Two holidays, three holiday destinations, a new vehicle, the end of an internship and the start of a semester, and one cross-country move later, and I'm still alive.
Dallas was amazing. I had a great time making new friends (and a not-so-great time making enemies out of my roommates) and my internship was everything I wanted it to be. I enjoyed Dallas in a lot of ways and I learned a few things about myself, but it was also a brutal, brutal four months. I'm not going to lie, I'm not sure if I can remember being more miserable than I did in a few moments down there. But like I said, I learned a lot professionally and had some fun times as well.
The biggest thing I learned was how to be alone. That sounds super-duper dramatic, but it wasn't really. I had a hard time initially because I lived so far away from the other interns and didn't get along with my roommates, but after not too long I learned to fall into my work and to make friends and to enjoy my time to myself. I spent one or two weekends locked in my room alternating between Netflix and hot chocolate and I occasionally got lost in downtown Dallas and found things to do. It was a really, really nice semester.
I also tried dating. It sucked. Not so great at dating, probably gonna put that on the back burner for a looooooong time.
Anyway, I'm alive and back in Rexburg, eager to throw down on another semester and achieve some giddy little heights for my last half-year here.
¡Paz afuera!
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Labyrinth
I was introduced to a new religious archetype this weekend, the labyrinth.
Some friends and I were exploring the grounds of Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee and we found ourselves at the Scarritt Bennett Center, a religious institution and retreat. We followed the signs toward the garden and found a labyrinth set into the ground with paving stones. It was in the center of a lovely courtyard with trees dropping vibrant yellow and red leaves onto the grass below. The air was fresh with just a nip of cold in it, something that I didn't realize I missed, having spent my fall in humid, rainy Dallas. It was a lovely, affirming morning.
But it got even better.
The labyrinth is an interesting icon. Anthology has taught us that it was an important symbol in Greek myth, Tantric Buddhism, Native American mythology, and Egyptian culture. Many people use it the word synonymously with "maze," but they are not the same thing.
I started at the beginning of the labyrinth, sort of as a lark, but with each turn, I got more and more emotional until I was almost in tears by the time I stepped into the center. It was such a beautiful experience. My friends and I discussed it and made a few realizations.
The first is that if you look at the center or the other paths, you're going to be confused when the path you're on changes course unexpectedly. The best move, for motion-sickness-avoiding sake, is to look as far down your own path as you can and look for the turn ahead, then look for the next turn after that, and so on, and turn by turn, you'll eventually get where you're going.
The next is that there will be times when you're really close to the center, but your path will suddenly bear farther away for a few moments. It's actually really frustrating being one bank away from the center one moment and then four banks away the next. But that's how it goes.
The final thought we had is the difference between mazes and labyrinths. As the plaque in the SBC's courtyard explained, a labyrinth has no tricks or dead ends. There is one path and it always leads to the center if one presses forward long enough.
Do you remember the experience I had with my Heavenly Father a few weeks ago? When His soft, gentle voice told me that it would be okay someday, even though now was shit? Since then, my life has been exponentially easier. Don't get me wrong, it still sucks being me in a lot of ways (and it rocks being me in just as many ways [US Grand Prix was this weekend and I was there :) ]), but through it all, I have hope that it will be okay, and the mere presence of that hope makes all the difference.
That's what this labyrinth was to me. It was proof that life turns out okay, even if the path you're on is circuitous, serpentine, and inefficient. If you press forward and only look as far ahead as the next turn, you'll get there eventually.
I took a video of the path. Feel free to watch and experience it through my eyes.
Some friends and I were exploring the grounds of Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee and we found ourselves at the Scarritt Bennett Center, a religious institution and retreat. We followed the signs toward the garden and found a labyrinth set into the ground with paving stones. It was in the center of a lovely courtyard with trees dropping vibrant yellow and red leaves onto the grass below. The air was fresh with just a nip of cold in it, something that I didn't realize I missed, having spent my fall in humid, rainy Dallas. It was a lovely, affirming morning.
But it got even better.
The labyrinth is an interesting icon. Anthology has taught us that it was an important symbol in Greek myth, Tantric Buddhism, Native American mythology, and Egyptian culture. Many people use it the word synonymously with "maze," but they are not the same thing.
