Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Nothing Really Profound

After the last few posts on here I think I'm giving myself a complex. I do this sometimes, where I write or draw something really beautiful - something that comes from that place beyond self, where time has no meaning and things are simple and ordered and chaotic and perfect - and then I stop, amazed by my own creation and the truth that shines through it. I know that my next attempt won't be that inspired so I don't try again. It's not a good thing. I did that with an art class I took 18 months ago, which frustrates me because I was getting consistently good...so I am not going to do it here.

I don't really have anything profound to say today. Just that I am supposed to be writing a scene for my playwriting homework, I spent the day in a pissy mood for some reason, I worked all day and what I want to do is spend time with my boyfriend but I am determined to finish here first.

Today is two weeks since I started going out with S., as I shall refer to him here. It came out of the blue but has been really - nice, fun, comfortable, exciting, scary. I think it's funny really. After walking the labyrinth, I realized that if I was single and childless for the rest of my life I would be okay with that. For the first time, I could honestly say "God is enough". And then two days later S. asked me out. I spent two days deciding whether or not to do this whole dating thing. I talked to God a lot. I laughed, I fretted, I cried, I had moments of angst and fog and clarity and sobriety and giddiness. I obviously decided to go ahead and give it a try, but there were moments where I wasn't sure that I was ready to 'give up' the new feeling I had just found of actually being content alone.

It blows my mind a little how much of my thoughts are taken up with S. I didn't anticipate that. I also didn't anticipate how much I am afraid of getting carried away and doing something physical that I'll regret, which is not a very valid fear (so far) because we've never been in any situation that would lend itself to getting carried away. I didn't expect to discover that I detatch from postive, happy emotions because I can't cope with them. I knew that I seperate myself from things like pain and sadness and fear - but happiness? Apparently it overwhelms me as much as pain does.

I am connecting dots that were invisable to me several months ago. I don't express emotion physically in real life, which has meant that I don't use my body fully on stage either. I am just starting to notice physical impulses when it comes to expressing emotions, and I am still supressing them half the time - but now I am aware of them, which is a huge step forward for me. I have done some crazy things to cope with 20 years of emotions that I didn't know what to do with. I haven't had a lot of examples of what to do with feelings, unless you count watching someone throw things in anger or run away from pain, or invade other people's space with joy and happiness, or rationalize feelings away all together.

My whole life is going to be one discovery after another. I am beginning to realize that this is never going to end - I will always be finding out new things and learning new things about myself, about God, about those around me.

That might not be really profound, but it is really, really cool.

Thursday, June 22, 2006


I originally wrote this June 5th. I was going to post it then, but the times after that there were other things that needed to be said instead, so I am writing this here now.

I was talking to my mom about faith, grace, God and our difficult journey, our difficult fight to deal with our baggage. I am consistantly overwhelmed with how gentle God is with me. How can He keep forgiving me my trespasses when I am arrogant and selfish and unmerciful and mean and sinful and corrupt and tainted, and deliberately so? Why is there no limit to His love and forgivness, and why do I feel the need to find the end of His patience? It frustrates me that God will never stop loving me and forgiving me. It humbles me and breaks me. I am not worth this. Give this love to someone who won't throw it in your face as if it were so much garbage. Please stop breaking my heart with your endless love. And yet I cling to it with all my soul because I'll die without it. I adore Him and hate myself for my pathetic snivelling weakness. I hate that I will betray Him again. I hate that He will never give me what I deserve, only what He deserves. How can I be so broken, needy, adoring and full of hate? How can I hate the One who loves me so unabashedly, the One I long to love completely?

How can my brokenness be all that He wants? When all I can say is "Help thou my unbelief", how come that is enough? When all I can do is beg for faith, that is all He wants from me. When all I have in me is a tearful cry to be open to Him, He requires no more of me. That is somehow enough even though to me it feels inadequate. How can I have the balls, the nerve to come before the Creator with nothing more than a plea for His grace, His mercy, His faith and His love because I have none of my own and I come to the Lord and Master of the Universe with only the hunger for love and the longing to be filled. Muddy, in rags, filthy and bedraggled I come before Him with grasping empty hands and He says "Come closer, my child". And He gives me more than I can comprehend. He gives me things I can't even appreciate and I throw them away untasted. He calls me His child and He holds me, dirty as I am, and keeps giving until I cannot hold anymore and His gifts spill around me and I'm surrounded. And I don't understand why, or how, He can love me at all. I've never loved Him with the love He deserves. I didn't love Him at all before this year. Such a faulty, pathetic excuse for love, adoration, worship - that's all I bring. The bent and twisted remains of the least of His handiwork, destroyed almost past recognition. And He accepts it with joy as if it were the most precious thing I could ever give Him. Because sadly it is. But that is somehow enough for Him. And it blows my mind and overwhelms my soul until I weep because there is nothing else I can do.

Through writing this the anger and frustration at God's eternal unconditional love subsided. I am now simply grateful and okay with that.

I am still broken by it but I think it is a good kind of broken.

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Something My Parents Got Right

I am so thankful for my mother.

