chasing the sun

At some level, I am a very confident, though perhaps not entirely carefree young woman - I say “young” because it makes me feel better about my 26-and-still-single status. Yet it is strange how much of my life is lived out only in my head and not in experience or interaction. I live in my spirited brain – only emerging for church on Sundays and the occasional encounter with friends. Then its time to go back, time to retreat to Jenntown where all of life’s questions are asked and answered and the battle of the will rages on uninterrupted.

I realized this weird living situation I’ve grown accustomed to when my body stopped working right.

On Monday, I mustered all my earthly tenacity and proceeded to torture my lazy self with a strenuous, but much-needed workout. Tuesday, I realized what a mistake I had made, but it was too late to back out since you have to burn the lactic acid out of sore muscles; so, I went for a little jog in the park. Today, my legs are stiff and unyielding in my attempts to use them in the normal way, so I’ve adopted a sort of Tin-Man-like stagger. Stairs are particularly difficult to negotiate.

This physical anguish has caused me to rethink some very personal things, like why I’m so uncomfortable being needy. I understand that I need help, that I can’t do life on my own, but I rather think that should be something that only God and I know. But my roommate and my co-workers have had to help me a lot these past two days, because, well, I’m just slow – and that makes me feel needy and dependent, which I detest.

The worst is that I put it off on them, uttering things like, “Oh I’m so sorry to inconvenience you” “I’m so sorry you have to do this and that for me.” The thing is, they never beefed about it or got upset. It was me and my uncomfortably needy self and my messed up brain-living that tries to make it seem like it’s not me who is uneasy about me, but them…but it’s really me!!!

All of this only confirms that I am, in fact, my mother’s child…

I had the day off from work today, actually all summer, Fridays are mine – all mine – to do with what I please. And today I was pleased to have breakfast with a good friend and then chill at home and watch the Lord of the Rings for the umpteenth time. With no homework, papers, books weighing heavily on my conscience, I felt very relaxed. It was a peaceful and badly needed day of rest.

I love those movies. (I haven’t read the books, which I know is a very great scandal for true Tolkien fans…but I did read The Hobbit.) Anyway, I always like to watch the special features where you get to see the behind the scenes interviews. Some might argue that I’m just hoping to get another look at Orlando Bloom, and on some level that might be true, but today I opted to watch the actual film too. And for some reason today, I kept noticing how often people in the movie willingly put themselves in harm’s way. They risk life and limb not just for their close friends, but for their countrymen and people of other cultures. They’re all in it together, the dwarves, the hobbits, the elves and the men.

Maybe I focused in on it because my friend Sara and I talked about what it means to love God and came to the conclusion that we can do that best by loving one another. Our fellow human beings, the people God puts in our path, are his gift to us, a way for us to touch him, to serve him, to be near him. I’m not saying that people are God – that’s not it at all. It’s just that I don’t think it is possible to really know God apart from interacting with others. He is the only one like him. We all possess different pieces of his personality, tainted by our sin, but reflective of his image. But others have different pieces, ones we don’t have, ones we need in order to more fully understand God. We’re created for this community, not to stand around waiting for something better to love and become involved with.

I think God is changing my misconceptions about the nature of the human heart. We have an amazing amount of control over the choices our hearts make. I know we don’t like to admit it, but it’s true. Love is a choice and an action, not a feeling. We cheapen it somehow when we relegate it to emotionhood and back away slowly as if it is too fragile for real, corporeal interaction. But the truth is, I want nothing less from and for myself than active, intentional love that is not afraid of risk, pain, and a little heartache.

There’s nothing like a good Imelda Marcos documentary to make you realize just how much ridiculousness there is in the world…I swear it made me want to cry (and I don’t cry) when she started talking about how she was lucky because she could turn bad things off in her mind, ignore the people in her country living in garbage dumps and see the positive side of every situation.

Yet I feel in my heart strangely detached from it all.

I feel like I’ve stepped off a great battlefield in mid-fight. I’m watching from up a tree on a far hill I’ve climbed before. I have a good vantage point, but my armor is hanging loosely, punctured and gashed seemingly beyond repair. I’ve abandoned my sword and shield and so I’ve sought refuge in this flimsy cedar tree that’s lost its leaves, making me even more vulnerable to the enemy. I didn’t come here because I was scared, I came here because I was tired and angry and rebellious. I chose this fragile location and now I feel as though I do not have the power to un-choose it. And I wonder if I will always be here, if I will return to this spot again and again until finally I am captured by the enemy and done away with entirely or else rescued to eternity where none of all this will matter anymore.

Frailty is what I feel, tender, like I might break at any moment. I can hardly admit it because it is not a pleasant or funny or smart thing…it is uncomfortable and dramatic. It’s not sentiment or nostalgia or hormones, but unease I cannot shake. It’s as if everything I desire is much too much to ask.

There’s nothing left to worry about, at least that’s how I feel. I’m finished with my Master’s degree, so now it’s on to the next, I guess. I feel weird. I’ve been sleeping extremely well since I turned in my last paper…a sign that my body is finally relaxing, I hope. But I’ve been in sort of haze all day, not really engaging well in conversation, kind of frantic. It is times like these that give me the sensation of being all alone in the world with just my thoughts for company.

Do you love yourself? Is it even right that we should love ourselves? Sometimes I think that is the most ridiculous idea, but so much of how we view the world is tainted by our own views and misconceptions of ourselves. I was speaking to a friend today and she thinks I might have a slight problem in that area – loving myself – I mean.

It’s so hurtful to my pride to admit that I am insecure, but it’s worse when I think others can actually tell how insecure and scared I really am. Honestly, I feel most days like I’m the only one cheering for me. I don’t have a problem actually communicating my feelings to others. It’s the uneasy, unsettled feeling I get every time I’m the least bit vulnerable with someone, like I want their approval or immediate acceptance and understanding of what I’ve just shared with them. There’s a lot of doubt and distrust in my mind, even in my close relationships.

I think I must frustrate God, if He does get frustrated. I feel like Gideon, who kept putting out the fleece. I remember hearing that bible story (its in Judges) and thinking that Gideon was either really brave or really stupid. That’s how I feel about the future. The decisions I have made about my future are either really brave or really stupid; and I can’t tell which. I’m afraid that if I let go of what I have, there may not be anything better waiting for me.

Isn’t that silly?