I started at the beginning of the labyrinth, sort of as a lark, but with each turn, I got more and more emotional until I was almost in tears by the time I stepped into the center. It was such a beautiful experience. My friends and I discussed it and made a few realizations.
The first is that if you look at the center or the other paths, you're going to be confused when the path you're on changes course unexpectedly. The best move, for motion-sickness-avoiding sake, is to look as far down your own path as you can and look for the turn ahead, then look for the next turn after that, and so on, and turn by turn, you'll eventually get where you're going.
The next is that there will be times when you're really close to the center, but your path will suddenly bear farther away for a few moments. It's actually really frustrating being one bank away from the center one moment and then four banks away the next. But that's how it goes.
The final thought we had is the difference between mazes and labyrinths. As the plaque in the SBC's courtyard explained, a labyrinth has no tricks or dead ends. There is one path and it always leads to the center if one presses forward long enough.
Do you remember the experience I had with my Heavenly Father a few weeks ago? When His soft, gentle voice told me that it would be okay someday, even though now was shit? Since then, my life has been exponentially easier. Don't get me wrong, it still sucks being me in a lot of ways (and it rocks being me in just as many ways [US Grand Prix was this weekend and I was there :) ]), but through it all, I have hope that it will be okay, and the mere presence of that hope makes all the difference.
That's what this labyrinth was to me. It was proof that life turns out okay, even if the path you're on is circuitous, serpentine, and inefficient. If you press forward and only look as far ahead as the next turn, you'll get there eventually.
I took a video of the path. Feel free to watch and experience it through my eyes.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Snapchat and religious devotion
I've got a friend at work who likes to organize little employee lunches. We all grab a bite at some dive, gossip about work and our social lives, laugh, cackle, guffaw, etc. Sometimes, it's just me and her at these lunches and I like those lunches better than most.
This girl swears like a sailor in her odd, Texas-meets-New York accent and her topics of choice usually include who's banging who, trips we all should take (usually to Vegas or Winstar Casino), good concerts coming up, and so on. She dresses well too and is always put together. In all respects, she's a pretty typical young American woman.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
I can wait.
About a week ago, I was on the receiving end of some pretty sad emotional wounds. Church is hard, dating is hard, family is hard, and I'm just not adjusting very well to life away from what is familiar.
The straw finally came on Wednesday when I found out that a friend of mine had been lying about stuff to avoid hanging out with me. I felt betrayed and cheap and sad and I immediately started weeping bitterly.
As a sidebar, I often feel as though God chooses to love me in a passive-aggressive way. I feel incredible guilt when He blesses me, but when life is difficult for whatever reason, I always interpret it to be a manifestation of His anger. I'm not blaming any of this on Him, but I can't seem to ever feel His love. I always feel like He's either dangling blessings in front of me and then guilting me when He gives them, or He withholds love from me like a petulant child. Unconditional love is not something I understand.
As I cried silently into my pillow, I prayed that if God knew the end from the beginning, then He knew how my story was going to turn out. I asked Him to tell me if things ever got better and if I'd ever be happy somehow. Almost immediately, I felt calm and tranquil and knew that my happy ending would come, even if I didn't know how or when. I knew that God knew, and without putting any qualifications on it, He gave me that knowledge to calm me down and help me feel peace.
I was still sad, but the tears stopped flowing and for the first time in a LONG time, I felt humble. I said, out loud, "Okay, I'll wait. I can wait for things to be good."
Things aren't good. But they will be good. And that's enough. I can wait.
The straw finally came on Wednesday when I found out that a friend of mine had been lying about stuff to avoid hanging out with me. I felt betrayed and cheap and sad and I immediately started weeping bitterly.
As a sidebar, I often feel as though God chooses to love me in a passive-aggressive way. I feel incredible guilt when He blesses me, but when life is difficult for whatever reason, I always interpret it to be a manifestation of His anger. I'm not blaming any of this on Him, but I can't seem to ever feel His love. I always feel like He's either dangling blessings in front of me and then guilting me when He gives them, or He withholds love from me like a petulant child. Unconditional love is not something I understand.
As I cried silently into my pillow, I prayed that if God knew the end from the beginning, then He knew how my story was going to turn out. I asked Him to tell me if things ever got better and if I'd ever be happy somehow. Almost immediately, I felt calm and tranquil and knew that my happy ending would come, even if I didn't know how or when. I knew that God knew, and without putting any qualifications on it, He gave me that knowledge to calm me down and help me feel peace.
