Psalm 23:4
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 84:6 (New International Reader's Version)
6 As they pass through the dry Valley of Baca, they make it a place where water flows. The rain in the fall covers it with pools.
I keep reading Psalm 84 over and over. “As they pass through the dry valley”. Is your life feeling dry? Do the conditions seem too extreme for a mere mortal to bare? Try to remember you’re just passing through. It’s a part of your pilgrimage. The thing is, as you pass through God is working it so things are passing out of you. Soon we find ourselves crying. As our tears of suffering begin to flow so does the Holy Spirit. His spirit begins to flow through us and enable us to gain strength in the midst of our trembling. What we leave behind are pearls of wisdom in the form of pools for others.
“For you are with me…you comfort me”. The Lord will never leave you crying. But he will let you cry long enough to wet the dry, desert floor. You have to cry. If you hadn’t cried, how would you have known the comfort of the Lord? Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Mourning is just a place to start; it’s where your greatest fellowship with Christ will be. This intimate fellowship will bring about rejoicing and a resilient faith characterized by patience.
Matthew 5:3-5 (New King James Version)
3 “ Blessed are the poor in spirit, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 Blessed are those who mourn, For they shall be comforted.
2 Corinthians 1:4 (New King James Version)
4 who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
About Me
My blog came about as a self expression tool. My writings are a labor of love and a tribute to all those who've journeyed through my endless ponderings and musings about life, love, God and everything in between. I'm blessed with how amazing and transparent my closest friends are. They've been willing to expose so much of themselves to help me gain insight into Christ and myself.
Here we go...I'm compassionate and feel pain from miles away. I always want to help people. I'm a prayer warrior and woman who tries earnestly to be guided by the love and direction of the Holy Spirit. I've made my share of mistakes and have learned I'm God's painting in progress. Obedience to God is better than sacrifice. I'm dedicated to His will, even when I fight it with all that I have. I believe in practicing what I preach. I want the people around me to be as glorious as I envision them to be. I want them to be all that Christ is and has for them.
Who do I hope to become? I hope to be the kind of woman that strives for goodness and mercy. I hope to learn my duty. I'd like to be a woman marked by kindness. Most importantly, I hope to become a woman of strong virtue who God can be proud of. My goal is to be what David was to Him. "A man (oops need to change that, lol) after His own heart." I couldn't want for anything more.
Here we go...I'm compassionate and feel pain from miles away. I always want to help people. I'm a prayer warrior and woman who tries earnestly to be guided by the love and direction of the Holy Spirit. I've made my share of mistakes and have learned I'm God's painting in progress. Obedience to God is better than sacrifice. I'm dedicated to His will, even when I fight it with all that I have. I believe in practicing what I preach. I want the people around me to be as glorious as I envision them to be. I want them to be all that Christ is and has for them.
Who do I hope to become? I hope to be the kind of woman that strives for goodness and mercy. I hope to learn my duty. I'd like to be a woman marked by kindness. Most importantly, I hope to become a woman of strong virtue who God can be proud of. My goal is to be what David was to Him. "A man (oops need to change that, lol) after His own heart." I couldn't want for anything more.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The first round of about me...
I enjoy New York. I love the seaport and downtown. I worked near Battery Park for a bit and love sitting in the park watching the yellow water taxis zoom through the water. The cobbled streets and old world feel of SoHo is always grand. My favorite thing in NY though? The MET’s rooftop cocktail hour on Friday night over the summer. My obsession with sunsets will have me perched on their ledge shooting panoramic pics of the city at sunset. Love it. I adore central park and absolutely love Central Park zoo. I have a thing for zoos. I get a huge kick out of the animals. I’ve yet to be on the paddle boats in Central Park but hope to head there someday. They have that sport package where they give you a Frisbee and such to use in Central park…haven’t yet done that either. Perhaps it’s the writer in me but I choose these “outings” that set a stage for a scene in my mind. I plan all the details and then the day-of, experience them. My best friend is fabulous b/c she’s always been “up” for my “plans” and willing to go with the flow when I start scheming and outlining the scenes to my next big experience. NY gives a lot of experiences. Imagine when the scenario doesn’t quite live up to what I’ve expected in my head. Then her and I will laugh and laugh about how silly I can get sometimes. Oh - I absolutely must take tons of pictures on these "experiences" so I can write and scrapbook about them later. For some reason I’m a catalyst for others. Perhaps it’s b/c I believe in Christ and his ability to fix broken hearts. That belief has helped me over the years watch so many people bloom into exactly what I thought they’d be. It’s truly a blessing. I could talk about it for hours. Watching my ladies in small group arrive on day 1 battered and ashamed and not able to answer this question is often tough. Then you labor with them in scripture and prayer; only to one day see them for who Christ always knew they’d be. It’s beautiful. I’m honest to a flaw, opinionated about everything, a fighter, a thinker, compassionate, caring and lively. I absolutely must really know the people I know. I don’t have acquaintances. I give my all to everyone I know and try hard to forgive and understand the view points of others. I value those who can make me think in ways I don’t usually. I believe in “living” Christianity and try to show my faith through actions.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
So Long Daddy's Little Girl
Glasses clinked together, silverware twanged and shards of conversations from adjacent tables jutted into their conversation. He sat across from her. Her blonde hair floated past her shoulders and down her back. The ceiling fans caused golden strands to flutter across her face. He had chosen her favorite tavern restaurant as way of apology for his constant absenteeism.
“Oh what to order! I love everything on the menu.” She gushed.
He gave her a closed mouth smile as he carefully read through the menu options. He was half way down the appetizer page when she interrupted his thoughts.
“I don’t know…do I want the lamb chop, filet mignon or the sirloin?” she pondered.
He was about to remind her that she had stated earlier that she wanted the steak but she continued.
“I don’t know, I just don’t know. The filet mignon is $5.00 more than the sirloin. Is it worth paying $5.oo more?” she looked genuinely concerned about the price discrepancy.
“Tess, I’d get what you like and not worry about the price difference.” He said as he placed his menu on the table. It was obvious that he’d have to assist her with her selection prior to being able to read through the rest of the menu to make his selection. He wanted to explain that he was paying anyway so she didn’t have any worries.
