Longing for something more

When I was a little girl, I desperately wanted for Narnia to be real. Longed for it, even. I remember wishing with everything in me that one day I would be transported there.

Jesse and I saw Pan's Labyrinth on Friday, and afterward we talked about the human race's obsession with fantasy. Some of us are more inclined to it than others, and some outgrow it when they become adults and fancy themselves too important and serious to be bothered with such childish thoughts. But a look at movie box office numbers reveals that there are many of us who are captivated by the idea of a different world, another place. Somewhere with mythical creatures, magic and adventure. Some look to the stars, some look to the past, others secretly hope there is another world right behind the next door. But we all share a common longing.

I think that desire is God-given. This world is beautiful--God's creation is breathtaking. But our spirits know there is something more. Somewhere deep within us, our spirits are yearning for a perfection and beauty that our minds can't fathom. No matter how good our lives, no matter how happy our families and beautiful our surroundings, something within us cries out for more.

And so we create fanciful worlds, imaginary kingdoms and far-off lands, all in an effort to fill that desire that comes from our innermost places.

It will never truly compare, but the occasional tastes of something magical and beyond ourselves are healthy, I think--because there is more to this world, and our lives, than we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. It is when we stop dreaming, when we give up imagining, that we settle for the mundane. And there is so much more.

Nerd alert! Nerd alert!

I wrote most of this last week. I'm lazy, and therefore just now finished it.

I'm exhausted today. I got roughly five hours of sleep last night, because I was a crazy geek last night, and went to EB to snag a copy of Burning Crusades as soon as it was released. Definitely an experience.

The evening started with my church-history class at church. I've been taking this course since November, and while I sometimes find it hard to get my butt back out the door on a Monday night after work, I'm always glad I went. I've learned so much about the beginnings of the church. One of the things that I love about my church is that it doesn't sugarcoat things. Todd doesn't try to pretend like all is well in Christianity today. He calls it like he sees it, and speaks truth, even when it's not pleasant. And the same holds true for the School of Ministry classes. They're not pulling punches here--not painting a rose-colored picture of the church. Some terrible, greedy, downright evil things have been done in the name of Jesus over the centuries. And to ignore that, to pretend like it was all sunshine and rainbows, is to risk repeating those mistakes. But at the same time, it is so encouraging to learn of how God has worked through even the most difficult circumstances. Even when things seemed dark and hopeless, the thread of Providence continues. God finds people and uses them to impact the world around them. And they're not always the people we would choose, and the timing certainly isn't always what we would consider ideal; but He is still at work.

Anyway, Jesse came with me to class last night, and afterward we headed out to Dublin, where we had our copies of The Burning Crusades reserved. We had an hour or so to kill before EB opened at 11, so we stopped by The Cheesecake Factory. After some spinach dip, cheesecake and coffee, we headed back to EB to wait.

We were the seventh to arrive--I know this because of the big red "7" they wrote on our receipt when we purchased our games. The guy behind the counter asked if we both played, and when we said yes, he said "Let me guess ... warrior and priest?" He was right about priest, at least.

We spent the next half-hour or so staying close the walls of the store, trying to avoid the growing cluster of game geeks in the middle of the room, the ones discussing things like arcanite dust. Here's the odd thing about being a semi-hardcore gamer: I am completely at ease discussing things like arcanite dust and talent points online or in private conversation with people like my husband or friends who game; however, I avoid talking about such things in public at all costs, because I am fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds.

After the first half-hour, the self-imagined gods among geeks that are EB Games managers decided that the store was too full, warning us that if the fire marshal came by, the store would be in trouble. Because fire marshals typically patrol videogame stores at 11:30 p.m.

