open letter
i was going to write an entry about
you. my thoughts, my questions, just to get things out in the open, you
know? but i've been sitting here with my arms crossed, fooling myself
into thinking that i was thinking, when in reality my posture was
probably more truthful. so, instead, i'll write an entry to
you. it's ridiculous, i know. but i've sort of forgotten how to relate
to you, so i'll hide behind my words, as i am wont to do.
how are you? it's been awhile. i've been missing you a lot lately. my own fault, of course. i'm sorry. it's like far too many of my other relationships... feeling far away and longing for their companionship, but somehow i can't be bothered to make a phone call or send a simple message. but if you think about it, no one's knocking down my door either, right? selfish but true. except i guess you're a little different. you're long past the door knock and have taken up residence inside, currently hanging out with the finger foods and wondering when the host will be coming around again. i marvel at your tenacity and steadfastness. i know i could never say this nearly enough, and i know you already know this, but thank you so much for staying with me. even when it seems the only time i call for you is when i need an emergency tray of hors d'oeuvres or something. because somehow, you always find me. and more often than not you know just which something to bring, even if it's not what i asked for, or wanted.
what's up with that, anyway?
i hate to say this, but if i'm going to come clean, i'll be perfectly honest: sometimes i can get pretty pissed at you. i just don't understand so many of the things that you do, or don't do. and i know it's none of my business, really, but GOSH would it kill you to just give a hint or two?? seriously. i know, i know: faith, perseverance, character, blah. i get it. i trust you with [for] my life, and i know you know what you're doing. i just don't always like it. but i suppose that's my problem, not yours.
you know, i hear so many people talk about you. everyone has their own ideas about the things you've said and done, and frankly, it gets confusing sometimes. it's like the largest game of telephone, ever. it seems like you've left a heckload of rules, but actually i think it's that open-endedness that's got me all tripped up. give me an inch and i'll take a mile, you know? i like order and rules and stuff... but i guess that's not really what you're going for, anyway. i should really make an effort to review all those things you wrote for me. i have a lot of questions i should probably ask you too, instead of just directing them at nothing and no one in particular. and also... maybe i should just shut up and listen.
oh... and you know that thing with the stuff and the yeah? i need some serious help with that. and pretty much everything remotely related to it. i certainly can't do it on my own.
i need You. please help me.
how are you? it's been awhile. i've been missing you a lot lately. my own fault, of course. i'm sorry. it's like far too many of my other relationships... feeling far away and longing for their companionship, but somehow i can't be bothered to make a phone call or send a simple message. but if you think about it, no one's knocking down my door either, right? selfish but true. except i guess you're a little different. you're long past the door knock and have taken up residence inside, currently hanging out with the finger foods and wondering when the host will be coming around again. i marvel at your tenacity and steadfastness. i know i could never say this nearly enough, and i know you already know this, but thank you so much for staying with me. even when it seems the only time i call for you is when i need an emergency tray of hors d'oeuvres or something. because somehow, you always find me. and more often than not you know just which something to bring, even if it's not what i asked for, or wanted.
what's up with that, anyway?
i hate to say this, but if i'm going to come clean, i'll be perfectly honest: sometimes i can get pretty pissed at you. i just don't understand so many of the things that you do, or don't do. and i know it's none of my business, really, but GOSH would it kill you to just give a hint or two?? seriously. i know, i know: faith, perseverance, character, blah. i get it. i trust you with [for] my life, and i know you know what you're doing. i just don't always like it. but i suppose that's my problem, not yours.
you know, i hear so many people talk about you. everyone has their own ideas about the things you've said and done, and frankly, it gets confusing sometimes. it's like the largest game of telephone, ever. it seems like you've left a heckload of rules, but actually i think it's that open-endedness that's got me all tripped up. give me an inch and i'll take a mile, you know? i like order and rules and stuff... but i guess that's not really what you're going for, anyway. i should really make an effort to review all those things you wrote for me. i have a lot of questions i should probably ask you too, instead of just directing them at nothing and no one in particular. and also... maybe i should just shut up and listen.
oh... and you know that thing with the stuff and the yeah? i need some serious help with that. and pretty much everything remotely related to it. i certainly can't do it on my own.
i need You. please help me.
mdog
6 Comments
Reader Comments (6)
seriously!
kt - this IS my second career. i just don't get paid for it. minor details.
Are you mad at me? I feel like you're mad at me because i feel like I could always be doing more of this and less of that. Are you mad because I'm not "discipling" anyone or because my boyfriend isn't a Christian (yet) and yet somehow I feel way more sacrificially loved and cared for now than I ever have in my life? Or maybe you're mad because I only go to church about every other week and can't find one I like and get discouraged a lot of the time when I go...are you made because I only have what might pass for a quiet time about twice a week. In some ways with us..you and me...it's the same as it ever has been. But less often. Like most of my Athens friends. When I talk to them it's just like old times, but I only talk to them every now and again.
Sometimes I get really scared and wonder if that's all you ever were and are is "One of my Athens friends". Someone I once knew well and loved much but who I'll eventually not have a real connection with anymore like Amy Medved. We'll meet for lunch at Houlihan's and it will be so awkward, I'll consider a cocktail before noon because it might help get things going...that book of yours tells me otherwise. I'm yours. I'm sealed. My selfishness, fear, rebelliousness and whatever else I do wrong or want to do wrong won't keep me from you. But I worry. I don't feel bad anymore about certain things that I used to think were SO BAD and I can't tell if it's because there's no one looking over my shoulder being judgemental or if it's because I'm more numb.
You know I keep it real and check in with you and give you props and all of that jazz. But it's so different now. And sometimes I think I have to move back to Athens and have things be like how they were so I could measure myself against the me of 1999 or so and see if I'm better, worse, growing, stagnating, changing, the same, normal or a person that has a few things seriously wrong with her.
I have this fear that every person I've ever looked up to and respected...my mom, Keith W., Paul, Angie Pyle, Matt Hale are all going to come around some corner and say something like "OK, we've been watching and we are seriously disappointed in you. We thought you'd be this and that and be doing this and that by now. We thought you'd live like this and be married to so and so and have this memorized and this accoplimshed. We put so much into you. How could you have turned out so ineffective and useless?"
I can't help but think that Satan has something to do with these kinds of thoughts because they really are a little crazy and the truth is, sometimes, I feel just fine. I feel content and blessed and like I'm living for the Lord. I make choices as best I can, lean on those who love me as best I can, and work really hard, write as much as I have time to and get people passionate about social justice (which are the two things I feel like God made me to do.) I'm trying to do the best I can, and I'm trying to let God work.
But I feel bad a lot of the time, too.
So, are you mad at me?
That's what I would write, if, for example, I was going to write something... :)
seriously? great post. slightly scary to write, but: it makes you feel good, don't it?