Turn my Mourning into Dancing. Please?

I am an inconsistent blogger. I don't really have an excuse for that, other than the fact that being consistent takes a discipline that I don't have. Plus, consistency has the tendency to turn fun things - like writing - into chores. So, I won't apologize. This blog is more for me than anything else, anyway. So, there. Subject to the muse and nothing else. That's the way I prefer it.

But, today I need to write. When things weigh down heavily on me one way I can release them is to write it out. Journaler's therapy. It works. Most of the time. So, here I am, back to the blog to self-medicate with words.

It seems to me that the largest population of people I know are introverts. They are happy spending time by themselves and content to stay home days at a time. They don't need people around them to be happy. I envy this ability. I, however, am made completely different. I don't know why I have such an overwhelming need for people, but it's undeniable. I cannot survive on my own, trying to find all the things I need within myself. I was created for community, as we all were, and life seems desperately dismal when I'm trying to face it alone without meaningful relationships.

This year has been one of broken community. My previous social system has been disbanded and my friends have moved on. I see them occasionally, but the bond is not the same. We can't share things like we used to. It has become an acquaintance-relationship, rather than the deep friendship we shared before. I don't really have someone to call up when I really need to talk. Because everyone's too busy for me these days. And I understand that. Life moves on for them without me. But it's difficult to conquer hard times if you're a person who uses verbal communication to release or process and there's no one to talk it out with.

The worst thing I can imagine in life is to be without those relationships with people where true caring forms the base. Knowing I have someone that I can relate to and encourage and share everyday life with is so essential to me. But that's just missing for me right now. I'm at the end of my rope. I don't know what to do. I've spent countless hours in prayer about this; that I could be stronger on my own, that I could be patient until God brings me these relationships, that I would find these relationships. Yet, here I am. Still struggling. Aching for meaning. Aching for love. Aching for acceptance. Just aching. I know that God never gives us something we can't handle, but I'm wondering how much longer I can sustain this.

Sorry for the drearies. I try to avoid posting things that are negative, but this has to come out. And life hands everyone their sorrows with their joys, so at least this is genuine. I suppose I'm in "a time for mourning" right now. But I'd prefer the dancing. God, can we get to the dancing, please?

How To Save A Life

I'm currently reading "A Tale Of Two Cities." Dickens being one of my favorite authors, it's surprising that I haven't read this very famous novel of his before this time. Of course, there are so many famous novels out there to read, I'll never get to all of them....but still, I try.

As I was walking down the street reading aloud to myself (with accents, of course)....Yes, I walk down the street reading aloud; it's good practice for voice characterization and some day maybe I'll be a professional book-on-tape actor/reader. You never know. But I digress.

Reading the other day, I came to a passage in the novel that struck me so strongly I was moved to tears. Dickens has beautiful ways of wrapping stories and characters together, but this plot maneuver had special significance and beauty to me. There is a main character; Dr. Manette, a father, who has spent 20 years of his life unjustly imprisoned in the Bastille through the menaces of the aristocratic class. It was, of course, a thoroughly miserable and life-halting experience for him, one that was incredibly difficult to overcome, even when he was released.

Fast forward 10 years after his release. He is now living with his daughter, who has become everything to him. His daughter has married a French aristocrat who has renounced his title because of the unfair treatment of the lower classes and they all live in England, where they are free from the strife and bloodshed of the French Revolution.

Through circumstances unforseen, Dr. Manette's son-in-law is imprisoned by the bloodthirsty masses of the French lower classes who are now "running" France and hungry for the heads of any and all belonging to the formerly brutal upper classes. He is held captive for weeks.

Dr. Manette, knowing his situation would be heralded with revolutionary bravada - being one of the prisoners freed from the Bastille under former times - goes in and uses his great influence to make sure his son-in-law is not sent to the guillotine. Such impatience for blood was running throughout the streets that it was no small task to save a prisoner, but Dr. Manette's horrible experience in prison gave him the respect and celebrity he needed to save his son-in-law.

This may seem simple to many, but to me this small orchestration of events had incredible meaning. I have never heard such a fitting illustration of how God uses our experiences - good and BAD - to shape our lives and our futures. I'm sure that Dr. Manette didn't sit in prison for 20 years thinking, "Boy, if I can just make it out of this, I'm sure I'll be able to help someone with this experience later on down the road..." But God used his experience to save a life. Had Dr. Manette never been imprisoned, had he lived a happy and peaceful life with his daughter until he was old, he would never have been able to save his son-in-law from the guillotine. From complete misery was born complete joy.

So next time I look at my circumstances desperately and wonder why God is bringing me through one trial or another, I'll remember Dr. Manette and 20 years in prison serving as the price to free another. No time is wasted time, no matter how dismal or bleak. Everything shapes us, teaches us, and equips us to love and save others.

I hope maybe you've found something in your life to teach you the same lesson. If not, I'd like to recommend my friend Dickens. And maybe someday you, too, can say "I have saved him!"

