...and all this constipation is getting really uncomfortable.
All of my life, I have tried to keep a journal. Wait, that's a lie. I tried keeping a journal until about early high school. I gave up because I get so damn introspective and selfish that I can't accomplish anything. What evidence to the extroverted freak that I can be...I need humans, not paper, to help me reflect successfully.
I think that's why blogging has been a helpful medium for me. Though it's "virtual", I know that people I love (and then some...) read my words and give me that social support that I crave. Well, for a few weeks now, I've been too busy to sit down and regurgitate my thoughts in a way that is comprehensible. Worse yet, I've been amazed at the number of varied unended thoughts that have passed through my head, even just these past few days. For instance...
"The power of empathy in our communities and the possible implications worldwide..."
"If I can move on so easily, were we ever really friends to begin with...?"
"What kind of 'community' doesn't say goodbye when you're gone; or was it our faults in the beginning for not giving selflessly?"
"Why do those lines show up on the floor? What IS that red stuff?"
"Did I actually lose my singing voice with that awful cold of 2000 or did I have one to begin with, and is my worship selfish when I enjoy hearing my voice among the crowd, singing out to Jesus?"
"Why do I have to get nostalgic about missing those early college years, when I'm thrilled with where I am now? Why stay in the past?"
"How is salvation inclusive and exclusive all at the same time; dear GOD, why can't you just bring them HOME?"
I've been listening to the same CD since I got back to Texas in late July. Bebo Norman's "Between the Dreaming and the Coming True" I still sing the wrong words on several lines, but I've got the gist of most of them. I love the album because I can sing along. I love it because it simply speaks the complicated thoughts strangling my voice. "The Way We Mend" talks of breaking down all that we are just to rebuild again. From within that broken pile of humanness, God rises up and breathes life to our tiny pieces, carrying us on to greater life.
I feel that His presence is hovering close, over the tiny pieces of me that are each calling out so loud that I struggle to hear His voice saying, "Come to me, you who are weary..."
God, I'm asking you to play a little Tetris with my thoughts...or at least fill in the blanks before I go out and purchase another useless journal.
4 comments:
I don't like the visual images that came up when I read the phrase "blogger blockage" and your description of it...
...but MANALIVE was that off-set by the visual images that came up when you asked God to play "Tetris" with your thoughts.
But, really, both were good stuff...
I watched a Simpsons episode where Homer overpacked his car...everything conformed to the shape of Tetris pieces, even his family members. He successfully fit everyone and everything in, except for himself. I wish I had that ability.
i think i meant "transformed" instead of conformed...
Actually, conformed fits nicely. :)
And Brently, I'm glad you liked my images. I'm finding that I'm very much a visual person...
Post a Comment