Permanent Ink and Singing Stars

There are a lot of things I need to blog about - I did a very, very poor job of communicating with people this summer.  So I will spend the next few weeks attempting to get updated with all things new and exciting (or old and repetitive) in my life, but only one at a time.  Given, however, the new (and apparently surprising) addition to my person, I think the first thing to address ought to be my new tattoo. 

Yes, I got a tattoo.  Yes, my parents know (do you really think I'm stupid enough to post about it on my blog if my parents didn't know?).  No, they don't really "approve" per se, but they did give me permission before I got it (yes, I also know that I'm 20 and don't technically need their approval... but I wanted it.  Get over it). 

It's a, well, let's call it unique tattoo, to be certain.  I've gotten a lot of funny looks when I show it to people.  So, I think I ought to figure out an eloquent way to articulate it, even if only for myself. Here you go:

If you haven't read The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, first, you ought to go get it from the library and read it (or from me), it's a wonderful book, and secondly, my tattoo may still make no sense to you, even after reading this.  So just go read it.  The Little Prince is my favorite book, given to me by a very dear friend at a moment in my life when I needed a reminder of it's themes and ideas.  To recap, the story goes something like this:

It's narrated by an adult who, when he was a child, he wanted to be an artist.  But the adults didn't understand his drawings (a drawing of a boa constrictor eating an elephant, which was mistaken for a cowboy hat), and so told him to give up art and pursue something "practical" and "meaningful".  The man became a pilot, but always lamented not cultivating his artistic skill. 

The story begins when the man crashes his plane in the Sahara Desert.  During his attempts to rebuild his plane, a golden haired boy appears out of nowhere and asks the man to draw him a sheep.  This young boy is the Little Prince.  The narrator insists that he cannot draw a sheep, but draws him his snake instead.  The prince recognizes it for what it really is, which surprises the man, but he still insists upon his sheep.  As the story progresses, the man slowly uncovers the story of the young boy... He lived on his own planet (Asteroid B-612), along with 3 volcanoes and a vain rose with whom the Little Prince is in love.  The Prince, eventually disillusioned with his Planet, left to visit other planets to try to find companionship and purpose.  Along the way he encounters a variety of adults (6, on 6 other planets, to be exact) who seem to be living their lives in ridiculous and/or roundabout manners, which confuses and discourages the prince. Eventually, he gets to Earth.  He finds a field of roses, and at once decides he is never returning to his flower - he thought his rose was a one-of-a-kind, but here in front of him were a field of roses that looked just like her.   

As the story progresses, the boy and the man become good friends, and through the course of a few days, while the man fixes his plane, his relationship with the Prince convinces the boy to return home.  It was his love that tamed the flower, that made her unique, not her outward being, and he ought to treasure that.  The man helped the Prince get back to his asteroid, and in the process experienced the gain and loss of a friend.  In the loss of his dear friend, he discovered that he never could look at the stars the same way - he swore that he had special stars, that he could hear them laughing with him whenever he was lonely, because he knew the Little Prince was up there, loving his flower and missing his adult friend. 

Only a few people have actually asked me why I bothered to get something so seemingly childish and trivial permanently inked on my body, but I can see the question lingering in almost everyone I show it to, so here goes: 

The snake and the desert sky are the first and last illustrations of the book, which make for nice symmetry in my mind (silly, but true).  The snake is a reminder to always be captivated by a childlike sense of wonder.  One of my favorite things about God is how big he is - it was one of the first things I fell in love with.  He often turns something that looks like one thing into an entirely different something, and better thing; one only has to be able to see it in a manner of wonder and limitless conception (imagination, if you will, although nothing of God is of imagining, it is of the utmost reality).  The rose is a reminder that my identity, my uniqueness and my worth are all founded in the love of Christ.  Not in my outward, physical being - not in my skills or my beauty or my abilities, but solely in the love of Christ.  The desert scene from the end is a reminder that in allowing my identity to be shaped by God, I can shape others.  I can be a vessel through which God loves others, and begins to transform them.  I can give others singing stars, so to speak.  And I can have laughing stars in the way I allow others to love me.  To be vulnerable and honest is the only way in which we can develop true relationships. 

Perhaps a bit deep for a childrens' book, yes?  But I don't think the book was written for children at all. 

Oh, How The Joy Overfloweth!

I have a lot to blog about.  From the summer, from DC, about my new tattoo (yes, tattoo...), school, and many other things.  But one thing comes to the forefront at this particular moment:

I am so, so blessed!  Beyond my comprehension.  Not just in my ability to go to school (though that is a HUGE blessing in so many ways), the fact that I won the genetic and geographic "lottery" (although I don't believe it was random in any manner), have access to basic amenities and have avoided much (though not all) discrimination in life, or in the fact that I have the most wonderful family anyone could ask for, but in another way that is particularly unexpected....(though let me be clear - all these are things that are very very true, and very very apparent to me as enormous provisions from the hand of the Almighty).

