I remember wondering what the heck you would do with a smooth rock after you put it through the tumbler. And why my parents were so ok to let that thing run. And why I was missing the point.
I thought about this today because the best way to describe my life right now is that. I'm the rock. It feels like I'm in a rock tumbler and my prayer life is cracking me apart. Instead of getting all Christian camp counselor with my vernacular here, I'm just going to say that. I actually feel like a rock being worn down. To a good thing. In response to the things I've prayed about before.
But let me tell you it's not that thrilling, though I know it is good. God is big and powerful and recklessly loving and intense. It's really amazing that we can so often make God seem so fitted and small. I am thinking of how C.S. Lewis said that Aslan in Narnia was not safe (...'he is not a tame lion'...) but he is good. It goes like this...
Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.”
That, despite a million other uncertainties in my life, is pretty clear. I, someone who usually falls into deep sleep in about 2 minutes and doesn't wake until morning, have had insomnia for the past two weeks. Big time. I've been jolted out of dreams, the way you are in the movies. I've tried deep breathing and muscle relaxation and putting my thoughts in order and keeping my thoughts from order. And prayer. Lots of that. Chill prayers and lamentations, and listening to good music. And then thinking of all of my friends who are new parents who are up at this time of night too. And then drinking coffee in the morning. In the end, I think that there are frustrating and exciting things going on in my world. And I am literally and figuratively awake to them.
I already wrote about laryngitis, but I have to say again how shocked I am that something that initially seems that minor has affected me so much. It has changed how people talk to me, when they cut off conversation, what they say IN said conversation, and how I'm inspired throughout the day. If I ever questioned being an extrovert at my core, no longer.
Today, fifth day in a row now, I felt punchy and short and funny and real and dramatic and like a storyteller. With no voice. But that's because I couldn't TALK ALL DAY, and I really like this part of my job. If anything, this week of weird, scratchy silence has reminded me of the driving undercurrent of much of my day. What is still fun when all of the other tasks get annoying and hard to do. Which is why I'm putting off the annoying tasks that are hard to do.
Connection. Zing.
Back to rocks.
My inner heart life, possibly (yes, definitely) being compared to a sharpened rock (pre-tumbler) reminds me of my reaction as a little girl. What the heck anyway? What is this?
Two weeks ago, my mom and I talked about rocks again, and why she likes them. I now see that she had such a tolerance for that rock tumbler because she likes rocks too. There is something about the smoothness of them, what they're like after they've been tumbled through water that many times over that is very comforting and sure. To her. She asked me to hold the rock in my hand and feel it. I felt nothing.
I tried. But, yeah, nothing. It was like when I watched 'The Notebook' in a theater and forced myself to cry one lone tear. Everyone else is the theater was crying. I do not feel like a terrible human being for hating 'The Notebook'. I think everyone has a fairly heartless experience like that somewhere in their life. This year I met a student who feels the same way about 'The Notebook'. For me, the similarity took the 'Ha ha, am I horrible?' factor down a notch. To be clear, when I hang out in nature, I LIKE the rocks. I'm just drawn to the sky a lot more.
I'm guessing you believe me without me having to say that. Anyway.
What I do like, and what I do understand, is that my mom really likes rocks. I think it's one of those deep down happy things I always talk about on this blog. What catches you in the day that is small and real and speaks of God and more.
I've gone up north before with my mom and sister and the neighbors (with the rock tumbler) and I have watched my mom and her friend forage through the water for rocks. They looked for agates, and it was serious business. We, the kids, sat on the shore and talked. We saw our moms boldly walk up to someone with a metal detector and talk shop about the shoreline. We called to them when we were hungry and wanted to get lunch. They ignored us until we left on their terms. We decided after years of them waiting for us to finish playing, we could wait for them. This experience brought about great memories on the shore. And some really lovely pictures.
It is a happy problem to be awake to life again. In huge ways, from God's perspective and not the culture all around me. In ways I haven't seen in years. In ways that, even when it's scary, alter my life.
On another very real and tangible note, however, I'm also glad to have coffee ready and available in the morning.
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