Her lips puckered while her eyebrows squeezed together. “Well, the lamb looks good and I like the potatoes that come with that meal better than what they offer with the filet” she stated in obvious happy frustration. Tess always loved a great meal and seemed happiest when there were many appealing choices.
“Since the bill is on me, why don’t you select what you like? You mentioned your strong urge towards steak this evening, hence here we are.” He stated calmly as he gesticulated with the menu.
“mmm…yes. I guess I’ll go with the filet because I know I love it. But it’s not the point that you’re paying. In fact, since you’re paying…well, when someone else is paying, that’s when I like to order something less expensive. I don’t want anyone spending a huge fortune on me. I wouldn’t order the filet except for a special treat if I were paying for myself.” She spoke softly.
“Oh what to order! I love everything on the menu.” She gushed.
He gave her a closed mouth smile as he carefully read through the menu options. He was half way down the appetizer page when she interrupted his thoughts.
“I don’t know…do I want the lamb chop, filet mignon or the sirloin?” she pondered.
He was about to remind her that she had stated earlier that she wanted the steak but she continued.
“I don’t know, I just don’t know. The filet mignon is $5.00 more than the sirloin. Is it worth paying $5.oo more?” she looked genuinely concerned about the price discrepancy.
“Tess, I’d get what you like and not worry about the price difference.” He said as he placed his menu on the table. It was obvious that he’d have to assist her with her selection prior to being able to read through the rest of the menu to make his selection. He wanted to explain that he was paying anyway so she didn’t have any worries.
Her lips puckered while her eyebrows squeezed together. “Well, the lamb looks good and I like the potatoes that come with that meal better than what they offer with the filet” she stated in obvious happy frustration. Tess always loved a great meal and seemed happiest when there were many appealing choices.
“Since the bill is on me, why don’t you select what you like? You mentioned your strong urge towards steak this evening, hence here we are.” He stated calmly as he gesticulated with the menu.
“mmm…yes. I guess I’ll go with the filet because I know I love it. But it’s not the point that you’re paying. In fact, since you’re paying…well, when someone else is paying, that’s when I like to order something less expensive. I don’t want anyone spending a huge fortune on me. I wouldn’t order the filet except for a special treat if I were paying for myself.” She spoke softly.
While she emphasized not wanting him to pay for something so expensive her blue eyes darkened from their usual sky blue to a deep grey oceanic haze. He appreciated her concern for his finances more than he let on. She was a horse of different color for certain. Just sitting across from her gave him pride. He hadn’t met a woman before who was so modest and frugal with others.
“It’s really nothing. Why don’t we start with the mussels?” he said casually.
“Oooh” she exclaimed. “That’d be great. What if I don’t have room for the filet though?” Her eyes sparkled while she spoke.
“Just box half the steak if you must”. He found her usage of the word “filet” as opposed to steak amusing. He guessed that the term filet made the meal seem more special to her than if it were simply a steak. Tess didn’t like to make anything simple. She complicated just about everything and celebrated life with big splash of bold exclamations and statements of affection and never tired of contemplating the meaning of life. He wondered when she’d begin mulling over the week’s thoughts that cyclone through her head. She’d wrestle with a thought for days and tirelessly research the answer. By the time she was ready for a discussion on the thought or topic, she would’ve arrived at her position. Then she wouldn’t budge on it.ever.
Half her filet lay on the plate. She picked at miniscule pieces of potato gratin and sipped slowly at her wine. She closed her eyes while she sipped. It kept him smiling through dinner to watch her eating. She never spoke of deep things while eating. She needed to concentrate on every flavor without distraction. As she lay her fork down she began to muse.
“So I’ve been thinking lately” she started.
“I’m sure you have,” he thought kindly. This was the best part about Tess, her deepness. Whatever she was about to say, he was sure it would keep him thinking for days.
“I’m really disappointed that I’ll never be ‘daddy’s little girl’” she said. Her eyes began to look foggy and wet.
He waited for her to continue.
“My father is such a disappointment. He’s not father of the year. It really hurt me when he said I came between him and my mother when I was born. Then recently he told his girlfriend that I’m like a roommate. But I’m not a roommate, I’m his daughter!” her face flushed and her tone of voice darkened.
“I don’t like him. I can’t respect him and feel he’s useless. How do I get over it Matt?” she said slowly and with sadness.
He worried she’d burst out crying at any minute. He looked up at the ceiling and began to pray. He wasn’t precisely sure what he should say. Tess had a tumultuous relationship with her father. He wanted to say something that’d help her.
“I don’t even know if there are men out there capable of taking care of me. My father was willing for me head to a ghetto train station rather than pick me up. Remember when he left me at the airport and I had to take a bus, subway and then a train home?” she said with pools of tears beginning to wash down her face. Her makeup began smearing. Suddenly she broke into sobs.
He sighed. “Tess. I think the best way to recover from hurt and be fully healed is to ask God to help you obliterate your expectations. You’re expecting your father to act in a compassionate and caring manner towards you. The problem is that unless Christ changes his heart, he won’t be able to act like the father you’re wistfully yearning for. “
She placed her fork on her plate and slowly sipped some water. The volcano of sobs and streaming tears had leveled off.
“I know you dream of a father who will treat you like ‘daddy’s little girl’. But I think you realize that isn’t going to happen. Each time you realize that your expectations aren’t met, you’re heartbroken. While you may never be daddy’s little girl, you can be God’s daughter. He says he’s a father to the fatherless. He’ll protect you and provide for you the physical help and spiritual strength you need.” He continued.
“In terms of what’s happened in the past, I think you need to rely on the scripture that says ‘forgetting those things which are behind, we press on towards the high calling’. I think if you start forgetting the past and start depending on Christ to take care of you, you’ll find that your expectations are met through Him and dependency on an earthly father. When he starts letting you down you can remember you have a heavenly Father that will supply all of your needs.”
When he finished she resumed excising the small layer of fat around the steak. The restaurant’s noise had become a hushed lull.
He worried he’d said too much and had upset her.
“Why is it that men always treat me like that. Are all men like that?” she wondered out loud.
“They aren’t all the same. I think you are so used to the way your father is that you’ve come to fear other men are like that. You’re gravitating towards that normalcy. You need to ask God to heal your heart. Once you’re healed of broken expectations and disappointments you’ll be able to turn down men that disappoint you rather than hoping that by dating them they’ll change.” She nodded while he spoke.
