I am, for the most part, incapable of holding a grudge. A friend recently told me it was a Godly quality to have and that he was impressed.
"Don't be," I told him, "it's not by choice."
When I've been purposely abused and taken advantage of, when someone decided to do something hurtful knowing I'd forgive them later, those are the times when I'd give almost anything to be able to say, "Go fuck yourself," and mean it.
"It's weakness," the world says. Even in the church it's hard to find someone who'll be supportive of the decision to reopen your heart to someone who's hurt you.
And should they? For as much as I strive toward unconditional love it's still hard for me to encourage it in others. And, more often than not, I think it the "wrong" choice when I see someone else "turn the other cheek". Most of the time it's assumed that the only reason is some defect in the forgiving party - he/she isn't strong enough to let go or they're afraid to break out of a comfortable pattern. Forgiveness, acceptance, they're all things that we're supposed to pursue but how am I supposed to urge others to put their hearts on the line when the odds are 100 to 1 that they'll wind up hurt? And after they're burned as a consequence, how can I find fault if they say, "To hell with it," and turn their back?
Right now, without any pain or anger or fresh wounds, I'm not bothered by my tendency to be seen as a doormat. It's not something I've worked at or chose, but I know that this weird malfunction I've been given that allows me to wipe the past clean is necessary for any hope or optimism to survive in me. I can accept it without much pride because I know it's caused me much grief in the past and is only likely to do so in the future. I can't see it as something to brag about.
It's sad then to realize that I take any grace I've been shown by God for granted on a regular basis. I know how much it hurts me even now to think about it and I know how much I've cursed it. How much more grateful and humbled should I be knowing what I know about His acceptance and forgiveness?
No, this isn't anything to be proud of.
Unconditional Love
Trust, love, faith and other things I don't understand
Ever since confronting my faith I've been digging deeper into my spiritual life and how I've been letting it (or not letting it) saturate my life.
At this point, the only thing that brings any sense of peace to my life is the possibility of trusting Him in ways I never have before. I feel as if I have no idea what life is going to bring and the mistakes I've made trying to steer my own course cut me. I wonder how many wonderful things have been lost to me forever because of my own ineptitude and delusions of power. This past summer I lost the one thing that meant the most to me in part because I gave in to fear. God has used that to move me closer to Him and the "what if"'s are endless and essentially pointless, so I refuse to dwell on them any longer. I'm learning to let Him in not because I believe I'll gain something in the end since, after all, "trust at the mercy of what it receives is bogus trust". No, I'm submitting because I've screwed up and hurt myself more often than I had realized by trying to do things my way. And I'm so tired of hurting.
I talk at God a lot, but it's a very one-sided conversation. Often I would listen to what He had to say then shrug and say "Good idea. Thanks for the input. But I'm gonna go ahead and do it THIS way." More recently I've been actively trying to change this tendency toward making God my sounding-board and not my guide, but it's not easy. Acknowledging my desire to be 100% self-sufficient isn't the end and it wasn't even the difficult part, I found. No, the hard stuff is putting it into practice when every natural inclination I have is to turn my back and walk alone. It's a learned response - not even something I have to think about. I pray, ask for forgiveness and listen to what He has to say... then an hour later I begin to tune Him out again. I'm even gun-shy of saying or thinking "Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of it!" because as soon as I feel as if my grasp on the concept is firm, I say "I got it, God. I'll take it from here." and the whole cycle repeats itself.
What's even more baffling to me is the notion that God doesn't really care. He isn't concerned with how far along I'm moving or even if I'm moving at all. The only thing that matters to Him is my acceptance of the fact that I can't do it on my own and the only way to succeed - even a little bit - is by letting Him lead. There is nothing expected other than to live by this: "I am love. Period."
"Justice says: 'I owe you nothing, for you have broken the contract.' But where justice ends, love begins, and reveals that God is not interested merely in the dividends of the covenant. He is looking into the eyes of Israel from His depths to hers. He sees through the smokescreen of deeds good and bad to Israel herself. She glances up uneasily, 'Who? Me?'"*
My motives are not pure. A part of me acts out of selfishness and because my hands are grasping greedily at the blessings God has promised. And yet, I see these parts of my heart and I'm ashamed... and God says "I am with you, I am for you, I am in you. I expect more failure from you than you expect from yourself."*
Nothing else is taken into account but my acceptance, not even my unstoppable humanity.
