Conversations with God
It is late at night that I really get to know myself. I kneel -- or, rather, huddle, with face in pillow -- on my bed and address my maker as if I was opening a letter.
"Dear Heavenly Father."
Out of habit, but oft times sincere gratitude, I thank Him for the day. And then I commence in on the two-sided conversation, which seems all too often one-sided if I don't stop to take a mental breath.
It is during these late night talks, silently spoken on my drool-ridden pillow, that I talk things out with my maker. He has made me. He knows me better than I do, which makes sense, then, that as I talk, I'm not letting Him get to know me as much as He is allowing me to use Him as a sounding board to get to know myself. His soundingboard of eternal perspective and eternal truth does a miraculous thing: as I speak lies -- about myself, my feelings, my situation, my relationships, my plans -- they are absorbed and, if I am humble, I let them go and I am much closer to ... Him, I suppose. And then, as I speak truths, they bounce back and I am enlightened. I could say I enlighten myself, but I am no atheist, I am no fool. He is allowing me to discover the truths that have been there for eternity but have just now been allowed birth in me.
Tonight I talked with God and He asked me a question that I've been repeating to myself for the past three months: What are you doing with your life? Tonight, I told Him my answer and consequently discovered a part of the true me that has been hiding, scared to show it's face in fear of being laughed at if it were to fail to come to pass. It fears no more. I fear no more.
What am I doing with my life? I am traveling forward, taking the first chance at using my degree in a field I love. And as I gain experience, I will take the other chances that come along, and further advance. In wisdom; perhaps. In knowledge; at least. Income; I hope. And as I do so, I hope to physically travel to a house on the beach with white curtains and blue walls. I'll wear starched, white cotton shirts and no shoes. I'll eat toast on the deck with the man I love. And maybe, if I'm feeling a little crazy, we'll even have a dog. An outside dog, of course. And there, I'll write and draw and photograph and create and love. I will love. I love now, but there I will love as I have nowhere else.
That is what I'm doing with my life.
Sept. 28, 2010
You know how I was saying before that I was discovering myself through writing? This is an example of it. Last week wasn't the first time I wrote something that liberated me through my own honesty, of course not. And this, yes, is proof. It's not, admittedly, a great piece for others to read. But for me, it has become one of my favorites. Why? Because it expresses truth. My truth. You know how there's eternal truths? And scientific truths? Etc. Well, there's also "my truth," which, really, is merely when I am able to write things about myself that are exactly what I mean to write. Just like artists struggle to paint or draw exactly what they picture in their heads, so do writers struggle to express exactly what they feel. This is one instance in which I succeeded.
So that's why I wanted to share it with you. Because so often people talk and write and do things that are falsehoods. Not malicious, and most often not intentional, but all the same, they are not true representations of the person. For those who read this and care to know someone on a truer level, well, here's one opportunity. Whether you wanted to know me this way or not, I don't know, but I thought it worth a try.