Developing Theology
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Between sheets, and insecurity.
So if I'm to take a few minutes to write today, I guess I should be cautious of going on tangents, etc… so I'll look to keep this unidirectional at best.
Tina and I have almost been in Grand Rapids for a month now, and it's been up and down mostly, it would be nice if we could finally get to a point of stability. I suppose that's what I really meant in my last blog, that it's not so much about wanting the mundane nature of repetition, but in all reality just wanting some sort of constant in our lives. I apologize ahead of time for not being able to call or have conversation with a great many of you, I've just been so busy as of late, and whereas I wish a 2 hour division wouldn't compromise conversation, it apparently has. Hopefully this is something that I can continue to work at, that for awhile those that desire to talk to me, can go above and beyond in getting a hold me…because I'm not doing the best job right now. Or we will just have to know that no matter how long or overdrawn the division is, that good friends are good friends no matter how long it is, between conversation or hanging out.
I'm having a great difficulty with not being me, I mean for the most part knowing that I'm not completely the same person I've always been… in best explaining this… I believe a lot of who we are, depends on our choices and personalities for sure, yet we're shaped and built up by those around us, family, friends, and places of significance, these are the things that make a person complete.
I'm tired of running at half power, of not being fully who I know I'm suppose to be, work isn't the same, and there is just so many differences with living out here (both good and bad) that it's been difficult in grabbing a foothold.
I know this is an over abundance of complaints, and I'm sure my whining is tiresome… please forgive me, that's not the point of writing these things. It's an exhausting thing when you wake up in the morning, and you look in the mirror… and sometimes for just a second, you don't recognize yourself.
Change is a unique element, something that we all need more of, as we all need to be awaken from our catatonic state of stagnation. A little shake up here, or there… change is good, it helps growth. Yet can I feel how I need to presently feel right now? Tina and I are the only one's that know how we feel currently, even between her and I, there are differences. I go to work everyday, and I can't complain about my manager, he's awesome. It's just I get 1 of 2 different reactions by those around me, either I'm treated like a infection… kept at arms length away, because I'm management… people, even those my age, apparently can't become too friendly. Or the opposite, I'm given a nod of respect, yet I don't feel that it's a real, under the skin type of respect, it's mild at best. A respect with no flavor, no spices, no substance, just a batch of expired ingredients. How am I to get a footing here? If I've been only so-so at my job, I've never been just "average" at my job, and right now… with not getting the results at work, that I was brought in to get… I'm struggling with the concept of failing, and although I'm further from failing than I play off. I just haven't allowed myself to even think for a second that I'm less than good at something, it's been sometime since I've been just average. I guess striving for success has been instilled in me, and in a frightening way I occasionally find myself… judging who I am by the quality of work I do at my job. In a scary sort of way (yes I know this is completely silly in nature, and I of course know better) I find myself allowing numbers to speak volumes about who I am. Work has always been work to me, and that's it… but here in GR, I can't help but to look at my job as everything that I have out here, other than Tina, Matt and Ally. Yet if I'm only doing average at best, what does that say about who I am out here in Grand Rapids? (yes I know that a job doesn't speak volumes about who I am, but all I'm worth to anybody out here, is how well I do my job… that's all I am to anybody, and everybody else out here.)
The other night (11:30pm to be exact on Monday) Tina was going on a third day in a row of having a migraine headache. So we both started to become worried about the situation, I called urgent care for her, and they suggested having her come in as soon as she could. We left close to midnight for the hospital, bringing my Bible along for what would be an incredibly long night, morning for sure… we checked into the hospital, and waited. The bulk of this story, has very little to do with Tina's migraine, because thank God it wasn't anything too serious, as she had CAT scans and a slew of other medical Dr's looking over her. Yet there is something very powerful about being in a place of absolute fragility, a place where you, me, and everybody else for just a second, outside of our busy, selfish lives… that we notice just how fragile we really are, how easily our flesh and bone bodies can be broken, assaulted by death, and taken over by the world. Yet in the depths of it all, there is another lesson, about the human spirit, and how we have this amazing will to survive, how our bodies have an amazing longing for self-preservation. Upon first glance, you can surely see the sick, the confused, and the dying, yet deeper, somewhere right beside our hearts and our heads, lies hope, and a fighters instinct, to continue to hold on.
