I am very comfortable with checklists and boxes. I love them. They help me feel secure. Writing is also good for me as there is only black and white, spaces and characters to define what I am saying. A word here, a colloquialism there, it’s simple as I transfer a train of thought from my muddled little consciousness onto a page. And hopefully you pick it up and wander a bit further with it than I was able to go.
Concepts are harder for me. There are times when the vague mingles with the absolute and creates gray spaces that don’t always compute. Not tidy. Not orderly. Not boxed. Non-quantifiable.
And incredibly difficult for my linear brain to work it’s way through.
So I am in a bit of a quandary at the moment. A bit. See, after 9 months, can you believe it’s been that long, I am finally feeling even a little bit lonely. I have found I do miss the intentional gathering together of individuals for fellowship, discussion of the Word and the opportunities to serve others. Somehow.
And this baffles me. Completely. Since I am at the same time completely opposed and disgusted by the very institutions I see around me.
I went to church tonight, didn’t bother even to change from my Saturday clothes into my Church clothes since no one notices me anyway and my heart wasn’t remotely in it, but I went.
Studiously I entered dates and agenda items into my iPod Touch while the meet and greet flowed around me, I carefully walked through the crowd with my eyes just low enough that no one makes eye contact, just high enough that I don’t look like The Girl With Issues. I avoided any and all contact save the absolute necessary and then flipped The Switch. You know the one.
The concepts and dilemmas over which I am struggling are more connected with the fact that I don’t know if I want to be involved in something because I really want to or if it’s because I don’t know who I should be without them. Or, more honestly, I don’t know who I am without them. You know Them. The standardized expectations and requirements we all know and conform to so as to be acceptable in Churchianity circles.
This has been a few weeks of enormous change for me after a year of mind-bending catastrophe and constant flux. The only constants in my life have been kitchen appliances and my dog. Everything else has changed.
The way I view and relate to G-d doesn’t even remotely resemble what it was a year ago, my marriage looks different, the way I parent, my circle of friends. Even what I eat has radically changed.
But these last few weeks have been even more personal. And instead of running away from my thoughts and fears I’m allowing them the room to run amok, run themselves out so I can actually admit weakness, fear, failure, limitation. And it’s been probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
On FaceBook I’ve connected with a lot of old friends, wonderful people with amazing testimonies and Important Ministries.
I know we are not to “compare ourselves among ourselves” as I look at the places they have gone, the lives they have touched and I remember the dreams and vision I had once. Back when I didn’t know what I couldn’t do. Before I gave up on most if not all of them.
The result? I feel so small. And wasted.
I don’t need a Ministry with a capital M, I would happily settle for parameters that make sense, a purpose both clearly defined and attainable. A checklist of goals and expectations dilineating purpose would bolster my weakened sense of security. Please don’t give me the wife and mom stuff. Seriously? I haven’t stopped being a person simply because I have a ring and stretch marks. I need to figure out who this person is and what purpose G-d has for me. So I can make peace with some of this garbage and not continue to inflict it upon my children and husband.
Instead? I have conflict. I struggle with the fear of entanglement, of interwoven personalities. And this fear remains at odds with an absence of purpose. I want to define where and who and why I am. Or who I would like to be. At least then I’d know what face to show on a regular basis.
For the love of Bob, throw me a bone, eh? Something?
But He remains silent and the laundry piles while the emails pour in and the bills stack up.
So, I’ll do what I know to do with as few screw ups as I can. And maybe at the end of today I’ll have more answers than I do tonight.