Sparrow Friend

This little dude came to visit me today at work. On a Friday, no less! That’s dedication.

I don’t know if it’s sparrow season or what, but these guys have popped on by almost every day this week. What’s fun is that my windows are tinted, so I think they think they’re looking at themselves. Or somebird just like them. So I get get really close to them. And, well, I’ve decided that sparrows look pretty raggedly up close.

Epiphany

It’s been six months since our miscarriage, and without question, it’s been some of the toughest, confusing, frustrating, painful six months of my life. I’ve never felt more emotionally raw and unstable. I beat myself up for being weepy, for not being in control of my emotions. Every day, my mood is different.

Come to find out, this is all very normal.

A couple days ago, I think I made some progress in at least figuring out how to classify my feelings, and how to treat them. I think I need to look at this event, this time in my life, the same way I see the sexual harassment I went through in Bangladesh. I will always have those scars; they are a part of me. I don’t let that rule my life; and I’ve gotten enough distance (and counselling) that what happened doesn’t control me. But those scars will always be there.

I just need to be patient with myself, and recognize that I won’t “get over” what happened six months ago. That will always be with me. The pain will probably diminish over time, but it will always be there. Another scar.

I’ve found a lot of comfort in Hannah’s story in 1 Samuel. I understand the crying, the yearning. And of course, the way her husband is depicted is beautiful: “Am I not worth more to you than 10 sons?” It’s so cool to see an intimate picture of a man loving his wife unconditionally. And the Bible talks about God as One who cares for women who want to have children but can’t. (Psalm 113:9, Isaiah 54:1).

One night last week, I drove to a nearby lake at sunset.

Driftwood is awesome. Within death, decay, and being beaten by the elements, there is beauty.

Indiana is pretty.

Gold Stars

I’ll admit it, I’m still struggling with feelings of antsy-ness, of wondering if my place is elsewhere. I wonder if what I’m doing in Marion matters in the grand scheme of things. I wonder if I’m just getting by, not really accomplishing anything. It’s silly, I kn0w, because I’m very much blessed with a great job, nice house, and awesome hubby.

But I want to KNOW that I’m doing something worthwhile, and that I’m not missing out on something I SHOULD be doing!

I was talking about it with a colleague at work today, and he mentioned that Jesus seemed to pay more attention to the day, to the moment, than to the future. When He taught His discples to pray, He said, “Give us this day our daily bread.” And in Matthew 6:34, He said, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day as enough troubles of its own.”

It’s an interesting thought. It seems to show me that God is more concerned about us dedicating each day, each moment to Him than presenting Him a laundry list of awesome things we’ve accomplished or amazing places we’ve been. No big surprise there, I guess. “All our righteous acts are as filthy rags…” Allowing God to use our skills and abilities for His glory is one thing, expecting Him to be impressed with them is quite another.

But my earthly mindset likes to shift into check-out-what-I’ve-done-and-what-I-plan-to-do mode. I define success by those lists. By the things I’ve checked off, the gold stars I’ve gotten.

It gets exhausting, chasing after those gold stars.

Back to Real Life

Now that a major WGM event, holiday time around the 4th, helping my parents move across the country, hanging out with my best friend, and coming down from all that high-ness is over, I guess I am supposed to get back to real life.

But I don’t wanna.

Here’s what I want to do: go live in Europe with my best buddy and her hubby. And I know I shouldn’t hold it against Marion, but there’s nothing here that is remotely like that imaginary life.  It’s not Marion’s fault.

So, here I am, missing my friend, missing a lifestyle I would love, and working on that good ‘ole contentment issue. And I really do love our life in Marion – love my job, the church, our friends here. It’s just…sometimes….especially when I’ve recently hung out with someone who knew me in “the old country” that I feel like wandering into the nearest cornfield (about 50 feet away) and staring into the horizon, with all the places I’ve lived flipping through the slide show of my brain (I’m poetic today) and wondering where God will take us next.

And that’s when that quote from Up pops in my mind: “Thanks for the adventure! Now go have a new one!”

Okay, silly cartoon man. I will.

Love

Last night, Steve and I sat around a pit fire with a group of friends in Upland. As twilight grew and the fire burned brighter, our conversation shifted to talking about love and dating. We laughed at each others’ funny relationship stories, wondered about love lost, and talked about finding The One.

It got me thinking about what being in love means. I only dated one other guy before Steve, and even though our relationship was short – only five or six months – and I was young (18), I’m pretty sure I thought I was in love. But I think that was the only words I had to explain it. Now, of course, I have the benefit of seven years of marriage that have given me a fuller picture of what love really means. (And I’m sure in 50 years I’ll look back on me now and be like, “Pshaw! Did I really think I knew what love was!?”)  But at the time, I think I really thought I had fallen in love.

But here’s the thing: I think love is a choice. I choose to love Steve, and I choose to act lovingly towards him. And beyond marriage – I can choose to treat people with love and respect…or I can choose to be selfish.

So when we talk about “falling in love” – where does that fit in? That denotes that you couldn’t help it; it was a visceral reaction. Maybe it’s a way of explaining the mystery of love, maybe with just a shadow of the wonder of Christ’s love for us.

At church last week, my pastor talked about the church being the bride of Christ. Absolutely amazing imagery, and as he went through various common wedding traditions, explaining how they relate back to the picture of Christ as the Bridegroom, I was constantly going back and forth between tears of gratitude for Christ’s love, and cynical wonderings about why God chose the symbol of a patriarchal marriage ceremony. There was talk of the groom “leading” the bride, and how it was so important for her to publicly announce her purity…. that double standard always has bugged me. And okay – I realize all marriages are different – but Steve doesn’t “lead” me! We do things together, with mutual respect and love.

Whatever. Anyhoo, I do appreciate the fact that God – in all His majesty and glory – chose a very human and “earthy” way to relate to the Church. There are implications to this symbol that I do not understand fully. But it’s a wonderful picture of an approachable God who really and truly loves and wants to have a relationship with His Church. And that, my friend, is pretty darn cool.