Monday, September 22, 2008

Strength to Strength (and hiding in the mountains)

I am not a very brave person. Eighty percent of the time I want to hide. And I want to preface that hiding by running.

I'm not strong. Eighty percent of the time I feel like I have to rely on someone else's strength, optimism and courage to get me through daring escapades.

I have a lot of fears. Fear of failure. Fear of not making it. Fear of "going under" financially. Fear of bills. Fear of people being angry at me. I see a number on my caller ID - I don't answer it. I see a subject line in my e-mail inbox - I don't open it. I see somebody's name on a text message - I don't read it.

I want to run and hide.

But life is not conducive to running and hiding (all the time.) At least mine isn't. I don't have much choice but to answer the phone, open the e-mail, read the text, pay the bills.

And when I do that, I'm embalmed with grace. Grace like rain.

Somebody once told me a long time ago that you are given the grace to deal with circumstances as they come. But until you get it, the situation, circumstance seems insurmountable.

I wonder if I've gotten it yet. Grace.

Because on a day like today when I'm scared and my engine's blown up and a new one's expensive and I don't have the money and I'm driving a rental car and we're not sure if insurance can cover it...I want to run. And hide.

But I can't. I have to face it. And face it strong.

Then, as if angels are singing in the background, I feel this glow, this Presence in the room. I know Who it is. I've felt It before.

He's the voice that says it's going to be fine. He's the Person I really want to run and hide to only, He's right here. I turn around and bump into Him. He's my strength, my insurance agent, my fix-it Man. He has been for a long time; so long that sometimes I take Him for granted.

I call Him my trump card sometimes. When I feel desperate, shaken, lonely, scared, alone, poor, confused. And all the times I feel happy too. He's my Trump. He can beat anything.


This past weekend I went and hid. I ran, yeah, I'll admit it. It won't be the last time; it's certainly not the first.

I went home, to the place where I am me and loved for that reason. Somehow when I'm there I'm me...more me. Mom makes me feel safe.

Surprisingly we are both at this place in our lives of being alone. Traditionally, moms are supposed to be a few steps ahead of their daughters in marriage, children, life. But when my mom and I sit at the kitchen table with our coffee we are the same.

Two women. Alone. Surviving.

When I look at her, I see my strength reflected in her and I'm proud. I'm proud to be her daughter; I'm proud to be her friend. I'm proud to be made of that toughness, endurance, faith.

So we talk about being alone. And yeah, we talk about awesome we are and "how could any man NOT want what we have to offer?" But then our conversation circles back to the fact that we are alone, we're surviving and we're living every day pursuing these callings, these dreams.

I believe with all my heart that God made woman to survive. He gave us a will, a passion for life, a strength that can't be tamped down, a gritty determination to make it. And make it well.

He also gave us the desire to love and be loved. Some people don't understand why I love my dogs the way I do. It's because they're mine; I take care of them. They depend on me.

Sure, when I come home at the end of the day, I want someone there. I hate living alone. I hate being alone. I want to drive down the road holding someone's hand. I want to share dinner with someone every night. I want someone stronger then me to worry about the fleas in the carpet or the trash every week. I want babies. I want someone to tell me I can stay home with them all day if I want to. I want a companion, a friend.

But I don't have that. I go home alone. I go to bed alone. I eat alone. I watch a movie alone.

Yet somehow despite my desires, I'm happy. I'm content. I find pleasure in simple things like cooking an elaborate meal for myself. Or cuddling on the couch with the dogs. Or welcoming puppies into the world one at a time. Or flirting cautiously with someone just because. Or having the best girlfriends in the world.

2 comments:

Kristin said...

Beautiful, honest words.

The Logarithmic Spiral said...

Yeah, New Mexico is calling my name hardcore. Seriously, February? Maybe sooner if I can??

PS, you're not the only one guilty for not calling. I need to write myself post it notes to remember things...I just wrote one and put it on my desk.