“Keep in mind you must love someone for who they are today, not what you hope they’ll be tomorrow.” He stated.
“How am I supposed to get along with my dad though?” she asked with a frown.
“You have the duties of a daughter to perform.”
“Meaning?” she asked.
“You are to obey your father and give him the honor due him. Mind his wishes and be respectful. There is nothing more for you to do.”
“It’s really nothing. Why don’t we start with the mussels?” he said casually.
“Oooh” she exclaimed. “That’d be great. What if I don’t have room for the filet though?” Her eyes sparkled while she spoke.
“Just box half the steak if you must”. He found her usage of the word “filet” as opposed to steak amusing. He guessed that the term filet made the meal seem more special to her than if it were simply a steak. Tess didn’t like to make anything simple. She complicated just about everything and celebrated life with big splash of bold exclamations and statements of affection and never tired of contemplating the meaning of life. He wondered when she’d begin mulling over the week’s thoughts that cyclone through her head. She’d wrestle with a thought for days and tirelessly research the answer. By the time she was ready for a discussion on the thought or topic, she would’ve arrived at her position. Then she wouldn’t budge on it.ever.
Half her filet lay on the plate. She picked at miniscule pieces of potato gratin and sipped slowly at her wine. She closed her eyes while she sipped. It kept him smiling through dinner to watch her eating. She never spoke of deep things while eating. She needed to concentrate on every flavor without distraction. As she lay her fork down she began to muse.
“So I’ve been thinking lately” she started.
“I’m sure you have,” he thought kindly. This was the best part about Tess, her deepness. Whatever she was about to say, he was sure it would keep him thinking for days.
“I’m really disappointed that I’ll never be ‘daddy’s little girl’” she said. Her eyes began to look foggy and wet.
He waited for her to continue.
“My father is such a disappointment. He’s not father of the year. It really hurt me when he said I came between him and my mother when I was born. Then recently he told his girlfriend that I’m like a roommate. But I’m not a roommate, I’m his daughter!” her face flushed and her tone of voice darkened.
“I don’t like him. I can’t respect him and feel he’s useless. How do I get over it Matt?” she said slowly and with sadness.
He worried she’d burst out crying at any minute. He looked up at the ceiling and began to pray. He wasn’t precisely sure what he should say. Tess had a tumultuous relationship with her father. He wanted to say something that’d help her.
“I don’t even know if there are men out there capable of taking care of me. My father was willing for me head to a ghetto train station rather than pick me up. Remember when he left me at the airport and I had to take a bus, subway and then a train home?” she said with pools of tears beginning to wash down her face. Her makeup began smearing. Suddenly she broke into sobs.
He sighed. “Tess. I think the best way to recover from hurt and be fully healed is to ask God to help you obliterate your expectations. You’re expecting your father to act in a compassionate and caring manner towards you. The problem is that unless Christ changes his heart, he won’t be able to act like the father you’re wistfully yearning for. “
She placed her fork on her plate and slowly sipped some water. The volcano of sobs and streaming tears had leveled off.
“I know you dream of a father who will treat you like ‘daddy’s little girl’. But I think you realize that isn’t going to happen. Each time you realize that your expectations aren’t met, you’re heartbroken. While you may never be daddy’s little girl, you can be God’s daughter. He says he’s a father to the fatherless. He’ll protect you and provide for you the physical help and spiritual strength you need.” He continued.
“In terms of what’s happened in the past, I think you need to rely on the scripture that says ‘forgetting those things which are behind, we press on towards the high calling’. I think if you start forgetting the past and start depending on Christ to take care of you, you’ll find that your expectations are met through Him and dependency on an earthly father. When he starts letting you down you can remember you have a heavenly Father that will supply all of your needs.”
When he finished she resumed excising the small layer of fat around the steak. The restaurant’s noise had become a hushed lull.
He worried he’d said too much and had upset her.
“Why is it that men always treat me like that. Are all men like that?” she wondered out loud.
“They aren’t all the same. I think you are so used to the way your father is that you’ve come to fear other men are like that. You’re gravitating towards that normalcy. You need to ask God to heal your heart. Once you’re healed of broken expectations and disappointments you’ll be able to turn down men that disappoint you rather than hoping that by dating them they’ll change.” She nodded while he spoke.
“Keep in mind you must love someone for who they are today, not what you hope they’ll be tomorrow.” He stated.
“How am I supposed to get along with my dad though?” she asked with a frown.
“You have the duties of a daughter to perform.”
“Meaning?” she asked.
“You are to obey your father and give him the honor due him. Mind his wishes and be respectful. There is nothing more for you to do.”
Philippians 3:12-14 (New King James Version)
Pressing Toward the Goal 12 Not that I have already attained, or am already perfected; but I press on, that I may lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus has also laid hold of me. 13 Brethren, I do not count myself to have apprehended; but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, 14 I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
Ephesians 6:1-3 (New International Version)
Ephesians 6:1-3 (New International Version)
Children and Parents 1Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. 2"Honor your father and mother"—which is the first commandment with a promise— 3"that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth."[a]
Colossians 3:19-21 (New International Version)
Colossians 3:19-21 (New International Version)
19Husbands, love your wives and do not be harsh with them. 20Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord. 21Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Lord's Favor
Yesterday a co-worker told me a highly ranked Officer of our company complimented my work to my boss's boss. Her comment reminded me of the gracious, will of God. Even those we fear are under His auspice. Throughout the Bible there are accounts of men and women who gain favor with fearful men and dreaded enemies. When Paul tells us that we "wrestle not against flesh and blood" (Ephesians 6:11-13) our own life experiences makes that clear. I'm not remarkable. In fact, I recently exploded in a meeting and told my boss I hated a project I was working on. Oops. After that meeting my boss stated that she'd never let me fail. I was then, of course, scolded for my reaction during the meeting. The point is, I'm nothing and no one special. My sudden exposure to many different departments has generated a stirring up of compliments towards me. It's tempting to become immodest and say I'm a fabulous, genius employee. While I work hard and try to be flawless in all I do, I'm just like anyone else.
What I've found is that wherever we are and with whomever we are with, God tilts the heart of that person. Their favor begins to shine upon us because He tells them to. When a life is consecrated to Christ, because He favors us, he sometimes make our enemies to as well. Take a look at some scriptures below that enumerate this point exactly. There are so many others ...
