Sunday is my steak dinner. Mmmmmm.
There is much on my mind as of late, which puts me in a writing mood. My mind is constantly trying to wrap itself around some amazing new idea or concept, or change perspective after a very long time. I see things in a substantially different way, and I notice that with my change of perspective, my vision is changing, remaking itself. I have a sense of purpose, and a vision for things that are far outside my grasp, yet so important that I must try to make them a reality. My priorities are shifting, and it seems as if I am seeing, feeling, hearing, understanding so much that I must have missed over the past few years. I feel as I imagine a blind person must feel when they regain their sight. I am noticing things that people take for granted, I am taking small pleasures in the simple things that are mundane to so many. I feel joy. Not just smiley-giggly-silly happiness, but true, unmistakable, starts-in-your-soul-and-explodes-out-of-you kind of joy.
But with that joy comes a kind of sadness, as I watch all that I once loved start to fall away. Much of my old life simply doesn't fit, and it saddens me to watch it fall away, even as I take joy in the changes. I am saddened, too, that I am alone. I had forgotten--how could anyone forget this? But the people I am closest to don't know this joy, this change, this...freedom. And I want so badly to show it to them, but it seems that no one is interested; no one has time for my God.
And in my own selfish way, I want them to be happy for me, to be joyful with me and make it all right. Because right now, this strange new me is not all right. Right now, nobody really knows if this is for real, if this is just some phase that I'll come out of. Right now, nobody understands that I can't be who I once was. Right now, even as I realize that I've never been alone, I feel so terribly alone.
I have always been some strange mix of introvert and extrovert--well liked, exhuberant, and comfortable in the midst of friends, yet most at home simply inside my own mind. Give me music, pen, and paper, and I can figure out the equation to life's most complicated problems. It is during the times that I am alone--late at night when everyone else has gone to bed--that I am able to simply stop and let the day sink in, to explore my own thoughts and motives, to write, write, write. Which brings me full circle, back to here.
I am learning. I am remixing my thoughts, rearranging my priorities, and attempting to re-do this whole 'life' thing. Knowing that I am being prepared for something, though, is much different than being content and patient while being prepared for something. And though I try, I am impatient. I want to go, to do, to fix, and to make a difference; yet I know that I am a broken thing.
One of things that I loved about the church I'm in is that it was so small. Now, I understand that it's not ideal to be small from the church's standpoint. For me, though, it was small enough to be personal; I didn't feel trapped in a huge crowd of people. I didn't get lost finding the sanctuary and I was able to slip in and out that first Sunday and know that I was noticed, welcomed, but not...accosted. Over the past couple of weeks, though, I find myself wishing it was more like what I used to know, when my mom would drag us to church at every available opportunity. I remember thinking it was totally messed up that we had to do church now, not just on Sunday morning, but on Sunday night, Wednesday night, choir on Tuesdays, there was only a couple of days in the week that there wasn't church! It sucked! And now, I'm wishing for it! Haha...go figure. How very human of me.
I can't wait for Sundays now. I love it. It's like a meal after I've been starving. And somewhere, during the week, I start to lose the fuel. I start to get hungry, I feel like I'm starving again. I've realized lately what makes it so difficult for me, in part anyway, to live day-to-day the way I try to. I have no accountability. Such a small thing, sure, but it makes such a difference. It's not even just that I don't have accountability, it's almost like I have reverse-accountability. I feel like people are relieved when I revert back, screw up. So when I do slide in to the comfortable-uncomfortable ways, not only does nothing bad happen, it's like the people around me are happier when I'm "Bad Me."
My point? Yeah, I don't know.
But with that joy comes a kind of sadness, as I watch all that I once loved start to fall away. Much of my old life simply doesn't fit, and it saddens me to watch it fall away, even as I take joy in the changes. I am saddened, too, that I am alone. I had forgotten--how could anyone forget this? But the people I am closest to don't know this joy, this change, this...freedom. And I want so badly to show it to them, but it seems that no one is interested; no one has time for my God.
And in my own selfish way, I want them to be happy for me, to be joyful with me and make it all right. Because right now, this strange new me is not all right. Right now, nobody really knows if this is for real, if this is just some phase that I'll come out of. Right now, nobody understands that I can't be who I once was. Right now, even as I realize that I've never been alone, I feel so terribly alone.
I have always been some strange mix of introvert and extrovert--well liked, exhuberant, and comfortable in the midst of friends, yet most at home simply inside my own mind. Give me music, pen, and paper, and I can figure out the equation to life's most complicated problems. It is during the times that I am alone--late at night when everyone else has gone to bed--that I am able to simply stop and let the day sink in, to explore my own thoughts and motives, to write, write, write. Which brings me full circle, back to here.
I am learning. I am remixing my thoughts, rearranging my priorities, and attempting to re-do this whole 'life' thing. Knowing that I am being prepared for something, though, is much different than being content and patient while being prepared for something. And though I try, I am impatient. I want to go, to do, to fix, and to make a difference; yet I know that I am a broken thing.
One of things that I loved about the church I'm in is that it was so small. Now, I understand that it's not ideal to be small from the church's standpoint. For me, though, it was small enough to be personal; I didn't feel trapped in a huge crowd of people. I didn't get lost finding the sanctuary and I was able to slip in and out that first Sunday and know that I was noticed, welcomed, but not...accosted. Over the past couple of weeks, though, I find myself wishing it was more like what I used to know, when my mom would drag us to church at every available opportunity. I remember thinking it was totally messed up that we had to do church now, not just on Sunday morning, but on Sunday night, Wednesday night, choir on Tuesdays, there was only a couple of days in the week that there wasn't church! It sucked! And now, I'm wishing for it! Haha...go figure. How very human of me.
I can't wait for Sundays now. I love it. It's like a meal after I've been starving. And somewhere, during the week, I start to lose the fuel. I start to get hungry, I feel like I'm starving again. I've realized lately what makes it so difficult for me, in part anyway, to live day-to-day the way I try to. I have no accountability. Such a small thing, sure, but it makes such a difference. It's not even just that I don't have accountability, it's almost like I have reverse-accountability. I feel like people are relieved when I revert back, screw up. So when I do slide in to the comfortable-uncomfortable ways, not only does nothing bad happen, it's like the people around me are happier when I'm "Bad Me."
My point? Yeah, I don't know.
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