(Stolen from "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning. If you haven't read it, you are missing out on a lot.)
The Lover
There is a Love.
Do we believe in it? Do we seek it? Would we even recognize it if it found us, stumbled upon us half-drunk from our own lust and barely able to see through the bitterness?
What would it take for us to notice? A letter with our name, hand-written, inviting us to taste what it has to offer and test it against all the other Loves that have purported to be true?
Could we understand it? As a people so easily swayed by sexuality and hunger, ego and pride, how would we comprehend something that claims none of these characteristics?
Would we take it? After so many betrayals in our past and so much valid mistrust, would we be able to put aside our fear of one more knife wound in order to grab hold?
What you see is that I am bone and tissue and blood, moving altogether in fluid movements due to an incredibly complex mind. I am wildly durable, able to heal myself without even trying and alive because of intricacies so complicated they can't be seen with the naked eye.
But in reality I am so much simpler than that. I'm a heart that was given a body and that's all. My quirks, my likes, my opinions, I owe them all to the damage that this heart has endured ever since it was encased in this body. I am who I am because of what has happened to my heart and I owe any accomplishments I've made, and will make, to those same occurances.
My heart has seen so many failures and it's done so much wrong. It wants so much flesh and that hunger only grows. It's beaten and bruised those it loved and found that forgiveness was a fairytale not meant for the likes of it. And almost as if it was getting its just rewards, it's been stepped on too many times to count, as well. My heart knows nothing of True Love. My heart, as I said, has a body and that body has been bludgeoned.
...but it was each of those selfish, drunken nights that my heart found The Lover. Each time it found itself alone after being kicked around or after kicking someone else around, The Lover wasn't ever far. No matter whose bed I crawled out of, what bottle I drained or what back I ran my knife down. There is no shame I have felt so far that The Lover has turned away from; no secret horrible enough to disgust.
There is a Love.
Sometimes I don't believe it and I know that, often, it scares me enough that I run from rather than seek it.
I have evidence of my invitation everywhere - it's in the sky, the mountains, the grass, even in the image I see in the mirror - but I so rarely accept it.
I will never understand it. I've tried. To Love me like I am? Unfathomable. I can't even manage it.
But yeah, I'll accept it. I think The Lover a fool sometimes for offering it without any strings but, then again, I think I'd be a damn fool myself if I looked a gift horse in the mouth.
I just hope I do The Lover justice. I hope my heart somehow finds a way to give what it's been given.
Because I want everyone to know that there is a Love.
They certainly know who their audience is
I wonder if the wizards behind the new shows at Discovery channel somehow know about my craving to lick Mack's head every time I watch future weapons read my blog. Someone over there seems to have picked up the hormonal surges produced when I watch or perhaps I'm excreting a very powerful pheremone and they realize the easiest way to get me to watch is to put an attractive, well-built bald white man in chains and a harness.
Richard Machowicz of "Future Weapons"
Jeff Lieberman of "Time Warp"
Jonathan Goodwin of "One Way Out"
Discovery Channel has, apparently, perfected cloning.
I am not complaining.
You can add these men to the list of "Discovery Channel Hosts I want to make publically uncomfortable with my ridiculous displays of affection grope tie up in my basement make-out with" right after Mike Rowe and Tory Bellecci.
Well played, Discovery Channel. Well played.
Thank you
"I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind's problems. And I'm going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn't popular to talk about it in some circles today. I'm not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love, I'm talking about a strong, demanding love."
(Martin Luther King, Jr.)
There aren't words enough to describe how much this quote means to me.
Love: What's It To You?
In these latter days, when fundamentalist fever fuels political agendas, there's a lot of argument over the meaning of the word "love". You love your dog, you love creme brulee, you love walking in the rain, you love Yakima's Mandarin Hefeweizen. You love but aren't IN love, love passionately, love platonically, physically but not emotionally. I use it everyday. In fact I have it for the shoes I'm wearing right now. But using it so casually cheapens the sentiment when I say it to my parents as they help me out with car insurance again or to my sister when she loans me half her wardrobe just because I asked. So I gotta wonder - what does it really mean to me?
