Dear Darcie

Dear Darcie,

I'm writing you a letter on my blog because I thought of something I wanted to say to you in a letter, then I thought I wanted to say it to my faithful blog readers as well. (This means: I wanted Laura to read it.) So, instead of writing you, I'm blogging you. I don't know if that is allowed in the web 2.0 world... I don't even know if "blogging" is the kind of verb that can have a direct object... but, here we go.

Before we said our "until summer" goodbyes on Friday, your parting words were, "Hannah, get that stupid gum off your coat!" I know you meant to say "Hannah, I'm going to miss you as I would a sister!" or "Hannah, we shall be true friends, even across great distance!" I know it just came out "get that gum off your coat" because you were so choked up... even though you were laughing. I just want you to know, I understand. However, I also wanted you to know: I've decided to keep the gum.

I heard it said by a very great pastor once that our self-perception is as accurate as a carnival mirror. As people, we tend to assume that we are a gift of kindness and patience and beauty to the world around us. In reality, everyone around us sees us as the sinful, selfish, prideful people that we are. We are the only ones oblivious. This pastor compared it to someone who is about to give this magnificent business presentation, and right before he walks into the conference room, he spills a glob of mayonnaise on his tie. He gives the presentation with an air of self-confidence and assurity... but everyone is just staring at the glob of mayonnaise on his tie. In the same way, we each live lives of assurance and self-infatuation, when everyone around us has experienced what a mean mess we are.

In an odd way that gum on the back of my lovely brown pea coat is an excellent reminder. When I start to feel that familiar arrogance and self-infatuated fixation develop after some lively/kind/interesting/intelligent/flirtatious/complimentary conversation or episode... I suddenly realize that as soon as I turn my back on this person and walk away, their eyes will be fixated on that turquoise sticky glob midst yards of smooth brown wool. That glimpse might be the most honest perception they have of me. I am a messy sinful person... the fact that I have an unsightly gob of chewed substance on my clothes is just a metaphor for what is all over me already... it is frighteningly humbling, this walking around with a metaphor stuck to my back... but it has been a good thing to think about as I interact with various people in my city life... one more attempt to get closer to having nothing to prove, but Jesus Christ, and him crucified.

Now, of course, I will have to find some other way to remind myself of my sin as soon as my mother gets a hold of my pea coat and has it dry-cleaned... something she has been aching to do since last winter when she noted that it "smells like french fries." I didn't notice that smell then, nor do I notice it now... but being smelly and unsightly would only add depth to my metaphor, not detract from it... so I might keep the odor, even if I noticed it... which I don't... but did you notice it smelling?

Anyway, consider yourself blogged. I do hope you make it back to stinky old Nashville. I miss you already.

Lovins,
Hannah