As I pulled into the hospital, I watched a lady slouched over, and getting out of her car (with help of course) moaning in pain, and finding her way to the hospital door. Minutes later as Tina and I waited in the emergency room, this same woman was sobbing in pain, alone, and scared. As she cried out for things to "hurry up", that she's only a few months pregnant, and that this pain she has in her belly, isn't a pain that she can overlook. "I will not lose my baby, because of having to wait in a waiting room!" "I'm going to lose my baby, this isn't right". In those moments, I prayed for her… for she wasn't alone, and I wanted her to know that. We are only individuals by the human relation of the word, "individual," yet as Godly creations, we can never be left deserted.
It's not possible… yet I prayed for her to know this, to understand this.
In the emergency room, the distinction between rooms can only be found between thin sheets, privacy isn't in abundance, for every conversation be heard, and just because it's faceless conversation being heard, doesn't mean that it's not understood for what it is. The girl next "door" to us sat waiting, to hear results from what she believed was a bladder infection. All of 20 years of age, she waited alone, desiring a quick fix, medicine to get her over the hump of sickness. Although when the Dr. came back, he had altogether different news for her, "well you don't have a bladder infection, your pregnant"
"Huh, what? How? When? Why?"
The Dr. "Well when you have unprotected sex, and you're a woman… you can get pregnant"
"No, why are you playin with me?"
In complete disbelief she sat there, the Dr having to bring everything to the simplest of terms, down to the most basic of basic. When you do this, this can be the result.
"Do you know the father?"
"Uhm, yes he is my boyfriend of the past few years, on again, off again. I don't get it, we've been on again, off again since we were 17, and this wasn't the first time we had sex"
"Then you were lucky all those other times (to not get pregnant that is)"
The Dr. left the room, and through a sheet, I could hear her murmurs, her conversation under her breath, a point of disbelief, and a what will I do next, internal conversation going on. In these moments it's hard not to notice where we turn our intention to, in our greatest moments of despair we find ourselves in quiet conversations with ourselves. Yet I envision her conversation to have been one with God, a quiet whisper of connecting with hope, in a matter of hopelessness.
In the same night, an hour apart from each other, two different women were told two different stories, both with unique reactions, both in ways that they may never understand or know, communicated to God, just how they felt.
One woman cried for the bundle of joy she felt that she was losing, for what she viewed as amazing luck and design. The other cried in insecurity, baffled by results outside of her wildest dreams, and a Dr. told her how she was lucky all those other times.
One woman starving for the chance for her baby to survive.
Another wondering just how she managed to get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
The same Dr. has found himself telling expecting parents about there amazing luck, that they have a baby on the way, that they've been trying to have for months, and even years. Yet in this night, he broke news to the confused, and explained how she was lucky all those other times.
The irony.
A few "rooms" down, between sheets an echo of a man, who sounded more like a thunderstorm in the distance. Bellowed, and coughed in severe pain, the sound of dying in his seemingly last gasps of air. The very substance he breathed in and out all day long, without a thought… was the absolute attraction of his will to live. As the heart attack sunk it's teeth in, his wife watched in horror, and his two sons (approx. the same ages as my brother and I) watch as their Superman was merely just a man, and all the while they clutched each other, tears running down there collapsed eyelids.
Everyday we breathe, without even a thought being given to the grand design that enables breath. We run and run, we chase, and go, we fondle and perfect, we're far too busy for anything to stop us, and the last thing we have on our minds is to stall, to look and to breathe. Yet in our lives we occasionally find ourselves having to direct all our intention to the nature of survival, we find ourselves having to focus on the most basic of functions. The function of living, gone away are all the dreams, aspirations, and heartless addictions, when we our at the door of death, we have but only one focus. Life, because it's the only thing of any worth, when we're canoeing down the river of the damned, with our toll change in our hands.
I have little time left, to really write today, I have to head to work… I thank God that Tina is doing well, and that it was just a mild scare, that we had the opportunity to see life at one of it's most fragile states. To read the word, while being around the brokenness, the sick, and the dying.
Thank you, and have a great weekend!
- Lance
Between sheets, and insecurity.