My "Love" is old-fashioned and out-dated, so they say. Its foundation was formed long before anyone could ever try to define it. It's dismissed as absurd and ridiculous, then mocked for outrageous claims. It's too "exclusive" they say and impossible to accurately follow. What I believe Love to be is "too simple" and yet somehow too vast to even attempt to comprehend. It's been called fluff, prejudiced, judgmental, hypocritical, malicious, improbable and stupid.
Real Love, however, can only be understood - truly grasped and absorbed - when It's consumed you; when you've give up and given in to It. When I hear the word "Love" I think of crawling on bloodied hands and knees, tears streaking down my cheeks and a heart broken from disappointment, confusion, guilt, fear and shame. I remember bones weary from carrying the weight of my world, trying to be something and failing over and over again. When I think of Love, I'm thinking about where I've been, where I am and where I still have yet to go.
Love isn't an emotion felt when the climate is perfect. I'm not interested in a feeling that's at the mercy of what I do or what someone else does for me. Love isn't dependent upon external circumstances. When I talk about Love I know It isn't waiting on me to do or say something right.
"We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him."
Love is a cross on a hill. Love is blood and sweat mingled on a forehead. Love is 39 lashes. Love is a spear in the side. Love is an unfair trial. Love carried the crossbeam, took nails through hands and feet, was mocked, spat upon and humiliated. It's not pretty, It's not easy, It's not simple and It isn't for the queasy or faint of heart. Love hurts and requires you to step up and live it no matter what. Love asks for personal sacrifice, almost certain failure, overwhelming risk, blind faith, and incredible, superhuman strength. Love will devour every ounce of life in you and demand more. It's unrelenting, never-ending and incessant. In a booming voice, Love commands you to relinquish everything you have.
But in the end It prevails. Love rose above the cross, above disrespect, hate, ignorant fear and selfish desires. Love took hate, Roman torture, humanity's iniquities and a crucifixion and 2000 years later It still stands strong. Love did not ask your permission to die for your sins. It did it anyway.
Love, to me, is so much more than pretty words and phrases. Love is overwhelming, soul-stealing, breath-taking, freeing.
Do you have what it takes to truly understand Love? To live It out in your own life? Because whether you want to admit it or face it, Love is waiting for you. And Love doesn't care where you are, where you've been or what you're doing. It doesn't care how many drinks you've had, what substances are pumping through your veins or whose bed you crawled out of last night. Love doesn't see your complexion or your weight or how many friends you have on myspace. Love wants you 90 pounds overweight, out on a street corner, stealing money from your mom, face-down drunk, lonely, popular and suicidal. Love just wants you.
I guess the question is, do you want Love?
stolen from Steve: Things I Think
Black coffee reminds me of airports.
I haven't listened to a song by Matt Nathanson that I haven't immediately fallen in love with. And yet I've never heard anything from him on the radio. I find this really odd.
Trust is the centerpoint of a passionate and real romance - not sex, not affection. You could never fully give your heart to someone unless you were able to have complete faith in what they say and do.
I really, really, really, really love Pandora. Like really.
I hate bad grammar. I'm not particularly fond of cats. But hot damn, I effing love cat macros.
"Peace (A Communion Blessing)" by Rich Mullins can still calm me down within the first one and a half seconds.
You know what, I probably am going to lose more weight, so stop asking me.
I hate the new NKOTB song and for some reason, that makes me really sad. I feel like I need to apologize to my 9 year old self.
No, two months isn't very long. What's your point?
The more "right" something feels, the more overboard you are likely to go. Balance becomes that much more important the closer things come to "perfect".
Someone keeps stealing my pens at work. This is the third time I've specifically ordered a dozen RSVP Fine Point black ball point pens and if they disappear again, I'm setting up cameras.
Not liking this
Knowing he feels so awful makes me feel awful.
Not being able to do anything is driving me insane. Just sitting here, hundreds of miles away, thinking about him being miserable is so distracting. I can't concentrate on anything.
Is that pathetic?
