Tuesday, July 28, 2009

yet this I call to mind...

Once upon a time, my days were not so intense.

Once upon a time, I didn't feel like I needed to take a lap around the perimeter of my house just to "lighten" my own mood.

Ree-diculous.

And frankly my dears, it's getting frickin' old.

Misunderstand me not, however. I am noticing the tiny pieces of something good that fall around me occasionally. And O, how grateful I am for them. Little shards of hope scattered about my feet, sticking like snowflakes to the ends of my hair or clumping up in the "waterproof" (a term I use quite loosely) mascara making its way to the ends of my eyelashes and even sliding down my face more times a day than I'd like...

*sigh* One day, I'll never have to do this again.

One day, I'll be whole. It won't be such a struggle. It won't be war anymore.

And I can finally take this armor off.

**********************************************

Burned another 300 calories tonight on that elliptical-machine-from-hell. I'm determined to be a champion over that thing. Even if it costs me all my limbs... and at this point, that's pretty much what it sounds like it will cost...

I need to be more consistent with that. Ahh, the day I burn 500 calories in one trip... I press on!

Or I pass out.

*lol* That's Biblical, right?

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And now, for the newest addition to my sad attempt to be consistent:
The Top 10 Songs I'm Presently Obsessed With:

1. "Element" by Matthew Mayfield (you love this song, whoever you are, I promise)

2. "Open Road" also by Matthew Mayfield

3. "Falling" by The Civil Wars (located at www.myspace.com/thecivilwars) all their stuff is amazing...

4. "Beloved One" by Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals

5. "Love, Reign O'er Me" by Pearl Jam (located on the Reign Over Me soundtrack)

6. "The Mess I Made" by Parachute (you also love this song)

7. "The Ballad of Love and Hate" by The Avett Brothers

8. "Poison & Wine" by The Civil Wars

9. "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" by Colin Hay

10. *drumroll* "How He Loves" by John Mark McMillan (for once, I actually think David Crowder should have left this one alone...)

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And I realize just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me...


Monday, July 27, 2009

if you find the key, would you set me free?

How do I speak of today? I choose...

an email. Sent to my sweet friend, Andrea.

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Hi, ma'am.

It is high time we hang out. This is getting ridiculous. I feel like I haven't seen you in 6 years. And that's just way too long. Seriously.

I've been thinking about what books I need to send you. I haven't been reading as much recently as I probably should. I'm just so worn out. The driving back and forth to this job is about to kill me, though it is the only real "alone" time that I have. It just doesn't seem to cut it, you know? Plus I have SO much more going on in my life right now that sucks my bubble, I constantly wake with one half full and just try to keep it above par. I hate that. But I guess it's just the way it is right now, you know? This is the part of the story that gets hard to read. Like, maybe something's going to happen after this, maybe it's not. Will it just fade out? Will there be a surprise plot twist? Will a hero return? Or die? Or will there be a hero at all?

*shrug* Yes, I've begun to think of my life as this long, detailed Austen-novel-meets-creative-
non-fiction story. It's really quite fascinating. And who knows, maybe a book will come out of it after all... What can I call it? It has yet to be determined. Maybe that's a title in itself: TBD.

I wish you had taken that Theology and the Literary Imagination course with us with Dr. Mitchell. I'm still living under some of the unbelievably profound things that he said at least 85 million times per class period...one of them being that our eternal life has already started, "We're just carrying around our death on us right now."

Never in my life would I have truly felt that to the marrow of my bones. Not even then. I got it, in my head, but it didn't resonate and bounce around my imagination and my understanding and my emotions until this part of the story. And who would think that letting go of the death that you're just damn near sure built you would be such a daunting and grievous task? Because in comparison to the death I've been carrying, Life should feel so liberating. It should be something that calls me at my core and dispells fear and doubt without any effort. But it doesn't. It calls, yes. But it calls from so far it seems...it seems it's not even for me at all. You know?

Point of my long, drawn out story - - Jesus and I are going through times. Feels a little like marriage counseling, if I'm being honest. Makes me tired. Makes me sad, too. Because sometimes I am consumed with such fear about analyzing and cleaning out these parts of myself that have been so...wounded... I'm so consumed with that fear for a number of reasons, but the most are so easily out-rationalized. Which makes me more miserable. I should know (and I do, rationally and theologically) that all I have to do is approach and ask Him for help. To save me. To remember me. To breathe into me. To find me...

But I can't seem to bring myself to do it.

And of course, I feel ridiculous for not being able to do it. But when it comes down to the core reason why I just can't... it's simple unbelief. I can't bring myself to ask...because I could not bear for Him to tell me no.

What if He doesn't come for me? What if I just float and sink or fall between cracks, as I have in nearly every other aspect of my existence? What if there is no story at all?

What if there is just this wandering character... with no direction...no plot...no development. Just a space filler. An accident.

I know it's not true. I do. In my heart, I know that I carry a ring. It's my job to take it to the end...to throw it into that fire. To be rid of it. To do something important for the course of redemptive history... I know He wills that for me.

