Saturday, June 14, 2008

Some thoughts...

I'll be in my Old Testament class from 10-6 pm everyday for the next week. I don't think there will be much blog writing taking place during that time, so I thought I'd share a few thoughts tonight before heading to bed.

I noticed that you weren't too fond of my movie recommendation and couldn't help but draw a connection between our differences in movie preferences and our experiences in life. I know that I am particularly (and maybe overly so) drawn to rather tragic, depressing, philosophical or dramatic movies. It's not that I can't enjoy a light-hearted, romantic commedy like the average woman. It's just that the cynic in me always gets in the way of being thoroughly entertained by unrealistic snapshots of life and relationships. Obviously I am far from an optimist (I can't go through life wilfully being blind). Many would probably falsely accuse me of being a pessimist. Some have refered to me as a disappointed idealist - someone whose dreams have beem shattered. And though I think that may have been the appropriate title for a period of my life, I now believe I am a hopeful realist.

I have seen too much of life to claim ignorance to the pain and suffering evident every which way I look. And yet, I have seen too much of life to claim ignorance to the beauty and glory evident every which way I look. They go hand in hand. What a beautiful moment it was for me to hold Bailey's hand the other day as we drove away crying after her last day of kindergarten. They were tears of joy mixed with tears of deep sorrow. She had completed an entire year of school and had learned so much. I was proud of her. She was proud of herself. And yet, the tears of accomplishment were accompanied by tears of loss and heartache. She had grown incredibly close to her teacher and her teacher's daughter who worked in the class on a daily basis. I would imagine that most children are quite fond of their kindergarten teachers, but the bond Bailey shared with these remarkable women was unique. Her teacher suffered the loss of her husband to a sudden heart attack at the beginning of the school year. As you know, he had been assiting in the classroom up until that unforgetable day as well. Experiencing such a loss while being surrounded by incredibly delightful and joyful children like our Beebers created a bond that was deeply felt by both the children and these women. It was the thought of not seeing them on a daily basis that spilled through Bailey's tears.

The sorrow in my tears were connected to the beauty of my daughter's experience of the deep and intertwined connection between love and pain. They go hand in hand. To love deeply means that there exists the possibility of great suffering. One cannot exist without the other. It was a great mystery - one that I cannot claim to fully understand, though I have lived it and will realize it again and again. But even as I type these words, I recognize that there is no cynicism in my heart towards this reality, but rather a deep appreciation for the beauty found in both the love and the suffering.

Have you heard Brendan James song "All I Can See"? He sings the song written on my heart:

I want to walk through this doorway
I want to open my mind
I want to pledge my allegiance to all I can find.
I want a car that will crash through
the barriers to a road no one knows.
I want to feel less control,
want to bend and I want to land far from home.

The revolution of the earth around the sun
is the perfect lesson of how it should be.
So if i cannot learn to journey and return,
to never rest till I've seen all I can see...

I want to learn a completely new language,
one I don't understand.
I want to help someone lost,
someone helpless, with the strength of my hand.
I want to come to the base of a statue
built before they counted the years,
and there i'll fall with my face in my hands
and cry and feel their hope in my tears.

The revolution of the earth around the sun
is the perfect lesson of how it should be.
So if I cannot learn, to journey and return,
to never rest till I've seen all I can see...

Train rides and pastures colliding...
colors and customs i've never seen...
I know I, yes I know I,
I know I will stumble but time is precious my friend.
Those who journey can easily understand,
the more they see the more they'll learn,
the more that they will be.

So this I swear to you,
and this I swear to me,
I'll never rest till I've seen all I can see.
No, I'll never rest till I've seen all i can see.
I want to know where the stength of a person lies,
in their past or their future.
Is it in the way that they hurt or they
love themselves or is it all an illusion?
I want to crawl from this skin that i'm painted in...
Body, please let it give.
I want to find the creator of all good things
and ask what it means to live

Until next time...
~S

4 comments:

:::No Longer Mute said...

so, what you're saying is, i'm average...just kidding:)

:::No Longer Mute said...

I would never use the descriptor "average" in reference to you! You are anything but average...I'm simply suggesting that our life's experiences have shaped our capacity to bear different levels of pain. Or, I'm just a sap for drama.

:::No Longer Mute said...

and while i'd like to narcissistically (my weak attempt at using this word correctly) think i was capable of more - the truth - that you accurately hit on - is, i have a small tolerance and capacity to bear pain and suffering. in fact, it is what i've spent my life's energy trying to avoid. and how paradoxical that in avoiding and running from pain and suffering, i've actually caused myself more sorrow, and lovelessness (is there a greater pain!)than if i took the grief, struggle, discomfort, hassle, obstacle, attack, or suffering head on.

:::No Longer Mute said...

and to further those thoughts...I do not think our task is to go out looking for suffering...but to simply acknowledge it and bear it with one another as we trek through this life.