I believe in a better way

Long car rides always give me ample time to think about life. Sometimes I hate that fact, and sometimes I embrace it. Today, I embraced it. I had the pleasure of riding to a town an hour away with my grandmothers. As grandmother's go, mine is logical, wise, and safe. Very safe. Like drive the speed limit when there are no cops around safe. So it was a long ride.

However, I love my grandmother. My grandmother is kind and compassionate and wise beyond belief. She instilled the most valuable lesson in my mother that has since been passed on to me. "Worry about the things you can change, but don't worry about the things you can't." Simple lesson; hard to apply.

At 20, understanding this world seems like such a hard task. I'm trying to understand it the best I can. Anne Lammott says that we are every age that we've ever been, and that truth has been well pronounced in these past weeks. I have gotten a job with the director of social services in my county. On a daily basis, I encounter stories about crazy people with crazy situations, and sometimes I feel like a wide eyed nine-year-old listening to the stories. Their stories break my heart, and I remember being in middle school and thinking about all of the people who needed a home and food in the city where my church was located. It broke my heart, just thinking about all of the need that was so close to where I was. Sixteen saw me in the country of Panama, in the mountains with the poorest of poor natives who lived in the smallest of spaces and worked for just dollars a week harvesting coffee. At ten I was in the slums of South Africa, conducting Vacation Bible Schools and eating of the hard earned food that the families worked so that we could enjoy. Just last year I walked through Western Kenya with Pastor Ben, talking about daily life, trying to communicate with what little of each others' language that we knew. I am every age that I have ever been.

Through these years I've begun to realize that everyone has pain in their lives. These crazy people with crazy stories operate with what little coping mechanisms they have, and often that coping consists of manipulation, deceit, cheating the system, or simply sleeping with any available human being. What else have they been taught? Sometimes those stories will come along when you see that someone has fought it out and come out on top, but so many of the stories I hear are a result of generations of poverty, poor mental health, and just simply poor living.

I feel so bad that people have to live like that. The pain in the world does break my heart, and I feel guilty and responsible. The responsible citizen in me recognizes my ability to help in any way I can, and that it truly is a responsibility. I feel guilty for living such a priveleged life. Some higher-ups may not view it as priveleged, but let me tell you: I am priveleged. I get to go to school (college! an education!) and I get to eat quality food on a daily basis. That food was not bought with food stamps and my housing is not payed for with government assistance. In fact, I have my own room! And I can travel! I can see the world, expand my horizons, realize my dreams. I haven't worked for the things I have, and I really should work harder. Am I grateful? Rarely. The quality of living that I have does not exclude me from the responsibility that I have to improve the quality of living for others. How can I be so priveleged and not share my love with others? How can I be so priveleged and not share my joy with others? My wealth?

So this crisis of responsibility is where I'm at. Everyone is in pain. The teenager you pass on the highway may be struggling with self esteem and weight issues because of the terrible standard her body is held to. She may be cutting or have an eating disorder. That man at the gym? Depression. Maybe that girl in front of you at the bank is facing bankruptcy. Perhaps the young man behind the counter at your favorite fast food restaraunt goes home to a mother who has a terminal disease and he's working to support his family. But other things, like a flat tire, a bad grade, a fight with a close friend, a breakup, a broken ankle, or just a bad day can affect all of us at one point or another. We're all hopping along with some sort of disability, some sort of handicap. None of us are perfect. At one point or another, one of our tires have gone flat and we've had to ride on a donut. That's sort of how I've begun to see the people in the world. Just cars with 3 good wheels and the fourth: a donut.

"God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both of their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them. 'If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom will become like the midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places' (Isaiah 58:9-11)." -Bono

Decisions

Yesterday and today have been a challenge, in many ways.

Thursday night came the event that I knew was coming. I broke up with 'the boy'. I feel so unemotional when I say that, but it came with so many emotions. Unfortunately, those emotions haven't come in the 'normal' way. I haven't cried, but instead, I've confined myself to the house and immediate vicinity for two days.

My mother is in California on business, and my friends aren't a few feet away as they normally are, so the television has been my friend. I've diagnosed myself with depression, but of course, I know what that feels like, having experienced it in the past. I've talked to him a few times, but there are so many elements of the breakup, I just feel like my brain is going around and around in circles.

Have you ever made a decision that, in all of the logical ways, should feel right but still doesn't? My friends have asked me if I feel like I did the right thing, and well, no, I don't. When I'm missing him and thinking about all of the good things I had, I regret the decision. When I'm wondering what he's doing and realizing that I could be on the phone with him talking about my day and feeling through my emotions with him, I regret the decision. When I think of our friends and the future I saw, I regret the decision. And I still very much love him and could see myself with him. I'm not angry with him. Like he said, I just didn't choose him. I didn't feel like I could. I felt like I needed this time not to feel smothered by a relationship, to express myself as Erin, and to become more of who I am already. But saying goodbye to this relationship feels like I somehow ripped a piece of me, a good piece of me away. But neither of us can rely on this relationship to define us.

So tomorrow I'll go back to work, and I hope there will be a few smiles and laughs waiting for me. But right now I'm watching Food Network nighttime, needing a shower, wanting to go to Wendy's and get some comfort food, and realizing that I still like my life.

Expansion

Growing and expanding.