I was still sad, but the tears stopped flowing and for the first time in a LONG time, I felt humble. I said, out loud, "Okay, I'll wait. I can wait for things to be good."
Things aren't good. But they will be good. And that's enough. I can wait.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Another General Conference blog post from a Mormon blogger
You can't be even slightly Mormon without posting something about General Conference this weekend, and I certainly don't want to be left out! Remember FoMO?
I didn't attend conference in real time this year. My internship provides for plenty of travel opportunity and I certainly won't be missing out on the chance to visit any major city I want over the weekend. So instead of going to conference this year, I went to New York. Truth be told, I was pretty excited to not go to conference. I'm going inactive pretty rapidly; I haven't attended my own ward since I moved to Dallas (although to be fair I've been visiting my brother in Austin each weekend and attending church with his family), but nevertheless, I haven't even met my bishop or fellow ward members yet.
Even so, I woke up this morning a few hours before my alarm and decided to watch a session. I've been enjoying it thus far. It's nothing earth-shattering yet, but I hear this session has some gems, so I'm looking forward to hearing it.
I'm trying to reconnect to the spiritual side of myself. I feel pretty dead inside lots of the time, like God doesn't really care about me or any of us. I wonder more and more each day if religion isn't anything more than that great opiate, something to make us feel better by believing that there's someone out there listening, someone who loves and knows and appreciates us.
These are fleeting thoughts; they pass quickly and are replaced by that familiar testimony that Jesus Christ lived, died, and lived again for all of us, both collectively and as individuals.
[EDIT: The talks by the lovable ones (Uchtdorf, Holland, Monson) are the ones that get remembered, but I think the talks by the no-names (in this case, Ulisses Soares) are the ones that have the most doctrine on more specific topics.]
That's all. Go do something cool now.
I didn't attend conference in real time this year. My internship provides for plenty of travel opportunity and I certainly won't be missing out on the chance to visit any major city I want over the weekend. So instead of going to conference this year, I went to New York. Truth be told, I was pretty excited to not go to conference. I'm going inactive pretty rapidly; I haven't attended my own ward since I moved to Dallas (although to be fair I've been visiting my brother in Austin each weekend and attending church with his family), but nevertheless, I haven't even met my bishop or fellow ward members yet.
Even so, I woke up this morning a few hours before my alarm and decided to watch a session. I've been enjoying it thus far. It's nothing earth-shattering yet, but I hear this session has some gems, so I'm looking forward to hearing it.
I'm trying to reconnect to the spiritual side of myself. I feel pretty dead inside lots of the time, like God doesn't really care about me or any of us. I wonder more and more each day if religion isn't anything more than that great opiate, something to make us feel better by believing that there's someone out there listening, someone who loves and knows and appreciates us.
These are fleeting thoughts; they pass quickly and are replaced by that familiar testimony that Jesus Christ lived, died, and lived again for all of us, both collectively and as individuals.
[EDIT: The talks by the lovable ones (Uchtdorf, Holland, Monson) are the ones that get remembered, but I think the talks by the no-names (in this case, Ulisses Soares) are the ones that have the most doctrine on more specific topics.]
That's all. Go do something cool now.
 |
| Go do this now. This is better than the Internet. Source |
Thursday, October 3, 2013
FoMO: Strategies to overcome it
Ever since I was little, I have had a serious, legitimate fear of missing out (FoMO). It permeated everything I did. Going to bed was hard because I was sad I'd miss out on parents' or siblings' conversations or activities. Having to choose between two sports that practiced on the same days was brutal because what if the one I didn't pick ended up going to the championships? And I recall many a Scout camp that was cut short because I talked my parents into picking me up and bringing me to the family reunion that was the same weekend. And even now, I make the rounds every New Year's Eve and then stop at the best party for midnight (in theory at least). Hell, I can't even order food at a restaurant, because what if I like my (male) date's food better?
I've always been one to try it all and then pick the best at the end, and when all the options aren't available to me, I get nervous and panicky. I hate having to choose, having to miss out on one thing in favor of doing another.
The same thing applies to navigating the rift between my faith and my sexuality. What if I choose gay and then get to the end of the line and find that I made the wrong choice and will then have to miss out on Celestial glory with my Heavenly Father, the one who is supposed to be able to love me most perfectly? On the other hand, what if I choose the church and then get to the end and find that God wanted me to be happy as long as I was good and kind, and therefore have missed out on a lifetime of joy with a man who I loved?
