Editor’s note: This entry is a personal rant, and I really don’t expect anyone to understand or care. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I expect to get the normal reacion: “oh it’s just about a girl.” But frankly, this entry is not for argument or any pretentious theological debates you’d like to draw from it. And for just once, I’m going to be one of these unpleasant people who readily admits that they really don’t give a damn what you think about it. One of these days I’ll be back to my normal nerdy self and I’ll be ready to engage you about how wrong my attitude was, or how skewed my perspective, or how many scriptures we can throw at each other. But at the moment I’m not smart, not poetic, not witty, or chipper, or any of the things you might normally expect of me. So all you debaters out there, love ya lots, but for the moment…just let me hurt in peace.
I just finished watching “New World” just before falling asleep last night, and I still can’t decide whether it was exactly the right movie at the right time for me or exactly the wrong one at the wrong time. I wish the thing had a sticker on it that said, “WARNING! DO NOT WATCH SHORTLY AFTER DEVASTATING HEARTBREAK!” You find way too many parallels and are left questioning everything about your life, and your only comfort is found in… more popcorn. I mean as cheesy as it sounds, the question that kept going through my head as I fell asleep was “was I a John Smith or a John Rolfe?” How pathetic is that? And yes, I cried. And cried. And then I cried a little more. I’ve discovered that introspection can become an obsession. I mean if you’re like me, when something really turns your world upside down you have to analyze the life out of it, find the culprit, do something, or you fall prey to the cliches. “God has a plan… All things work together for good… This is a learning experience, a time to grow… blah blah blah, etc.” Yeah I know, I know. In fact I knew long before this happened. I knew long before letting my guard down for the first time in years that this was the inevitable outcome. Most of the people who will read this know the cynicism I embraced. Yet I did, and somehow… it was worth it. I swore to do things differently this time, to do it right, to be steady, to have no regrets. I cautioned myself against falling into the immature notions of romance, and struggled to keep the relationship focused on Christ, and in that capacity succeded. I have no regrets. We grew so much, constantly pointing each other to the lover of our souls. Encouraging in the tough times, and determined to keep our focus in the good times. What I do have is almost worse: questions. Unending, suffocating questions. Not just the whys but also the unavoidable “what might have been” (if you haven’t heard the Little Texas song by that name, you are a sorry specimen of a human being).
Funny, as many years as it’s been since my last heartbreak, I forgot the worst part: Pretending you’re okay. Nothing is crueler than the fact that when you feel like you’re only half alive, you have to wake up in the morning and face people with a smile and carry on your business like any other day. And the only thing worse than dismissing concerned people with a shrug and a “nah really I’m fine,” is dismissing the object of your affection with the same lie. I find in me both a love and hate for the dramatic chivalry, the gallant stoicism that forms a wall between who I am and who I must be for her. It seems to deny my very being, while sketching in shades of hope the man I am becoming.
All I can pray is that God will supply another from what I lack. That He’ll be the strength that I can only pretend to boast. That He’ll be the reassurance pouring from this heart full of questions and doubts. In finding this, the question of who I am is eclipsed by the consuming reality of who He is. Jesus Christ. So many names and descriptions of Him fill scripture, yet when my faith hits the blender of life, to this one truth I cling: In a world where only change is certain, Jesus Christ – the same yesterday, today… forever. That’s all I need to know, I guess, to keep putting one foot in front of another on a road that I’ve avoided for a long time, and now walk with my hands in my pockets and a guitar on my back. I can feel the storm comin’… let it pour.
“Breathing’s a burden we all have to bear
And trust is one thing we’re taught never to share
Somehow you just seem to shine
When loving means breaking and saying goodbye” (Wonder ~ Megan McCauley)