No, I am blessed tonight because of one thing - Restoration Church (specifically, the women there).  I never, ever thought I would count a group of women sitting around a table making cards (yes, you read that correctly - making cards) as one of the biggest blessings in my life, but oh, how it is such a blessing!  I cannot tell you what a joy and an honor it is to be counted among these women as a friend and sister in Christ!  I have never, ever felt so beloved by a community in my life [not counting, of course, my family - by a chosen community, I suppose...].  Least of all did I expect it to be a group of Southern, Church-going (Baptist, for that matter!) women who sit around and make their own cards who would fill the shoes of the community I did not know I needed, and thought I did not want.  But they have filled it, and the cup overfloweth (oh, how it overflows!!!!)....

The Lord, in his Almighty and perfect providence, provided to me something I did not know I wanted, or needed.  But good gracious!  These women, despite knowing the dirty, dark, and un-sanctified places of my heart, still love me in a way I thought only existed in fairy tales.  I did not grow up with a close group of women who loved me whole-heartedly and joyfully.  I distrusted women, especially adult women, and did not seek their company.  I did not want anything to do with these women when I first walked through the doors of RC.  But they pulled me in anyways (and what fun it has been!)....

So now I spend my Friday evenings making delightful and gorgeous cards, and laughing so hard I think I'm going to pee my pants.  And feeling more loved than I have ever, ever felt before. 

Despite the mess that I am, I have not been this joyful in a long, long time.  

Exhaustion and Bubbles

There has been much weighing on my mind recently.  Not the least of which is how over-worked and under-rested I am at this particular moment. I am regretting my decision to work 60+ hours/week this summer. 

I love my coaching job with (almost) all of my being.  I love the kids, and my fellow coaches.  It has been a joy and an honor to work with such a great staff and (for the most part) great team this summer, and to get to do something I love (and get paid for it!).  My office job, on the other hand, has progressively become more and more challenging.  I am discovering very quickly that God's provision is not always what my provision would have been.  It has certainly been a wonderful opportunity to learn and grow, but a challenging, difficult, and rarely enjoyable one.  The frustration from one job, the time consumption of another, the excessive hours and little sleep finally caught up to me last week.  I couldn't move.  I didn't want to move.  I haven't been that tired since high school (which, for those of you who know me, is quite a significant statement).   To put it in perspective, I called in to work on Wednesday morning, which put me at 9 hours of sleep, Thursday through Saturday nights I averaged about 7 hours of sleep per night.  I then slept for 17 (yes, you read that right.... 17) hours yesterday, and am just now beginning to feel like a functional human being again. 

In all of this exhaustion and frustration, I have found some undesirable and unpleasant emotions bubbling up and rising to the surface.  My irritability, for one.  Anger, for another.  More anger than I'd like to admit.  While there are many, many issues which were thought-resolved-but-aren't I have discovered in the past few weeks, there is one in particular that irks me more than the rest.  That is the issue of men. 

I have never felt the need to date simply for the sake of dating.  I'm quite comfortable being single (actually, significant and complete commitment to one man still freaks me out a little bit...), and I rather enjoy the freedom it allows me.  But I am human, and there are moments when I panic, think I'm going to die alone and single, having never had a significant relationship in my life.  I went on a few dates in High School (very few... and rarely was there more than 2 with the same guy), but never really clicked with anyone.  It wasn't until my senior year that I had any real relationship of any sort. 

I'm not entirely sure how to approach this topic gracefully or tactfully.  In fact, I'm not sure there is a way... I don't like bad-mouthing people, and I try very hard to avoid anything of the sort.  But I think this is one of the ways in which well-meaning women (and, although less often, men) can be used as a doormat; when women (or men) are afraid to stand up and say to the world that someone has hurt them in a significant way, simply because they don't want to hurt anyone, they damage themselves and let others get away with it.  So I suppose it's time I came out and admitted that the last guy I dated really, really messed with me.  So much so that I haven't been on a single date since him, not out of disinterest but, in part, out of genuine fear and incredible hurt. 

The sad thing is not that our relationship was the problem (although it was problematic...), but it was our post-dating relationship which really did the damage.  It does not matter how - that is a private matter - but the problem is that because I fancy myself a kind, drama-free, honest person, I allowed myself to be manipulated and used in ways I didn't know was possible.  And the end result cost me not just his friendship, but every single one of our mutual friends as well.  At a time when my life was falling apart right in front of me, he nearly single-handedly destroyed all precious people and relationships in my life, and left me with only ashes of what I used to know. 

And wouldn't it be poetic and wonderful and inspiring if I could conclude now with imagery of a phoenix rising from the ashes, of a person remade and all the more beautiful and empowered because of it?  But that's not how this ends.  I'm still in the ashes stage (yes, even now, 2 1/2 years later...).  I'm trying to get over the anger (and how deep it runs), to forgive, but it's not as easy as it sounds (even as petty as this fight was).  I'm still working to let go, to learn to trust men again, and to try to figure all this out.  I'm trying to figure out my identity as a woman, how empowerment and feminism plays into my role (if at all) as a woman of Christ, how my standards for men in general (and, hopefully, my future husband) need to change, and how I need to change if I am to become the person God has called me to be.  I'm learning a lot, about myself and about others.  But it really just sucks some days.