Psalm 30:4-6 (New King James Version)
4 Sing praise to the LORD, you saints of His, And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.[a] 5 For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning. 6 Now in my prosperity I said, “I shall never be moved.”
Proverbs 3:3-6 (New King James Version)
3 Let not mercy and truth forsake you; Bind them around your neck, Write them on the tablet of your heart, 4 And so find favor and high esteem In the sight of God and man. 5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; 6 In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct[a] your paths.
4 Sing praise to the LORD, you saints of His, And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.[a] 5 For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; Weeping may endure for a night, But joy comes in the morning. 6 Now in my prosperity I said, “I shall never be moved.”
Proverbs 3:3-6 (New King James Version)
3 Let not mercy and truth forsake you; Bind them around your neck, Write them on the tablet of your heart, 4 And so find favor and high esteem In the sight of God and man. 5 Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; 6 In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct[a] your paths.
Genesis 39:3-5 (New King James Version)
3 And his master saw that the LORD was with him and that the LORD made all he did to prosper in his hand. 4 So Joseph found favor in his sight, and served him. Then he made him overseer of his house, and all that he had he put under his authority. 5 So it was, from the time that he had made him overseer of his house and all that he had, that the LORD blessed the Egyptian’s house for Joseph’s sake; and the blessing of the LORD was on all that he had in the house and in the field
3 And his master saw that the LORD was with him and that the LORD made all he did to prosper in his hand. 4 So Joseph found favor in his sight, and served him. Then he made him overseer of his house, and all that he had he put under his authority. 5 So it was, from the time that he had made him overseer of his house and all that he had, that the LORD blessed the Egyptian’s house for Joseph’s sake; and the blessing of the LORD was on all that he had in the house and in the field
Genesis 39:20-22 (New King James Version)
20 Then Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison, a place where the king’s prisoners were confined. And he was there in the prison. 21 But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him mercy, and He gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison. 22 And the keeper of the prison committed to Joseph’s hand all the prisoners who were in the prison; whatever they did there, it was his doing.
Daniel 39:20-22 (New King James Version)
8 But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king’s delicacies, nor with the wine which he drank; therefore he requested of the chief of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself. 9 Now God had brought Daniel into the favor and goodwill of the chief of the eunuchs. 10 And the chief of the eunuchs said to Daniel, “I fear my lord the king, who has appointed your food and drink. For why should he see your faces looking worse than the young men who are your age? Then you would endanger my head before the king.”
20 Then Joseph’s master took him and put him into the prison, a place where the king’s prisoners were confined. And he was there in the prison. 21 But the LORD was with Joseph and showed him mercy, and He gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison. 22 And the keeper of the prison committed to Joseph’s hand all the prisoners who were in the prison; whatever they did there, it was his doing.
Daniel 39:20-22 (New King James Version)
8 But Daniel purposed in his heart that he would not defile himself with the portion of the king’s delicacies, nor with the wine which he drank; therefore he requested of the chief of the eunuchs that he might not defile himself. 9 Now God had brought Daniel into the favor and goodwill of the chief of the eunuchs. 10 And the chief of the eunuchs said to Daniel, “I fear my lord the king, who has appointed your food and drink. For why should he see your faces looking worse than the young men who are your age? Then you would endanger my head before the king.”
Monday, September 14, 2009
What Would it be Like?
The most memorable thing about her is her laugh. You can hear the giggling chuckle of her laugh from down the hall. She seems to give way to the 1/2 giggle, 1/2 chuckle regularly throughout the day. Her eyes are the grey of a New England morning stretching across the Atlantic. Her features are angled but not severe. Her age is unknown. She has one of those creaseless faces; yet she isn't terribly young. She's middle aged but in what decade, one really couldn't tell.
I stood at the entry of her window office. The sun sat low in the sky, a goldenrod in early fall afternoon. The trees cast midday shadows that tapped against the grass as the breeze swept by. I had a work question but suddenly it began leading us away into a topic far deeper and more interesting than attrition data.
"You know I'm going on vacation soon?" she squealed as she raised herself up and down in her seat.
"Really? Where are you headed?" I asked
"To an artist's colony for 2 whole weeks...it's grand isn't it?" her eyes began reflect the light of excitement.
"I'm headed there to do these a bit better" she said with raised eyebrows. With a flourish of the hand, she dug into her briefcase and produced a sketch book with multiple portraits. They were brilliant, life like and enviable.
"Wow," I said breathlessly. "Are you going with anyone?" I immediately assumed she'd be going there with a sister, friend, husband, child etc.
"No! That's the beauty of it. I'm going all alone!!!" she practically leapt off her chair as she wildly clapped her hands in excitement.
I nodded my head and began to run different admirable thoughts through my head. She sensed my paused reservation. I noticed she seemed to take my reflection as a hesitation. I assumed she didn’t like pauses or breaks in conversation.
“I can’t wait to head there alone. It’ll be such a reprieve from everything.”
“Really?” I answered quizzically. I was questioning how anyone could relish two weeks alone but didn’t want to state that.
“Oh yes. I remember the time I kept telling my husband I wanted to see a particular play. He kept promising he’d take me and well…he never got around to. So I decided to make a date for it. I told a close friend at work that I was going on a date. ‘with your husband’, she asked. ‘No!’ ‘With a lover then?’ ‘Nope! With myself’. So I purchased my one ticket, informed my husband of my being out for evening and went. I never enjoyed a play so much. Not because the play was fantastic but because it was the first time I could sit through something and not worry if my companion had enjoyed it. I could just enjoy it or hate it without anyone. It was fabulous”. She triumphantly declared.
“I think that’s great. I wish I didn’t feel so alone when I’m doing things like that,” I said wistfully.
With squinted eyes and pursed lips pursed, she began thinking. “What would being alone look like if everything was ok?” she asked not looking at me but just into the room.
I widened my eyes and began to think. It wasn’t something I could imagine…yet. Our conversation was brought to a halting stop by a passerby. I headed to my desk and continued to think. She lit a concept of self awareness I hadn’t anticipated. What would life be like if I didn’t feel lonely? Perhaps I was concentrating too much of my efforts on making new friends rather than focusing on befriending myself.
What did I like to do when others weren’t around? Not having the answer to that question was cause for concern and also cause for growth.