So if I'm to take a few minutes to write today, I guess I should be cautious of going on tangents, etc… so I'll look to keep this unidirectional at best.
Tina and I have almost been in Grand Rapids for a month now, and it's been up and down mostly, it would be nice if we could finally get to a point of stability. I suppose that's what I really meant in my last blog, that it's not so much about wanting the mundane nature of repetition, but in all reality just wanting some sort of constant in our lives. I apologize ahead of time for not being able to call or have conversation with a great many of you, I've just been so busy as of late, and whereas I wish a 2 hour division wouldn't compromise conversation, it apparently has. Hopefully this is something that I can continue to work at, that for awhile those that desire to talk to me, can go above and beyond in getting a hold me…because I'm not doing the best job right now. Or we will just have to know that no matter how long or overdrawn the division is, that good friends are good friends no matter how long it is, between conversation or hanging out.
I'm having a great difficulty with not being me, I mean for the most part knowing that I'm not completely the same person I've always been… in best explaining this… I believe a lot of who we are, depends on our choices and personalities for sure, yet we're shaped and built up by those around us, family, friends, and places of significance, these are the things that make a person complete.
I'm tired of running at half power, of not being fully who I know I'm suppose to be, work isn't the same, and there is just so many differences with living out here (both good and bad) that it's been difficult in grabbing a foothold.
I know this is an over abundance of complaints, and I'm sure my whining is tiresome… please forgive me, that's not the point of writing these things. It's an exhausting thing when you wake up in the morning, and you look in the mirror… and sometimes for just a second, you don't recognize yourself.
Change is a unique element, something that we all need more of, as we all need to be awaken from our catatonic state of stagnation. A little shake up here, or there… change is good, it helps growth. Yet can I feel how I need to presently feel right now? Tina and I are the only one's that know how we feel currently, even between her and I, there are differences. I go to work everyday, and I can't complain about my manager, he's awesome. It's just I get 1 of 2 different reactions by those around me, either I'm treated like a infection… kept at arms length away, because I'm management… people, even those my age, apparently can't become too friendly. Or the opposite, I'm given a nod of respect, yet I don't feel that it's a real, under the skin type of respect, it's mild at best. A respect with no flavor, no spices, no substance, just a batch of expired ingredients. How am I to get a footing here? If I've been only so-so at my job, I've never been just "average" at my job, and right now… with not getting the results at work, that I was brought in to get… I'm struggling with the concept of failing, and although I'm further from failing than I play off. I just haven't allowed myself to even think for a second that I'm less than good at something, it's been sometime since I've been just average. I guess striving for success has been instilled in me, and in a frightening way I occasionally find myself… judging who I am by the quality of work I do at my job. In a scary sort of way (yes I know this is completely silly in nature, and I of course know better) I find myself allowing numbers to speak volumes about who I am. Work has always been work to me, and that's it… but here in GR, I can't help but to look at my job as everything that I have out here, other than Tina, Matt and Ally. Yet if I'm only doing average at best, what does that say about who I am out here in Grand Rapids? (yes I know that a job doesn't speak volumes about who I am, but all I'm worth to anybody out here, is how well I do my job… that's all I am to anybody, and everybody else out here.)
The other night (11:30pm to be exact on Monday) Tina was going on a third day in a row of having a migraine headache. So we both started to become worried about the situation, I called urgent care for her, and they suggested having her come in as soon as she could. We left close to midnight for the hospital, bringing my Bible along for what would be an incredibly long night, morning for sure… we checked into the hospital, and waited. The bulk of this story, has very little to do with Tina's migraine, because thank God it wasn't anything too serious, as she had CAT scans and a slew of other medical Dr's looking over her. Yet there is something very powerful about being in a place of absolute fragility, a place where you, me, and everybody else for just a second, outside of our busy, selfish lives… that we notice just how fragile we really are, how easily our flesh and bone bodies can be broken, assaulted by death, and taken over by the world. Yet in the depths of it all, there is another lesson, about the human spirit, and how we have this amazing will to survive, how our bodies have an amazing longing for self-preservation. Upon first glance, you can surely see the sick, the confused, and the dying, yet deeper, somewhere right beside our hearts and our heads, lies hope, and a fighters instinct, to continue to hold on.
