Vie

Many things to say; not enough time before my designated bedtime to say it.

[peculiar] feeling of something stuck uncomfortably in the area between my throat and chest (perhaps because pursuant to Julian’s request I swallowed a fruit snack whole or perhaps because nostalgia hits hard on a beautiful spring day) and the slight urge to throw up slash cry is assulting me hard. I thought I was ready for this school year to be over (and perhaps I am) but I realize now leaving will not be easy. Contrary to what I thought, goodbye will be achingly bittersweet.

[wings] of the paper airplane fight against the current of the wind; Brenden tells me to throw it against the wind and I think it is rather counterintuitive; I do it anyway. It floats and glides beautifully to my surprise. [No wind, no flight] I despise the wind but on nights like these, I find it more than tolerable. 

[luna] a golden watermelon slice in the sky; the moon shimmers brilliantly in a reflection on the glass panes of the academic building I study in. My heart stops when I see the moon, orange and huge, looming over the rooftops of the apartments. I think about the fireflies that Marie and I saw; tiny silent explosions at night, and look for Polaris among the sea of stars. Sparks. My heart restarts. 

[rocks] litter the ground before me and I find it hard to keep my balance as I step over them cautiously. River rocks. I remember how I labored tediously over picking them last year in the rain, carrying the weight of over 60, drying them and cleaning them. I remember what they symbolize; my heart aches and continues to ache. I deeply regret many things I did this semester; if you asked me to do it again, I do not know what my answer would be. I already feel like a part of my heart is missing. 

[bittersweet] I want to cry but I’m not sure if it’s out of sadness or gladness. I figure it could be both. It could definitely be both. 

[church] kids come back from their various universities; they bring back with them deep wells of wisdom and their words during Sunday School pour into and around me abundantly. I feel small and tiny amidst these giants of faith but even as I flounder uncomfortably to process and respond to what they say, I thank the Lord that He is humbling me and opening my eyes to how much more there is for me to grow. I listen to Karl and James talk and I decide that I won’t settle for anyone less than man-after-God’s-own-heart men like them. I look forward to meeting Polaris; I tell him so along with an “I love you.”

[Job] I read through the first few chapters and the lines of the text make my jaw drop. How Job was able to drop to his knees and worship God as an immediate response to intense and horrible suffering, I have no idea. But, he does and the text that portrays it is so beautiful I am aching to do the same. 

God, throw something at me so I can be like Job. I’ll praise You through my tears.

It is much easier said than done; I think back over the semester and cringe. 

God, why did You let that happen? Why didn’t You do it some other way? Did You have to do that to me?

I wonder when I will grow to the point that my faith will stand firm even in the deepest of waters. 

Grace teaches us in the midst of life’s greatest comforts, to be willing to die, and in the midst of its greatest crosses, to be willing to live. 

 

[Matthew Henry Commentary on Job 3]

I remember at the lowest point in my life wanting to die. I remember other specific points in my life where I wanted Jesus to come take me home. (Perspective is hard to see when you can barely breathe through your upset; suffering has a way of clouding your heart, mind, and sight) But, at this moment, surrounded by comforts and blessings (the moon, the wind, the rocks, the stars, my dear friends), I want to live. I want to live gloriously and beautifully. I want to live for the glory of the King but I wonder if I am willing to die for the same thing.

When suffering hits, and ah yes, God promises me that it will surely afflict me again, I wonder if I will be willing to live as gloriously and beautifully as I am trying to now.

So overwhelm me with Your grace, Lord Jesus. I have so much to learn yet You are abundantly gracious in teaching me. 

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