I stood at the entry of her window office. The sun sat low in the sky, a goldenrod in early fall afternoon. The trees cast midday shadows that tapped against the grass as the breeze swept by. I had a work question but suddenly it began leading us away into a topic far deeper and more interesting than attrition data.
"You know I'm going on vacation soon?" she squealed as she raised herself up and down in her seat.
"Really? Where are you headed?" I asked
"To an artist's colony for 2 whole weeks...it's grand isn't it?" her eyes began reflect the light of excitement.
"I'm headed there to do these a bit better" she said with raised eyebrows. With a flourish of the hand, she dug into her briefcase and produced a sketch book with multiple portraits. They were brilliant, life like and enviable.
"Wow," I said breathlessly. "Are you going with anyone?" I immediately assumed she'd be going there with a sister, friend, husband, child etc.
"No! That's the beauty of it. I'm going all alone!!!" she practically leapt off her chair as she wildly clapped her hands in excitement.
I nodded my head and began to run different admirable thoughts through my head. She sensed my paused reservation. I noticed she seemed to take my reflection as a hesitation. I assumed she didn’t like pauses or breaks in conversation.
“I can’t wait to head there alone. It’ll be such a reprieve from everything.”
“Really?” I answered quizzically. I was questioning how anyone could relish two weeks alone but didn’t want to state that.
“Oh yes. I remember the time I kept telling my husband I wanted to see a particular play. He kept promising he’d take me and well…he never got around to. So I decided to make a date for it. I told a close friend at work that I was going on a date. ‘with your husband’, she asked. ‘No!’ ‘With a lover then?’ ‘Nope! With myself’. So I purchased my one ticket, informed my husband of my being out for evening and went. I never enjoyed a play so much. Not because the play was fantastic but because it was the first time I could sit through something and not worry if my companion had enjoyed it. I could just enjoy it or hate it without anyone. It was fabulous”. She triumphantly declared.
“I think that’s great. I wish I didn’t feel so alone when I’m doing things like that,” I said wistfully.
With squinted eyes and pursed lips pursed, she began thinking. “What would being alone look like if everything was ok?” she asked not looking at me but just into the room.
I widened my eyes and began to think. It wasn’t something I could imagine…yet. Our conversation was brought to a halting stop by a passerby. I headed to my desk and continued to think. She lit a concept of self awareness I hadn’t anticipated. What would life be like if I didn’t feel lonely? Perhaps I was concentrating too much of my efforts on making new friends rather than focusing on befriending myself.
What did I like to do when others weren’t around? Not having the answer to that question was cause for concern and also cause for growth.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Surviving When All Seems Lost
It seems so silly now. Last night the sky was sooty and filled with trickles of rain that dripped much like a leaking faucet. I had set out on my journey home to discover the trickling rain had caused an epidemic of car accidents. I crept through back streets after a desperately long day that had nearly reduced me to tears.
I sat at the computer, after dinner with friends, desperate and dying to write but unable to because my hands had grown numb from editing a soon to launch intranet site at work. I attempted to read My Life In France but was unable to due to the hand situation. My cat, Button, eventually curled into my lap and peacefully hummed each time I stroked her.
So there I was on the couch with numb fingers, a humming cat and nothing to do but watch tv. My mother passed away 3 1/2 years ago and I still suffer from her loss with acute pain. The shock has worn off; what remains is a desperate need for normalcy. My family disintegrated into separate, disingenuous units. My father became exactly what I always perceived him to be. He’s a man only interested in his own endeavors and who considers yours when he’s bored, depressed or lonely. Father of the year he is not. The worst of it is, he thinks he’s a terrific father. He was superbly fatherly when he left me to fend for myself in Hoboken when I missed the last call for the parking garage and learned that it was closed for the night. The gentlemen at the gate told me I was three minutes late and I’d have to return in the morning. I was late because my friend was crying over dinner, worried her husband was having an affair and asking me if all men cheat. I hesitated to glance at my watch, afraid she’d feel conscience of the time.
At a loss, I called my father who happily stated he was on the couch watching tv. The thought of picking me up never occurred to him. He suggested I take a train to Newark and then Rahway where he’d either pick me up or I could get a cab home from the Rahway station since it’d be after 2:00 A.M. He stated it was getting late. My friend startled and stated, “You can’t do that as a woman at this hour! Newark isn’t safe during the day! Stay with us.” So I did. And the winner of the father of the year award isn’t mine.
As an only child with a father like mine, I’m always tempted to wish for something more. To dream of someone who’d have rescued me in Hoboken, ask me how my day was and plan things together. At the loss of my mother, I decided the best thing for me was to find a nice man who wanted a nice, capable woman and a great home life. That hasn’t happened. I spend holidays with my mother’s best friend, thankfully, and always feel like the orphaned girl who everyone secretly feels sorry for. I’m never at a loss for invites over the holidays. Last night the normalcy need was magically brought to life but I didn't realize how far I've come.
I get angry at myself quite easily for forgetting to clean the cat box, refusing to fold my laundry or "red" up my room. I've learned I'm much happier in an organized life but disdain the "getting organized" part so much that I avoid it all together. Then I start to cry, literally, and wish for my mother and hate my life...blah.blah. My mother was my normalcy. Together we’d head to brunch each Saturday, she’d remind me to wash my clothes and head to bed early. Dinner was always made. We talked three times a day and lived together. Every experience and thought I had was hashed out with my mom. We loved each other with a devotion so deep that even death hasn’t cut it. In fact, the loss has made me understand her even more.
At first I missed the physical things like dinner, watching movies etc. Lately I miss the spiritual. I want to ask her questions like “Why does God allow suffering?”, “Am I meant to be alone forever?”, “What if you give birth to a child you aren’t fond of?” My mother, if she didn’t have an answer, would ponder and pray over it before discussing it further. Then she always would.
I’ve worked at creating my own life’s rhythm. For some reason it’s an insanely difficult thing to do. It’s easy to arrive on time for work each day but quite challenging for me to plan out a week’s worth of menus and cook them after work for my father when I’m exhausted. The fact that he’s never thankful for my efforts only worsens my resolve not to cook. I dread hearing about his day endlessly over dinner. I awaken early in the morning to read scripture and meditate on it. I did that before my mother passed and continued until I met a boyfriend who didn’t believe. I started this up last month and found it to be a key ingredient in my contentment.