Tonight I was confronted with my FoMO pretty rashly. I missed out on an intern event because I had to work later than expected, and of course, my car doesn't run so I couldn't meet them up later. So instead, I went home and logged onto Facebook (which is like steroids for the FoMO virus) and saw another group of interns I wish I was friends with at some cool restaurant here in Dallas. So, for the first time I googled "fear of missing out" and found a raft of resources to help people stop fearing.
The first thing I have learned to do (and will start implementing ASAP) is to stop. Just stop.
I'm fond of passing this video on to my friends when I want them to stop doing something. It's always a joke, but damn! Bob Newhart's advice is good! I can't deny, it fits here too.
So the next time I'm fearing I'm missing out, I'm going to stop. I'm going to evaluate myself, my surroundings, and find out if I should really be regretting that I'm not somewhere else. Tonight, I sure as hell would rather be at the state fair or some restaurant with people I'd like to make friends with, but on the upside, I get to be at home alone and to blast some really sad music and indulge my misery and really enjoy it. There's something enjoyable about misery...
This article quotes Emily Dickinson, the agoraphobic depressive recluse, when she says, "To live is so startling that it hardly leaves time for anything else." And dammit, she's right. I'm alone tonight. BFD. I'm alive and I have some good music playing and I have a drink in my hand and the air conditioning is blowing cool breezes through my hair and I'm gonna go to bed early and sleep really, really well. And tomorrow, I'm gonna get up early, walk to work alone, and enjoy the hell out of my life.
Bam. Fuck you, FoMO.
I've always been one to try it all and then pick the best at the end, and when all the options aren't available to me, I get nervous and panicky. I hate having to choose, having to miss out on one thing in favor of doing another.
The same thing applies to navigating the rift between my faith and my sexuality. What if I choose gay and then get to the end of the line and find that I made the wrong choice and will then have to miss out on Celestial glory with my Heavenly Father, the one who is supposed to be able to love me most perfectly? On the other hand, what if I choose the church and then get to the end and find that God wanted me to be happy as long as I was good and kind, and therefore have missed out on a lifetime of joy with a man who I loved?
Tonight I was confronted with my FoMO pretty rashly. I missed out on an intern event because I had to work later than expected, and of course, my car doesn't run so I couldn't meet them up later. So instead, I went home and logged onto Facebook (which is like steroids for the FoMO virus) and saw another group of interns I wish I was friends with at some cool restaurant here in Dallas. So, for the first time I googled "fear of missing out" and found a raft of resources to help people stop fearing.
The first thing I have learned to do (and will start implementing ASAP) is to stop. Just stop.
I'm fond of passing this video on to my friends when I want them to stop doing something. It's always a joke, but damn! Bob Newhart's advice is good! I can't deny, it fits here too.
So the next time I'm fearing I'm missing out, I'm going to stop. I'm going to evaluate myself, my surroundings, and find out if I should really be regretting that I'm not somewhere else. Tonight, I sure as hell would rather be at the state fair or some restaurant with people I'd like to make friends with, but on the upside, I get to be at home alone and to blast some really sad music and indulge my misery and really enjoy it. There's something enjoyable about misery...
This article quotes Emily Dickinson, the agoraphobic depressive recluse, when she says, "To live is so startling that it hardly leaves time for anything else." And dammit, she's right. I'm alone tonight. BFD. I'm alive and I have some good music playing and I have a drink in my hand and the air conditioning is blowing cool breezes through my hair and I'm gonna go to bed early and sleep really, really well. And tomorrow, I'm gonna get up early, walk to work alone, and enjoy the hell out of my life.
Bam. Fuck you, FoMO.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
A Voice
I feel silly for even bringing this up.
I have a whole blog, a semi-captive audience, upon whom I regularly force my voice. My opinions, fears, concerns, etc.
But I can't deny that for the past few weeks I've felt that voice squelched and silenced. It seems that I haven't been able to find the words I need to say and that the moment has never been right to say them. There have been weddings, births, school and work...just a slew of events where being whatever self I am doesn't seem appropriate. I can't talk to friends or family because there are precious few people around whom I feel safe right now (if you're reading this, I promise you it's not you I'm talking about) and I dunno. I feel like I need to say something.
