Hope To Be Had
[ Posted by Rebecca Mon, 24 Sep 2007 18:49:18 GMT ]
Last week was a little rough. It was rough because of things going on around me that were completely out of my control. Some of the things were big, and some were small, but they all added up into one huge lump of ick in my heart and it was hard for me to not be sad in general.
My friend’s father died. They knew it was coming, but it was still unexpected in that sense that you just didn’t think it would happen on that day, at that moment, in that manner.
So I was plagued with thoughts of mortality, reminded once again that life passes in and out of existence like a vapor.
As I read her words about her father and how she felt about him, I was reminded of my own broken, barely-pieced-back-together relationship with my own father, which is ultimately scarred, and I felt a semi-permanent lump of something develop in my throat as I thought about how I saw my father age so quickly, and how suddenly, as if before my very eyes he became an old man, bent over and gray, in the autumn of his life.
Another friend has been down and out, because his young wife left him. I don’t know her really. I think we met once or twice, so I can’t really say what is going on, but I think it might be a phase that could get out of hand. I just hurt for him. He doesn’t deserve this at all. He is a good man.
And so I thought about love, and how strong and yet how fragile it is, and how the heart is deceitful above all things, and how it’s easy to think you’re in love when you aren’t, and how easy it is to really be in love and not even know it, because you are unwilling to know it, because you’re scared to death of it because people who you love can so very easily hurt you. They only have to perform one selfish act to do so, and yet begrudging them that one selfish act is in and of itself, selfish, and so you hurt them back and wonder if love really is what it’s cracked up to be.
It is. It really is. It’s worth every ounce of joy and sorrow a heart can muster. It really is.
I got a B on my writing assignment. I knew it wasn’t that great when I turned it in but I sure didn’t think it was worth a lousy B. Of course, then the prof told us that he didn’t explain the assignment correctly. Of course, I was one of the ones who misunderstood his instructions. Of course, that doesn’t matter, I am stuck with the B.
My wardrobe is shrinking at the rate my thighs are expanding. Some days I care, other days I don’t. The days I don’t care, I eat salad and drink water. The days I do care, I eat pastries and drink soda. You figure that one out. I sure as hell can’t.
I don’t believe in Equal Treatment Under the Law. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s true. I don’t believe in it because it doesn’t exist. At least, not in this country. Yay, USA!
I am discontent with everything on earth.I am plagued by feelings of mediocrity, blandness, and everything is painted in shades of gray. How cliche.
What gets me out of bed in the morning? What gets me into the shower and into my clothes and into my car and into my office and back home again and out with friends and off to church and to the grocery store and to the bar downtown where a friend is celebrating her birthday and to your house and back home again?
The mere fact that I know, I know deeply and without any doubt that there is hope to be had, and that the hope to be had is that this life is not devoid of meaning, and that all the things that happen in it can accomplish a greater purpose, even if that purpose it unclear to me and everyone else.
It gets me out of bed in the morning.
