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| "So, how is married life?"
I've been asked this question quite frequently in the last few weeks. My standard answer is, "Quite good! I highly recommend it!"
Because it is good. It is fascinating, complex, and sometimes quite complicated. It is a unique mix of vulnerability and safety. It is a shoulder to cry on when the tears come; a best friend to laugh with when the joy bubbles over. It is the light of love burning steadily in the heart.
And I love it.
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| I'm amused by little things.
This morning I was combing my hair, and glanced down and noticed the bottle of mousse lying on the counter. Underneath the brand logo and the carefully presented product information, they had a row of numbers, 1 through 5, with a little box around the number 4 to indicate the relative holding power of this particular mousse. And underneath those numbers it said, "Maximum hold"
And it made me grin, that circled number 4 paired with the word "maximum".
Now, far be it from me to quibble with the marketing professionals at Proctor & Gamble, but in my experience maximum refers to an absolute. You cannot exceed it.
I checked with good old Webster's Dictionary, and maximum is defined as "the greatest quantity or value attainable or attained."
Makes me wonder what the next level was called. "Ultra-maximum"? "Super-maximum"? Or maybe the current favorite--"Extreme"?
People! By definition, level 4 out of 5 cannot be maximum!
Amusing. | | |
| Long ago, when I first started this xanga site, I vowed to myself that I would never, ever get too personal on here. Only twice have I made an exception--when Ethel died, and last night. And now I read what I wrote and kinda freak out, because what I wrote came straight from my heart. But I'm going to leave it there. Just make a few qualifying statements.
I'm glad to be home. It's been awesome reconnecting with old friends, with my youth group, hanging out with my sisters, being home. But I am grieving, and it will take time. I've just had a traumatic ending, said far too many goodbyes to dear friends. But don't worry about me. I'm not depressed--just heartbroken. There is a difference.
To further complicate things, I have no "normal". I don't have any reference points, because I'm entering an entirely new stage of life. I have no clue what's coming next. It feels like I'm walking blindfolded. It's a crazy journey, that's for sure.
I'm walking blindfolded...but I'm clutching tightly to the hand of God. And He sees the way clearly. I've learned an awful lot the past while about trust, learned that I can unreservedly throw myself on God. I'm learning to desire without demanding, to hope against hope, to love in spite of pain. But it is a journey. I don't have this all figured out yet. I'm learning, one step at a time, what it means to live, to be alive.
The quotes at the beginning and end of my last post come from the song "How To Say Goodbye" by Michael W. Smith. That song has been flowing through my mind the past while. It manages to catch a piece of what is in my heart, to articulate at least part of what is in my tears. Time slips by so fast. You turn around twice, and it's time to say goodbye. And the pain comes.
They say that out of pain comes joy and beauty. Right now all I feel is the pain, and I don't see how anything beautiful can possibly come out of it. But I hope in the God who gives beauty for ashes, who turns mourning into dancing.
Here we go--take a deep breath, and step out into your life. It's gonna be a wild ride. | | |
| Tell me when the time we had slipped away
Tomorrow turned to yesterday
And I don't know how
Tell me what can stop this river of tears
It's been building up for years
For this moment now
My heart hurts...I'd been doing pretty good settling back in, reconnecting...but I realized tonight that deep down I have still been waiting...waiting for life to return to "normal", numbing the ache of a traumatic ending by unconsciously waiting until next time...because up until now there always has been a next time. Ever since I graduated from high school I've been in and out of Bible School...so every time it came to an end, there was the next beginning to look towards. I could always ease the ache of goodbyes by thinking, a few more months, and I'll be back with my friends.
But now it's over. I'm done with Bible School. That phase of my life has come to a close. And I don't know what's next. All I know is that for now I'm supposed to be home. I have nothing to look towards, no anticipation to help assuage my grief.
And so I cry. And cry. And cry.
Because I loved. Because I made friends, quality friends, the type of friends that many only dream of having. Because now it's over. Because I still love. Because something deep within me is broken and hurting.
Tell me...how do you say goodbye?
Don't tell me it's okay--because it isn't. Don't throw comforting platitudes at me--they're insufficient in the face of grief.
Tell me where the road ahead is gonna bend
And how to harness up the wind
And how to say goodbye | | |
| Today I was running errands, and stopped by the home of an elderly couple. One of those situations where they know my parents, but haven't seen me in years--at 21 you'd think I wouldn't hear "my, how you've grown!!"--but I guess I'm still not past that.  Yessir, I'm 21 now, and I don't recall ever seeing you before in my life, so I'm guessing that I have indeed grown since the last time you saw me. 
But they were such nice, friendly folks, and I really enjoyed visiting with them. During the course of the conversation they showed me a picture of their 17 year old grandson, and informed me that he's looking for a "good, godly girlfriend".
*gulp*...um...that's...nice...
Exactly how are you supposed to respond to something like that??
Awkward. | | |
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