Yet, a wand seems to wave, dust disperses into the air and suddenly a lonely fit of tears begins to travel northward from my heart to my eyes. I have a broken heart that seems to refuse to be fixed.
I’ve learned of late to let the tears come and start praying immediately. I pray for help and strength from God and a relief from the feelings. While it doesn’t usually fade of its own accord, my mother’s advice is true. Eat, pray and sleep for relief. I went to bed last night and awakened fully restored. The questions remain but the answer came in the most unusual place. It came from a blog. Here’s the article. Penelope Trunk's 9/11 blog. I agree with her last statement: “And I wonder: Did the World Trade Center cause me to become completely unstable for a time? Or did the World Trade Center give me a framework for creating a different stability that grows better every year?”
The loss of my mother wrecked my life for a time. In fact, that life has completely died. There are no more family gatherings or dinners. With it some hoped faded away too. I’m not going to be daddy’s little girl. Perhaps it's time for me to become my own normalcy, to set the metronome to my own rhythm instead of hers. Her death has forced me to adapt and stabilize myself. I've found stability comes from God. I’ve lost her shelter but His has only widened. The key to your survival is finding your Savior. Perhaps a loss causes the deepest kind of growth. When you lose something or suffer greatly, you’re forced to rebuild and heal. The starting over process creates flexibility, character, compassion towards others and appreciation for what you have. While I may never have the father I hoped for, I’ve been given a career I love, friends who care and a faith that grows stronger each day. I’ve learned that life is a lot about doing what you don’t love to do. Each day you have to do the tasks assigned to you, whether you feel like doing them or not. To avoid the lonely feelings, make a list of things you can do alone. Don’t think of it as being alone while doing them, just do them to keep busy. Find your outlets, read scripture and realize that all of us must spend times alone. Being alone makes makes the company of others that much sweeter.
I can’t be certain of what life holds next but I am certain of one thing. God’s compassion will never fail to help you through it. When all seems lost perhaps it really is. Loss gives way to gain though. You have to be broken to be rebuilt. Perhaps the new thing that’s starting is better than the old ever could’ve been.
Lam. 3:22.
I sat at the computer, after dinner with friends, desperate and dying to write but unable to because my hands had grown numb from editing a soon to launch intranet site at work. I attempted to read My Life In France but was unable to due to the hand situation. My cat, Button, eventually curled into my lap and peacefully hummed each time I stroked her.
So there I was on the couch with numb fingers, a humming cat and nothing to do but watch tv. My mother passed away 3 1/2 years ago and I still suffer from her loss with acute pain. The shock has worn off; what remains is a desperate need for normalcy. My family disintegrated into separate, disingenuous units. My father became exactly what I always perceived him to be. He’s a man only interested in his own endeavors and who considers yours when he’s bored, depressed or lonely. Father of the year he is not. The worst of it is, he thinks he’s a terrific father. He was superbly fatherly when he left me to fend for myself in Hoboken when I missed the last call for the parking garage and learned that it was closed for the night. The gentlemen at the gate told me I was three minutes late and I’d have to return in the morning. I was late because my friend was crying over dinner, worried her husband was having an affair and asking me if all men cheat. I hesitated to glance at my watch, afraid she’d feel conscience of the time.
At a loss, I called my father who happily stated he was on the couch watching tv. The thought of picking me up never occurred to him. He suggested I take a train to Newark and then Rahway where he’d either pick me up or I could get a cab home from the Rahway station since it’d be after 2:00 A.M. He stated it was getting late. My friend startled and stated, “You can’t do that as a woman at this hour! Newark isn’t safe during the day! Stay with us.” So I did. And the winner of the father of the year award isn’t mine.
As an only child with a father like mine, I’m always tempted to wish for something more. To dream of someone who’d have rescued me in Hoboken, ask me how my day was and plan things together. At the loss of my mother, I decided the best thing for me was to find a nice man who wanted a nice, capable woman and a great home life. That hasn’t happened. I spend holidays with my mother’s best friend, thankfully, and always feel like the orphaned girl who everyone secretly feels sorry for. I’m never at a loss for invites over the holidays. Last night the normalcy need was magically brought to life but I didn't realize how far I've come.
I get angry at myself quite easily for forgetting to clean the cat box, refusing to fold my laundry or "red" up my room. I've learned I'm much happier in an organized life but disdain the "getting organized" part so much that I avoid it all together. Then I start to cry, literally, and wish for my mother and hate my life...blah.blah. My mother was my normalcy. Together we’d head to brunch each Saturday, she’d remind me to wash my clothes and head to bed early. Dinner was always made. We talked three times a day and lived together. Every experience and thought I had was hashed out with my mom. We loved each other with a devotion so deep that even death hasn’t cut it. In fact, the loss has made me understand her even more.
At first I missed the physical things like dinner, watching movies etc. Lately I miss the spiritual. I want to ask her questions like “Why does God allow suffering?”, “Am I meant to be alone forever?”, “What if you give birth to a child you aren’t fond of?” My mother, if she didn’t have an answer, would ponder and pray over it before discussing it further. Then she always would.
I’ve worked at creating my own life’s rhythm. For some reason it’s an insanely difficult thing to do. It’s easy to arrive on time for work each day but quite challenging for me to plan out a week’s worth of menus and cook them after work for my father when I’m exhausted. The fact that he’s never thankful for my efforts only worsens my resolve not to cook. I dread hearing about his day endlessly over dinner. I awaken early in the morning to read scripture and meditate on it. I did that before my mother passed and continued until I met a boyfriend who didn’t believe. I started this up last month and found it to be a key ingredient in my contentment.
Yet, a wand seems to wave, dust disperses into the air and suddenly a lonely fit of tears begins to travel northward from my heart to my eyes. I have a broken heart that seems to refuse to be fixed.
I’ve learned of late to let the tears come and start praying immediately. I pray for help and strength from God and a relief from the feelings. While it doesn’t usually fade of its own accord, my mother’s advice is true. Eat, pray and sleep for relief. I went to bed last night and awakened fully restored. The questions remain but the answer came in the most unusual place. It came from a blog. Here’s the article. Penelope Trunk's 9/11 blog. I agree with her last statement: “And I wonder: Did the World Trade Center cause me to become completely unstable for a time? Or did the World Trade Center give me a framework for creating a different stability that grows better every year?”
