Life As an Afterschool Special

Danny and I spent another late night over pancakes,
Talkin’ ’bout soccer
And how every man’s just the same
We made speculation
On the who’s and the when’s of our futures
And how everyone’s lonely
But still we just couldn’t complain

And how we just hate being alone
Could I have missed my only chance
And now I’m just wasting my time
By looking around
But you know I know better
I’m not gonna worry ’bout nothing
Cause if the birds and the flowers survive
Then I’ll make it okay
I’m given a chance and a rock
see which one breaks a window
See which one keeps me up all night and into the day

Because I’m so scared of being alone
That I forget what house I live in
But it’s not my job to wait by the phone
For her to call

Well this day’s been crazy
But everything’s happened on schedule
from the rain and the cold
To the drink that I spilled on my shirt
‘Cause You knew how You’d save me
before I fell dead in the garden
And You knew this day
long before You made me out of dirt

And You know the plans that You have for me
And You can’t plan the end and not plan the means
And so I suppose I just need some peace
Just to get me to sleep.

Caedmon’s Call
Table for Two

That song has been running in my head all morning…

Yesterday I got home from work, grabbed some scissors and cut down some lilacs.

They are finally blooming, and I think the smell is intoxicating and delicious and beautiful and comforting.

Then took my vase and I went in my room and turned on some Violet Burning and attempted to do my “homework”

I was supposed to come up with 25 things that are good about me… and that I love about myself.

And I could only name five.

Only five.

I threw myself on my bed and started to cry.

It felt good to cry… to just let go of the frustration and hurt and anger and just cry.

And I was being silly and slightly overdramatic…

But it was comforting.

Then my friend Kim called and we agreed to meet at my house that evening for cocktails.

So, Kim and I spent another late night over drinks

Talkin’ ’bout love

And how every man’s just the same.

We made speculation

On the who’s and the when’s of our futures

And how everyone’s lonely

But still we just couldn’t complain

Well, maybe we could complain a little.

But just a little.

I adore Kim.

She is sassy, and sympathetic, and strong.

Although she would tell you she is none of thoes things.

She is one of the handful of people I truly consider a friend in every meaning of the word.

And even when I am hard to love, she reminds me that I am loveable.

And she reminds me that there is way more then five things that are good about me.

We sat down at one my favorite bars and had a drink and played the jukebox.

And we talked about love and loss.

And how important good friends are.

And how all this is just a journey. And how we are making progress.

And how each time we discover what we dont want we get one step closer to what we do want.

We talked about deep old wounds, and new fresh ones.

And we laughed.

She laughed at me when I called the bouncer sporty spice and asked if his job was to look pretty.

And when I told the man outside that the wonderous punch was wonderous.

It was exactly what I needed.

It was perfect.

and today I keep thinking about Table for two…

And how we just hate being alone

And wondering if I could have missed my only chance

And now I’m just wasting my time

By looking around

But you know I know better

I’m not gonna worry ’bout nothing

Cause if the birds and the flowers survive

Then I’ll make it okay.

and I will.

with God. and good friends. and lilacs. and a little bit of liquor. and a lot love.

I am angry today.

Not frusterated.

Not annoyed.

Not even hurt.

I am ANGRY.

And it feels good.

It feels good to yell and swear and cry and just be angry.

It feels good to not make excuses for how I feel or sugar coat it or blame myself for feeling that way.

And the truth is it really isnt one person or one thing making me angry.

Its all these layers of hurt and resentment that I have pretended for so long didnt exist.

Its because I have so often felt hurt and used and then apologized for feeling that way.

Its years of thinking my opinions and my feelings dont matter as much as other peoples do.

And it has built up and built up and now I want to explode.

And so I am ANGRY.

Even if its just for a moment.

It feels good to be expressive.

It feels good to yell.

And I am not even sure I am sorry.

I am sure I WILL be sorry.

But right now I am just ANGRY.

(I am so writing TWICE in one day!)

After much prayer and thought I have discovered I don’t actually want to date.

I want to be wanted.

I want to be pursued.

I want a man to be crazy about me and attracted to me and desire me.

But I don’t actually want to date anybody.

At least not right now.

My motives are all wrong.

My heart is all wrong.

And I am still afraid.

And I still have healing to do.

And that’s ok.

It’s ok to wait.

It’s ok to see what God has in store.

It’s ok to wait for God to change my heart.

It’s ok to guard my heart in the process.

I thought I was being independent.

I was being selfish… and shallow.

And that isn’t who I want to be.

And I have been nervous and conflicted about how to deal with the men in my life that I agreed to go on a date with.

I saw the Fed Ex man today.

And I took a deep breath and told him that I thought he was very very nice. But the truth was my heart wasn’t fully available. And I did not want and was not ready for a relationship or the pressure of dating.

And he said ok, that he thought I was beautiful and sweet and funny, and that I could call him if I ever changed my mind.

That wasn’t so awful at all.

I am not saying that dating is wrong… or I will never date again.

But right now, at this moment, I just need to learn to be me.

I need to learn to love me so someone else can love me as well.

And I feel…. relief.

And I feel like that was a huge step for me.

It is a big deal to me to evaluate me needs and my motives and to give myself permission to change my mind.

So it’s a little step… but it’s a step.