Absolutes

Living a life of absolutes. Is that what we long for? A foundation to stand our feet on, a structure to lean against, or just a general idea to know where we're going?

I was trying to think if the awkwardness experienced in middle school/jr. high was better or worse than the sense of awkwardness I feel in this period of life right now: A lack of general direction. Uneasiness as to what path to walk down. Hesitation that any or all of the decisions I make may be wrong or not the best.

I know in a couple of years I'll be past this stage and looking back upset if I don't embrace this time. Everything just seems so uncertain. The most stable thing I have right now is that my lease lasts for one entire year. But anything past that is one big ???

I've always lived a life of absolutes. My dad has always had the same job. I've lived in the same house. Gone to the same school for all 13 years. I've always known I want to be a nurse. And the biggest decision I ever had to make was whether to keep playing flute or quit the volleyball team. Ha. How silly that seems now but I'm pretty sure I cried over it.

I think I'm beginning to realize that the more I try to sit down and figure this all out I just waste time and make myself anxious. So I'm making a pledge to love it right now and honor the mystery.

That's probably why I get urges such as jumping in a car and driving to Boston. I hope that never fades, nor the unique person who brings that out in me.

meg

Independence Day

July 4th. A day that will forever be ingrained in us as Americans to celebrate or at least recognize. We can't even really help it. Businesses are closed. Grocery stores are packed with people. And even if you tried to live in a shell...you'd at least hear the fireworks. But for what?? Our "Independence"? Our "Freedom"? The lie we tell ourselves that we're no longer "suffering"?

This holiday gets sillier and sillier the older I get. And it's simply because I'm slowly realizing that we're not as independent as we think we are. We're not "free" in ways we wish we could be. And suffering? Take a look around.

June has been a month of brokenness for me. A heartbreak. A reality check. A refocus on my life perspective. And I've had it so programmed in me to not share any of it. So that I appear "independent." And to have pride that I "figured it out" on my own. But this 4th of July, I hit rock bottom and thought that this whole theory is a lie someone told our country and we fight everyday to try and believe it.

I hate being weak. I hate even more to have people see me at my weakest. No one likes to "seem" helpless or cry out for help in moments of desperation. It's the American way-to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and keep trudging through this hard knock life. But something inside me has wondered if this way is really working for all of us. It's not for me. And that's a confession.

Every shower I've taken in the past month, I've sat on the floor crying for 20 minutes or so hoping no one can hear. I hold back my tears when I'm with friends. And when people ask me how I'm doing I'll just mention that I've been working a lot. I struggle wanting to be in Anderson because its a place that is making me stay in this weak state for the moment being, so I'll constantly make plans with friends in other cities to get away. And this July 4th was the epitome of it all: maybe the weakest I've been yet. 11 people stayed at my house for the weekend celebration...and not one of them probably knew that I cried myself to sleep or left the parade early to be alone. And the next day when I laid in my bed for literally 6 hours I decided to run away. I went crazy. I got in my car and drove to the interstate, not having a clue what I was doing. I knew I had snapped. I knew that I was weak.

I was headed toward Louisville, only because I saw a sign and an hour and half into it I stopped to think how crazy I actually was. My phone rang and it was my grandpa who I rarely talk to and he said he was just wondering what I was doing. I had to lie and said I was with friends. But it hit me that there was no need to keep pretending like I was this independent. I was alone and scared and missing out on a cookout simply because I don't let people see me when I'm weak.

I'm a perfectionist by nature and it's always driven me to the grave. How in the world did I get this idea in my head that it's all got to be together? Don't let anyone see me like this? Get the wrinkles ironed out so no one notices?

It's with this realization that I pray our relationship grows from dependence...not just on each other but from the support around us. The conversations I've had in the past month have been the most meaningful that I'm sure they ever could have been without this bump in the road. And for the people who are watching, reconciliation is happening before your very eyes. I want to thank every single one of you for the support you've given...whether you know it or not. It's huge. Life marking. Needed. For both of us.

