Monday, August 28, 2017

Experiencing Loss

Sometimes I forget that I’ve lived through some things others haven’t. Like experiencing close friends die. It’s this huge unfathomable feeling of having a part of your life disappear overnight. Gone, nothing more scary than gone. But, day by day, some experience that feeling of loss slowly. You experience your day to day life differently. And I can most definitely say that some days it feels like you’ve made no progress at all and you’re back at that morning where that person was gone!

That’s how it feels for me even months after experiencing an incident of sexual assault/abuse/trauma. It feels like a lot of close friends are gone. At first it was just that close friend called physical contact. Where if someone tried to shake my hand AND HOLD IT, I perished under insecurity and panic. I still feel like that sometimes.

Another close friend I miss most is sleep. Falling asleep on the train is not the best or safest thing to do. Public transportation can be dangerous in big cities. And no matter how upgraded my space on the floor that I call bed is with foam mattresses and’s still the floor. Sleep alludes me in ways that can’t be explained. I’m tired of waking up multiple times per night. I’m tired of waking up some days feeling like screaming...or screaming.

Instinctively, all I want to do is walk into a closed room and tell myself over and over that it’s time to be normal now. Yes, this awful and horrible thing has happened, but it’s time to be normal now. It’s time to act the way I used to be. It’s time to meet the demands of my housemates, of my friends, of my work, of my church, of everything. There’s too much going on to slow down. There’s too much at stake to let myself wander too long.

Time is endless but this life is so short. And somehow, I’m of the belief that no matter how many people matter which parts of me don’t work well at the moment: there’s no stop. There’s only GO. And it’s so crazy because I just need to stop for once.

Monday, August 7, 2017

The Power of One

I don't tend to throw scripture around, but I can't help myself. The essence of my being is now roofed in ministry. So allow me to throw scripture around on my blog and forgive me in the future if I don't proclaim warnings before scripture.

Scripture is fun though. And I'm a dork and such so I'll start with I have yet to finish my study of Jeremiah. If John is always touted as the first book to read in the Bible than I have this inclination that Jeremiah should follow. Followed by James, Job, and Genesis. I haven’t finished formulating the reason why, but my inclinations will have to suffice.

“Brother-in-law,” the nickname we’ve given to him as he is the brother-in-law of my sister’s boyfriend, had a very interesting moment of humor last night. He made a few jokes about God and the singular Atheist in the way some are prone to make Aggie jokes.

There was one joke, or more like oral teaching story that I wanted to reply with scripture. And the gist of the story, is that Jesus would have stood silent while a rich man beat up a student. The rich man had thought the student stole his wallet that rich man had intended to use for a virgin at a brothel. And because Jesus would have stayed silent, the student would have been too beat up to go on an overseas trip and not die.

At first, I immediately remembered a story from Genesis 18:16-33 where Abraham pleads God to not destroy the city of Sodom for the sake of 50 righteous people. Then pleaded for the sake 45 and finally 10. In that conversation the Lord refuses to destroy the righteous. And we would love to infer that even if there is only ONE righteous person, the city would be saved.

Going further into Jeremiah 5:1, there is a self-proclamation of ONE. “...If you can find but one person who deals honestly and seeks truth, I will forgive this city.” (NIV.)

Just one. Uno. Une. 1. I wanted to tell brother-in-law that it wasn't so much that Jesus wanted to stay quiet, but that Jesus would go to any length to hopefully save the one student. To hopefully save the one virgin at a brothel.

If that is the power of saving one can you imagine if we put ourselves in place of Abraham. Imagine if we could deal honestly and seek truth? Than we would all be able to save one. I save one, you save saves another one.

1+1+1+1 ...n+1 = infinity = kingdom of heaven???

I'm just one person. You are just one person. One and one. And then one more. There's so much potential for justice, equality, love, and understanding for this world.

Friday, August 4, 2017

Timetables and Tambourines

I have a blogging schedule I don’t follow. To be honest, it’s a lot of starting of blog posts and not finishing them for one reason or another. This blog post could have been one of those, but it isn’t. I have a publishing schedule for my magazine that I tend to follow. It helps that I have the best Content Editor ever who really keeps me accountable. I have a meal regimen and medicine discipline that I follow for dear life.

But everything tends to follow a schedule. There’s daily schedules from that first moment I wake up to that last moment when I fall to sleep--or forcefully get myself to sleep with the aid of some calming music. There’s weekly schedules that dictate the beginning and end of my week such as church functions, work duties, groceries, laundry, and the occasional day of laze.

But is there a rhythm to my schedules? I remember one time I inherited a tambourine from the guitar store. It was a precious instrument to me because I received it from a good friend. And because through its unpredictable but controllable sound I could reflect emotions that I couldn’t quite put into words at the time.

Well I tried. I wrote this one poem that went something like… “Fire. / <incessant rattling of the tambourine>. / Silence.” Needless to say, I never heard the end of it and my ‘creativity’ or ‘lack of’ with my tambourine poem.

But if the rhythm of my life were an instrument, it most definitely is a tambourine. There’s an incessant rattling of thought and nervousness that wakes me in the morning. It vibrates and conjugates into actions that make together the events of my day. And not quite like my poem, the rattling doesn’t cease during the night. It simmers until it’s called into being in the morning once again.

And that’s why I don’t sleep. Just kidding it’s one of the reasons I don’t sleep. I should buy myself another tambourine.