I find myself singing the chorus of this song in my head more often than is healthy I'm sure. Pretty much always when I'm sitting at my desk, not getting work done, and wondering what am I doing with my life. Then I think but there's nothing I want to do with my life any more. I inevitably fail at everything.
Dramatic much?
This is when instead of rolling over and dying (because that never fixes anything). I want to fight. I want just let all my anger and frustration and disappointment out. There have been a lot of days I've taken that to the gym. I shut out the world and hammered through the WOD with all the passion of my pent up emotions... it helps sometimes, but it's not enough.
So I still sing with Adam some days, and then if I really start thinking about Death. Judgement. Heaven. Hell.
It makes those moments of desperation seem pretty pale. Death is no escape from reality.
All the brokenness that I can't face will be faced.
There are times in life that are just not fun. The 'real' not fun times, like losing a loved one, or a relationship, or a job. Those tangible things that no one can deny, but there are also those not fun times that are just having to live in my own skin... and honestly for me those times come quite frequently the less I pray.
It's amazing. It's like I forgot I have peace and freedom and joy always before me - I just have to take a moment to turn my presence to it. It's amazing, that I can be freaking out with this song in my head, sick at life, then just take a walk with my rosary, and it all melts away.
My faith has been such a familiar face for a long time. I forget how good a friend it is.
I kind of wonder if it's like being married. Years and years ago, it was all consuming. It was fresh and new; I immersed myself in it. Every healing Mass I could go to, everyone that would pray over me, every opportunity for retreat, service, growth... I took it. I even committed Friday and Saturday nights to a holy hour in adoration for a whole semester. Over the years, I've never questioned my faith and my commitment to Christ, but I'm sure I have taken it for granted.
The journey has become familiar, and I've probably hardened my heart from some disappointments. I haven't left Him, but I don't rely on Him to surprise me, to save me every single day, the way I used to. I don't work on the relationship as if my life depends on it, I too rarely let Him romance me.... and I'm the one that's suffering for that. God doesn't need my prayers, I do. desperately.
Of all the relationships I have ever and will ever have this one is what matters most. If I lose friends, dates, buddies, or the esteem of others, if it means I'm on the outside of conversations, or am uninvited, or don't fit in, that's sad to me, but I can't pretend that my life makes any sense without God. To do so is to lose my very self, and then I'll be singing with Adam Sandler, "Somebody kill me please"... because my life has lost its meaning.
What is all of this? Just the babble from my desk and my heart.
I'll end with motorcycles.
One time, I saw a train of more motorcycles than I have ever seen. It was crazy! There were at least 100 of them in procession. Then I realized it was a funeral procession.
Whoever's funeral it was I imagined must have died in a motorcycle related accident, and these were all his motorcycle friends. I was remembering this sight recently, and it struck me that if someone I loved was killed by something, there would be a part of me that would want to hate that thing forever. I imagined if he were my loved one and I was part of his possy, my fear and pain at his loss might drive me away from ever touching a motorcycle again. But then there is a part of the heart that feels the call to rise above fear and pain and stand strong, defiant! I think that's the part that had all those people on their bikes, and I think that's the part in me clings to knowing there is more for me in this life than I see most days. Yes, I've been disappointed and I've been hurt, but I can't just quit...
I don't have the answers, but I know where to find them.
how does all this connect? I'm not sure really.
It's amazing. It's like I forgot I have peace and freedom and joy always before me - I just have to take a moment to turn my presence to it. It's amazing, that I can be freaking out with this song in my head, sick at life, then just take a walk with my rosary, and it all melts away.
My faith has been such a familiar face for a long time. I forget how good a friend it is.
I kind of wonder if it's like being married. Years and years ago, it was all consuming. It was fresh and new; I immersed myself in it. Every healing Mass I could go to, everyone that would pray over me, every opportunity for retreat, service, growth... I took it. I even committed Friday and Saturday nights to a holy hour in adoration for a whole semester. Over the years, I've never questioned my faith and my commitment to Christ, but I'm sure I have taken it for granted.
The journey has become familiar, and I've probably hardened my heart from some disappointments. I haven't left Him, but I don't rely on Him to surprise me, to save me every single day, the way I used to. I don't work on the relationship as if my life depends on it, I too rarely let Him romance me.... and I'm the one that's suffering for that. God doesn't need my prayers, I do. desperately.
Of all the relationships I have ever and will ever have this one is what matters most. If I lose friends, dates, buddies, or the esteem of others, if it means I'm on the outside of conversations, or am uninvited, or don't fit in, that's sad to me, but I can't pretend that my life makes any sense without God. To do so is to lose my very self, and then I'll be singing with Adam Sandler, "Somebody kill me please"... because my life has lost its meaning.
What is all of this? Just the babble from my desk and my heart.
I'll end with motorcycles.
One time, I saw a train of more motorcycles than I have ever seen. It was crazy! There were at least 100 of them in procession. Then I realized it was a funeral procession.
Whoever's funeral it was I imagined must have died in a motorcycle related accident, and these were all his motorcycle friends. I was remembering this sight recently, and it struck me that if someone I loved was killed by something, there would be a part of me that would want to hate that thing forever. I imagined if he were my loved one and I was part of his possy, my fear and pain at his loss might drive me away from ever touching a motorcycle again. But then there is a part of the heart that feels the call to rise above fear and pain and stand strong, defiant! I think that's the part that had all those people on their bikes, and I think that's the part in me clings to knowing there is more for me in this life than I see most days. Yes, I've been disappointed and I've been hurt, but I can't just quit...
I don't have the answers, but I know where to find them.
how does all this connect? I'm not sure really.
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