So out into the cold we all went. At this point, we could no longer avoid interaction. One of the few other women present announced that she had brought snacks, and proceeded to arrange chips, salsa and candy on a table. I felt badly about not eating her snacks, and was relieved to see some other people take advantage of the offer. People began grouping into small clusters, and we found ourselves talking with the two other Horde players present: a chubby pale kid who claimed to have a GM friend and Tier 3 armor, and an Asian girl about my age, who was refreshingly normal. She and I comiserated about playing Horde (we'd both been roped into it by other people), and discussed our Blood Elf plans. It felt less nerdy, since she seemed like a sane person with a real life, but I suppose it probably wasn't.

Finally midnight rolled around, and we got to grab our copies of The Burning Crusades. Although only six at a time, thanks to afore mentioned power-hungry EB manager. Then it was back home to install. Eventually got to bed about 2 a.m., far too late for my mid-20s self.

Resurrecting Muse

The great thing about my MySpace blog is that people actually read it.

That's also the problem.

It's not that I mind people reading my blog. That's kind of the point of putting it on the Internet.

No, the problem is that I find myself writing TO other people, when what I'd really like is just to write. To spill out the thoughts and words inside me.

And if someone wants to read it, that's fine. But this blog, at the moment at least, is for me.

Being productive .... ?

Well, I don't know if this really counts as productive ... but I've finally got my Web site all up-and-running. You know, the whole Internet phenomenon really is an odd one. What exactly is it that drives us to share so much of ourselves with the world at large? I mean, sure, there's a certain false expectation that it's a comparatively anonymous medium, and sometimes also an assumption that only people we know will find what we post on the Internet. But why do we feel the need to lay it all out there in cyberspace?

Anyway, here's where I lay it all out there ... http://cl-garnet1117-ivil.tripod.com/

All you need

Several weeks ago, I went to a local coffee shop for some espresso with a friend on a Friday night. We didn't know until we got there that there was going to be live music there that night. It was just a guy and a guitar, and we settled in to enjoy the music for awhile. I didn't expect it, but one of the songs hit me right where I was. It was all I could do to hold back the tears. Since that time, it's kind of become my theme song for this year-- one of the reminders that I've clung to of where my strength needs to come from, and of the fact that I'm never truly alone, even when it seems like I am.

All You Need
By Brad Davis
I was there this morning, I saw the tears in your eyes
And the sorrow on your face until you put on that disguise
You don’t have to run away or hide behind that smile
Everyone falls down once in a while

Will you let me have the pieces of your broken heart?
Will you let my love pierce your loneliness?
Will you believe that I can satisfy your deepest needs?
And all the fears that linger in your soul
Cause I have walked the dusty roads of life before youI have climbed that lonely mountain of despair
I know how you feel when your back’s against the wall
Will you believe that I am all you need?

I know that it is hard for you to let go of control
But if you trust me with your heart I will never let it go
I know the plans I have for you
I’m gonna make your dreams come true
If you take my hand and just believe

www.bradsdavis.com

One of the parts that sticks out the most to me is the line that says "Will you believe that I can satisfy your deepest needs?" It's so easy as a married woman to look to my husband to fulfill those deepest needs. And while Jesse is an incredible gift from God, and an encouragement and blessing to me each day, his role isn't supposed to be filling those deepest needs. That's God's job, and to expect that of Jesse is to demand more of him than I have a right to, and more than he is able to provide. I need to remember that only God can fill those needs, and to turn to Him first.

That song isn't the only little thing that has stuck with me in the last several months--it always seems that when I need it most, God uses someone in my life to speak truth and encouragement to me. Maybe a month after Jesse left, I was having a rough time, and I got back to my office after being out and about and found a note from a co-worker. She had read a book with a line that made her think of me, and she had left it for me: "Harness the power of God's kiss on your forehead." She had no way of knowing just how significant that was for me ... I have this thing about forehead kisses ... I think they're the most tender kisses you can give, kisses that you reserve for someone you cherish and really care about. They're one of the things I miss most about Jesse, and the mental image of God filling that role, of Him giving me that incredibly tender kiss, is so incredibly powerful.