I never realized I could be so wrapped up in another human being. He tells me all the time that he's not happy unless I'm happy and I've always agreed. But this is the first time it's been for an extended period.
It's also the first time I haven't been able to actively make him feel better. I feel oddly helpless and out of control, which I am so not used to.
This is love, I guess. Not one of the fun parts, but definitely love.
Until Monday
I dislike going this long without really talking to him.
No one's fault. Certainly not his - he didn't choose to get sick and he can't help his work schedule.
It's hard enough being on the other side of the country but it's even worse when you can't connect.
I just miss him.
Still glad he's feeling better, though, and I hope he gets a chance to rest while gone - God, he needs that more than anything.
... but yeah. I miss him.
What a fun weekend
One of the most interesting things about God is how unpredictable He is.
After such an incredible weekend together just seven days ago, this past one was kinda terrible.
Things started out bad and then just got worse. I always wish I wasn't on the other side of the country, but I can't help but think it would have been extremely nice to have been just a short car ride away from him for a number of reason on Saturday and Sunday.
Visit numero dos
It baffles me as to why I find it so difficult to put into words the more amazing things in my life.
I take pride in my writing ability and yet all I can come up with to describe my weekend in Connecticut with Drew is "EFFING AMAZING!" and then I'm disappointed in myself because not only is it lacking in my normal eloquence and class, but it really pales in comparison to all I experienced.
We didn't do anything. No sightseeing or touristy crap other than a little bit of NYC on Monday before I flew out of JFK and some of Greenwich - it was just us. So when people ask how the trip was and what I did... it's hard to answer. Because it was (without an ounce of insincerity or exaggeration) the best weekend of my life but there wasn't much accomplished other than... Drew. And I relished every moment. We had a couple of really good dinners (one marred by some unnecessary drama, but oh well), watched a movie, cuddled a lot, laughed even more and kissed even more than that. I was ready to stay forever.
But then again, that's the plan. :)
He'll be back in AZ the end of May and I'll go to Cleveland to meet his family sometime during the summer. He goes to Italy for work in June and I don't know what I'm going to do with myself if I can't text or talk to him every half hour.
Perhaps the best way to put it is to say that this is absolutely unlike anything I've ever felt before. This is worth holding onto - with both hands.
Dos
One visit less than a week behind us and we've got the second one set.
I fly out after work next Friday and arrive sometime around 9:30pm CT time.
There's way too much to do between now and then. It shortens my birthday-gift-planning-and-getting time by a week! In order to save on postage I'm going to take it with me rather than mail it but that means it's gotta be done by the 2nd rather than the 9th.
Tentative plans are already set for his second, third and fourth visits to AZ - end of May, beginning of June and then the beginning of July.
I'm petrified of the flight - really and truly. I've never flown for that long in my life so I'm already looking into my options (READ: drugs). But I'm excited for about a bazillion different things on the other end:
1. I get to hear him play. Live. Not over my voicemail (although come on, is that not the most romantic thing you can possibly imagine in the 21st century?) and not over my iPod. This alone would make the knuckle-whitening, nail-biting, pants-wetting flight worth it.
2. Seeing his home. I dunno - this just makes me happy.
3. Meeting people in his life. (He got along far too well with Amy and Stef...)
4. Spending another 60+ straight, uninterrupted hours with him. Yeah, I'd pretty much go to the moon for that.
...I can't believe I'm going to admit this out loud (...on screen?) but Amy and I were talking about weddings a couple nights ago and she pulled up "her" dress. So today at work I actually got on The Knot and looked at dresses for the first time in.... ever. Well, at least the first time where it ever meant anything.
...if that doesn't jinx this, nothing will.
(this blog is turning into my sappy love chronicles... oy.)
Visit Numero Uno
I've never met anyone that I have this much fun with on every single level. It's weird and almost completely terrifying. I think with Jeremy I was comforted by the fact that we had some flaws - so many disconnects. It's almost uneasy to be with someone you fit together with perfectly. At least for me.
There's this constant need to be touching him - not sexually or inappropriately. Just being close. Holding hands in the car, touching arms under the table, calling me out of my room just to hug me... he's insanely and unreasonably cute.
