October 8, 2006

The Question: Who do you believe?

The Contestants:

Your parents, who raised you (thank god), and have for that reason witnessed your greatest failings and your greatest accomplishments but, truth be told, not much in between because you have been gone for over 10 years...

Your friends, who have stuck with you through thick and thin, who have also seen you at your worst and best and don't really give a flying flip about either because they're not that into titles and they think "shit happens" to everyone, but they've also only heard your side of the story so...

Yourself, who really believes that you are learning to be a mature person; that overall you've made the best decisions for your life. Otherwise you'd be married with children in Missouri, probably without a Masters or a very fulfilling job or any of the amazing friends you've made in Texas, and well, did i mention the children? Or you'd be married in Waco, and right now your husband's on the road (and did I mention you have your Masters but are still waiting tables at a cajun restaurant?)

Except you're not. You're one of ten chosen pastoral residents in the nation (at least that's what some other contestants told you to put on your resume). You're talented and you know your gifts and how to use them. You're "cute" (as the old ladies as church like to call you) even if you don't have your sisters' unfading beauty. You're articulate, funny, creative, enchanting and charming. You see needs and you seek to meet them. Thanks to your parents, you have a heart for the marginalized and thanks to your friends, a mind keen on creativity. And heck, you've got a great body even if you're "pushing 30" as your sisters love to remind you.

Dad, you taught me to go for the gold. Mom, you taught me to stand up for my rights. Friends, you taught me that love is unconditional and I am so thankful for you all.

But right now, I'm sticking to myself. I don't even want to be analyzed by my therapist.

If everyone could just not ask questions, not offer opinions, not make sure I'm not beating myself up or giving myself undue credit. Just let me be me with my thoughts and my empty coffee can.

You filled me up, but one day the bottom of that coffee can broke, and the pennies cascaded out the bottom. With your love, I repaired the can, but now every time a penny or a rock or a token or a memory is dropped inside in clinks loudly and reverberates against the metal and I'm reminded of how empty I feel right now.

It will take a little while for it to fill back up. Do you understand? So please, continue to love me... but i can't handle any more opinions, please.

I have to work out these deaths, some literal, some metaphorical, and I have to find the resurrection. It may take three days and I may not recognize it when I see it, but I'm confident when he calls my name, I'll be changed.

Again.

Again.

But we must be silent and I must go to the garden or I might miss him.

Again.

Again.