Sunday, October 30, 2005

An Elephant Never Forgets.

I've worked very hard these past few years to surround myself with more positive people. Positivity is good, I'm told, and I do believe it's true. My new positive friends don't understand my negativity; they don't understand my appreciation for the negative. And they shouldn't really. I'm becoming increasingly certain that my condition is genetic.


Me: Did I tell you that they asked me to help with the nursery at church?
Mom: Oh, well, you'll like that!
Me: Oh yeah, it'll be fun. But it's sort of funny to think of myself as somebody's Sunday School teacher. I mean, these kids are going to think back someday on their earliest church memories, and I'll actually be there. They're going to think of me as that nice, religious girl who taught them stupid songs and how to sit still during the sermon. That's really very funny. Especially considering how much I hated Sunday School myself.
Mom: Well, you better have fun with it now. Because you know you're going to inherit all my health problems and get sick and old while you're still young. And nobody's going to take care of you, either, because you refuse to settle down and have a boyfriend!
Me: You know, when some mothers plan their children's futures...
Mom: And you better watch out in that nursery too! Don't get yourself in any positions! You know how people throw around molestation charges these days!

This is where I come from. These are my people. How should I be expected to reason otherwise?

Totally unrelated:

I'm watching this show about killer elephants and it reminds me of a story my ex-prof/boss told me. He was born in Sudan and spent time as a refugee in Uganda. He said that when he was a kid, they grew a lot of mangos. One year, some of the mangos were thrown out and they fermented in the sun. The elephants snuck into the village at night and drank the mango wine. They danced and stomped and made a royal mess of the crops and terrified the villagers.

The elephants had such a good time that they always remembered where the village was. And every year, they'd come back on the anniversary of the mango wine, and they'd search the village. The villagers would have to wait until night, when the elephants were vulnerable because of their poor night vision. Then they'd make noise and chase the elephants away with torches and flare guns and whatnot. The elephants never got any mango wine again; the villagers were very careful to see that they didn't. But an elephant never forgets; and every year, the elephants would take their chances once again, facing down the angry villagers, in hopes of reliving the best party of their lives.

Reading all this back, I'm struck by how the second half of this blog underscores the uncertainties of the first half. Hey kids! Let's learn about Jesus! And admire elephants who'll face down death itself for a little wine and dance!

Let the Cut Begin

So where have I been?

Somewhere quiet, in a deep depression, I think. But no more of that now. I think I'm happy again.

These past few weeks have been interesting. I think I had my heart broken, sort of, by approximately three different people all in the course of a day. That sucked. Hard. It really, really did. And I cried a lot, and burned sad mp3 mixes for my car, and wrote bad, lonely poetry in church when I was supposed to be paying attention to the sermon.

Plus, I got in trouble at school sort of (and still am in trouble at school probably - more on that upon resolution), and am having financial troubles since my lousy health insurance company won't pay my frickin' medical bills like they're supposed to.

Yes, there are definitely time periods in life that suck.

But life doesn't suck. People weren't meant to be so unhappy. Oh, there's a time to mourn, surely, but that's not what all time is for. Life wasn't built for worry and self-pity and...well, misery.

It's getting on November now, and time to be thinking of thankfulness.

In Church today, we were reading John chapter 15. I remembered the Sixpence None the Richer song "Love." The words go something like: "The Harvester is near / His blade is on your skin To plant a new beginning / Well, then, let the cut begin."

Something about that resonates with me right now. I remember Kahlil Gibran wrote something like: "For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning." I think I'm going through one of those pruning phases now.

I saw a priest the other day, and he said: "The cross is suffering. Don't run from the cross because Jesus is at the cross. If you run from the cross, you're running from Jesus." It's an easy thing to say. But there's nothing so terrifying as the cross. Nobody wants to suffer; least of all me.

But it may be time. "The Harvester is near. His blade is on your skin. To plant a new beginning, well, then, let the cut begin."

Ach. Let the cut begin.