An Exercise in Depth:

Today is our two month anniversary of being married. Sean is in class right now, I am sitting at home on our bed, thinking about what we will have for dinner. Probably eggs. We've been eating a lot of eggs lately--eggs and blueberries. When you live on a pretty strict budget, you wind up in situations like this. At Trader Joe's we found the most plump and juicy container of blueberries and we both wanted to bring it home with us--but how could we? So many blueberries, and just two of us--and we struggle to eat all our food before it goes bad. But we couldn't leave the blueberries behind--so we made a commitment to the blueberries: we would eat them diligently, and let not one of them go to waste. So we ate blueberries around the clock: blueberries in cereal, blueberries in oatmeal, fruit salad consisting of mostly blueberries, AND blueberry pancakes. We ate them all, and felt good about ourselves. Then the Sywulkas gave us a coupon for a free dozen eggs at Target. Well, we had just bought a fresh dozen of eggs already, but who turns down free food? Especially a cheap, delicious, and healthy source of protein! So, we made a commitment to the eggs. This has lead to the odd combination of eating: green beans, potatoes, and scrambled eggs for dinner.

But I am avoiding the main topic: It's the first late summer/early fall in EIGHTEEN YEARS that I'm not starting school. No wonder I feel so strange. And a little lost. While Sean was out this morning, I found myself flipping longingly through his school notebooks--envying his syllabi and homework assignments and reading projects, and my fingers practically itching to start all his work for him--or just to complete assignments along with him. I wouldn't describe myself as jealous or envious--just slightly wistful, and a little confused as I try to adjust to my new roles of wife and full-time employee. I've lived comfortably in the role of student for so long, and in some ways I will always be a student--because I'm committed to life-long learning. And I may yet go to graduate school. But just because a role or situation in life is comfortable doesn't mean we should just camp out there, and I think that part of my longing for school is a longing for what is known, and shrinking from that which is new, and mysterious, and will require much growth from me. I am mostly peaceful. I am ridiculously happy, but more so even than that, I am confident that I am where God wants me to be right now. But to be where you are, to accept God's present positioning of your life is an enormous responsibility. It is so much easier to live in the projected future--when I was in high school, I dreamed of college, in college, I dreamed of being married, now married, I dream of being a mother (and being a student again)...and where will it end? When will I stop wishing my life away and embrace the present? The irony is that the present isn't bad. I LOVE my life. I married the best man I've ever met, we live in a little guest house that I couldn't love more if I'd designed it myself, we're surrounded by a beautiful neighborhood, great friends, the adventures of California, a worshipful church, and supportive family. Sean is attending school at an excellent seminary, and I was handed the job of my dreams from which I come home every night saying, "I LOVE MY JOB--I can't wait to go back!" The problem is not in my circumstances, but inside of me. You see, I am lazy, or perhaps a better way to say it is: I tend towards laziness. It requires strength to rise up and greet the day--to shape the way the day happens instead of letting the day simply happen to you. Sadly, it is often easier to shield oneself in discontent and restless looking to the future than to straighten your shoulders, look the goal in the eyes, and ride out to meet the day.

It's not just about my tendency to laziness, but also my resistance of order. I operated under the gross misconception that structure destroys freedom for far too long. I think that this is the truth that has been missing from my life up to this very point. Maybe it's a bit of a paradox, but I feel that for the first time I'm gazing upon the reality that structured time and an ordered life actually provide the space in which we can be most wholly and joyfully free.

It's been a very, very long journey coming to this point of realization and the desire to do things differently. I wouldn't even have the words to think of these concepts without the books and prayers which have, through one way and another, wound up in my hands: The Psalms, Liturgy, The Book of Common Prayer, the writings of Madeleine L'Engle and Kathleen Norris, and the words and examples of many monks and nuns. It's a strange literary and spiritual journey, and frankly, one that I didn't even know I was on. While I stuffed myself with all these words, I practically refused to write a word of my own. I'm not entirely sure why--I know that laziness was again involved but also I suspect fear played a significant part in my reluctance to write. Writing, for me, has always been an exercise of introspection--evaluating the state of my soul, and seeking to know God more by being willing to contemplate the life he has given me and the ways I react and respond to it. I love to write, and I've been a writer since I started keeping my first diary at age 6 or 7....But I'm not a crafter of stories, I do not, and sincerely doubt that I ever will write even the shortest work of fiction. Writing is the act of assessing my life--and all the life spread out before me--in light of Truth.

It's been a long time of silence for me--silence with God, silence with myself, silence of the world speaking to me...and today I begin to hope for the first time in a very long time that it hasn't all been for nothing.

"Deep water and drowning are not the same thing." --James Baldwin, "Sonny's Blues"