May 3, 2006

• I walked out the door. I wanted to get away. No sane thought entered my mind expect the desire for solitude. I felt pain pulsing inside me screaming for release. I wanted to hit something to destroy it, to hurt physically in hopes of bleeding my inward pain dry. Nature seemed to mock my pain. Noise joined in chanting that it would not last. That I was too weak to even contain my rage. That I would let it go, walk back in, and sit down to the zombie life of doing what I am told, feeling some resemblance of happiness, and calling it a day. I hit the pole a couple of times. One for every pain, every thought, every fear. I sat down rather exhausted.

  
  

   

  
  

  She came storming out. Walking determinedly toward me. I was annoyed. They couldn’t even let me alone. They were to strapped to their fears of safety to let me have a moment of sanity and clear my thoughts. To sort them into something liveable. She picked me up and held my arm tight. I was not getting loose and we both knew it. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t know what I wanted to say anyways, and I certainly didn’t want to do it in a different language. I don’t remember what she said. I don’t think I translated it in my head—I just knew. And I don’t remember what I said, but it explained what I was thinking. You don’t have to say much. Because I knew I didn’t have to say anything at all.

  
  

   

  
  

  She didn’t let me go. She walked me around, leading wherever she wanted. My feet moved without me willing them. The tears came. It wasn’t really about the problems. Before it was all the pain pushing in on me until I could not breathe. Suddenly now it was just me. why couldn’t I do more? Why couldn’t I change things? Why aren’t my prayers working? What is wrong with me—my prayers—were they defective? Is there some big problem with me that I am oblivious to? That I don’t even realize is holding me back? And worse, if the problem isn’t me, then is it God? I’d rather blame myself than doubt Him, because then I feel doubly guilty. So does God care? Does He want me to do penitence until I’ve been correctly punished? Is he waiting to step in so everyone sees how great He is and until then we can just gasp and writhe in our torture?

  
  

   

  
  

  We continued our rounds of the grounds until my sobs subsided. I as left with a dull headache and the desire to get my contacts out before they became glued to my eyes. No answers. No solutions. No new knowledge. I told her I felt better. And I did. Somehow, without hearing from God, without anything, I knew God was still God and I didn’t have to stand up for Him. I didn’t have to understand Him. I didn’t even have to believe Him. He is who He is and somewhere in my tears either I inadvertently took the cares of my heart and threw them, rather irreverently, at His feet. Perhaps that is what tears do. Signal of defeat. Of surrender. Of “Take it, because it is too much for me.” He took them from me. Then I could sleep.

  
  

   

  • 4:43 pm
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