today I fell on my face into dusty carpet.
after graduation, all of the cards and letters i received lay piled at the foot of my bed – until they needed to be organized, so they were piled under my bed instead, in a far-flung scattering of kind words.
today i pulled them out and started reading them (and in crawling to excavate them, faceplanted). i loved them all, and kept the most important ones.
then i pulled out my bag sent from australia, with all the remnants of my dorm room decorations.
i themed my graduation board teal blue on black, and my room started out with those colors. i put up my graduation shots, because they were the only prettiness i had, and also to remind myself that i didn’t have to play the coordination game.
i pulled things out of boxes i hadn’t looked at in forever. i have a badge from my first convention, x-rays of my bones (what a mad world we live in), road race numbers with pins still attached to the corners, and old notebooks. i have letters from other countries, from friends i haven’t heard from in years. i threw out old flyers and hurtful letters, because i realize i can remember the lessons and value of things now without needing to hang on to the words that taught me.
that isn’t to say i just threw things out that reminded me of hurt. i kept the x-rays of my ankle, and (hopefully o.O) my road race number from the Peachtree this year. that was a struggle, and it’s worth remembering.
the sunlight is dim, it has been all day.
so far it has been one of those weeks where I’m silently freaking out. I don’t know how to do this adult thing. I don’t know how to be continually ever-more-productive at work, I don’t understand scripts like I thought I did, and camera work is still hit and miss. it feels like breathing in my dusty carpet, amidst a tangle of letters and ink that are so far away.
i keep unrepacking my thoughts, going back to the basics over and over and reminding myself, but it runs in circles. as i scroll article after article at work, i am reading about bugs but also fighting with my head, trying to determine if i am capable.
am i capable enough to get my act together? to never slip up and avoid all the pitfalls everyone tells me about? to pull myself together and be honest and strong every time someone needs me? to always want the best, to always say the right thing, to be coordinated and punctual and proper and on edge?
(sometimes, loving beauty and wonder means you mistake those things for the chase for perfection.)
breathing dust makes me tired very fast, because of my allergies. it’s like sitting and watching (without really seeing) the motes spin in a sunbeam.
things have been going well. really, really well. i have two jobs that are understanding, i’m dating an amazing guy, i love my college and my studies…i have so many blessings it almost feels like i should be screaming happily in circles because i can’t soak it in. i definitely don’t feel like i should be tired. maybe it’s watching people fall that’s been getting to me, or forgetting where to look because i’m trying to keep up with all the opportunities, or some combination of the two.
maybe, the core of it all, really, is that i want to be there. i want to be capable and competent right now. i want to be patient, and clever and artsy and kind and perfect at everything. it’s why i usually avoid sports – i don’t like to be mediocre, especially if people are watching me. i’m afraid they’ll laugh, and i won’t be able to laugh with them.
i’m afraid i’m not good enough to handle what comes my way, because i know i’m not sufficient, and i know, deep deep down, i can’t make myself be enough.
and i have to let go of that.
if the Gospel is the story surging threads of life through my actions like veins, then it is more than my falling. the incredible stupidity (by any human logic) of the Story is that we are not enough. and we will never be enough ourselves.
something–Someone–so big, so beautiful that it is the standard for every good and true action, the speaker that made words into matter, did not squash us with His perfection. He stretched out His hands and offered us strength for today, bright hope for tomorrow.
He is the immovable force to lean on. He offers to catch us, because that grace is bigger than our tiny hands and angry flaws that are not yet gone. i want to be there, but He meets me here.
He is enough. He already won, and i am on His team, and He still has a hold of my threads.
and that is enough.