Stories

First of all: I must be honest. I have pretty much forgotten that this blog exists. Until this very moment. I'm sitting at the desk at work, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only soul awake in this building of around 130 people, and I was thinking, "Gosh, this seems like as good a time as any to write musings and release them so that anyone in the world could read them. If only there were some way for me to just do that. Some sort of log that I could release to the web. A weblog if, you will." Oh wait, Kate. Welcome to the 21st century.
So, I wrote a lot this month. A LOT. I did not finish my novel, and at this point, it seems unrealistic to think that I will before November is up. But, I wrote about 35,000 words, which is over 60 pages, single spaced, and that's more than I've written in one word document, I think ever. And I spent the month getting to know these fictional characters as they took shape in my head, and I wrote about everything from their hair, to the things they cooked, to the things they cried about. It was kind of bizarre, honestly. At first, it was tempting to create characters that were all versions of the person I wish I were. But Don Miller's voice (from his book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years) kept creeping into my head and reminding me that for stories to be interesting there has to be conflict and people have to struggle. And so my people struggled. And they weren't completely beautiful, or entirely cool. And I like them better that way. But now that the month is up, and I've realized that I'm not going to finish, I'm slowing down. I think I will finish eventually, but not right now. It feels like maybe I should take a break from that fictional world and process some of the really hard things that are going on in my own life.
I feel like my life might not make a very good book, because the hard things that are happening seem comparitively small. And the really good things that are happening are small too. But nonetheless, I feel as if my own life, right now, is undeniably good. Not good as in easy, but good as in this is how it's meant to be. This might sound cheesy, but if my life right now were a book, God would be a main character. Because I've had these really intense conversations with him on I-71 South where I basically yell at him for something that he did, or beg him for something, or just tell him how amazed I am at what he's doing. And it's like He's walking around the halls of Laura's Home and actually changing lives. And all of us on the staff keep marveling at how good God is at his job, because we are so in awe of the impact that He is having on people.
The other day, this lady showed up here in a taxi, and the taxi had been sitting out front for about 20 minutes when my coworker decided to go out and see what was going on. It turns out that she had ridden in the cab from the East side, racked up a $50 bill, and then tried to charge it on a maxed out Credit Card. She insisted that she didn't know her card would be denied. He decided to call the police. The police wouldn't come (Cleveland police, quite frankly, have bigger fish to fry) so the guy put her in the cab to drive her to the station, which I'm pretty sure is illegal. When he pulled out, my coworker and I stopped to pray, because Lord only knows if he was really going to take her to the station, or if he was going to ask her for some other form of payment....
She returned a few hours later, seemingly unscathed, and she only stayed one night. Long enough to get a meal, a shower, a fresh set of clothes, and a chapel service. I have no idea where she is, but I feel a little like God brought her back safely just to show us that he was listening to our prayers and had answered them.
My job is hard. We don't always get to see if our prayers are answered. People who seem fine attempt suicide, and people who seem like a lost cause transform before our very eyes. But as I sit here, awake in this big building, I know that this is where I am supposed to be. I can get cussed out, and people can try to push my buttons (and sometimes succeed) and yet, I can so clearly see how God brought me here and how he is using me to encourage others, and how he is shaping me.
After all, the hard stuff is what makes us us. This month has been my first hard month at work, and it's only the 3rd month. But I told myself before I started this job that I needed to be sure of my calling, so that when things got hard, I wouldn't doubt the validity of the decision that I made. And now that things are getting hard, not only do I not doubt that decision, I see that the decision wasn't mine at all. And the same God who has told me over and over again that my decisions are not his decisions, and who has moved in big ways to change the path of my life, is the God who brought me here to this place for a reason. And that makes it exciting to get out of bed in the morning (or in today's case, at 1pm). I can't wait to see what he has in store for me next. But I know it's gonna be good.

Melancholy musings make for alliteration

Dear lovelies,

I am more than slightly overwhelmed. (Yes, I will be complaining for the first bit of this blog, so settle in.) We are currently looking for a car, an apartment, and some other life things I won't mention on this blog but you all know about. I have been feeling immensely over-worked at work. I've been easily irritable--a quality I do not like in anyone else, and therefore should probably not be exhibiting myself. In short, I'm burnt out. At the same time, I've been reading "unChristian," and enjoying (I use that word loosely) a sermon series on the 7 churches of Revelation at our church.

Both of these Christ-related things piled atop the bitterness I feel more often than not at life as of late have been a slow but painful smack in the face that I am not in fact as Christ-like as I thought. Boy, do I have a lot of growing to do. Ever feel like you're going backwards in your faith? I feel in a lot of ways like a Christian zombie, acting lifelike but in an eerie way that everyone knows is not real living. (Wow. This is depressing. Ha, sorry.) I'm realizing how months after asking for contentedness I have not only stopped asking, but have stopped wanting it. I feel content with feeling sorry for myself. How pathetic is that? I'll tell you how pathetic that is. Pathetic enough to make me a jerk to people I love for no reason, to not enjoy the things that should bring me joy, and to forget altogether what it means to have a relationship with the Lord.

I don't know why I'm putting this out to the masses on the internet. Probably not a great idea on my part, but you all know me--I have to talk things through to figure out what I'm feeling. And frankly, these feelings are easier to write about than say out loud. Because I know that as a wealthy American I have no right to be so dejected, and yet I feel as though I can't help it. Why is that?

I want to see you all very badly. I can't wait for Thanksgiving, where (pray for me on this) I will try to just forget about the other woes of life and just ENJOY for once! What a concept. ;) It was wonderful to have Kate here for a few days, although it was altogether too short. Great to just have at least one night of long conversation though. Thanks for that, friend. :) Hannah and Heathie, I trust you had a fun stay together. I sure hope so.

Also, we need to plan our second annual (or I suppose it could be 3rd or 4th depending on what previous dates you count) Beady Beaday. We are so overdue. (Ok, we're not, but it feels like it.)

Anyway, thanks for letting me use this blog to think. I'm in a weird, not so great funk lately, and could use prayers if you think of it. I miss enjoying life, as I only seem to really do when I'm close to the Lord.

Now I want to leave you ladies with some song lyrics I'm writing. They're not hopeful yet, but I want to make them a little hopeful... Any suggestions? :)

Once I was a child

I could laugh

I could smile

I'd lay my head to sleep

I could dream happily

Maybe it never should've grown harder

But I've grown old

Once I did believe

I had faith

I had peace

______ (I don't remember this line, haha)

I could speak to God freely

Baby, I never should've grown harder

But I've grown cold

And I'm told

that my own

is your average American story

You grow old

You grow cold

You forget the things that used to be your glory

My current hopeful lyric idea is finishing the bridge with something like "Yet I have this memory/of somebody saying/Just maybe I'm worthy.../Could I be?" Something along that vein. Love you all.

Elisa