Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Me. Me. Me.

Me. Me. Me.

This is why I haven't been posting. Getting annoyed with talking about me, when others really fascinate me. Instead, I have been writing fiction stories about other people. It gets tiring though; making up stories about interesting people that do or do not exist somewhere in the world. It takes so much work. People here are just as fascinating, just not how I want them to be in my little mental pictures I like to paint them in. I want to paint them in with my own ending and be in constant control of what happens in the end....this is the American ending that movie goers really pay to see. I never thought myself one of these happy fruity smelling farts kind of people. I am far more sophisticated than that. I like Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens, surely I am different than them.

Maybe not. Maybe I want a happy ending after-all, at least the ending that makes me happy. So I can see now how being able to control the outcome would be so attractive. I can see how people have an issue with not being able to control something.

Life isn't about control. It isn't by far. Life is about handling with grace a life that is spinning in a direction foreign to you. Life is about not understanding anything anymore. Life is found in trusting someone you cannot see and cannot touch. A long time ago I wrote a praise song to God on a night I didn't feel like writing for God. I felt like writing something sad and stupid for me. This night I wrote a song about what God was to me when I was broken. I wrote about Will in it. I wrote about my disappointment with God in it. I wrote about the failure to thrive on my own and the absolute need to fall at my God's feet. I sang it in church and in youth group to the best of my ability, avoiding each time what it meant to me to keep from tears. Then a wonderful women from my church who has lost so much, but not everything, reminded me that God is very much real and good and made a difference in her loss through that song. Made a difference to her husband. She made me sorry I wrote the song because of my pride and foolishness, but thankful that that I wrote it because God is so good to use an idiot to reach a servant.

Sorry for my stupidity.


Sing.
Migrate.