Stream of Unconscious

Often I wake in the middle of the night with thoughts and visions that must be written. A lot of it may seem like mere rambling, but I am a born writer; I need to see what happens to my words once they stare back at me from the pages of my computer screen. Since I am ususally more than half-asleep when this happens, I jokingly entitled the original document: "Stream of Unconscious." Now that I am finally starting to publish in a blog (as so many people have suggested I should do!), I thought the title remained appropriate.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

A Beauty So Deep

Written: Saturday, April 19...

I love Saturday mornings best. And yesterday I just bought some new coffee beans that I've never tried before, so I'm pretty excited about brewing a pot of coffee here in a minute. I think Saturday mornings are kinda like my “Sabbath” even though I still go to church almost every Sunday. Saturday mornings are when I get to think through the week and hopefully figure out how to do the next one better.

But things have been getting better already. And the sun comes out nearly every day now, so the world has not been such a gloomy place. So whatever part of me that seems to go to sleep during the winter, like so many hibernating animals, must have just stirred and arisen with sleepy eyes and messy hair. I am not at my best yet. Give me time to wake up...

I should probably work out this morning. I haven't done as much of that lately. At least I got out to walk with Jennifer last week. It's just so hard to schedule that into an already busy schedule. Whoever thought I'd be busy like this? With friends, and a good job, and a place to myself? Last year at this time... I would have been struggling at Old Navy... and I think I would have been still searching for a place to live because Steph had moved out and I was still at the Meth apartment, paying $400 a month on an Old Navy salary. Boy, was that fun. But at least that place had a view and no roaches...

Wow. If you look at it that way, I've come a long way since then.

And I've been pretty hard on myself over the last couple of weeks. So... it's Saturday morning, and it's time to take a deep breath, let the weeks go, and start over...

They say that heaven is beyond our wildest dreams... and really, this Earth is still beyond my wildest dreams, and I've only been a few places around this old globe so far. So, I can trust that God's got something else up his sleeve that's waiting for us in the end. But... I still haven't done all the things I wanted to do here, and there's no way I could do it all in just a lifetime. And there is a sadness in that realization for me.

I guess that's what makes heaven so scary. I've had 25 years to explore this place, but heaven I know nothing about. I can make a few assumptions, like it won't be bound by time like we are, and there probably won't be night and day, because I think the Bible says heaven is always full of light. I wonder if I will miss the evening, though? The setting of the sun, or the misty stillness of morning? I wonder if I will still get to discover little creatures, if there will be texture, if there will be anything physical at all?

Part of me doesn't want to go. I know I complain a lot about this place, and I often mourn how sin has wrecked everything, how I had a lousy dad and how I don't have a boyfriend. But really... I mean, will there be coffee in heaven? And cats? And fuzzy socks? Fun earrings? If you never have “a bad day” will you appreciate people being nice to you or giving you a hug? Will there be a Grand Canyon or the ancient green hills of Great Britain? Will there be literature there? Is story really as timeless as we hope it to be?

I guess it all comes down to trusting that God knows what He's doing. I guess that's what faith really is, simply put. Not only that He knows what He's doing, but for some of us with weaker faith, simply that he is, in fact, doing something... I am still trying to grasp that one.

Honestly, though, I didn't get to see the Earth before the ravaging hands of sin had their way with it. And it is still saturated in beauty, though lying in ruins. So to see a place untouched by sin, to walk a pure and holy ground, to dance without self-consciousness, to laugh without fear of crying... I would like to go to that place. I would take a risk on God knowing what He's doing, in order to witness a beauty so deep as Heaven.

I suppose Heaven might be my reward for keeping my heart alive and not giving in to the calluses of cynicism and selfishness. Perhaps when we get there, after breathing our last sigh on Earth and shedding our mortal skins, our lifetimes here will just feel like a long, hard day that's finally over. I used to fear that I would forget this place, but maybe Heaven will be so beautiful and good that I will not think of this anymore by my own free will.

But for now... I must rely on hot showers, and good TV shows, and the persistence of the ocean's waves reaching out to shore, and good talks with good friends, to be my heaven. For now, I have to learn to trust that God is doing... something. And my time isn't finished here yet... so I should not give in to despair.

That is all I know to be right now.


brd said...

I like the idea of there being fiction in heaven. Something about that seems quite right.

Jo said...

Do you guys have plans for Memorial Day weekend? A couple of my friends are coming up to visit, and I would love it if they could meet you! :) If it doesn't work out, that's fine. I was just wondering.