for my guy. and all of us who live.
times like these I’m tired of being tired. Sophomore year feels like a thousand doors; a thousand doors you’re expected to run through with vigor and enthusiasm! just look at the type of people who run for office on campus! everyone functions like that, right?
I don’t like being stressed. Particularly because I feel like I have no room, no right, no time to panic. Add in trying not to bite anyone’s head off, and getting up between 6 and 7 every morning…yipes.
taking things one step at a time helps. unfortunately, I forget to remind myself ‘Bird by Bird’ (thank you, Anne Lamott and Andrew Joyce!) as soon as I remind my boyfriend.
some colleges have cathardic shouting sessions during finals week. this is both a bad sign, and something I sometimes wish my college did.
anyway. it’s week 6 (help me), and sleep deprivation plus a monster midterm assignment from a professor have me scrambling today. it’s one of those days where I need badly to write /something/ out of my thoughts, just to remind myself. once this week is done, camping comes. that’s something. but that doesn’t really fix the present.
again. times like these, I’m tired of being tired. and stressed.
my guy texted me a couple of lyrics today from Brandi Carlile’s new album, “The Firewatcher’s Daughter.” the chorus of the song, “The Eye,” goes like this:
I wrapped your love around me like a chain
But I never was afraid that it would die
You can dance in a hurricane
But only if you’re standing in the eye
have you really watched a storm roll in before? the rain pounds when it reaches you, soaking your shirt as it lashes your skin and hair, and the wind whips around. even if you sit under cover, the drizzle and mist are like heavy ocean spray. and if it rains for weeks, its easy to start absorbing the downpour. it can feel like drowning, sometimes, or even to panic at the possibility of drowning.
how do you stand in the eye of a hurricane? how do you stand still, grounded and breathing, while the storm whips around, drizzling you? how do you fight fifty-foot waves, especially the double-headers you didn’t see coming? how do you do more than hold it together, but actually breathe and live in the midst of all that rain?
‘be still and know that I am God.’
it’s not about dancing your way out of the problem. it’s not about raw, weak fingers clinging to sharp, slick and unforgiving rocks. it’s about clinging to the hand of a God who guides the storm, made the rocks, and gave you very human lungs. it’s about an anchor bigger than the storm, wiser than the wind, deeper than the waves: it’s about clinging to that anchor and never letting go, because that’s where all life and strength flow from anyway.
it’s about standing still on that holy ground, barefoot and windblown, and keeping your eyes on Him instead of the hurricane walls that close in. it’s about more than beating yourself up for every failing, and fighting all alone to be enough. it’s about more than times like these, because these times will come and go with the tides, but only one Being ever breathed life into lungs and made them unbroken, and His love will never die.
you can only dance after you stand still. go, and breathe.