When It Happens To You- Written 06/28/07

For some, life is a production. Everything must be just so before anyone is allowed to see it. Scenes are carefully rehearsed, costume and makeup are immaculate, and all culminates to a grand finale: success, marriage, sometimes death.

For others, life is an illusion. A trick of the light, a sleight of the hand. The setup, the catch, the reveal. They sit in the audience and ponder how the trick works and how they can duplicate it.

Still others see life as a challenge, an adventure. Always a mountain to climb, a river to ford, a cave to explore. And when they reach the top, the opposite bank, come out the other side, they breathe deeply for a moment, enjoy their victory, and then push on toward the next obstacle to overcome.

And then there's my life.

I don't have the self-control to plan the production, the tenacity to figure out the illusion, or the willpower to forge toward the next challenge with astonishing enthusiasm. For my kindreds and me, life is something else entirely.

It is a broken spotlight during the love song, a slipped card from the sleeve of the magician, an avalanche 20 feet from the summit. Like an old mystery book with the final chapter missing, of a puzzle with only a few lost pieces, life seems to constantly build up our hopes only to cruelly dash them against a cliff wall.

We tragic few seem doomed to always be let down at critical moments. Through no fault of our own, events that, in the life of another, seems to always work out for the best, tend to go awry and leave us clutching at what little we can hold. We hope for nothing more than just the ability to stand our ground and not be swept away by the crashing waves of happenstance.

They tell us to take charge of our own lives, but when we try, that control is brutally wrested away. So we run. We leave to start afresh, hoping that we can then perhaps control the reigns of this runaway stallion called Life. But alas, circumstance is a wicked master that will not lightly set up free. So our struggle continues, always grasping, holding, running, letting go.

C'est la vie.

"Blogging is like taking an emotional crap and flushing it into the sewers of cyberspace."

Yes, that's mine. Came up with it all on my own.

The Torn Soul Hides in Dark Corners

"Laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best ending for one."
- The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

I just had a relationship end. It didn't end with laughter. Or at all well. Rather unhappy words were exchanged and we said goodbye. Probably for good.

As I becry the loss of this short but fun-filled adventure, I can't help but sigh in detrition at the tally marks adding up. Yet another screwed-up attempt at romance. Yet another hurt heart.

When my emotions well up, I experience physical pain. My heart literally aches. And now, I feel the pressure building up in my chest, the sting behind the eyes. It feels as though my body mourns the loss as much as my soul does.

I know it's for the best that this is over. The timing wasn't right, the support wasn't there. Being female, I can't help but confide in my friends and compare stories, talk about relationships and what's going on. He didn't want me to talk to anyone about him.

Ever.

And I just can't commit myself to that. It's not a matter of taking him seriously, or of respect. It's a matter of how women are wired. They need to talk to each other. I need to talk. It's not gossip. It's sharing your life. It's how we connect- through relationships with other humans in the same plight.

"The things one feels absolutely certain about are never true. That is the fatality of Faith, and the lesson of Romance." - Dorian Gray

Just yesterday, I was thinking about the counseling that I went through at the beginning of the year. It did me a world of good. I thought about going back to see my counselor and telling her, "What wonderful progress I've made! I'm in a great relationship, and I'm acting like an adult and everything's going perfect!"

What is God trying to teach me here? It seems these lessons all end in me feeling more cynical than ever. If God is teaching me to guard my heart, He may as well just tell me to lock it away from everyone. People hurt you. Why bother with friendships, with conversation, with community? Inevitably, a piece of your heart will be given away, and when it's flung back at you with all the force of a decent fastball, you can only pick up the pieces and lock it away again.

Daddy, I'm tired of all this disappointment. What happened to abundant joy? What happened to a life of victory? I try to focus on You alone, but You also want me to love people. How can I do that without being hurt?

This is where it feels like Scripture fails me. In all the books written by men, it feels so logical. But I'm not a man. I can't function on logic all the time, and when God portrays Himself as a man through the Bible, I can't connect on that level. God made me female for a reason. But what, I wonder. It would be so much easier to shut off the fountains of emotion.

That's why I envy men.

Gaps In Her Smile

Dear Pauline,

I haven't known you for all that long. In fact, I've seen you only a handful of times. But it feels like you've been in my life forever.

The first time I met you, I noticed the two long white hairs poking out of your chin, the glasses that were too big for your face, the hat that didn't quite match your jacket, and your missing teeth. I didn't want you to touch me. I'm sorry for all that now.

I'm sad that I never knew you before your mind started to fade. They say you were beautiful. You are beautiful. You have thought I was many things. You thought I was Lizzy. You thought I was a mother. You thought I was a visitor. But then, near the end, something clicked in your head. You remembered me.

Maybe it was because you see my picture on your refrigerator every day. And Richard says, "That's Kathy. She's going to Africa, so we need to keep her in our prayers."

