I am determined to finally get some stuff out into the blogosphere this very day. I have been trying to update my beloved Xanga for weeks now, but it seems like every time I try to sit down and type out my thoughts, something comes up. The dryer beeps and demands that I fold the clothes inside of it, my siblings are bored and demand my attention, a friend wants to talk, I'm tired from work, some sort of outing happens, errands need running... the list of lame excuses goes on and on. You get the picture.
[For example, I'm in the middle of typing this, and my sister comes in and asks if we're going to watch Pokémon anytime soon. (Why, yes, I am shamelessly still a child inside, and completely addicted to cartoons, which is a topic I am going to address in a near-future entry.) We are on Season 4 already, after all...]
Last week was interesting. Sunday I went to church for the first time in a really long time. The Saturday prior, I babysat my girls Ella and Claire, and their mom [who is one of the sweetest people in the world] invited me to come with her since her husband was out of town. I accepted, and went, and it was... typical. I wasn't hoping for signs and wonders or anything, but it was pretty standard. "God can use you - yes, even you! - no matter where you are in life!" Uh... yeah. I learned that in kindergarten, kthx.
I worked with my dad in Maryland and plenty of random things happened. For instance, last Monday, we brought wallpaperman Randy with us to wallpaper the impossibly tiny powder room. (You should've heard my father trying to do it himself. I haven't heard him swear like that in a looong time.) We entered the house, and there was our customers' black poodle. And then, something else black -- one of our customers. In his underwear. In the kitchen. He's a doctor, and he was on call, so he had been asleep, and the dog barked and woke him up... Geez. I looked at my dad when we were back out at the truck getting tools and materials, and we cracked up laughing. "This would only happen with me on the job," I sighed. My dad shook his head, and said sarcastically, "and you see how phased he was that we saw him that way."
That day was pretty easy. I ended up being the open-trailer-watcher, which was perfectly fine... since I'm not exactly Annie Oakley with a nail-gun. I am however, excellent at obeying orders, fetching things, and anticipating needs. I make a great assistant. Even to a contractor. If only I were a female body-builder, and able to hold the extension ladder steady so that Dad doesn't drop the huge piece of plywood - breaking off a piece of our customers' fence and their neighbor's lawn mower in the process. Oops.
(But really, honestly, what man would want a woman who could lift them over her head? If I were a guy, I'd find that sort of intimidating. And a woman with pecs instead of boobs is sort of off-putting, in my opinion. If you're reading this and you happen to be a body-builder who still looks sort of womanly and feminine, God bless you. And please don't curse at me in my comments. It won't change my mind anyway.)
Last week was definitely more than just work, in the traditional sense. I started praying recently for God to remove the things in me that are harming what little relationships I still have. I am overly emotional, far too sensitive, easily angered, and always irritated. Not the greatest or most pleasant person to be around. And I realize it, yet I see myself making the same mistakes without doing anything to stop it. Why? Am I that lazy? That self-absorbed? Maybe. But is the rest of the world just supposed to walk on eggshells to accomodate my angst-ridden, childish behavior? Absolutely not.
So I brought it to God's attention. Even though He already knows about my idiocy, I figure the best attack plan is to get someone on the inside to help with waging the war. Sort of like, "okay, God, I've had it. I can't do this anymore. I'm a giant screw up. I'm a jumbled mess. I need Your help." Two Saturdays ago after I babysat I came home and sat in my car and blared worship music and just cried out to Him. Cried for help. Cried for healing. I'm sick of being this broken, diseased person who stomps around trying to infect everyone else just so she feels a little better - just for a moment. I want things to really change. So, I said so. Halfway through my crying-slash-singing-slash-talking tirade of a conversation with God, He talks back. I haven't heard so clearly in ages. He said, "You've swallowed lies like mealworms, and now it's time to purge them out." I thought that was pretty interesting, and it made me feel pretty stupid. (Especially when I felt the urge to correct His grammar -- really not a good idea, since He knows better anyway.)
So the week that followed was pretty much the same as always, other than going to church on Sunday. The following Saturday (four days ago) was not a good day. I felt angry, and hateful, and extremely jealous. My brother's girlfriend was over, and it doesn't matter how much I adore her, or love the fact that they have each other. I was mad. I was angry at the injustice, that my brother - who is only sixteen, and wasn't even looking for his soul mate - already has this amazing person to be in love with, who is in love with him right back. I know it sounds young to be in real love, but if you knew them, you'd see their maturity, especially about their relationship. They're already talking about marriage after they graduate (they're both juniors), and babies, and their future together. And, to be perfectly honest, it makes me sick. It makes my throat fill with bile and my heart fill with pain. And instead of fighting it, instead of realizing that all I'm doing is ruining my chances at a relationship with both of them in the future, and hurting myself and everyone around me with my visible bitterness - I just let it rule me. We were playing Scrabble, and I didn't say a word, unless I had to. I didn't want to be around them. I wanted to hide in my room and just let the day pass. But of course, I'd already promised to play. So I sat there, sulking. Everyone was quiet. I sucked the fun out of the whole thing. There is no possible way to justify my immature and selfish attitude. I was awful.
So after the game was over, I came downstairs, got under my covers, and wept. Cried until my face hurt and I couldn't breathe. What is wrong with me? I thought. I even prayed about this just this morning! That I wouldn't be a jerk. That God would cut the jealousy out of my heart. That I could move past it, and just be happy for them, instead of being angry that I don't have someone for myself.
And then it hit me.
I prayed that God would remove it.
I guess, in my fantasy world, I imagined that meant He would pluck it out like a little splinter that had started to chafe, and I would magically not feel jealous, or lonely, or anything selfish like that anymore. It did not occur to me that most of the time, healing is messy. Especially long-nurtured, deeply infected, buried and protected wounds that I have refused to expose to God completely of my own volition. So when I asked Him to remove it, I didn't realize He was going to have to get to the bottom of it. To roll up His sleeves and dig in there up past His elbows and get to the root of where all of my bitterness and pain and depression were coming from. I just figured He could spray some weed-killer in there and I'd be on my merry way.
I wish that I could say that I woke up the next morning and felt magically better after sobbing and feeling the depth of all my buried and scarred-over pains being torn open and exposed to the air again. I know God isn't cruel, no matter what painful moments like these have lead me to want to believe. He was doing what I asked. Ask, and you shall receive, and boy did I.
I do, however, see a change in myself. When I go to react badly to a situation, I have started thinking it through. Is this really a big enough deal to get frustrated over? Is it worth my irritation? This probably sounds so simple it's stupid, but I am slightly OCD, and easily depressed, so I need to mentally correct myself. I've been waaay too indulgent with my emotions for far too long, and it's got to stop. I'm taking baby steps to be a better person. It isn't a radical conversion of mind and heart... rather, a lightbulb. A "duh" moment. Why didn't I just ask for His help before?
Another thing I'm learning is that it's all about timing. God's timing, not mine. I want to snap my fingers and have it my way, right now. But life isn't Burger King. It's hard friggin' work.
I still don't know what I'm doing with my life. And there's a lot more work yet to do. But for the first time in a very, very long time, I am starting to feel hope. And that's saying something.
) to yell my name across the building when a question pops in his head or in my defense if he thinks someone is picking on me. Plus, no one had a radio on today, while Eric usually has indie rock blaring so I can hum along shyly with Feist and Vampire Weekend while hammering stubborn staples into submission.
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