence
But Sunday, for some reason I accepted what was given to me rather than ask question after question and turn the blame on Him for things that I had wanted, asked for, and done (I think someone was praying for me, or, simply grace?). Only two days before as I awkwardly waited for praise to start, I scribbled in my notebook "Lord, how can I sing you praise when I am feeling like this? You remind me that it's not about me, my condition, the state of my heart... It's about you. But Lord, what if I don't - or can't - believe with my heart and all of me that the words I sing are true? ... ... What do I do? Please help me Lord. What do I do? Is that what it means to take a step of faith? To sing empty words and hope that my heart will be changed? Hope that something magical will happen? Or, hope that nothing will happen but that You would be glorified? That you would be pleased with a trying heart..." And now, this.
I don't see the year or so I spent in my head as time wasted. Yeah, in a way it's unfortunate and I do wish that certain happenings had been more meaningful to me, more heart-friendly, made a deeper impression. But they didn't. That's just where I was, where I'm trying to get out of. I walked around in a daze with the world and people moving around me but with nothing sticking, thinking about everything while trying to remain unaffected by it all, and although I knew that real strength is coming back after being hurt, I wanted to choose to be superficially strong by walking away from it all, tears in eyes but head held high, extra careful not to step where I stepped before, careful not to make the same mistakes twice (remembering what Leslor always says: "hurt me once, shame on you. hurt me twice, shame on me!), careful not to fall. Somewhere along the way, while I was thinking about all this strength stuff, I remember this thought entering my brain: "duh, of course true strength isn't walking away. who has to have the greatest strength? God. and at what point did He exemplify this? on the cross. yeah, you're hurt, but who was most hurt? Christ. Did Christ walk away when He was most hurt by His Father? no. THAT Jenn, is real strength. being hurt, knowing you'll be hurt, knowing it will hurt, but going - doing it - anyway. you have your scars, but you are all the more resilient, glorious" At that time, I shooed that reminder away as well. I didn't want to hear it. And as I shooed away, what kept coming back were all the things I had walked away from, a lot of regret.
I remember as 2004 came to a close telling myself and others that "2005 is going to be great. 2004 sucked, so 2005... 2005 is my year. 2005 is going to be great." and I remember not even a month ago telling Goot over the phone, "2004 sucked. so did 2005. i have no hope for 2006, so 2007 - that's my year! 2007, here i come!" and as I said those words, somewhere in the back of my mind someone said, "Jenn, the year isn't over...!" hm, maybe it was Goot. or God? but still, even though September, October, and November are always the best months, I had little hope. now, I think, Maybe 2006 won't be so bad? This is where the real strength kicks in.
it's beautiful out,
there are many things I miss
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