Looking back

Yesterday for her birthday, I gave a good friend of mine the scrapbooking case that my (ex-)mother-in-law gave to me a very long time ago. Obviously I haven’t used it in years or even touched it besides to move it from one apartment to the next, because as I went through it to remove any personal items, I discovered that all of the pictures in there were Gavin’s. Mostly mission pictures, but some from BYU, some from his childhood, etc. – and I know that many of them mean a lot to him. I undoubtedly have the vast majority of his mission pictures, perhaps even all of them. So I emailed him tonight to make sure that he and his new wife and baby still live in the same house, our old house, before I send them off. I told him that I wouldn’t mind hearing how they’re doing if his wife is OK with that kind of contact yet, but if not, at least I’ll receive a response with the address.

It’s so strange to think about him, to look back on our life together – to remember that it wasn’t all bad, and that there were in fact many good things in our relationship. We could talk about anything (well, almost), and we had the same perspective on life. Neither of us subscribe to society’s way of thinking. We are both poets and dreamers. Maybe that’s why we didn’t work out. Maybe there has to be a more grounded person in the relationship – one person to keep their feet on the ground while the other continuously reaches for the sky. In any case, I know that both of us are far better off in our new lives – and goodness, how different mine looks now – but it still makes me a little sad to think about the times when we were happy and in love. To be honest, I’m afraid. Love continues to hurt me, and yes, my heart always heals, but I don’t want to hurt anymore.

Waiting

One day a little while ago, I was in my car waiting to turn left out of my neighborhood. The road onto which I was waiting to turn is small, with only one lane in each direction, but fairly well traveled. As is often the case, just as one lane would clear, more cars would appear and zoom past in the opposite direction (and there is no suicide lane). Although I was of course eager to proceed with my journey, I wasn’t necessarily in any particular hurry, and so I really didn’t feel like racing out in front of anybody. As more cars kept materializing on the road, however, I wondered if maybe I wouldn’t have any other choice. But I thought some more and decided that I would wait after all, no matter how long it took. Just then, as I sighed and resigned myself to being there for possibly quite a while, the road cleared. There wasn’t a car in sight. Surprised, I checked both directions again – still clear – and then pulled out.

It seems that when we decide to wait for what’s best for us, and trust that it actually will happen, that it does.

Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown!

I found the soundtrack for A Charlie Brown Christmas at Starbucks tonight for $4.99 – and with my discount, it came out to like $3.76. That gave me little niggles of happiness. I’ve been listening to it in my car ever since. So what if it’s March?

If we had a house

If we had a house, you and I
We could sit and watch TV all day
And never work and always play
‘Til the moon was high in the nighttime sky.

We could have cookies and ice cream and cake
And never eat any of those yucky greens
Like spinach and sprouts and broccoli and green beans
And definitely none of that meatloaf Mom makes.

Oh, life would be grand in our house for two
We’d never have to worry about picking up toys
And never get yelled at to keep down the noise
There wouldn’t be anything we couldn’t do!

But wait – what if you or I got sick?
Remember when your tummy hurt last week?
Or when my throat was sore and I couldn’t speak?
Oh, I know, I know – I know just the trick!

I would bring you ginger ale
And you could feed me soup in bed
And put your hand against my head
And tell me, My, you look so pale!

And we’d feel better right away
And go outside to play some more
With no homework or dishes or other chores -
No worries for us, just fun every day.

Raining

It’s raining somewhere.

I can sense it… see it.

Sullen grey clouds reflected in a lonely pond stirred only by the timid patter of raindrops, as forlorn as tears wept for a lost love;

A violent frenzy of wind and storm -
Hard, angry sheets of water lashing against windows, trees -
Venting fury in a dark rage;

Temperate showers of life-giving nourishment, gently soaking into the parched ground, quenching the earth’s deep thirst -

Which is it?

For destruction or healing? Joy or sorrow? Death or rebirth? Time past, or time to come?

P.S. …

“[A sonnet] is a very strict form of poetry, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“There are fourteen lines, I believe, all in iambic pentameter. That’s a very strict rhythm or meter, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And each line has to end with a rigid rhyme pattern. And if the poet does not do it exactly this way, it is not a sonnet, is it?”
“No.”
“But within this strict form the poet has complete freedom to say whatever he wants, doesn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“So…”
“So what?”
“Oh, do not be stupid! You know perfectly well what I am driving at!”
“You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?”
“Yes. You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself. What you say is completely up to you.”

- Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time

Our lives do differ from the strict form of the sonnet in one important aspect… unlike the sonnet, which has a universal form, each of our lives has its own unique form within which we must write. How could the Maker of worlds, the Lord of all that is, weave His beautiful and eternal Creation if all of His threads were exactly alike? He knew what we were to be:

5 Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.

- Jeremiah 1:5

He fashioned us by His own design and guides our lives under His gentle, omnipotent hand. And yet within His work, we have the ability to choose happiness, kindness, love, sorrow, anger, apathy…

Each of us is so unique. We may have many similiarities with another, with many others, but we each have a certain combination of traits, experiences, values, life situations, that makes us wholly unlike anyone else. And for that reason, we can have such different responses to the same things… different perspectives… different priorities… different ways of healing. What one person enjoys may be entirely depressing to someone else, while yet another person may find that it brings hope.

