The Two Words that Say Everything

I know.  Brave title...

After I wrote Love is Not Fair, I found myself pondering the same question many of you wrote to me, in comments and privately: now what?

It's a good question, a fair question.  If love isn't fair but we want to be loving people who receive love and give love, do we live life in continuous frustration?  Anger even?  This doesn't seem tenable.  Indeed it is not.

So... what then?  How do we love, really love, and stay sane?  Every relationship seems to be a dance of grace and missteps, a ledger of debits and credits, the metaphors go on and on, but the idea remains consistent: it's simply not going to be fair.  It's not going to always balance out.

What do we do with the often painful gap between expectation and experience?

Love is Not Fair

Like most of us, I spent time with family over the Thanksgiving holiday.

It's a mixed bag, isn't it?

Traditions and nostalgia color the conversation in familiar shades of warmth and comfort.  We are filled with a sense of belonging.  The shared history breeds a shared kinship.  We are part of a tribe, and on some level we feel known, accepted, and included.

But then there's difficulty.  A hurtful word, an old argument that resurfaces, an infuriating pattern that just won't quit...  And the stories that we tell morph from Normal Rockwell scenes of heartwarming family bliss to the Competition of the Victims.

Let's Put "It's In The Past" In The Past

We've all hurt one another's feelings.  We've all had our feelings hurt.  It's pretty miserable either way, particularly the later scenario.  

The "hurt" feeling: a swift kick in the stomach, a tightness in the chest, our shoulders hunch over, our facial muscles collapse, our brow furrows as we struggle to understand what's happening...

Let's face it: it's unpleasant.

But it's also a fact of life.  By that I mean, it happens.  We do it, and it's done to us.

Hippy Hill

Northern California is a world unto itself.  The perfectly comfortable climate, the gorgeous pine covered hills set against the translucent blue sky, and the laid-back, easy disposition of Californians create a graceful world of plenty.  Wealth is the norm, but if you're not wealthy, there's plenty of sunshine.  There's plenty of beauty.  Plenty of knowledge.  Plenty of nature.  Plenty of culture.  Plenty of plenty.

And San Francisco is a city of plenty.  Plenty of architecture, food, shopping, education, and hills.  I've just returned from a trip to The City by the Bay.  (It was a graduation present to myself.  Yes, I finally finished!)  And, like all major cities, there is much more to see and do than can be accomplished in just one trip.  For this reason, I needed a plan of attack.

Sacred Solitude

Anxiety may be the most uncomfortable state human beings can suffer.

Sadness, depression, melancholy can be overwhelming, but there's a stillness and quietness in depression that at least allows us physical rest.  We feel the weight on our shoulders, the crushing weight of our broken hearts and disillusioned minds, and we may even dance with the idea of death...  but the space we are in is deathly quiet.  We sink.  We may even hit bottom, but at least there we stop.

Anxiety doesn't allow this.  The mind races, the heart races, the feeling is as if we are coming out of our skin.  We are charged with energy that can be put to no good use because the mind cannot focus.  We are hurtling ourselves forward on the proverbial rat wheel, charging faster and faster, sweating profusely... going nowhere.  No rest.  No relief.  We itch with worry.  We squirm with overbearing, unwanted, frenetic energy.  Our hearts burn up with desire but go up in flames when no path appears before us.  We are filled with animated, exhausting dread.

This is anxiety.

And we have ways of coping.

Dear Self: This is your heart calling...

I went running this morning.

I was out of coffee and rather than "running" to the grocery store to get it, I literally ran to the grocery store and ran back with a bag of coffee in my hand.  And perhaps it was the endorphins firing off during the run; perhaps it was simply the beauty of the morning; or maybe my heart is just at peace... but I couldn't stop smiling, laughing, and singing while I ran.  I stopped to take a picture of two birds (this is not something I normally do when I'm focused on a run) balancing atop a church steeple - simply because their poise and perspective struck me this morning.

Oh, for days like this!  Job?  What job?  Let every day be a Saturday...

I arrived back at my apartment, coffee in hand, and glanced around at the many things that I'd like to accomplish today.

Rehang that mirror.
Organize that box o' stuff.
Go through those receipts. (groan)
Return this.
Look for that.

Wait!  Coffee first.  While it percolated, I accomplished one small task on the list of things to do...

With a warm cup of coffee in hand and Jim Brickman in the background (don't judge), I opened up my Bible.  With such a glowing morning behind me, I wanted to stay in a space of inspiration and peace...

Only my mind wouldn't go there.  Before I knew it, I was online looking at occasional chairs!  I was checking email, reading news, googling the artist I'd just heard on Pandora...

Blessed

For the past several months, I’ve been trying to find a church.  This is quite a lot like dating…

There is a first impression based on appearance.  You seek out and wait for similarities to arise, subconsciously hoping the experience is to some extent a reflection of yourself.  You compare the reality to your ideal and measure the proximity or distance of one against the other.  (A strongly foul odor would immediately mean a no go...)

And, like dating, I have my priorities: excellent (and educated) Biblical teaching, a moving worship service, and strong community, i.e. friendly seeming people.  I specify that the people must seem friendly because there is no way one could deduce their true level of friendliness from just one visit.  But I stand a better chance that the people are friendly if they seem so.

Needless to say, my search has yielded few results worth revisiting. (Much like dating…)  Perhaps my priorities are too demanding.  Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong places and haven’t met the “right church” yet. 

I’ve noticed, however, that as I walk with God, my priorities are shifting, or better: reordering. Hearing the right message or singing the right songs has grown less important than finding the right community...