Showing posts with label time. Show all posts
Showing posts with label time. Show all posts

Friday, June 22, 2012

Outside of Time



Time holds me hostage 
for what price?
I'd pay, if I just knew.
No note requesting ransom sent,
My days are fading, only spent 
In the embrace of clock arms set 
To run indefinitely,
and never set me free.

How can they hold, yet
never touch?
I cry, but hear no sound.
Time's arms, like bars, my soul encase,
Future indefinite I face.
I long to rest in such a place
Where arms of flesh can hold,
See love that's true unfold.

Vows conspire with time 
to trap me
in airtight cask, I’m drained
‘til left a void, an empty shell,
surrender hope, abide in hell,
pretend that all is good and well
I truly am alone.
This world is not my home.


Outside of time lies
Hope and mercy.
He bids me wait and watch.
Guard my frail heart and body,
Though my flesh is heaving, sobbing,
And my weary head is dropping,
I’ll wait to see His face.
That’s where I’ll find my place.



Monday, July 18, 2011

Spawn of Satan's First Kiss -- Part 2 Awakening the Memory


If you haven't read part one yet, read it first or you're likely to go, "Huh?"



I want to write Scott a note of apology, but it's hard to apologize correctly when you can't remember clearly.


I once received an apology from a former classmate who used to bully me in elementary school. When he said, "I am a different person now," that addendum somehow took some of the impact out of the apology. Sure, I was glad to know that he was no longer running around tripping girls and laughing when they skinned their knees, but still something felt... I don't know how to put it... it felt not entirely true. Does that make sense?

The thing is, I've been grappling with the concept of time and how we as human beings seem to be constantly evolving, and while I know that people do change and messed up lives are "redeemed," there is also an awareness that time is a very earthly thing. I mean, if you want to look at it from a religious standpoint, modern humans being under the curse of "the fall" actually makes less sense in the linear way of thinking than it does from a more timeless perspective. Adam and Eve ate that fruit that was a no-no... then years later, Jesus came to pay the debt for their disobedience (and ours too) and now, we're all included in that fall that took place eons before we were even born, until we accept the redemptive act of Jesus that took place a couple thousand years ago. Thus, in faith we are all over the place in terms of time, and I'm thinking that is why it is so hard for people with very disjointed views of life (in which time is chopped up into all kinds of disconnected segments) to understand either the need for, or the mechanics of, redemption. It's easier for us to chop up the time-line into segments and ignore those that are inconsistent. In ignoring our inconsistencies, however, we find it a whole lot easier to justify ourselves (and I think we also miss out on a lot of the texture that makes us interesting).

When the memories of writing that "break up" letter to Scott started to come back to me, I said that it was "like watching ... a fifteen-year-old girl, whom I barely recognize...." Initially, I was able to disconnect myself from that girl. The more I replay that scene, however, the more I feel like she is not such a stranger, and the more I see the patterns of behavior and the patterns of thought. We must exist in the entirety of our life experience in order to be honest. My soul often feels so confined by the skin that wants to hold me in, the time that wants to chop me up. I sense that I am intended to be much broader than that.

I know, I know... I "over-think" everything. So, I've been told. Few people have any interest in all the blather I can spew... so I put it HERE!!! I should call my blog "Blatherland."

So, I started to write an apology, but it ended up drowning in blather. Since I'm obviously not going to send this blather to some guy I haven't seen in three decades, I'll just post my imaginary "letter to Scott" here:


Dear Scott,
Since reading your "spawn of satan" comment, I've been trying to remember the letter you were referring to. No matter how much i rack my mind, the words elude me... however, a mute memory has trickled back--like I'm watching a silent movie of a vaguely familiar fifteen-year-old girl deliberating over a letter--a girl who is at once a total stranger as well as being more me than what I have become. I do wish I could see what she was writing--all I can do is sense that there is anguish in the action, and a compulsion, self-inflicted drama, beyond her understanding. None of this is intended as an excuse--but rather just a grappling for understanding (I know, weird writers--can't leave anything alone). On with my indulgent desire to understand the evolving psyche of myself and others... none of this need concern you except this: I'm sorry. I am really, truly sorry.
Scum of the Earth,
Bridget


Okay, truth be told, I had to post this here because I thought that "...a girl who is at once a total stranger as well as being more me than what I have become" line was just too good to fall prey to the delete button.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

The Sarah Connor Training Program


Here's another analogy to keep me focused when I get impatient about the big changes I long for (especially those I'm simply not ready for--physically, emotionally, spiritually, relationally):


As I was on my two mile power walk this morning, I reminded myself that I'm still "in training." My body is very different from what it was a year ago--before I started taking healthy diet and exercise seriously. Rounding the track on my fourth lap, I recalled how difficult even this feat would have been just nine months and 40 pounds ago. Even something as simple as walking (walking, mind you, not running) is magnified in difficulty when you carry excess weight.

It's the same in the less physical aspects of life--carrying baggage not only slows us down, it also makes us clumsy and more likely to get hurt or even fail in our quest. It took time to pile on the pounds that were weighing me down and keeping me from the exercise I needed. It took time to put on the weight, and when I resolved to start exercising it wasn't an instant freedom... I labored away, little by little, gradually increasing my pace on the treadmill and the numbers on my dumbbells. When I stopped at the exercise area of the park to use the equipment and do a few sit-ups, I was impressed by how, in spite of all the changes I've seen in my body and all the things I can do that I couldn't a year ago, there are still some pretty basic moves that I can't do. I still feel trapped in a body that limits my freedom to move about as I would like to. Then I thought about the difference between actress Linda Hamilton's physique in The Terminator and the sequel, Terminator 2. She had to go through some pretty intense training for that transformation.

