Telling Oneself Truth

I got out a huge book of Flannery O'Connor letters (Habits of Being) and somewhere in the middle read her advice to John Hawkes, which Cal Lowell had passed to her, "[his problem being] how to hold try to one's true, though extreme vein without repetition; how to master conventional controls and content normal expectations without washing out all one has to say." 

I arrogant as I speak these words, stick my flag in the sand. I am saying, I know, I see. But I don't want to not see or know or blindly follow, like I habitually do. I am plagued by my living under others tories and their ways of knowing and in my uncertainty, tagging along behind, making them leader or knower or in a worse case a god. 

So strange when I write a blog entry and then see a friend who knows what I am going through and I realize I can't pretend other then what I said when alone in my coffee shop considering how I pretend for others. People who are listening in, are no longer fooled, or I am no longer able to fool. 

As I observe my friends, spouse, kids, they have a way of seeing and being interested and knowing themselves. I just learned about the thousands of children freeing Hondorous and Guatemala. I don't have my eye on a wider lens camera of life. I don't know where last months news on the kidnapped girls in Africa landed or if they are still lost. I don't know how to decide what to take in next. Then again, once I know, I don't know how to be beyond incensed. Why are there gangs? Why do people kill others? How can children live without parents, be forced into terrible worlds controlled by people who do evil. And, why do I live in a wealthy country sipping four dollar coffee with lots of open space out the window, an SUV and the hours of my own time to choose anything I want?

I have recently been invited to go with a friend onto the streets to share God. She recently learned and experienced the holy spirit heal people, which I would be happy to say more about if anyone wants to hear. In listening to her, half of me felt cautious and untrusting, but a bigger half is longing to believe.

In God's story, I can't help but wonder how people who see Christ or the Holy Spirit working can't want to have a conversation with him, ask questions, lean in and eventually enter into an intentional relationship. Here's a verse seemed to hit the mark for me here, "But one who looks intently at perfect law of liberty and abide by it, not having become a forgetful hearer, but an effectual doer, this [woman] will be blessed in what [she] does." (James 1:25). I sorta want it to say, anyone who looks cannot refuse, even as I know it is a choice. I just can't get Sophie Wilder's options towards life with faith, vs fear and death without, (Character from the book, What Happened to Sophie Wilder) out of my theology. I have a copy in hand for anyone who would like to read it! Just let me know and i'll send it off!

If I were Smart

If I were smart, I would remember names of famous people in history, movie i've seen this month and Kindergarten parents I run into at the Mexican restaurant. I have always felt deficient, incapable and almost tune out the words before they are spoken, while at the same time pretending it is easy for me to recall, but it has just slipped my mind. The exception is that when my dad began to list the names of truck containers on our 13 hour drive home from Connecticut, I said, "Oh, are you listing them off for me, because if so, there is no need, as I'm not interested. If not, feel free to continue." There was nervous laughter and I felt guilty for a while, but those are names I just don't care to know.

In my writing, I often identify men as, "other." In my thinking, I consider people as "other." Friends are all the insiders while I stand outside. I also think of the information, context and data as inside and feel there is some unknown barrier to recollecting it. Umberto Ecco said of The Name of the Rose that he purposely made the first 100 pages complex in order to weed out those unworthy of its brilliance. I stopped just about page 99, though I pretended I finished it, feeling his comment was geared towards me. In high school I attended an adult Sunday school class on Isaiah and frantically took notes and nodded without believing I could understand a word.

I somehow believe, "I am not wanted on a team," "I am the mean neighbor for not taking people's kids on my hike," "I am looked down at, when I enter the room." Thus, I am wary of all attention.

My best friend is visiting for four whole days, which is a huge gift. Somehow as I make food or consider our days plan, I assume she is wondering at my chaos. As we discussed it, she asks if the chaos was just in my head, because her experience of our space is that it is calm and manageable. My internal organs can't seem to relax, though. I can't feel quiet without the external fast solution for every decision.

I head for my third of four weekends away and anticipate the freedom in being in Chicago. I want to feel safe outside of eyes and ears and the embarrassment at making yet another carb heavy meal. I am wishing for a bigger anchor to knowing myself and a way to expel my internal chaos, which I know is in sitting with God. My ability to remember is not the focus, but rather, I need to believe I am created and able to hear his voice. I am amazed at his power to find me, to quiet my thoughts, to heal friends and to generally be much bigger then what I normally allow for, which I hope to write more about soon.