Sometimes I just can't feel it... I can't feel anything but how oppressively heavy this ring is.

And those are hard days.

*sigh*

Anyway, that's pretty much my little bruised heart these days. I am seeking rest. I never thought I'd be too tired to even believe Truth...as I do love Truth so. But I am too tired to believe.

And here's the sweetest part of this entire experience.

I don't even have to. Because He will do it for me. All who wander are not, in fact, lost.

How He loves us so...

So, in happier news, I visited a church in Birmingham this past weekend that was maybe one of the greatest experiences I've had in awhile. I HIGHLY recommend you looking up David Platt (from The Church at Brook Hills in Birmingham, AL) and listening to the past 4 messages (I think the first starts with The Mystery of Mercy or something like that). He does a 4 week series on the book of Ruth. And it was...

unbelievable.

I wept through all 4 messages. It took zero music, zero atmosphere. Sitting on my bed with my Bible open and listening to him teach. Weeping. It was so encouraging. You will love it. I can promise that.

I know you feel "up in the air." I know that feeling. I believe the great philosopher Dr. Seuss calls it "The Waiting Place." Not easy. And there's not really anything that I could say to you that would shed light in that place, I think. At least there aren't any words for me... but I do know that while your in that little patch of darkness, I may not be standing right next to you, but I'm out there. So consider this an official waving of my tiny candle "I'm over here!! You aren't by yourself!" And you by no means are failing ANYTHING.

No such thing. Go on and cut that chord.

I can't wait to see you.

I'll bring the tea.

-meg

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Just trying to find a home.
Take me home.
Cause we're tired of changing.
Our heartbeats are fading.
Our days are numbered.
The clocks, they keep ticking...

...We look in the mirror
It shatters with shame...

...I have seen Who You are
I have seen what I am
And we are desperate, we're desperate, we're desperate

Lay me down on
Shores of the widest sand
Soft like that woman
With the fight of a thousand men




Sunday, July 12, 2009

just take me away from all that I am...

“Well, anyway, I looked up and saw the very last thing I expected: a huge lion coming slowly towards me. And one queer thing was that there was no moon last night, but there was moonlight where the lion was. So it came nearer and nearer. I was terribly afraid of it. You may think that, being a dragon, I could have knocked any lion out easily enough. But it wasn't that kind of fear. I wasn't afraid of it eating me, I was just afraid of it - if you can understand. Well, it came close up to me and looked straight into my eyes. And I shut my eyes tight. But that wasn't any good because it told me to follow it.”
“You mean it spoke?”
“I don't know. Now that you mention it, I don't think it did. But it told me all the same. And I knew I'd have to do what it told me, so I got up and followed it. And it led me a long way into the mountains. And there was always this moonlight over and round the lion wherever we went. So at last we came to the top of a mountain I'd never seen before and on the top of this mountain there was a garden - trees and fruit and everything. In the middle of it there was a well.
“I knew it was a well because you could see the water bubbling up from the bottom of it: but it was a lot bigger than most wells - like a very big, round bath with marble steps going down into it. The water was as clear as anything and I thought if I could get in there and bathe it would ease the pain in my leg. But the lion told me I must undress first. Mind you, I don't know if he said any words out loud or not.
“I was just going to say that I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast their skins. Oh, of course, thought I, that's what the lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I was a banana. In a minute or two I just stepped out of it. I could see it lying there beside me, looking rather nasty. It was a most lovely feeling. So I started to go down into the well for my bathe.
“But just as I was going to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were all hard and rough and wrinkled and scaly just as they had been before. Oh, that's all right, said I, it only means I had another smaller suit on underneath the first one, and I'll have to get out of it too. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled off beautifully and out I stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well for my bathe.
“Well, exactly the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how ever many skins have I got to take off? For I was longing to bathe my leg. So I scratched away for the third time and got off a third skin, just like the two others, and stepped out of it. But as soon as I looked at myself in the water I knew it had been no good.
“Then the lion said - but I don't know if it spoke – ‘You will have to let me undress you.’ I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it.
“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know - if you've ever picked the scab off a sore place. It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Edmund.
“Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off - just as I thought I'd done it myself the other three times, only they hadn't hurt - and there it was lying on the grass: only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I as smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me - I didn't like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I'd no skin on - and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I'd turned into a boy again. You'd think me simply phoney if I told you how I felt about my own arms. I know they've no muscle and are pretty mouldy compared with Caspian's, but I was so glad to see them.
“After a bit the lion took me out and dressed me –“
“Dressed you. With his paws?”
“Well, I don't exactly remember that bit. But he did somehow or other: in new clothes - the same I've got on now, as a matter of fact. And then suddenly I was back here. Which is what makes me think it must have been a dream.”
“No. It wasn't a dream,” said Edmund.
“Why not?”
“Well, there are the clothes, for one thing. And you have been - well, un-dragoned, for another.”
“What do you think it was, then?” asked Eustace.
“I think you've seen Aslan,” said Edmund.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader – Chapter 7