That feeling that comes every once in a while, where my imperfect surface is being broken, and my person is being remolded. The hurtful growth, in which I realize imperfections about myself-serious imperfections, character flaws, prejudices, demons, and they make themselves clear and evident in every thought. And I seem to remember that somehow, somewhere, there is perfection. In the black dahlia that my mother planted outside, perfection of color, shape, and size. The depth and beauty of that flower is so powerful. In the rushing water of the pond in the backyard and the light green of a kitten's eyes, I find perfection. But not within my soul. And I try so hard to reach it, I try so hard to be mature, and complete.

I have this longing right now to be crazy. Being in a scholarship program that benefits me so much but whose requirements are set forth in a contract, which I sign, and I make the decision to not drink or participate in illicit activities makes college an interesting experience. On one hand, yes, I will be proud of my integrity in the end. I will be proud of my accomplishments and the fun I had without the assistance of beverages or substances, but I will wonder. And my 20s, well, I think they'll be fun. I have no doubt that they'll be fun. I was speaking with my boss today about a friend of hers who skipped out on her 20s, who missed an entire section of her life in order to start a family. And in her 40s, she went crazy. I don't want to do that. Yes, I have ambitions, dreams, crazy plans. But I want to have fun, and not look back on my life when I get older and wish I had done more crazy things.

So there's this boy-man. That I date. And kiss. You know, that kind. And he's textbook perfect for me. I love Africa, he grew up there. I like outdoorsey, crazy, tattood, understanding, kind, honest, intuitive, sensitive, caring, nurturing, understanding. He is all of those things. And it makes sense on paper. Right? But not. And here I am, in this awkwardness of home between years of college, and he's still in my college town. And he misses me. Misses me. And I find it hard to miss him in the way that miss someone you're in love with. I miss him in an "I wish you were around" kind of way, but not that longing.

I wonder a lot about that relationship. I am the perfect example of a product of divorce and afraid of commitment in every way. But shouldn't you be afraid of commitment if you are as young as I am? I have so many plans! I'm a feminist, a Christian, a volunteer, a leader, and a student. And oh, the world is full of possibilities! Why wouldn't I be afraid of "settling down"? I don't want to miss anything, and I don't want to have any regrets. Seize life, yeah? Does the ability to seize life include being able to juggle school, friends, a boyfriend, career opportunities, and so many other things that come with college life?

It's all so confusing.

how to save a life

Friday, May 11, 2007

it feels strange, this house. strange seems to describe my life lately. today, an ex (the ex) called me to apologize for events that occured over a year ago. apologizing for running away, for closing the door and never opening it, for being a coward. he said he had heard a song, those time capsules of our lives, and was reminded of me. my heart skipped a beat when i heard his voice on the voicemail. i had a feeling he was calling to apologize; i had expected it for a while. and i needed it. i needed that closure, and for him to hear in my voice that i was ok. that he was forgiven, that i understood, and that throughout all the hurt, i was ok. ok. really- healing and ok. i love that relationships can have so much depth that you never truly get over them. i think this person will live in my heart an memories forever. but he won't be my forever. he was my present at one point in my life, and i cherish the moments i had with him and the experience of falling in love with him, but he does not really know me now, like some do. he doesn't get it. so what happens when you grow up and you don't fit into one room of your parent's house? i struggled with the decision to come home, not because i don't love home or i don't get along with my mom, but because i need to seize the opportunities that i have to travel and experience things on my own, right? college is about all of that, and every summer during college should contain some sort of crazy travel. no. my spirit is seeking rest, and my mind and heart need solitude. i need to seek the Spirit, to long for it, to desire it like i have never desired anything in my life. this house, it represents that. just driving down the road feels like i'm going into solitude. resting by the pool today was good for my soul. it's hard to settle my mind- i want to learn to do that this summer, but the thoughts were good. i thought about how much it hurts not to be returning to kenya this summer, and how much i desire to serve people and what i want my life to look like. how do you describe the intense desire to be with people of another country to someone who has never experienced it? my summer in east africa was more than just an adventure. it was stretching, exhausting, and full of pain. but it built a fire in me, that has continued to burn. i served and was served, and i was humbled. humbled by so many experiences. seeing people who had given up the american dream to live with and serve people, seeing humble servants in the kenyans at brackenhurst, so willing to love and accept us, and the kenyans in western kenya, so ready for us to arrive and willing to share their homes and sacrifice time and money in order to make us comfortable. and my precious teammates. i am convinced that my God is the master of team making, because we fit together like a puzzle. i have seen the glory of God on the plains of the safari, in the eyes of a child who is truly worshipping, or just playing and being joyful. i have seen his glory revealed in a sunset, in the sounds of the kenyans singing, and in the sounds of our own a-cappela. the tears at the end of my summer were well earned. i did not want to get on that plane. and now, here. i am thinking about and praying for that next team. that team that god has miraculously, again, put together. he is humbling me in an entirely new way. 'erin, you can't go.' how hard is that? i want to be there, of course! i was adamant when i returned that i would be somewhere in africa this summer. but alas, i'm not. and god is working. right? he's here, in this crazy bedroom, in my quiet retreat, in the stillness of the night and the pain of the american. how i hate being an american sometimes! but then i am reminded to count my blessings. and that i will. this summer, i will choose happiness. i will choose quiet, and solitude, and peace, and the stillness of god. and i will choose to love people. but i will choose to care for myself and to care for my soul. to forgive myself of my shortcomings. to invite grace to come in. grace (eventually). choose happiness. oh, the depth of happiness and the richness of the soul.