Once upon a time there was this powerful wizard who created a whole bunch of people and let them be his family. He was very powerful and knew absolutely everything and could do anything... absolutely anything. So every time one of his people needed something, they just said, "hey Wizard! I need this one thing" and he said, "Oh, sure thing! Here you go!" Sometimes they were confused about things and then they would say, "Hey Wizard, can you make this one thing obvious to me?" And he would say, "Of course!" and then he would explain it all really clearly. Sometimes the people wondered about their futures, and they would say, "Wizard! What will life be like in fifteen years?" and he would say, "Well! I'm glad you asked! Actually, you will be..."
Are you bored with that story? Me too. I am done writing. I can improve no story, and I certainly cannot conjure up a new one. I will be a describer. I see silences and waiting and striving and longing and loss and leaving... I see hands worn through with endurance and eyes growing softer with grace and people fighting fights with a passion that shows they know their lives depend on it... everything, everything, everything is waiting to be made new. How many of us would write those things out of our lives, if only we had the pen? Let's have eyes that strain to see Redemption... and let's be people who labor as if it is a sure thing. Because it is.
Worked Over
There is a lady who is at my gym all the time, I think. She has accumulated a lot of things, and she takes them all with her... she takes up three lockers with all her stuff. Physically, her human form doesn't serving her as it should. She looks as though life has been heavy, and she has carried it squarely for decades. When I see her, she is usually on a treadmill. She pastes the covers of two tattered magazines in front of her on the treadmill--they are glamorous magazines with glamorous people on the covers, Cosmo and People, I think. She spends hours walking diligently towards those smiling, seductive embodiments of everything deemed worthy. She gets nowhere. I don't think she is really any different than anyone else in the gym on any given night... with her piles of accumulated goods and obvious striving towards material perfections... she is perhaps the most honest person in the room. It is the closest thing to looking in a spiritual mirror I have ever known.
On waiting... as if something was really coming.
Speaking of the gym... It is almost time for that man in China to come home. In fact, it is so nearly time, I am saying things to my self like, "This is the last Adam-less Wednesday!" It is all very exciting. And it made me really evaluate and analyze what it is like to wait for something as if you are sure of it. If you really anticipate someone's returning, it causes life and habit and daily changes... and ridiculous joy. I'm just saying... my triathlon team in high school would have liked me a lot more if I had had a soon-to-return boyfriend during those days... I run and sleep and work and plan with so much more intentionality... really, life should have always been that way. The lesson here isn't just that I'm more than a little smitten... it is that the many vociferous urgings to live as if Jesus is really returning, and to have intentional, urgent, focused, love-filled lives in the meantime were never really exhortations I heeded... even in the midst of all this joy, it has been sobering.
Puberty.
I'm back at work. Good news: the girl who falls in love so easily is back... and as delightful as ever. Today, while we worked, she self-consciously brushed her fingers across her sun-kissed, eight-year-old cheeks and primly stated, "I do apologize for this red color on my cheeks. I've just come back from Florida." She was assured that no offense was taken.
There is a new character at my work who is bundles of fun. He is tall and gangly and shows all his braces-covered teeth when he smiles. The first time he sat down across from me, he asked, "So, are you about 13 or 14?" "Nope. And now we're going to talk about something else."
Later, he said, "Do you like pugs, or cats?" I tried to broaden my options, but he sees the world in little categories. Delightful little categories.
My favorite moment came this week, in the midst of math, when he leaned forward and whispered urgently, "I love God!"
"That is good," I responded, "he definitely loves you too."
His face fell a little, and he asked, "But Ms. Hannah... why does he make us go through puberty?"
All my expertise ended. "You will have to ask him." And back to math we went.
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