The loss of my mother wrecked my life for a time. In fact, that life has completely died. There are no more family gatherings or dinners. With it some hoped faded away too. I’m not going to be daddy’s little girl. Perhaps it's time for me to become my own normalcy, to set the metronome to my own rhythm instead of hers. Her death has forced me to adapt and stabilize myself. I've found stability comes from God. I’ve lost her shelter but His has only widened. The key to your survival is finding your Savior. Perhaps a loss causes the deepest kind of growth. When you lose something or suffer greatly, you’re forced to rebuild and heal. The starting over process creates flexibility, character, compassion towards others and appreciation for what you have. While I may never have the father I hoped for, I’ve been given a career I love, friends who care and a faith that grows stronger each day. I’ve learned that life is a lot about doing what you don’t love to do. Each day you have to do the tasks assigned to you, whether you feel like doing them or not. To avoid the lonely feelings, make a list of things you can do alone. Don’t think of it as being alone while doing them, just do them to keep busy. Find your outlets, read scripture and realize that all of us must spend times alone. Being alone makes makes the company of others that much sweeter.
I can’t be certain of what life holds next but I am certain of one thing. God’s compassion will never fail to help you through it. When all seems lost perhaps it really is. Loss gives way to gain though. You have to be broken to be rebuilt. Perhaps the new thing that’s starting is better than the old ever could’ve been.
Lam. 3:22.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Mother's Best Advice
Jessica lay sprawled across the bed. Her mother was placidly propped against several pillows, reading her Bible, which was her habit each night between the hours of nine and ten. Her daughter's leg draped across her own legs and her arm tightly gripped her waist. Tell tail signs showed her daughter had been crying. Dripping mascara had formed rings of black around her lower lashes and her makeup had the dewy look of having recently been wet. The scene was not an uncommon one. She turned the page and continued reading. Years of knowing her daughter had taught her that eventually she'd begin to spill the details of what had spurred the tears.
Jessica had a way of feeling most things with a deep acuteness. It often worried her about how sensitive Jessica was and how easily she slid between buoyant happiness and utter despair. When she reached the lower parts of despair only prayer and a quiet comfort helped. She began to stroke her hair and swallowed her own tears. Just seeing the anxiety across Jessica's face caused her head to begin aching and her stomach to squeeze in pain. She was tired from a long day where she had spent most of it by herself. The highlight was seeing Jessica almost dance through the back door that evening after work. Her presence always brought joy and light into the house. She kept reading and waiting.
"Mom I feel so alone. I got another wedding invitation and it'll be another wedding to attend alone. I hate going! Why is it that God hasn't sent me someone?" Jessica began as rivers of tears began working their way down her face.
She closed her Bible and began rubbing her daughter's head.
"I wish I had an answer darling but the one I have you aren't fond of". She replied quietly.
"I know I should depend on God and I do but still...is it wrong to want someone? It doesn't feel fair to be left alone. Marta has known this guy for only 6 months." Jessica answered a bit angrily.
"But would you want Marta's fiancé? Anyone can get married, Jessica, but do you want just anyone?" she replied. She had repeated this question many times over the past few months as wedding invitations for Jessica's friends poured in. She had prayed earnestly that God would send someone to Jessica but for the moment things remained as they were. In all honesty, she was relieved. She wasn't sure how she'd live without her only child.
"Well I don't want just anyone! Yet I don't want no one!” she said as she looked desperately up at her mother.
"We'll keep praying. You know God puts the solitary in families. He promises that. For the time being you have your father and mother who love you very much. Isn't that enough?" She said pleadingly.
Jessica continued to sob. There wasn't much else she could say. She was sure that once the right man arrived all these anxious moments and tears would be soon forgotten. Jessica was so young.
"You're so young Jessica" she said, trying to comfort her.
"You were married by this time mom" she stated with passion.
"It didn't mean I was happy. You should never get married just because everyone else is or because you think you'll never find someone else. I made a mistake marrying so young. Waiting means God will bring you someone better." she said earnestly.
"I think you're just tired dear. Why don't you have a light snack, cast all your cares on God in prayer and head to bed early. I promise you that by tomorrow morning you'll feel much better about all this." She said.
In time Jessica left her bedroom and disappeared downstairs into the kitchen. She began to pray that God would begin to comfort her daughter. Her thoughts began racing through all the day’s events and wondering what else she could’ve said or down to make her feel better. She didn't have an answer to Jessica's anxiety. Her only answer was prayer. A little after 10:30, much later than her usual bed time, she turned off the light. She hoped her daughter would do the same.
The following morning Jessica joyfully arrived in the kitchen. Her makeup was perfect, her hair straightened and her smile wide. She wanted to ask Jessica if she felt better but feared that asking would only remind her of last night's troubles. Her daughter sat down to breakfast and chattered happily about the soon to be workday, her weekend and their next mother daughter brunch. All seemed to be forgotten. She was thankful for answered prayers. She had always found that a little food, an earnest prayer and a good night’s rest was the start to feeling better. Everything always looked brighter in the morning after you’d given God time to work.
Jessica had a way of feeling most things with a deep acuteness. It often worried her about how sensitive Jessica was and how easily she slid between buoyant happiness and utter despair. When she reached the lower parts of despair only prayer and a quiet comfort helped. She began to stroke her hair and swallowed her own tears. Just seeing the anxiety across Jessica's face caused her head to begin aching and her stomach to squeeze in pain. She was tired from a long day where she had spent most of it by herself. The highlight was seeing Jessica almost dance through the back door that evening after work. Her presence always brought joy and light into the house. She kept reading and waiting.
"Mom I feel so alone. I got another wedding invitation and it'll be another wedding to attend alone. I hate going! Why is it that God hasn't sent me someone?" Jessica began as rivers of tears began working their way down her face.
She closed her Bible and began rubbing her daughter's head.
"I wish I had an answer darling but the one I have you aren't fond of". She replied quietly.
"I know I should depend on God and I do but still...is it wrong to want someone? It doesn't feel fair to be left alone. Marta has known this guy for only 6 months." Jessica answered a bit angrily.