Regal Dreams

Tonight I'm snuggling up to a quiet evening with my favorite elegance: Audrey Hepburn. What I've decided while watching "Roman Holiday" is that I'm quite suited to be a princess. Just think; large-skirted feminine dresses, lots of glitter, constantly being around people, waltzing for hour upon hour, traveling to metropolitan areas...sounds glorious!

I am rather independent and impulsive, however, and would not take kindly to being scheduled down to every minute of every day. Temper a little freedom with that life of luxury and I think I may have found a career I could enjoy - for the gowns alone, if nothing else!

It's too bad things didn't work out with Prince William. ;)

A Portrait in Words

I've discovered a new literary love. There are several books that I keep as a reflection of who I am - I think you can understand a lot about a person if you read the books they love - and recently a new volume was added to the stack.

"Mrs. Miniver" appeared as serial articles in the London Times in the 1940s. I saw a book of the collected articles at the Friends of the Public Library book sale and added it to my cart solely because it was from the 1940s and still had the original dust jacket. Since then, I've come to love Mrs. Miniver and her family.

Mrs. Miniver is a slightly older, more domestic version of myself. She considers picking an appointment book something to be done with care, she is reluctant to part with an old car, she sees the world in little moments, and is grateful to live in London where she can greet the first day of Spring three separate times.

This book is smart, thoughtful, and funny. And thoroughly feminine. That's me all over - sugar and spice and everything nice. Mrs. Miniver is naive and caring and lacks those qualities that make one generally respected today - sarcasm, a sharp eye, political commentary. There is something youthful in the quality of being saddened by events rather than embittered, and her philosophy is of a quiet, pastoral vein.

I love finding characters who understand me and think my thoughts. I suppose it's a form of narcissism, but it's very refreshing to find yourself within the pages of a book. And if anyone is curious what my private world contains, just read "Mrs. Miniver," add a hearty helping of artistic endeavor, and you'll have a fairly accurate portrait of Lady Kelli Elese Kirkman.

Service with a smile

Tonight's post is an I-can't-sleep post so I apologize in advance if my words are incoherent or not cohesive. I want to sleep, I just....can't. C'est la vie.

Recently I wrote singing the praises of summer, but there is one drawback to the good life between June and September: ennui. I am a busy person. I like my life full and exciting. But when I have nothing scheduled for weeks at a time I have to work hard to make those little benchmarks in the day or week that help me keep track of where I'm at!

Monday was the day I felt the first strains of listlessness wafting through the air. I biked downtown, ran some errands, got some lunch, and made progress on a story, but then I came home and didn't know what to do with myself for the rest of the evening. Boredom. Apathy. These are my enemies.

Today, however, was nice. Today I was needed. Today I was helpful. Today I had a purpose. I am never happier than when I can be of assistance to someone, especially in a tight spot. Because people are important to me, and it's nice to be able to show that in a tangible way by giving up my time to be there for my friends. And being needed is always nice. That's the great thing about serving others. It's not just a one-way street. The service you do blesses you, in turn, as much as it blesses those who you serve. So, thank you, Ben, for giving me the opportunity to be useful today. It was a good day.

Killer Converse For An Idle Hour

Here's something I started when I was killing some time at a bakery. I don't know if I'll take the story anywhere, but it was a fun character sketch. :)

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The first thing she noticed about him was his surprising choice of footwear. Converse were not often seen in this town of professionals, and his choice of rainbow splattered print was daring, to say the least. He was sitting on a ledge downtown, watching the suit-clad businessmen walk purposefully to and fro, a contented and easy smile playing on his lips. There was something youthful about him, as if she was witnessing a slightly grown, but no less mischievous version of Peter Pan. He had a sandwich in his hand and a habit of suddenly looking at it in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he was in the middle of his lunch before he became lazily engrossed in watching people pass by.

She observed him from a distance, intrigued by this colorful stranger, wondering where he’d come from; he was obviously new to the east coast. What might his purpose be? It was then that she noticed he was listening to music. Everyone noticed. He was suddenly singing at the top of his lungs, head back, eyes closed, as if this was the most important moment of his life and it required vocal prowess.

This display of social affront, combined with the colorful converse, made her wonder if his brain was fully developed. She dismissed the idea after watching a short while longer as he checked his watch, dismounted the ledge in a quickly agile jump, and sauntered down the road and around the corner. She smiled as she watched the stranger go.

Summer: Occupied

The summer gives many gifts to those of us who labor during the academic year. Being a teacher comes with many challenges, but this one gem of a perk outweighs almost all others. Summer. Who can resist its sultry call: the sounds of the river, the pervading smell of sunscreen, the heat driving all but lethargy from your body. This is life, this is happiness, this is heaven!

And with the summer comes Time. Bountiful, beautiful, endless Time! And so I've decided to put that tool to use and create a canvas for my words. Thus, the blog was born. There is no theme to this blog, no pressing purpose; only my desire to have a place to practice the craft of a wordsmith and keep myself occasionally occupied on the long, blessed summer days.

And so, happy summering, all!