I was almost 13 when I got my period for the first time. I was over at a neighbour's house with my brothers and my dad. However, it was okay because I knew right away what was going on. I didn't think I was dying or deathly ill. I knew that I had just made the transformation from girl to woman, and I knew because my mother had told me all about it long before.

I didn't realize that some girls still, in this day and age, weren't warned. I didn't realize that some girls are left in fear, thinking that they are bleeding to death and too ashamed to tell anyone that they are bleeding 'down there' because privates are such a taboo thing to talk about.

That seems medieval in my mind. It's wrong. It turns something that should be beautiful and celebrated, a rite of passage, into a time of fear and shame.

My father bought me a yellow rose when I first got my period, to mark that I was now a woman. It was a time of shy celebration. It was recognized and respected.

It grieves me to know that not every girl has such a beautiful memory of that overwhelming transformation.

My parents were equally upfront when it came to explaining sex to me. I have never had a question that either of them couldn't answer. My mother handled most of the explaining, but there were questions that my father answered, with hardly any hesitation. I am beginning to realize how difficult that must have been for them both, and especially my dad, but it taught me that I can ask any question and get an honest answer. It taught me that my body is not something to be ashamed of, that sex is sacred and joyful. I think it gave me a much healthier view of sexuality. I think that makes it easier for me to set boundaries now, because I'm coming from a place of knowledge and not a place of fear.

I've heard stories of Christian kids who never thought they would stumble in their sexuality and who ended up pregnant. I've heard stories of kids who never thought it would happen to them and then weren't prepared to deal with the rush of everything that interacting with the opposite sex can be. I'm so thankful that my parents were so honest with me. They told me that you think it will never happen, and then you get carried away. They told me that everyone is capable of anything. They encouraged me to make my own decisions, to think through my own choices and accept the consequences and responsibility.

And I wouldn't have known how extraordinary my parents are unless I had talked to my friend, who wasn't told anything about her body or sex by her parents and had to figure things out on her own.

I thank God for the parents He gave me. They aren't perfect - but they did get some stuff very right.

Thank you, Mom and Dad. I feel like I can walk into this new thing called dating with both eyes open because of you.

Thank you.

Friday, June 09, 2006


Today I walked a labyrinth. I have never walked a labyrinth before, and I had no idea that a labyrinth was something that could be used for prayer and meditation.

I will never forget that now.

Unless I get Alzheimer's or something dreadful.

This was all very timely. I have been pondering on my spiritual life, and my relationship with God. It is something that is becoming more important to me, and I feel like I'm becoming more aware of my need for God in the last two years - especially in the last five months. Even since the beginning of May. In the last week, I was having a conversation with two of my close friends about our future-husband-wish-lists and I realized that for the first time, 'has a deliberate, considered, deep, sincere relationship with God' was on the list for real instead of being on there in a 'oh, yes, I'm a Christian and I suppose I need to marry one too' sort of way.

Today I walked the labyrinth and I had so many things that I could walk it thinking of. I got to the opening and decided to not take any of that in, and let Christ instead lead me where he wanted me to focus. I removed my socks and started. I was so afraid, I was tense and not breathing. I tentatively walked the first quarter of the labyrinth unsure of what was happening. Then I got to a candle that had little glass stones around it, the round ones that you can put in fishtanks. They were all blue and so was the candle. It reminded me of the Holy Virgin. I stopped and looked, and picked up a blue stone. Then, just before I was about to continue, I saw a green sparkle. I put down the blue stone and picked up the only green one. Green, the colour of new life and hope.

These are the thoughts that came to me during my walk.

My mother's chosen name is Hope. My middle name means Grace. These names are not coincidence.
There is trust in you. You do trust Me, when you let go of the fear long enough to see that I am there.
You are loved. I love you more than you will ever realize, and you don't need to run away from that.

When I got to the middle of the labyrinth I sat there and closed my eyes. I held the green stone between my fingers and thought without words. I suddenly had an image in my mind.

I was clothed in white, looking upwards, hands down at my sides. I had just let go of this thick, heavy black stuff that was clawing at me. I had let go of it, and I was now able to fly upwards into the yellow glow of light that was above me.

I saw that and I cried. Deep crying. One of the people in the centre handed me a box of tissues. I appreciated the gesture and accepted the tissues but it made me realize that I need to learn to cry without any way of wiping the tears away. I need to validate my tears, whether they come from a place of pain or a place of joy, and let them fall from my face. I need to let my nose run and be messy because that is the honesty of tears.

After a while the tears subsided and I stood and left the centre. It reminded me of being born. I walked out with my head up. Everyone I met had their heads downcast, as mine had been on the way in.

When I got back to the Virgin's candle I stopped and thanked her and Christ. My head was ringing with the words, "Remind me of this". Over and over and over. After a while I put the green stone back. It felt important to leave it there for the next person to find.

I left my tissues too.

I left the labyrinth lighter than I have been for a while. This strange feeling...I think it is called Peace.

My name is Hope. My name is Grace. My name is Peace. My name is Beloved.

My name is Rebecca.