I made it back to Anderson just in time for the fireworks. And I watched them burst in delight thinking that I tried to run away but ended back home. My home of support...of growth...and of freedom to learn how to mend the broken pieces back together. 

meg

Lost

Everyone knows that feeling when you've lost something. You dissect your entire brain with some hopes you'll remember where you had it last. When I was 8, I was playing in the yard and I noticed that one of my favorite necklaces had fallen off. I got so sad because it was my favorite necklace at the time and not many 8 year olds have jewelry so it meant a lot to me. I was crying and looking all over my big back yard for it, thinking it would just jump out at me. I was on my hands and knees, feeling all around in the grass and finally my mom had to tell me that its really hard to ever find jewelry in the grass since it could be anywhere, so I should probably just realize that it was gone. I didn't want to accept that so I retraced my steps. Every step. I looked in the sandbox because I had been there before. I went to the front yard, even though I had only been in the back yard...but you never know. I looked in my room. Back outside. Back in my room. Back in the sandbox. Nowhere.

That necklace had no significance in my life at all as an eight year old. In fact, I can't even remember what it looked like. But I do remember the search I spent trying to find it. And I've been like that ever since. Maybe everybody is. There just seems to be some kind of deep hope that maybe...just maybe...it'll turn up.

That search to find something you've lost. The desperation felt that hopefully its not gone forever. The frantic panic of hoping its not too late to get it back. The hope that it will be found and everything will go back to normal as it was before.

These feelings come out of me when I lose my favorite pen, the big green water bottle I keep with me, my really pretty pearl earrings, and one of the greatest friends I've ever shared my life with.

These Flowers

These flowers represent grace.

They represent friendship and love.

Most of all, they represent hope and forgiveness.

What do we do when we feel like a rug has been pulled right from under our feet? My mom tells me that's all life really is--Just going along believing everything is shimmering in the sunlight...then suddenly you're on the floor, dirt under your nails, and a big bruise you didn't ask for. And you somehow know that whatever that was is going to hurt tomorrow.

I've been searching, asking, and even crying out for guidance. I've asked all around for a story I could relate to and follow the steps exactly...to know what to do next. But there is none, or at least I haven't found it yet...secretly I'm thankful because that means I get to write it myself. But where do I go from here??

To guard one's heart or to give it up to love...hurt...break...bleed...heal...and bleed some more. That's the question. The decision. The risk. The fear.

There's a sacredness in questioning everything, but sometimes the process of it leaves us in a fog that seems to take a lifetime to clear. The gut wrenching part of it is when you're the one who's being questioned. Your purpose is put on trial. Your contributes are being weighed.

This suddenly has become my story...from partnership to a fine examination. And as I felt anger swell up inside me to be against this very thing that is beyond my control, these flowers remind me...and remind him...that there's grace in the end. And grace translates to "it's ok."

-meg

The Greatest of These is Love

He taught me to let go of my cares

He taught me to embrace spontaneity

He taught me my unrealistic expectations

He taught me not to be bound by others

He taught me the power in accomplishments

He taught me to dream the unheard of

He taught me the past is just a foundation

He taught me to correct my mistakes

He taught me that the world is in the palm of my hands

He taught me to share

He taught me to be vulnerable

He taught me to persue

He taught me my emotions

He taught me the beauty of sharing struggles

He taught me sacrifice

He taught me perseverance

He taught me to give grace as well as accept it

He taught me the ugly side of me

He taught me the beautiful side of me

He taught me acceptance

He taught me justice

He taught me intolerance for the things this world tolerates

He taught me to explore

Most of all...He taught me how to love

Our Greatest Weakness

I've returned from Calcutta, India and my eyes are tired. My brain is overwhelmed. And I wonder how this life connects with the one I had there.

I could go on and on about all the luxuries we have here that aren't a necessity there, but I knew that before I got there. I could explain the pollution, the heat, or even my mission for going but I'm sure there's numerous books that have all been written touching on these.

I'd rather explain the uncomfortable, not at ease, restless and vulnerable state I spent the whole trip trying to run from.

I realized here in America we do everything we possibly can to feel safe, secure, and comfortable. We have our car alarms, city police, seatbelts, laws, research to tell us we're doing it right, sidewalks, personal space, health codes, traffic rules, big soft beds, and machines to do most of our work for us. All of these things can't be found in India.

I was prepared for a degree of culture shock, but I just wasn't ready to have my safe and secure feelings of comfortability to be constantly invaded. I'm not even talking about physical comfortability anymore. Sure, it was freakin hot (in the low 100s) and my bed was really hard and it sucked doing laundry by hand. But what I experienced was the invasion into my being.

