Dave Matthews blares overhead. I’m drinking raspberry tea three blocks from the White House. I’m almost done with my final three hours of dreaded math and it has been far less painful than I thought. I want for nothing.
Yet I can’t help feeling like I’ve been kicked in the face. I can’t completely explain it. Partially due to simply living in the real world. It frustrates me that 90% of the time good things happen to you because you are faithful, diligent, work hard. 10% of the time, and these numbers are a guesstimate, good things happen to you by “chance.” Maybe its because I read the news too much. Everything costs too much, we’re running out of gas, the world is getting hotter, everyone is hungry. People die all the time. Good people, bad people, life just ends. A 22 year-old-girl was killed while riding her bike in Dupont Circle early one morning two weeks ago. (I’ve ridden my garage sale awesome bike there at least a dozen times.) She was here for the summer, interning, and a trash-truck driver wasn’t paying attention and just ran her over. Like a pancake.
I do find hope in the situation – there has to be a higher power. (well, duh, and he sent his son to live among us - his name is Jesus.) But seriously. How could that girl die randomly? She didn’t. If God willed it, that could be me tomorrow. So I better live it up now.
Usually, I don’t fear death. I worry that I won’t have done enough before it comes. John 4:18 says: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love.” And in John 4:12 the bible tells us that if we love each other, God abides in us, and perfects our love. So, I shouldn’t fear. And I usually don’t. But I worry I’ll die with regrets, without having said “I love you” to important ones. I worry that I won’t have had enough time – for the white dress, for what is promised after the white dress, for raising children, for skydiving, for fly fishing in Montana, for throwing the best Christmas/4th of july parties in the world. Oh, and I guess I worry I won’t spread the word and love of God enough. Admittedly, sometimes I have to remind myself to worry about that part. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the bible tells us something about worrying being unproductive…
I think I’m just worn down from the battle that life is. God never said it would be easy to seek His purpose, to not be of this world. But He promises over and over that it will be worth it.
Part of the time that I feel sucker-punched in the face is simply that people let us down all the time. People we count on. They don’t mean to. And really I’m at fault for making people my God. Its always been something I have struggled with. Oops.
Sometimes it takes a long time for things to sink in to my brain, other times things affect me and I’m crying before a story is over. (Like the girl in Dupont.) With Sam, our dog, it’s a sinking in. I see dogs all the time, hear stories of peoples dogs, and feel hurt. Being in DC made it less of a daily reality. It was just like when I left in January- I was gone but would be back. Now, I’m gone, he’s gone, and he’ll never be back. I know he is less important than a person, but he was someone I talked to, cared for, and loved for 13 years. Never petting him again, walking him again, laying on the floor with him. Its just tough some days.
Also, honestly, I miss Mindy Wooldridge. My brother would kill me if he knew I was writing that on the internet for cyber elves to read, because he’ll say its none of my business. But I don’t miss Gentch and Mindy together as much as I miss Mindy as a friend. I saw her often, talked to her often, and just generally love her. We still occasionally phone chat, facebook message, but its not the same. Maybe in two years, maybe next month, maybe when I’m back in Texas, maybe never, I’ll feel like we’re friends and it won’t be weird that she and Gentry dated for so long and cared so much about each other. But for now, I just pretty much stay out of it.
I can’t even type about Camp Longhorn. Makes me want to puke. I was not prepared for how much I would hate not being there for five weeks each summer.
Well, getting all this Debbie-Downer stuff of my chest is good. Gary Allan says, Life ain’t always beautiful, buts it a beautiful ride. Things will be sunshine 24/7 again, but for today, its 23/7. And that’s just fine.
On a happy note, I checked out a collection of 400 uber-famous poems.
(NERD ALERT!)
One of my faves:
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the other for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Yet I can’t help feeling like I’ve been kicked in the face. I can’t completely explain it. Partially due to simply living in the real world. It frustrates me that 90% of the time good things happen to you because you are faithful, diligent, work hard. 10% of the time, and these numbers are a guesstimate, good things happen to you by “chance.” Maybe its because I read the news too much. Everything costs too much, we’re running out of gas, the world is getting hotter, everyone is hungry. People die all the time. Good people, bad people, life just ends. A 22 year-old-girl was killed while riding her bike in Dupont Circle early one morning two weeks ago. (I’ve ridden my garage sale awesome bike there at least a dozen times.) She was here for the summer, interning, and a trash-truck driver wasn’t paying attention and just ran her over. Like a pancake.
I do find hope in the situation – there has to be a higher power. (well, duh, and he sent his son to live among us - his name is Jesus.) But seriously. How could that girl die randomly? She didn’t. If God willed it, that could be me tomorrow. So I better live it up now.
Usually, I don’t fear death. I worry that I won’t have done enough before it comes. John 4:18 says: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love.” And in John 4:12 the bible tells us that if we love each other, God abides in us, and perfects our love. So, I shouldn’t fear. And I usually don’t. But I worry I’ll die with regrets, without having said “I love you” to important ones. I worry that I won’t have had enough time – for the white dress, for what is promised after the white dress, for raising children, for skydiving, for fly fishing in Montana, for throwing the best Christmas/4th of july parties in the world. Oh, and I guess I worry I won’t spread the word and love of God enough. Admittedly, sometimes I have to remind myself to worry about that part. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the bible tells us something about worrying being unproductive…
I think I’m just worn down from the battle that life is. God never said it would be easy to seek His purpose, to not be of this world. But He promises over and over that it will be worth it.
Part of the time that I feel sucker-punched in the face is simply that people let us down all the time. People we count on. They don’t mean to. And really I’m at fault for making people my God. Its always been something I have struggled with. Oops.
Sometimes it takes a long time for things to sink in to my brain, other times things affect me and I’m crying before a story is over. (Like the girl in Dupont.) With Sam, our dog, it’s a sinking in. I see dogs all the time, hear stories of peoples dogs, and feel hurt. Being in DC made it less of a daily reality. It was just like when I left in January- I was gone but would be back. Now, I’m gone, he’s gone, and he’ll never be back. I know he is less important than a person, but he was someone I talked to, cared for, and loved for 13 years. Never petting him again, walking him again, laying on the floor with him. Its just tough some days.
Also, honestly, I miss Mindy Wooldridge. My brother would kill me if he knew I was writing that on the internet for cyber elves to read, because he’ll say its none of my business. But I don’t miss Gentch and Mindy together as much as I miss Mindy as a friend. I saw her often, talked to her often, and just generally love her. We still occasionally phone chat, facebook message, but its not the same. Maybe in two years, maybe next month, maybe when I’m back in Texas, maybe never, I’ll feel like we’re friends and it won’t be weird that she and Gentry dated for so long and cared so much about each other. But for now, I just pretty much stay out of it.
I can’t even type about Camp Longhorn. Makes me want to puke. I was not prepared for how much I would hate not being there for five weeks each summer.
Well, getting all this Debbie-Downer stuff of my chest is good. Gary Allan says, Life ain’t always beautiful, buts it a beautiful ride. Things will be sunshine 24/7 again, but for today, its 23/7. And that’s just fine.
On a happy note, I checked out a collection of 400 uber-famous poems.
(NERD ALERT!)
One of my faves:
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the other for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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