But it's not there. I open my mouth to say something deep and emotional but then I crack a joke or quote John Mulaney or take an Istagram instead.
I have a whole blog, a semi-captive audience, upon whom I regularly force my voice. My opinions, fears, concerns, etc.
But I can't deny that for the past few weeks I've felt that voice squelched and silenced. It seems that I haven't been able to find the words I need to say and that the moment has never been right to say them. There have been weddings, births, school and work...just a slew of events where being whatever self I am doesn't seem appropriate. I can't talk to friends or family because there are precious few people around whom I feel safe right now (if you're reading this, I promise you it's not you I'm talking about) and I dunno. I feel like I need to say something.
But it's not there. I open my mouth to say something deep and emotional but then I crack a joke or quote John Mulaney or take an Istagram instead.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Life in a Vacuum and other random thoughts
I'm trying so hard to distill something in my head. There's something there that needs to come out, but I just can't access it right now. I don't know what the deal is.
I guess I'll just tell a story.
I went on a first date the other night with someone I really like. We have amazing chemistry and we look so good together and we have similar senses of humor and mesh really well without having nothing to talk about, etc. He's just an all-around good guy who I like. He's also deeply religious, so we have that in common and really can explore faith together. Obviously, I feel guilty whenever we spend time together, because the LDS doctrine is still deeply ingrained in my head, which is the result of either brainwashing or testimony, depending on who you ask. If you asked me, I'd have no idea how to answer.
In any case, back to the date. It was thoughtful and low-pressure and romantic without being silly, but we both knew it was going to be a heavy night from the get-go. It most certainly was. Within a few minutes, we started talking about his emotional traumas from the past and my near-crippling fears about the future. I had tried to ground him whenever his past haunted him, but it was exhausting and I felt myself becoming emotionally dependent on him for my own happiness. The more I tried to hold him in the present, the more frequently I slipped into the future, worrying about every option and fearing both bitter loneliness and consequences of sin. And, try as he might, he couldn't ground me the way I could him. He just couldn't.
So, what started out as a lighthearted walk through City Park turned into both of us realizing that we're terrible for each other, but not in a dodged-the-bullet kind of way. No, it was more the tragic kind of way where you know that if one or two circumstances were different, it would be different. So, not a great first date.
Maybe that's how I'll figure things out. Maybe a string of long and tragic and emotionally exhausting relationships will make celibacy a much more attractive option. Maybe God's throwing wrenches into my occasional dallies outside the straight and narrow in hopes to trick me back into obedience.
I know I'm only 24 and that "it gets better," but right now, it sucks. I mean, kind of actually sucks the life out of you. I feel like there's nothing inside, literally. I feel inward pressure on my chest, like there's a vacuum of space in there and my ribcage is going to buckle like a sunken submarine at any time.
It's really kind of a farce. I have a really dark sense of humor, so I could totally see how this whole thing would be pretty funny to someone on the outside. And hell, we've all been there where it's so bad that the only thing you can do is laugh when it starts pouring rain on you as you walk home.
_________________________
One thing that my date has said before in the past (we've been excellent friends for about 8 months now) is that I need to connect with my sexuality in a healthy way or it comes out in unhealthy ways. I've been pondering that more and more. I've considered chaste dating, but chastity isn't really my strong suit so I don't know if that's a wise choice for me right now.
But I did have another idea that maybe I would start volunteering at something that has no political or religious agenda, but is still connected to that homosexual side. The first thing that came to mind was to work at an outreach for homeless members of the LGBT community, and the second was to volunteer at a testing clinic for AIDS.
I've always had fairly strong feelings about AIDS, even before I really knew I was gay. It is such an awful disease and although there are some who see it as a curse from God, personally, I believe that I could volunteer in some kind of clinical setting and still feel comfortable before God. Maybe that would be a good way to connect with my sexuality: by serving others with whom I feel an affinity, while still trying to maintain a high moral code.
I guess I'll just tell a story.
I went on a first date the other night with someone I really like. We have amazing chemistry and we look so good together and we have similar senses of humor and mesh really well without having nothing to talk about, etc. He's just an all-around good guy who I like. He's also deeply religious, so we have that in common and really can explore faith together. Obviously, I feel guilty whenever we spend time together, because the LDS doctrine is still deeply ingrained in my head, which is the result of either brainwashing or testimony, depending on who you ask. If you asked me, I'd have no idea how to answer.