As I pulled into the hospital, I watched a lady slouched over, and getting out of her car (with help of course) moaning in pain, and finding her way to the hospital door. Minutes later as Tina and I waited in the emergency room, this same woman was sobbing in pain, alone, and scared. As she cried out for things to "hurry up", that she's only a few months pregnant, and that this pain she has in her belly, isn't a pain that she can overlook. "I will not lose my baby, because of having to wait in a waiting room!" "I'm going to lose my baby, this isn't right". In those moments, I prayed for her… for she wasn't alone, and I wanted her to know that. We are only individuals by the human relation of the word, "individual," yet as Godly creations, we can never be left deserted.
It's not possible… yet I prayed for her to know this, to understand this.
In the emergency room, the distinction between rooms can only be found between thin sheets, privacy isn't in abundance, for every conversation be heard, and just because it's faceless conversation being heard, doesn't mean that it's not understood for what it is. The girl next "door" to us sat waiting, to hear results from what she believed was a bladder infection. All of 20 years of age, she waited alone, desiring a quick fix, medicine to get her over the hump of sickness. Although when the Dr. came back, he had altogether different news for her, "well you don't have a bladder infection, your pregnant"
"Huh, what? How? When? Why?"
The Dr. "Well when you have unprotected sex, and you're a woman… you can get pregnant"
"No, why are you playin with me?"
In complete disbelief she sat there, the Dr having to bring everything to the simplest of terms, down to the most basic of basic. When you do this, this can be the result.
"Do you know the father?"
"Uhm, yes he is my boyfriend of the past few years, on again, off again. I don't get it, we've been on again, off again since we were 17, and this wasn't the first time we had sex"
"Then you were lucky all those other times (to not get pregnant that is)"
The Dr. left the room, and through a sheet, I could hear her murmurs, her conversation under her breath, a point of disbelief, and a what will I do next, internal conversation going on. In these moments it's hard not to notice where we turn our intention to, in our greatest moments of despair we find ourselves in quiet conversations with ourselves. Yet I envision her conversation to have been one with God, a quiet whisper of connecting with hope, in a matter of hopelessness.
In the same night, an hour apart from each other, two different women were told two different stories, both with unique reactions, both in ways that they may never understand or know, communicated to God, just how they felt.
One woman cried for the bundle of joy she felt that she was losing, for what she viewed as amazing luck and design. The other cried in insecurity, baffled by results outside of her wildest dreams, and a Dr. told her how she was lucky all those other times.
One woman starving for the chance for her baby to survive.
Another wondering just how she managed to get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.
The same Dr. has found himself telling expecting parents about there amazing luck, that they have a baby on the way, that they've been trying to have for months, and even years. Yet in this night, he broke news to the confused, and explained how she was lucky all those other times.
The irony.
A few "rooms" down, between sheets an echo of a man, who sounded more like a thunderstorm in the distance. Bellowed, and coughed in severe pain, the sound of dying in his seemingly last gasps of air. The very substance he breathed in and out all day long, without a thought… was the absolute attraction of his will to live. As the heart attack sunk it's teeth in, his wife watched in horror, and his two sons (approx. the same ages as my brother and I) watch as their Superman was merely just a man, and all the while they clutched each other, tears running down there collapsed eyelids.
Everyday we breathe, without even a thought being given to the grand design that enables breath. We run and run, we chase, and go, we fondle and perfect, we're far too busy for anything to stop us, and the last thing we have on our minds is to stall, to look and to breathe. Yet in our lives we occasionally find ourselves having to direct all our intention to the nature of survival, we find ourselves having to focus on the most basic of functions. The function of living, gone away are all the dreams, aspirations, and heartless addictions, when we our at the door of death, we have but only one focus. Life, because it's the only thing of any worth, when we're canoeing down the river of the damned, with our toll change in our hands.
I have little time left, to really write today, I have to head to work… I thank God that Tina is doing well, and that it was just a mild scare, that we had the opportunity to see life at one of it's most fragile states. To read the word, while being around the brokenness, the sick, and the dying.
Thank you, and have a great weekend!
- Lance
posted by Lance Pearce | 6:01 AM
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