Most of the time we spent runs together in one crazy clump - the only real activities we planned were a nice dinner at the Royal Palms' T. Cooks restaurant, pictures with Amy and church. Almost all three days were just random hours of undivided attention. I'd say, though, that we split our time equally between laughing and kissing. It was beyond wonderful.
It's go time people
24 hours.
Longest 24 hours of my life.
Huff! Get here already, 11pm tomorrow night!
Oh, the things we do
I've been having a bad day.
When one of us is going through something rough, The Boy and I always give the offer of "What can I do?" followed by "No, seriously - be selfish for once" and then usually "Just let me do something, damnit!" We're getting better, though, at asking for things that we know the other person can easily and willingly give.
So I told him I wanted pictures.
Of his pedicure.
Because while I'm at work, he's getting his first pedicure. I'd be jealous if this wasn't how the texting went:
"It hurts!"
Me: "But think of how pretty you'll look!"
"Holy crap! it kills!"
Me: "Beauty is pain, dearling."
"Hahaha... i love you, but this sucks"
I haven't heard anything after that. I think he probably passed out.
An elaboration
Years ago, in the midst of some very average, normal break-ups, a friend and I discussed what it was, exactly, that went wrong. Far from anything earth-shattering, she proposed the very average, normal suggestion that it just "wasn't right" - but then also spawned a ranking system that we've run with ever since.
So often we're tempted to see someone's potential as a human being and use it as their potential as a mate. We force things that don't fit because we know how wonderful they are "in general," even if it isn't what we're particularly crazy about ourselves.
I've been known to settle before. I've had loves where I sacrificed some passion for incredible kindness and respect; in another I let go of the latter out of desire for the former. Both were wonderful and I wouldn't trade a second of either one, but that doesn't change the reality of the situation - it was never going to feel "right" without the right balance of both.
Never have I settled for anything less than maybe 97%. I don't spread myself out much and I've been selective - because of that I've always come thisclose to the edge... without falling. That one or two per cent doesn't seem daunting until you're faced with forever. You can spend endless nights goofing around or making out with a 99% but you can't grow old or imagine waking up, day after day, with him. It may be a measly 1/100 but that's the specific "1" that allows you to say "...Yeah, no one else. Ever." Anyone who gives his or her heart away without that 1% is an idiot.
I've confused excitement with certainty, but I compromised certain things because I really wanted "rightness" when what I had was "newness". It's not a huge shock (but a shock, still) to realize that the real thing isn't all butterflies and gut-punches (although, hot damn, there are enough of those, too...). No, it's a fair amount of security and stability, too and a sudden clear idea of what a future with someone else might look like. Not just sexy, candle-lit dinners, vacations to Europe and waking up in his shirts; it's morning breath, badly timed headaches and working late. Ninety-nine per cent wouldn't be worth all that. But 100%... well, that 1% makes all the difference. It's not that you can "put up with" their morning breath - it just doesn't even become a consideration. At 100% you can't imagine why something like that would matter.
The difference between 95 and 98 per cent will seem miniscule. In reality, most will be interchangable because they all come down to one unalterable fact - it wasn't right. Because of that, the chasm between 99 and 100 percent is HUGE. You'll have several "almosts" and hundreds of "potentials" but... how often do you find someone who you'd rather fight with than hear a million sweet words from someone else?
It just doesn't happen....
Not often, at least.
:)
New relationships aren't easy
Nothing else is capable of making sure you understand yourself, though, quite like the view from someone else's eyes, especially when it happens to matter a great deal what that someone thinks of you. You start to realize that your shortcomings might not be so easily overlooked and your quirks might not be quite so endearing. I wish I was a faster learner; I wish the first month didn't have to be marked with a lot of pain and miscommunication. This is where the rubber meets the road, folks.
At the same time, there is nothing quite like coming home to this:
There's never been a time in my life when I've been good at telling how I feel.
More often than not it's because I'm a friggin' pussy, too afraid of putting myself out there.
Then sometimes I think it's also because I honestly don't know what to say and everything I could possibly come up with falls short.
Yeah, I'm scared. But this is also one of those times when I'm not sure my vocabulary is wide enough to come up with the words my heart would require.
I love you, baby.