And then just this last Sunday-- I was having a really down day, I was struggling to hold back tears all through the worship service at church, dreading having to teach my youth group, and wanted nothing more than to just crawl into bed and cry. And when I sat down after worship, a woman passed me a note with a verse on it. Once again, she had no way of knowing just how significant its message was to me, but the verse was Psalm 37:4 .... "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Again, a reminder that God can fill my needs and my desires.

I'm more thankful than I can say for the people in my life who have taken the time to listen to God's voice and encourage me when I needed it most. I pray that I will have the same sensitivity to His spirit, that I will speak words of encouragement into the lives of those around me.

Beautiful.

I realized recently that I have a special affection for songs that use the word beautiful. Doesn't matter the genre, everything from "Good Morning, Beautiful" by Steve Holy to "Beautiful Day by U2 to "Beautiful" by Plankeye ... if you run a search on Limewire for "Beautiful," you find a ton of songs that I love. They're songs that resonate with me, that give me that feeling in my chest, where I feel like I'm just going to well over with emotion.

It could be just a coincidence, but I think it's more than that. I think the word "beautiful" is a very deep word. I think it's something I aspire to, something I'm not always sure I have in my grasp, but something I have a deep-rooted desire to be.

Not just in the physical sense, although that's part of it. "Beautiful" is probably the best compliment Jesse could give me. Of all the things he could say to me or about me, it's the one that resonates the most. But it's more than a physical thing. It's everything that word embodies--something beyond "pretty" or "nice." It's a word that I think encompasses the good and the bad in life-- something can be beautiful, but sad. It can be beautiful, but frightening. Or beautiful and awful at the same time.

I read a book once, "Do You Think I'm Beautiful?" It was basically a women's version of "Wild at Heart," about the deepest desires of a woman's heart. And what it all came down to is that we want to be beautiful. God created us to desire that. Not in some shallow way, but in a very deep way-- that we want to know that others, but more importantly, that God believes we are beautiful. There's something about that word that speaks of something deeper than having a pretty face or nice hair. It's about a soul, even a spirit. It's about a depth of loveliness that can't be achieved in any earthly way.

I fought the lawn ...

I was reduced to tears by a lawn mower today. Pathetic, huh?

This being Georgia, the weather is warming up and the grass (well, mainly the weeds, really, but those compose much of my lawn) is beginning to shoot up. That combined with a notice from The Powers That Be telling me that "Lawn mowing begins March 1," and warning that violators would be cited, led me to drag the lawn mower out of the shed this afternoon.

The first thing I noticed about the lawnmower was that it was heavy ... because the bag was still stuffed completely full with grass clippings from the last time it had been used, months ago. After spending a fair amount of time transferring the enormous amount of grass from the bag into a trash bag, I set about the business of starting the lawn mower.

I pressed the primer button three times, just like the instructions said, and started pulling on the starter cord. I pulled and pulled and pulled again, with absolutely no result. Not even a hint at a sputter. I checked the gas, there was plenty, pushed the primer button a few more times, and pulled some more, and then pulled again, and again, and well, you get the point.

By this point I was utterly frustrated. I decided I'd better just swallow my pride and go ask for help. Only problem is there is only ONE house nearby where the man of the house isn't deployed. I went over there, knocked on the door, and got no answer. I know they were home, I could hear talking inside. But either they didn't hear me, or they just didn't feel like answering the door, so I went back and tried to start the mower again, and got the same result as before.

This is the part where I cried. It didn't last long, but I felt very sorry for myself for a few minutes. Here I was, trying to be self-reliant, doing things that needed to be done, things I would normally rely on Jesse for. And failing miserably at it. And what did I have to look forward to, but 10 more months of trying to start lawn mowers alone? Stupid mower!

After my little pity-party, I went back outside, punched the primer a few more times, pulled until my arm hurt, and finally got the lawn mower started. And mowed the whole lawn. And I felt pretty good when I finished--it's funny how the things frustrate me the most often end up being the things I feel proudest about accomplishing. Guess I should remember that, huh?