"But would you want Marta's fiancé? Anyone can get married, Jessica, but do you want just anyone?" she replied. She had repeated this question many times over the past few months as wedding invitations for Jessica's friends poured in. She had prayed earnestly that God would send someone to Jessica but for the moment things remained as they were. In all honesty, she was relieved. She wasn't sure how she'd live without her only child.
"Well I don't want just anyone! Yet I don't want no one!” she said as she looked desperately up at her mother.
"We'll keep praying. You know God puts the solitary in families. He promises that. For the time being you have your father and mother who love you very much. Isn't that enough?" She said pleadingly.
Jessica continued to sob. There wasn't much else she could say. She was sure that once the right man arrived all these anxious moments and tears would be soon forgotten. Jessica was so young.
"You're so young Jessica" she said, trying to comfort her.
"You were married by this time mom" she stated with passion.
"It didn't mean I was happy. You should never get married just because everyone else is or because you think you'll never find someone else. I made a mistake marrying so young. Waiting means God will bring you someone better." she said earnestly.
"I think you're just tired dear. Why don't you have a light snack, cast all your cares on God in prayer and head to bed early. I promise you that by tomorrow morning you'll feel much better about all this." She said.
In time Jessica left her bedroom and disappeared downstairs into the kitchen. She began to pray that God would begin to comfort her daughter. Her thoughts began racing through all the day’s events and wondering what else she could’ve said or down to make her feel better. She didn't have an answer to Jessica's anxiety. Her only answer was prayer. A little after 10:30, much later than her usual bed time, she turned off the light. She hoped her daughter would do the same.
The following morning Jessica joyfully arrived in the kitchen. Her makeup was perfect, her hair straightened and her smile wide. She wanted to ask Jessica if she felt better but feared that asking would only remind her of last night's troubles. Her daughter sat down to breakfast and chattered happily about the soon to be workday, her weekend and their next mother daughter brunch. All seemed to be forgotten. She was thankful for answered prayers. She had always found that a little food, an earnest prayer and a good night’s rest was the start to feeling better. Everything always looked brighter in the morning after you’d given God time to work.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
A Cute Button Story
So last night I worked late. I came home, heated a lean cuisine and set to reading "The Painted Veil" for Tuesday's book club discussion. While on the sofa reading, I hear the scratching of Button in her litter pan. She steps out from the bathroom and makes a kind of cooing noise which caused me to look up from my book. There she stood blinking up at me. We made eye contact, she gave three meows and walked away in disgust.
It wasn't until this morning that I realized what the meows were for. I haven't cleaned her box in a while! Shame on me.
Can You Tell a Book by Its Cover?
The most memorable aspect to his face was his eyes; the color of a cloudless sky on a warm summer's day. His dress was nothing spectacular. It was obvious that first impressions mattered little to him or that he didn't realize they mattered at all. He was an attorney who never seemed to take a vacation and who once stated to her, "I love the practice of law". Through conversations with lawyers at three different law firms at which she worked, no one had made such a statement. He was a mystery. Their relationship, if you could call it that, began in early fall the prior year. She was readying the department for the arrival of the fall associates. Sick, tired and utterly desperate to go home, she was in a conference room preparing the endless fall arrival orientation packets. He had come in and started conversation. It wasn't a memorable conversation and she didn't remember all that much about him. As the year progressed, he'd come by her desk and converse. He'd tell her little things about himself and she'd offer up some entertaining stories. Nothing progressed beyond the casual "ice breaking" conversation. Several partners had stated he was "obsessed" with her and it seemed no secret of his interest. Yet, he never made the interest known.
One summer morning, following a cocktail reception she'd attended the prior evening, an anonymous e-mail arrived in her inbox. She instantly wondered if it was from her "obsessed" attorney acquaintance. In the subject heading was "Hello" followed by her name. The contents simply stated that she was pretty and that seeing her was the highlight of his day. It was left unsigned and had no name indicating who it was from. Panic had swept over her.
Was it another stalker? It obviously was from someone at work since it came to her work e-mail account and called her by name. Little by little the screen name was decoded, by her co-worker, to be from the mysterious attorney. Yet, during that cocktail reception he seemed to do everything to avoid her. She shrugged and had decided most men were just abnormal.
Why not sign his name? She thought.
A year had come round to another and soon they were talking more freely. It was discovered during conversation that each had an interest in reading and literature. He suggested she read his favorite book; eagerly she agreed. It wasn't common for her to meet a fellow reader eager to offer up book suggestions. When he offered her his book to read she accepted with gratitude. She expected to read something she fell instantly in love with. Instead, she was instantly not in love. The book was satirical, cynical and made obvious statements against war, American life and believing in anything. While well written, it wasn't something she'd choose. Then the questions began:
If you love a book does it mean you agree with its standpoint?
One summer morning, following a cocktail reception she'd attended the prior evening, an anonymous e-mail arrived in her inbox. She instantly wondered if it was from her "obsessed" attorney acquaintance. In the subject heading was "Hello" followed by her name. The contents simply stated that she was pretty and that seeing her was the highlight of his day. It was left unsigned and had no name indicating who it was from. Panic had swept over her.
Was it another stalker? It obviously was from someone at work since it came to her work e-mail account and called her by name. Little by little the screen name was decoded, by her co-worker, to be from the mysterious attorney. Yet, during that cocktail reception he seemed to do everything to avoid her. She shrugged and had decided most men were just abnormal.
Why not sign his name? She thought.
A year had come round to another and soon they were talking more freely. It was discovered during conversation that each had an interest in reading and literature. He suggested she read his favorite book; eagerly she agreed. It wasn't common for her to meet a fellow reader eager to offer up book suggestions. When he offered her his book to read she accepted with gratitude. She expected to read something she fell instantly in love with. Instead, she was instantly not in love. The book was satirical, cynical and made obvious statements against war, American life and believing in anything. While well written, it wasn't something she'd choose. Then the questions began:
If you love a book does it mean you agree with its standpoint?
If a cover does tell you about the book does it also tell you about the readers who love it?
There wasn't an easy answer. She'd only gotten a 1/4 of the way through and already she wondered at the character of who had suggested it. What did his liking this book say about him? Was he an irreverent sort of person? Did he question authority, governments and simply believing in something?
She's couldn't be sure. Perhaps she'd just have to get to know him to find out...that is, if he'd allow her to get to know him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