In any case, back to the date. It was thoughtful and low-pressure and romantic without being silly, but we both knew it was going to be a heavy night from the get-go. It most certainly was. Within a few minutes, we started talking about his emotional traumas from the past and my near-crippling fears about the future. I had tried to ground him whenever his past haunted him, but it was exhausting and I felt myself becoming emotionally dependent on him for my own happiness. The more I tried to hold him in the present, the more frequently I slipped into the future, worrying about every option and fearing both bitter loneliness and consequences of sin. And, try as he might, he couldn't ground me the way I could him. He just couldn't.
So, what started out as a lighthearted walk through City Park turned into both of us realizing that we're terrible for each other, but not in a dodged-the-bullet kind of way. No, it was more the tragic kind of way where you know that if one or two circumstances were different, it would be different. So, not a great first date.
Maybe that's how I'll figure things out. Maybe a string of long and tragic and emotionally exhausting relationships will make celibacy a much more attractive option. Maybe God's throwing wrenches into my occasional dallies outside the straight and narrow in hopes to trick me back into obedience.
I know I'm only 24 and that "it gets better," but right now, it sucks. I mean, kind of actually sucks the life out of you. I feel like there's nothing inside, literally. I feel inward pressure on my chest, like there's a vacuum of space in there and my ribcage is going to buckle like a sunken submarine at any time.
It's really kind of a farce. I have a really dark sense of humor, so I could totally see how this whole thing would be pretty funny to someone on the outside. And hell, we've all been there where it's so bad that the only thing you can do is laugh when it starts pouring rain on you as you walk home.
_________________________
One thing that my date has said before in the past (we've been excellent friends for about 8 months now) is that I need to connect with my sexuality in a healthy way or it comes out in unhealthy ways. I've been pondering that more and more. I've considered chaste dating, but chastity isn't really my strong suit so I don't know if that's a wise choice for me right now.
But I did have another idea that maybe I would start volunteering at something that has no political or religious agenda, but is still connected to that homosexual side. The first thing that came to mind was to work at an outreach for homeless members of the LGBT community, and the second was to volunteer at a testing clinic for AIDS.
I've always had fairly strong feelings about AIDS, even before I really knew I was gay. It is such an awful disease and although there are some who see it as a curse from God, personally, I believe that I could volunteer in some kind of clinical setting and still feel comfortable before God. Maybe that would be a good way to connect with my sexuality: by serving others with whom I feel an affinity, while still trying to maintain a high moral code.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Quick Update
I've been incredibly busy since getting home for the semester. I've been shuttling around family members, fixing my broken-down motorbike and riding it home from Utah, and working a temporary part-time job before I move to Texas for an internship.
Here's a quick update: still Mormon, still gay, still skanking around and feeling guilty about it, still trying to make good friendships with good people, still not sure about my future.
Right now, however, I'm reasonably content. I have lots of worries and I'm pretty sure I screw things up royally on a regular basis, but it's okay. It will be okay in the end, I think. I might be making my path to that ethereal "end" harder, but it'll still probably turn out okay.
Also, I've started doing some side work doing some technical editing for Petrolicious, one of my favorite online automotive outlets. I'm really excited about that. Good things are happening in my life and for that, I'm grateful.
I've said it before to many of my friends, but now I need to say it to myself and believe that it'll work:
Keep moving forward.
Here's a quick update: still Mormon, still gay, still skanking around and feeling guilty about it, still trying to make good friendships with good people, still not sure about my future.
Right now, however, I'm reasonably content. I have lots of worries and I'm pretty sure I screw things up royally on a regular basis, but it's okay. It will be okay in the end, I think. I might be making my path to that ethereal "end" harder, but it'll still probably turn out okay.
Also, I've started doing some side work doing some technical editing for Petrolicious, one of my favorite online automotive outlets. I'm really excited about that. Good things are happening in my life and for that, I'm grateful.
I've said it before to many of my friends, but now I need to say it to myself and believe that it'll work:
Keep moving forward.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
The saving power of a rainstorm
One of my close friends has a huge gaggle of kids. They're a riotous, fun, loud group. It's an intense experience being with them, but they're the happy kind of high-energy, not the mischievous or annoying kind, so I enjoy spending as much time as proximity allows with this fun family.
