Yesterday I watched a Ted Talk about traveling the world for practically nothing; today I did the same old things I’ve done for years, the rhythm of life (or farm life, at least) things. Chase and catch sheep, trim goat hooves, call the chickens over to be fed. There is something to be said for sameness and slow life. The hustle of a grocery store isn’t for me forever. Maybe the bustle of the school is…the squeak of shoes, the voices and laughter, the smell of pencil shavings and “teen spirit.” I got fingerprinted today, so I finally have everything done to be a substitute student teacher, inconveniently at the end of the school year. Maybe I won’t even be here next year. Oh well…
I wrestle with myself over things often. My mind churns things over and over and over. Do all problems have solutions? I need to get back to reading The Word as they stress in every Sunday School class ever. I used to be the one who raised her hand when they asked who read daily, but lately that wouldn’t be true. Reading those same old words over again: the stories, the advice, the temple building instructions and genealogies, Israelite wanderings and Psalms, prophecies and warnings. Someone told my mother their family didn’t think The Word was relevant in today’s world anymore, but having lived in today’s world I tend to disagree. It may not always seem so at face value, but it is. There is nothing new under the sun, and no one understands what happens here under the sun better than God, so I would think that His book would be worth reading, especially for those perusing truth or meaning or wisdom. But I suppose that makes me a hypocrite as I’ve failed to read it lately. That needs to change.
A note on grief and healing and the like…I found a quote that I pinned on my loverly pinterest which read “Time heals nothing [.] It just replaces memories [.]” There is some truth in that, I think. But so many memories cannot be replaced. Such a big chunk of my life is gone, a person missing, and although the hole closes over in ways with time in many ways it doesn’t. I can keep living and I can ignore the thoughts and memories, both good and bad, that used to haunt me every hour, caught up in present occurrences without the person I devoted hours of my life to, but I cannot just ignore them forever. They come to the surface sometimes, now and again when I least expect them, and (to quote another pin), “It is in these moments of tender and ridiculous nostalgia that I know something inside of me is still broken.”
I’m still broken. I’m not healed even though it’s been months and months since October, and I don’t know how to deal with that. I’ve thought and rethought memories that are too late to change. I’ve faced the truth that my friend is probably in Hell–I’ve not always pushed thoughts of this self murder of the person I knew and loved so deeply to the side. I’ve wrestled with God. I’ve thought a lot, maybe too much, and that thinking is not done, it still occurs. I guess, like Jacob, I’ve wrestled with God, and I think maybe, like him, I will always have a limp. That I will never heal fully. Things might never be ok again, at least in reference to this. That’s a hard pill for me to swallow. The only thing that eases my swallowing it, the “spoonful of sugar” that “makes the medicine go down is this final pinterest quote I would like to share, with the disclaimer that I recognize that no one can be truly healed apart from Christ, that is this: “Only the wounded healer can truly heal.” God works in mysterious ways, and I’m not really excited or happy about the way he chose to work here, but I will acknowledge that he has used my experience with suicide to help others. Take that as you will. That’s all for now. Fare well.