I kept the dress

I had a dream last night that I was getting married (sorry, you curious people, once I woke up I had no idea who the groom was). That day that I had feared would never come had in its slow manner swiftly arrived, I had the dress on, the make up was set, and the big moment was only a little more than an hour away. As I was looking in the mirror at my primped and polished self, though, images of the future filled the space in front of me. Dreams and desire, heartful prayer and resulting passions took ahold of me as I thought about the man who was in a few hours to be my husband. He wasn't a bad guy, but I knew my life wouldn't be what it could be if I married him. I had a sense that ruthless trust, reckless love, and radical faith would fade under the intense rays of the need to play it safe and plan according to our own, not God's, potential. I feared this man would encourage me to seek out safe, cozy corners instead of the deep waters only faith can overcome. The trembling of my hands combined with nauseating vertigo has more than once resulted in me clinging to the edge, refusing to let go of what I know to be safe. It's my deepest desire yet most agonizing fear to follow Christ with abandon, throwing myself into situations that I know that I cannot possibly handle with my own strength. If I am to share my life with someone, that must be his deepest desire as well. I couldn't marry that man.

I didn't do it. Though the dress was so beautiful, guests were already starting to arrive, and so much money had been poured into that day - not to mention the the poor jilted groom, I didn't do it. I changed into wind pants and a sweatshirt, walked downstairs, and my dad looked at me and knew. There still was a party, although I didn't feel too much like taking part. I cleaned and organized something while the nextdoor boys I grew up with kept me company.

This is my favorite part of the dream, though. I kept the dress. I put it on a hanger, zipped up the protective jacket, and put it in my closet, confident that I would take it out again someday. Just because this groom and I weren't right for each other didn't mean no one would be right. Getting married doesn't have to mean an end to an adventure with God. So I chose to wait for the one who would lead me over the edge instead of cower away from it, the one who would focus on God's strength, not his own...and I kept the dress.

Just for Fun

Yes, and you better believe the music was as captivating as I looked.

Broken

Okay, I think I may have hurt someone, but I don't know if I hurt them or not. The thing is, I attacked a position that this person holds, not to their face, but behind their back. I didn't mention their name or any clue to their identity at all, but, they may have found out about it anyway. So, not knowing if they know, I don't know what to do. I can go to them and apologize to them for something that they don't even know about, and therefore end up hurting them by telling them they did something that angered me, not in a personal kind of way, but in a "Jessie knows what's best for society" kind of way. Or, I can just let it go and hope the person confronts me about it. If the person knows and doesn't confront me about it, they either 1.) forgive me and have completely let it go; 2.) forgive me but still are very hurt and in need of an apology from me but are afraid to confront me; 3.) won't ever speak to me again.

I'm not going to say anything, just in case they don't know. I might feel better afterwards, but it would probably hurt them. I pray that if they do know, they will confront me about it. If so, I do owe them a very, very big apology.

I hate it when I hurt people. And it scares me that I might do it all the time without even realizing it. I am in front of 120 kids every single day. How many of them do I end up hurting by the end of the semester? It's so easy to do. I'm having a bad day, I'm under stress, everyone is asking me questions at once, and then one kid who never causes any problems at all just happens to ask the question that is the last straw, and I answer directly but curtly, my tone of voice making it clear that at that moment, I am irritated and annoyed. Some kids shrug it off like it is nothing. Other kids take that message and hold it in their hearts. The arrows spoken of in The Sacred Romance. How many of those arrows have I myself shot? I know what it is to be hypersensitive and easily hurt; how in the world can I string the same arrows that pierced me?

I am just learning to confront friends when I am really hurt and believe that the other person played a role. I hope that those I hurt will confront me as well. I'd rather know than be blissfully ignorant. Okay, you don't have to tell me every single thing I've done wrong. But, really, if I have a giant plank sticking out of my eye, and I manage to knock you to the ground with it when I turn around, let me know. I'd rather preserve the friendship, the working relationship, or the family love than have people walking around with wounds I have caused while I just puncture the hearts of others.

Even if I gain the forgiveness of all who I have hurt, I realize I may have lost forever a special place inside their hearts, which they only reveal to those whom they trust. It's a consequence, and it is a tragedy. Thank God for His mercy and grace.

Stories

Right now I'm watching One Tree Hill, mainly with the idea of understanding my students better by watching one of their favorite shows. From what I can tell, it's a WB teenage soap opera, about as far away from reality as daytime soap operas are from real adult lives. No one on the show is a virgin unless they are either extremely awkward or puritanical. They all look perfect, from clothes to hair to makeup, and I suppose it is no coincidence that they all look twenty-five instead of sixteen/seventeen. Everything is just so, so heavy.

Okay, so this is the only episode I've watched. And I know that all teenage kids have their problems, even those from wealthy families, even those who are popular and blessed with beauty. I'm just wondering what the appeal is for my high school students. Is it the problems they are experiencing? Is it how the show deals with the confusion about love and lust and emotion and commitment? Is it about the hope that everything that is missing in their lives can be found in that one special person and the disappointment that happens when they find that is not true?

It's startling to think that this show might actually be a reflection of the reality of which I am blissfully and naively unaware. However, for the most part, I don't think that is true. I think the kids enjoy the show because it is not reality. Going to high school with beautiful people, not so much to deal with classes, but to experience the glamorous drama of it all is appealing to kids. It's appealing to adults. However, I wish those shows didn't have the ratings that they do; I hope kids don't think they're missing out on something because they don't look twenty-five, aren't wealthy, and haven't had sex. Wanting your life to be like a television show is no way to live; anyone who knows an adult who lives that way would say the same thing.

Maybe this is all a part of a bigger question of the purpose of stories in our lives. For what purpose do we watch television, rent movies, enjoy narrative songs, and read fiction and biographical books? Why do we tell stories from the past? I remember a friend of mine from college would often say he would rather live his life than watch it in a movie. I agree with him, but think entertainment, especially entertainment in the form of stories, has a purpose. The telling of stories is an essential, life-enriching part of all cultures and life-styles. The thing is, I think we would be happier if we sought and told stories as a way to enrich our lives instead of escape from them. If the show or the movie does not enrich my life, but rather takes me away from my life, I probably shouldn't watch it. Maybe that's where the line should be drawn.

Remind me of this in late October

It's time to go back to work. I'm having a great summer, but until I have something to take a break from, these days off just aren't as gratifying as they could be. Now, there are advantages. For instance, I am available and attentive to a full night of Gilmore Girls tonight. But, I've lost the ability to enjoy doing nothing. Today I was sick. I took a short nap on the bathroom floor, crawled into the kitchen for crackers, and sipped chamomile tea and Gatorade all day. I never enjoy getting sick, but sometimes not being able to move is a nice change of pace and enables me to rest and reengergize in ways I would not allow myself otherwise. However, today the nausea and lightheadedness was just a big waste of time. I was not able to anything but nothing, and it was just more of the normal instead of an excuse to relax. I hated it instead of appreciated it. I miss being pushed and in need of a day off.