I first had these feelings when I noticed I was being stared at like I had a deformity. White skin and blonde hair stand out without a doubt, a feeling that's foreign to me. Here in America we're used to looking at staring eyes and after contact is made they look away real fast to pretend as if they didn't exist. In India, the staring eyes just keeps staring and the facial expression remains neutral.

My personal bubble was also continually invaded considering that the streets are lined with beggars that flock to see what tourists have to give. They grab your hand, hang on to your bag, and find their way to your line of your vision so you conciously make the decision to keep walking.

As the trip went on we became aware of the scam artists. One wanted our picture at the ATM to steal our credit card number, another wanted us to buy them food so they could just sell it back and keep the money, the cab drivers charged us more than the meters, the little kid kept pointing out his cuts and scrapes so we would give him money, mothers would introduce us to their babies that may or may not have even been theirs, and some of the beggars are known to be working for someone else.

Who were you supposed to trust when you're this vulnerable? It definitely wasn't the drunk homeless man who forced himself on me and gave me an unexpected kiss on the street or even the man driving the auto rickshaw who tried to see how far he could get his hand up my leg. I felt my innocence robbed and more than personal space was invaded.

I spent the rest of the trip just trying to escape these vulnerabilities. Usually in America we can find shelter somewhere close by. But I looked and looked and exhausted myself trying to find it.

The goal of any trip outside the country is to experience culture, live like the locals, and understand the people. It was this thought that I found the connection between the two worlds.

The people of India are vulnerable. Looking for security. Longing to be comfortable. Seeking shelter. And what I experienced was just a small glimpse into their lives.

I was ready to come back to the states, yet I didn't want to leave. I wanted to give my mind a rest in constantly evaluating what was safe and what wasn't. I longed for my personal bubble to be returned. Yet, I wanted to keep learning what its like to live in a constant state of vulnerability...probably our greatest weakness yet our greatest moments of learning and seeing more than we ever thought we could.

-meg

I want to be your Partner

part.ner.ship (n.)
a cooperative relationship between people or groups who agree to share responsibility for achieving some specific goal.

A definition I should have taped to my forehead for the whole month of April. This word didn't even come to me until it was all said and done.

But I want to be a partner.

There may be a better word...A more classy or sophisticated one, but this just seems to fit.

The whole month of April was a whirlwind. One hot mess. Maybe one of the hardest months to get through. But somehow its May now and it all just seems like a blur.

I struggled more than I ever have.
Struggled for attention...Yet I wanted to be supportive.
Begged for a time out so we could have just a breather...but there just was no room for it.

I didn't want to be forgotten in the all the mass of responsibilities, but I also wanted to do whatever I could to be the one that could be counted on.
I wanted to be a strong framework that could take it all and hold up ok, but sometimes I just cracked. And it wasn't fair. But I did. I found myself unable to adjust to the lacking time commitment, attention span, and in the peripheral vision for the moment being.

Let's just say I got a small glimpse into the life any person who supports the one they love in their trail to success. Many came to mind such as my mother and even the boss I worked for in high school. A support system that I began to understand incredibly more so than ever. Strength on the outside. Desperation on the inside.

Opportunities are what we all keep our eye out for and when one lands in our lap, it's stupid not to take it. But saying the word "yes" sometimes brings much more than we could ever imagine. The stress, the lost sleep, the nights we stay up worried sick, the blinded sight of knowing what's to come. Many times I wanted to quit. Throw in the towel. Not be responsible.

I'm not sure how much more detail to go into. I just wanted to share the thought that I've fought a month long battle of selfishness and selflessness. Crying to not be forgotten...and being a #1 fan.

I actually remember driving one day in one of the deepest moments of this struggle and I found my stress level to be almost twice as high. And when I wondered why, it seemed to be because I took on another's stress along with MY normal amount. So my thought was...I don't want this. I have enough on my own so why double it? It'd be way easier to just deal with my own and delete the extra. Why would anyone sign up for this? Commit to it? Trudge through it until the end of time?

And I realized that this was probably the main point of it all. To be a partner.

Maybe we need each other, and just maybe this is what its like to take a vow.

Even though it seemed like hell through it all, I thank God for The Flop. It probably will make me a better adult than I ever thought it would.

-meg