Basking in gratitude

I was chatting online with a friend of mine the other day. We chat very rarely, but whenever we do it's pretty intense: Glen is not the kind of guy who digs superficial chatter. Ever.

We were discussing things we had learned, those lessons that keep presenting themselves to you until you've finally learned what you needed to learn from them. I brought up my perception that I'm going through a refining fire where my faith is being tested, specifically in regards to relationships. I have this fear that I'll always be alone, and it's ever present. I shared that I didn't know how to cope with it. It's a fear that I, though I didn't notice it until my chat with Glen, have turned into a rule. The rule goes like this: Megan will always be alone. You see, it's easier that way. Then I know what will happen and will never do anything "wrong," I feel like I'm in control, and I don't get hurt. Amazing! How brave am I?

He shared Proverbs 10:24 with me:

"The fears of the wicked will be fulfilled;
the hopes of the godly will be granted."

He also let me know in no uncertain terms that I could not hold on to this fear. And I saw that he was right. I saw that in carrying around this fear, I had become enslaved by it. It prevented me from hoping and thus from having any of my hopes granted.

The thing is, it takes a lot of courage for me to hope. It turns out that hope hurts- it stings. Hope reminds me of all I've lost, all I want but don't have. Hope is dangerous. Because what happens when my hopes are dashed? Lots of ouchie is what happens. My heart swells with hope and joy and potential, and then all of those things fall flat, and I'm left with a mess to clean up. But why does hope hurt me so much when God intended it for good?

It turns out that I've done a pretty good job with mishandling hope- I turn it into fantasy and then rely on that hope/fantasy instead of God. As it turns out, that doesn't work so well- that is what has really hurt me. It is from this particular habit of mine that I learned that it was wrong to hope because I am always let down by hope.

But that's not necessarily the case. I hoped for a house, and I've got one. I hoped for growth in every aspect of my life, and I have grown and am growing a LOT. I hoped to make my living as a dancer, and I'm doing that, if only part time. And there's even more than what I've hoped for! I've realized that I don't want my life to revolve around dance - I want a more full, whole life than that. And that's a realization I have resisted for years now, but in hoping for wholeness and restoration, that's where I am - the last place I thought I wanted to be. Now I have a new hope of being a farmer. Who'd have thunk it?

I am grateful to be in this fragile place of hope again. It is truly bold for me to hope instead of fear, and I hope. I hope for relationship. I hope for fulfillment in every way, not just in dance. I hope that God really wants to give me the desires of my heart like He says He does. I hope though it may pain me in its lack. I hope.

gimmegimme

I think I finally get it.

OK, I've gotten it for a while now, but I always responded to it in my favorite way: chosen ignorance. I want lots of things: a house, betterments to my house, new clothes, different clothes, a stable car, decent cookware, true love, a perfect match, meaningful & fulfilling relationship, the list is endless. I have/have had lots of these things, been shopping countless times, have an amazing house that puts me at ease, great friends, and on and on and on. But for me, I think my stupid/restless wanting is tied to my addiction to fantasy. Not necessarily sexual, not fantasy books (although I've always loved them), but just simple fantasy in that it is NOT reality. For some of us who grew up in horrible family situations, it may be the norm. It definitely was for me. When the reality outside of my head was dad screaming and mom crying, I went for the fantasy inside my head because it was always prettier, even though it wasn't real. As a kid, I either ignored or undervalued the importance of tangibly present reality. I went for the fantasy time and time again, until it became not just a habit but a way of life. As a result, it's difficult for me to pull myself out of my head and experience reality, especially when I don't like it. Slowly but surely, I fall back into my own head and live there.

I think that's where I've been heading lately, so this is an official intervention. The reason for my slinking back to fantasyland is that I've decided to quit my job. The reality of this is slowly setting in, and so I'm slowly turning to fantasy. There are all sorts of questions that I don't know the answers to: (1) What will I do to earn money? (2) Will I make my mortgage payments and be able to keep my house? (3) Will I be a coward and fall back into a "secure" job that dulls the senses and puts me to sleep in a spiritual/creative sense? (4) Will I really be able to start and maintain my own business venture? (5) How do I get my finances straight if I don't have any?

The reality is that I really don't know the answers to these questions. The reality is that I am afraid of money and so ignore it. The reality is that my dad may flip out. My family considers a steady job the most important thing. I always scorned and mocked "jobs" because no one wants them, including me. So why are they so important? But I've had one now for close to 4 years, and in some ways it's like a bad relationship in that we both just enable each other to stay in the same rut. I'm way overqualified for my current job, so I'm bored and annoyed and not performing as well as they need/want me to. The story of the talents has been eye-opening for me lately, mostly because I usually read The Message. In Matthew chapter 25, verses 14-30, Jesus tells the story of a master entrusting some of his assets to 3 servants while he's traveling. Two of them invest (read: risk) the money he entrusts them with, double their investments, and are commended by the master upon his return. But the third servant hid the thousand he was entrusted with in order to keep it safe. He gets a good tongue lashing when the master gets back:

26-27"The master was furious. 'That's a terrible way to live! It's criminal to live cautiously like that! If you knew I was after the best, why did you do less than the least? The least you could have done would have been to invest the sum with the bankers, where at least I would have gotten a little interest.

28-30"'Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most. And get rid of this "play-it-safe" who won't go out on a limb. Throw him out into utter darkness.'

Wow. Being cautious is risky. I used to know this. That was before the real world reared its really ugly head. Then I decided to play it safe and was quickly lulled to sleep. After all, if you have a steady job that pays decently, you can buy things and entertain yourself... and it becomes an endless cycle until you realize what crap it is. Everything about the culture pushes me to want, to lust, to crave... but I don't need to. I don't have to. And finally - I don't want to. I don't want the game anymore.

I'm visiting my parents right now, and my mom just got a complete kitchen makeover. She's thrilled. But I have to wonder how long it will last, when she'll start complaining about it, when she'll want more, what she'll want. It's really an amazing kitchen now, totally different, and it was great to cook in it.

But where will the want surface next? And what will I do with it? I think a productive way for me to deal with wants (and probably emotions, too) would be to look at them as flags or indicators. So that my wants catch my attention, but instead of reacting to them, they pull my focus to the reality below the surface that needs attention. These are things I need to write on my wall, to grapple with. Because if I don't remember these battles, I will forget them, and I will lose. Now for my magic markers - white paint, beware!