How many years did it take Sarah Connor to buff up and be ready to meet the challenge of her "Judgement Day" in Terminator 2? It was seven years between movies, but I believe the time span depicted was actually longer. Sarah's battle against the cyborgs is similar to the looming battle Todd and I are going to have to fight if we are to make it as a couple (or rise above the unacceptable status quo one way or another as individuals.) I don't know what the outcome will be, but I do know that there will be a battle--Judgement Day is inevitable--the day when our relationship will face the ultimate trial which we have been putting off with dishonesty.

Thinking of the training that is necessary to prepare for physical confrontation made me feel a little more comfortable about not pushing for all the changes at once. I've hung in this marriage for almost a quarter of a century--more than half my life. I don't have to fix it all right this minute. The fixing must start with me. It would be foolish to burst out demanding instant change when I don't even know what I want. The one thing I do know is that I not only want, but I also need, to be stronger (in all aspects of my being). As I typed that, I was reminded of the scripture about finding our strength in the Lord.

"And lest I should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure. 8 Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. 9 And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 10 Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong." (I Corinthians 12:7-10)

This reminds me of all the times I have gotten distressed over Todd not bringing in a consistent income and providing some sense of security. I get worried, even though scripture also instructs me not to worry:

25 “Therefore I say to you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? 26Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?
28 “So why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin; 29 and yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. 30Now if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will He not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?31 “Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’32 For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:25-34)

I've been at that place so many times: That place where I realize that in spite of the fact that I doubt, I've never had a reason to doubt the Lord for his provision. He has always been faithful to me. As depressing as my relationship with Todd is, as unstable the security (or lack thereof) of it, there is one thing good about it that I am actually thankful for: Todd's inability (or unwillingness) to provide security for the children and me through diligent work on his part has made it easier for me to continue to look to the Lord for my security, rather than idolizing a mere man. If Todd were a super ambitious workaholic, who's to say I wouldn't be tempted to look to him for provision and idolize him as my provider. I can only imagine what kind of strength would be necessary to resist such temptation, so there is no way that I can boast about my reliance on God--I've had it easy.

All speculation aside, I honestly don't know what it would be like to walk in the shoes of a woman with a successful husband. That leads me to view strength as a very pliable thing. It's not a one-size-fits-all sort of commodity, what is a strength for one person can be a weakness for another. The only strength that really measures up and makes us fit for our unique trials is the strength that is custom-fit through a relationship with God. He sees all (even the things we lie to ourselves about), so only He can truly outfit us for our personal challenges. We can't do it ourselves because we are all liars (whether conscious or not--it's the human survival program). It is in relationship with Him that our lies can be burned away by the penetrating light (fire) of His truth.

Spiritual wellness has to be the cornerstone of my search for strength, and although I do believe in miracles, reaching that wellness is not guaranteed to be an instantaneous thing. And, if it ever is reached, it is not guaranteed to be permanent--just like my lost weight and increased muscle mass--without diligence I'll morph right back into my double-digit pants' size.

So I will be patient, not expecting it all to change at once, and focusing on doing what I can do to be diligent... diligent mainly to move in the right direction--always to truth, always to truth.

"Remove from me the way of lying,
And grant me Your law graciously."
(Psalm 110:29)

If it takes five years, fine. Seven--I'll work it like Linda Hamilton, with God as my personal trainer. If it takes 12 years, like Sarah Connor, may I persist, knowing that that Judgement Day is coming, and purge myself of the baggage that would keep me from pulling through that day whole and victorious... and free.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

"Dear Todd"


You just said it again.

“I don’t have time for a story” ... exactly. You never have. Yet you have time for T.V. (practically anything there: sports, news, science programs, history, even those riveting commercials...), you have time for your work out to promote your health for your long life... that kind of stuff is interesting/rewarding enough to
make time for it...

But if I have something to share and it might inconvenience you by more than 30-seconds, I have to waste MY time listening to that demeaning line. “I don’t have time for a story.” Thank you very much—
I don’t have time for that statement, or the truth it carries.

I’m sorry now that I expended any time at all in this conversation with a pompous, self-interest-serving ass. I don’t have time to throw my pearls before swine. If what I think and value is of so little consequence and value to you, I pray that I can learn to keep my mouth shut instead of pretending that we actually have a decent relationship.

Thank you for bringing me back to reality. If I completely gave up hope I probably would feel a lot better because I’d not have to go through this roller-coaster of hope, hope deflated, hope, hope deflated, hope, hope deflated... It would be better to just resign myself fully to silence, talk to the walls and my journal, not expect anything from you.

Your statement of “I don’t have time for a story” could just as well be translated to “I don’t have time for a wife” or "I don’t have time for you.” I AM my stories, and I am sparse enough so as not to be a high-maintenance drain like some wives I know are. It would just be nice if on those occasions when I do have something I want to share with you, not to have it trampled upon... but I guess that’s hope. A better response would be: Whatever.

By the way, thank you for all the times you interrupt and turn the “conversation” into a lecture because you already know it all. I now understand why you have so few friends. (Do you have any?) I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to believe that you’ll be perfectly happy with yourself and thus just keep my mouth shut when you’re around. Oh yes, it’s the sex. I’m supposed to give it and it sickens me to give it to someone I don’t have a good relationship with. So I continue to try to connect intellectually... It would be easier for everyone if I could just disconnect the act from relationship and get it over with and let you get back to whatever is more precious to you than our relationship... after all, to guys, the act is all there is to relationship, right?

The reason the words “I don’t have time for a story” flow so easily off your tongue is that talk is just something you put up with in order to get what you really want.

Whatever.