You asked me questions. Thoughtful questions referencing previous conversations. No one else noticed this improvement. I did.

Pauline, forty-nine years ago today you married Richard. He's still as much in love with you today as he was that day. I can see it in his eyes. You bore his children. You took care of him. Now he's returning the favor. He wipes the spittle from your lips. He fed you applesauce even though you wouldn't take it. He put pictures up around you in case you woke up.

You didn't wake up. You won't wake up until you're in the arms of Jesus. You're already halfway there. Your soul is leaving its shell and rising to union with your Savior! How exciting that must be!

I sang you a song today. You didn't hear it. But it was for you. Carolyn says you love music. She says you used to dance like an angel. Soon you'll dance with the angels.

I'm going to miss you, Pauline. You were a puzzle piece in my life that makes it that much more interesting. You're a beautiful example of redemption and grace.

With deepest love,
Kathy.

One of those people.

Ever had one of "those" People in your life? You know, the People that just tend to blurt out mean things. You think it's funny. As long as it's not pointed at you.

And then it kicks in.

You get a mean comment fired in your direction and it hits you dead on where it hurts. You feel immasculated. You feel impotent. You feel very small. And that time it's not so funny.

So here's where it get's fun.

You get hurt, That Person gives you some sort of noncommittal apology like, "I'm sorry you got offended," and then moves on. You're still hurt. But Those People have that crazy gift of being able to make you feel guilty for being angry with Them. So, They hurt you. You feel like a total jerk. Then you feel even more angry because you don't think you should feel like a jerk and it's not fair for That Person to guilt trip you when They hurt you.

So you then apologize to Them for acting like a jerk. And They apologize for what they actually said, or how it hurt you. Which is to say, why can't They just apologize sincerely to begin with and avoid the whole fiasco?

Are They really that codependent?

Snapshots of Life

The sparks flew high, leaping over the flames, climbing with the noxious fumes. Each one a tiny speck, glowing brightly from the heat of the fire, rose in sync with the blessed melody of praises, up to the nostrils of God, a sweet fragrance to Him. We sang from deep within our hearts. We laughed. God was there.
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"This Page Left Intentionally Blank."

Why is it?
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"Sing, my angel!" I whispered.
We erupted into laughter as the practice track's organ solo belted out riffs that sounded a little TOO much like The Phantom of the Opera. Choir is fun.
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"Kathy, do you think you will run into Jeff Corwin when you're in Kenya? Because he's there pretty often."

"Yes, Peter. I'm sure I'll run into him on a stakeout looking for albino lions or something. In the middle of the city."

"Well, he is in Nairobi fairly often. You know, I was watching Shark Week. It was quite fascinating. But I wish they wouldn't shovel all this ridiculous evolution garbage into it all the time."

(Peter is 10.)
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At church, sporting my new short haircut.
"You know, I'm just a long hair kind of guy," he said.
"Well, if you like it so much, you can grow it out," I patted him on the shoulder.
"It looks amazing," his younger brother said.
I blushed.
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"Mom, what's lapidary mean?"
"Lapis. Latin for Stone. Why?"
"Just curious. Saw it on a sign."
"Okay. I'm going to sleep now."
"Have fun."
"Yep."
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Things I say a million times a day:
Calm your body down.
That's not okay.
Use your words.
No tattling, please.
Yes, please or No, thank you.
You need to let the bug go.
I'm sad that you [insert offense here].
Do you need to go potty?
No, I won't be your mommy.
You're fine.
Do you think you'll live?
Come sit down by me.
You can get up now.
Go up the steps and down the slide.
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New insight.
Read Philippians 4:8.

Then read Psalm 19: 7-9.

Notice anything?

She looks to the sky

as if he is coming down through the clouds up above.
Though no one can see him, you cannot deny
She is drenched with his love.
She often walks alone.
Never is she lonely
You can offer her anything
Her affections are all for him only.

I'm pretty frustrated lately. With life. Remember the song, "Everything's coming up roses?" Yeah, well, it's not. Everything's coming up skunk cabbage and thistles and poison ivy.

All the day long she sings sweetly
She says he speaks to her mind
She's only rich with affliction
Yet a bitter word you won't find
-Sherri Youngward

I'm not the girl in the song. I cried last night. Hard. It think I needed it. I feel so stoic at the moment, but my fingers are itching to whine. I wrote three emails this morning, and they all felt like complaining.

Started reading a different book, not a novel. An academic book. It's keeping my mind occupied. Not the same song:

Where is the peace I used to know
A quiet feeling that all is well
I knew where to reach, to reach for your hand
Without you my world is my hell

Each day's the same as the one before
Escaping down stairwells collaged with the world
Each step seems to make the pain worse
Each passing sin I lose hold of you

I long to be home where your love lifts me up
I'm tired
Give me strength to carry on

Looking for love makes my heart want
You say seek and ye shall find
Will love be found if I open the door
How can I make this love mine
-Rivulet and Violets