Melancholy Dreamin'

Another Friday flew by, with again, not enough time to do everything that I wanted to. Will my whole life be like that, flying by so fast that one day I'll wake up and I'll be 70 and I won't have accomplished the things I wished I could?

What would I like to do? I'd like to make a difference, but not the kind I'm inundated with in the environment I live and work in. I want to make a difference that is more still and quiet, but when realized, small children's eyes will light up, women's eyes will be filled with hope again, and hands will reach out to say a soft thank you. But where to start, and how?

My heart aches for the many women and children around the world who are suffering, but I am overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. Maybe I can give some money and help out people here and there, but there is no tangible touch associated with cash gifts. I read stories of young women who make an amazing impact by doing great things, like starting orphanages and working with abused women, and each time I am inspired to follow in their footsteps. Then I face reality.

I live in a country that is not my own. I have had to learn how to adapt to the culture, but I still don't understand the average person on the street. The past twelve years have been spent struggling to survive, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, as I continue to live in limbo, waiting for the magic papers so I can have some sense of stability. I am not a person who networks or speaks glibly, able to direct with strong leadership. I grew up a sheltered homeschooled kid who wore knee-high socks and didn't own a laptop or cellphone till my late twenties.

My head is filled with ideas but I'm not sure I'm ready yet to commit to them. And yet, I wonder whether those ideas will ever become more than just dreams.

I did the dishes tonight. Some days, that is enough.

Thinking about insensitivity and how angry it makes me. People who appear to listen, they are nodding their heads, and yet all the time they really don't care.

Vapours of nothingness and yet still, it tightens. Will there ever be release?

Just Too Busy

Ever had one of those days? When you take your car in to get new tires and it takes almost 3 hours because they're so busy. When vespers is at 7 and you've just put Sabbath's lunch on to cook at 6:40 pm. When you are rushing about, trying to iron something, wash your hair, do dishes and tidy, all in about 15 minutes. Knowing it is unrealistic, you have to content yourself by covering the week's pile of discarded clothes and miscellaneous items with a throw or two, stacking the dishes neatly and turning the light off in the kitchen so you don't see them, and hurriedly ironing a pair of dress slacks for church. You think to yourself, "next week, I promise I will do better," knowing full well that next week you will find yourself, once again, trying to do too much in too little time.

I remember being a young child on Friday afternoons. We would clean on Thursdays so we wouldn't be as rushed on Friday, and when the sun set, we would sit, clean and ready for worship as our mother would read Uncle Arthur's The Bible Story. Friday evening was a special sacred time as we looked forward to Sabbath and going to church, participating in the service, and seeing all our friends. Sabbath was one of my favourite days of the week (Thursday night socials was my other favourite day!) and I looked forward to its arrival each week.

Those were good days. But things have changed now. The anticipation of Sabbath has been replaced with a sigh of relief that I have an entire afternoon to catch up on much-needed sleep. Spending time with friends and those lazy hours of sitting about and just talking or singing along with a guitar is a thing of the past. Why is it different? Is it because we grew up? Somehow I don't think so, because I know that anticipation is still inside me, somewhere. Maybe I'm not involved enough? I don't think that's the answer either, because there was a time I was quite active, but it never felt the same.

I think somehow I will always be searching, waiting. Maybe one day I will find a church that truly is home, or maybe not. . .

Nothing to Say

The words lie dormant, the emotions strong. And yet silence prevails. It must always prevail.

Like Gravel

So the week winds to a close and I look about at my mess-strewn apartment, knowing that on Sunday I will be able to resume some sense of normalcy in my life again. Each night this week I came home and just dropped things on a spare bit of carpet before sitting down to catch my breath. I physically felt like a two-ton truck had just rolled over me with those cement roller wheels you see, the ones that are made of stone and roll the cement or gravel into a nice smooth surface, crushing everything beneath it. Smooth I was not, but crushed, yes, that would be an apt description.

A Woman Without A Country

It's 10:30 pm and I'm searching my cupboards for something to eat. The only problem is that I don't have anything fattening (ie. cheddar cheese or vegenaise, preferably both on a slice of white bread) and I don't want to eat anything sweet because if I can wait till next Monday to eat sweets, then I can buy my favourite DVD as a reward for going 1 month without sweets except on Sabbaths. And boy was that month long! It felt like about 12 months! So I have to content myself with munching on outdated snacks and boring garlic pretzels instead.

Yesterday I worked 12 hours to get ready for registration. Today the morning flew by in a blur as we registered about 25 new students in preparation for a new year to start. I'm super exhausted and am so grateful that this weekend we don't have to do anything extracurricular and that I have no major plans.

Today was a good day. Haven't had many of those lately. Most of them have been "Dear God, please help me get through the next hour" days. Being the strangely melancholy choleric that I am, I find it difficult to walk in a land of shadows, uncertainties, for such a long period of time. I feel like I've been living in limbo for over five years (make that twelve).