They had visited my parents a month or so ago while I was at school. They attended church with them on Sunday. Driving home after the services was its usual blend of confusion over which kids were buckled up, juvenile chatter and the like. They pulled up in front of my parents' home and the kids, noisy as ever, unbuckled and jumped out of the car to play in the oasis that is my mom's backyard. My friends went inside to help with dinner and chat with the grown-ups.
A few moments after they got home from church, a sudden rainstorm hit, not an unusual occurrence in Colorado in late June. It was a welcome respite from the triple-digit temperatures from the previous several days.
Two hours passed and my mom said she thought she heard a little cry coming from somewhere. They took a headcount of the children and realized that the three-year-old was missing. They looked in the playrooms, the dress-up closet, the library (my parents don't actually have a library, but it is a room full of books) and finally the yard. To my mom's horror, the little tot was still in the Suburban and had been stuck in her car seat since getting home from church. She had been inadvertently overlooked amid all the noise and commotion and had been crying in the car for the duration.
They unbuckled her, rushed her inside and consoled her as the sheer luck of the situation began to sink in. Had it been one of the warmer days of the summer, she would have been in real trouble, even though the car was parked in the shade. One rainstorm kept the car cool and her only problems were tear-stained cheeks and a sad little face. Within 20 minutes, she was healed completely of those wounds, but had it been a day like the day before, she might never have made it.
And what luck that my mother happened to hear crying from inside the car while she was in the kitchen, which sits in the very back of our home. It was miraculous.
I relate this story because my friend related it to me when I was talking with her about some of my concerns and worries. She expressed how the moment she realized she'd left a child in a car alone made her feel like an unfit mother (and frankly, it was a moment of unfit parenthood), but the miracle of a rainstorm and a somehow-piercing cry saved the girl (and our families) from a sadder fate.
She said, "GMP, your rainstorm is coming, something that will save you. You're screwing up a lot now, just like all of us, but there's going to be a moment that God sends a rainstorm to cool you down and help you hang on."
I'm so grateful for the miracles our families enjoyed that day and I'm grateful for the interpretation my friend gave me.
Image Source: Wikimedia Commons
They had visited my parents a month or so ago while I was at school. They attended church with them on Sunday. Driving home after the services was its usual blend of confusion over which kids were buckled up, juvenile chatter and the like. They pulled up in front of my parents' home and the kids, noisy as ever, unbuckled and jumped out of the car to play in the oasis that is my mom's backyard. My friends went inside to help with dinner and chat with the grown-ups.
A few moments after they got home from church, a sudden rainstorm hit, not an unusual occurrence in Colorado in late June. It was a welcome respite from the triple-digit temperatures from the previous several days.
Two hours passed and my mom said she thought she heard a little cry coming from somewhere. They took a headcount of the children and realized that the three-year-old was missing. They looked in the playrooms, the dress-up closet, the library (my parents don't actually have a library, but it is a room full of books) and finally the yard. To my mom's horror, the little tot was still in the Suburban and had been stuck in her car seat since getting home from church. She had been inadvertently overlooked amid all the noise and commotion and had been crying in the car for the duration.
They unbuckled her, rushed her inside and consoled her as the sheer luck of the situation began to sink in. Had it been one of the warmer days of the summer, she would have been in real trouble, even though the car was parked in the shade. One rainstorm kept the car cool and her only problems were tear-stained cheeks and a sad little face. Within 20 minutes, she was healed completely of those wounds, but had it been a day like the day before, she might never have made it.
And what luck that my mother happened to hear crying from inside the car while she was in the kitchen, which sits in the very back of our home. It was miraculous.
I relate this story because my friend related it to me when I was talking with her about some of my concerns and worries. She expressed how the moment she realized she'd left a child in a car alone made her feel like an unfit mother (and frankly, it was a moment of unfit parenthood), but the miracle of a rainstorm and a somehow-piercing cry saved the girl (and our families) from a sadder fate.
She said, "GMP, your rainstorm is coming, something that will save you. You're screwing up a lot now, just like all of us, but there's going to be a moment that God sends a rainstorm to cool you down and help you hang on."
I'm so grateful for the miracles our families enjoyed that day and I'm grateful for the interpretation my friend gave me.
Image Source: Wikimedia Commons
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