It’s easy to lose hope, isn’t it? It’s easy to narrow our focus and see only today’s pain and grief and confusion. But the Master keeps weaving His tapestry, and life goes on. There are so many threads… so many lives… so many others, different from us and yet not so different, all joined together in this Creation… all searching and wondering and living.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times

The above phrase never before made much sense to me – or perhaps I never really thought about it. But you can’t experience one extreme without the other. It’s the things that mean the most to us that also frustrate us the most, and no one can make us more angry or sad than that person who also brings us the most happiness and peace. For instance, I was thinking about our drive-through at Starbucks today. Go to McDonald’s or Taco Bell, and you’ll (more than likely) receive some monotone greeting and emotionless service. Most people at McDonald’s or Taco Bell really aren’t passionate about their jobs. But while working the drive-through at Starbucks, I often laugh and joke around with customers as I take their orders – and on the other hand, there are also times when I can barely talk because I’m trying not to cry. I experience a broader range of emotions at Starbucks than I have at any other job, because I care so much about what I do. And along those lines, while people are important to me in general, some of course mean more to me than others, and those people – the ones who know me best and see my worst faults as well as my best strengths – have more influence over me than anyone else. Vulnerability has its disadvantages… but the rewards are worth the pain.

Searching

Why do I worry about things over which I have no control? Why do I sorrow when I have so much cause to rejoice? Why do I miss something that I have not yet lost – and how is it not losing something when I cannot keep it – and why can I not remember that I am not losing it at all? Why can I not remember that I have in fact gained something much more, something that I will never lose? Why am I not stronger – and yet why do I seem strong enough to not need help or comfort? (Why can I never express the many layers of my thoughts, the depth and complexity of my emotions?) Why do God’s workings in my life seem so contradictory – and yet why through my confusion do I understand that this is the way it must be? How can something that seems so perfect for me – and vice versa – not be right? How will I ever find something better – and yet why do I trust that I will? Why at times do I feel such hope, and at other times feel completely hopeless? Why do I not have more trust in God’s plan for me?

On men, vegetables and kitchen utensils

(Or, Random thoughts from today)

I went grocery shopping today. Not a big trip, mind you – I had just worked out earlier in the afternoon and was feeling healthy, so it seemed that some healthy food would be in order. You know, like veggies and things. And I decided that I was in a salad mood. So I wandered over to the organic produce section, since I was feeling like avoiding pesticides, and checked out the pre-packaged stuff, since like most other Americans, I have pretty much forgotten that lettuce in fact grows on heads and not already neatly chopped in clean plastic containers. But organic + pre-packaged = Holy Hannah expensive. So I reluctantly made my way over to the non-organic pre-packaged salad stuff. However, I really didn’t want to buy chemically-treated produce today. Back I went to the organic section. But I also didn’t want to spend $4 on three days’ worth of salad. Then, lo and behold, my gaze fell upon some strange items just to the right of the organic salad mixes… actual heads of lettuce. And they cost a lot less than $4! So I picked out a nice-looking one and mentally patted myself on the back for being a smart shopper. I went through the same process with the carrots. To be embarrassingly honest, before today, I don’t remember the last time I bought whole carrots, with leaves and everything.

Armed with my smart, healthy food choices (which in fact consisted of more than the lettuce and carrots), I marched up to the registers to complete my purchase. As I was paying for my items, the man who had checked out in front of me and was waiting for the man behind me offered his cart to me. I glanced at my bags – a grand total of two – and attempted to graciously decline the offer. But he insisted, as he only had three bags himself, and before I could protest further, he gathered his bags up and pushed the cart toward me. One thing I’ve learned about men… they like to feel useful. So if a man offers me help, I generally try to accept it, even if I really don’t need it – and occasionally even if it makes the process slightly less efficient. So I thanked him, transferred all of my two bags into the cart, and walked away smiling to myself.

Once I got home, I was still feeling motivated and healthy, so I placed my veggies on the counter, retrieved a cutting board and a knife, and went in search of a peeler. After a minute or two of digging through drawers, I came to a shocking conclusion… my family apparently does not own a peeler. I do, but mine is buried somewhere in the garage. How??, I wondered. But as I began to wash the carrots, I thought to myself, Jen, people were peeling vegetables long before those peeler doo-dads were ever invented. Heaven forbid that my parents should peel things the old-fashioned way… with a good plain knife. Isn’t it amazing what we’re conditioned to think of as necessities?

(In case you’re wondering, I did just fine with the knife.)

To my best friend

On such a gorgeous day as this, can one help but feel content with the world and everything therein?

As I breathe in deeply and turn my face toward the sun’s gentle warmth, I allow my thoughts to wander. And as is so often the case, they find you.

So many emotions… so much confusion… so much pain.

Or at least -

That’s what I was expecting.

Puzzled, I explore my mind, my heart. Where did it all go? I can’t find it.

…

How did this happen? I am free.

Its presence had brought only emptiness… an emptiness that weighed upon my heart so heavily. And now its absence leaves me filled, and yet lighter – a burden lifted. (I can’t help but consider all of this a bit of backwards physics.)

A small thought enters my mind unnoticed, and like a young child innocently finding his way through a crowd, it arrives at the forefront of my consciousness. Your question.

Can I forgive you?

I want to be sure. I carefully search the corners of my soul, picking up residual fragments of thought and turning them over, examining them, contemplating them. But even as I do, the answer burns undeniably within me.

Yes. With all my heart.

I love you.