Tuesday, June 30th, 2009...3:09 pm
The New Me
(For L.L. Barkat’s writing prompt at High Calling Blogs)
The five-years-ago Me did not know loneliness.
Content on the window seat with Dickens or Dumas,
I turned down party invites, stayed home
from gatherings. Alone was my desire.
Emotional paths ran level—
Steady, stable, rarely a choking tear.
Around me, other hearts crumbled;
it grieved me, but I
remained
a spectator.
Then the Change came over me, over
my heart and all of me. I slipped
out of the bleachers onto the court.
Spectator-turned-player, I entered
the game, knowing first-hand
sweat, fast breaks, stolen ball
after bad pass, burning lungs and legs
that must not stop.
Impossible three-pointer swooshes—nothing but net.
The crowd cheers adrenaline to me;
but the very next play I’m clotheslined
and down. And I even miss the free-throw.
Emotional life turned
from smooth, paved road to churning wave.
Loneliness now familiar; heart-pains not a stranger
to The New Me, volatile emotions a
reality. But it is not
for nothing; now
I can say,
“I know
how
you
feel.”
...to Know-Love-Obey God
8 Comments
June 30th, 2009 at 4:19 pm
Oh yes…that ending… yes.
June 30th, 2009 at 10:49 pm
“I slipped
out of the bleachers onto the court.
Spectator-turned-player, I entered
the game, knowing first-hand
sweat, fast breaks, stolen ball
after bad pass, burning lungs and legs
that must not stop.”
I was cheering you on…
Very real, Monica.
July 1st, 2009 at 5:07 pm
this is so good Monica.
I also like the reasons that you blog.
I’m smitten myself .
July 5th, 2009 at 9:03 am
I too was once a spectator and then something changed and I too felt the sting of tears. Amidst the mess you have decsribed so eloquently, I feel more alive than before. To feel is to live for me.
Thank you for sharing that which runs deep.
July 6th, 2009 at 11:55 am
It was good to peek into your heart. This line:
“Emotional life turned
from smooth, paved road to churning wave.”
Reminded me that being in the game means being willing to chance a break. The last lines were visably appealing because they looked like the bath of a basket ball being thrown from the free shot line. They also looked like the curl of a wave.
July 6th, 2009 at 12:25 pm
I love your heart and transparency, Monica…
Keep playing the game…
You’re a player…
All my love,
Ann
July 20th, 2009 at 8:20 am
I attended my own funeral.
Some of the things that they say about funerals are really true. People say the kindest things. The pain and struggles of relationship are put in perspective and hearts rejoice in the very best about the one now past. In those quiet, thoughtful memoirs glimpses into the hearts of friends so dear are opened for all to see. I know. I was there.
OK. It wasn’t really my funeral but it could have been.
I was leaving the church and ministry that I had loved for seven years. God was moving and I was following. My sisters in Christ gathered to say goodbye. They put together a picture board, just like they do at a funeral. They had a little program and sang all my favorite songs. My favorite teachers spoke. My friends took turns at the mike and spoke eulogies. I wore black. We all cried. We laughed with the memories and then cried again.
I knew that those relationships would change as God transplanted me from the raw beauty of Colorado’s vistas to the lush vegetation of a Michigan neighborhood. God was the author of the grace at work in the lives of my friends, privileged as I had been to have been a tool in the process. One day in eternity we would worship around the throne, never to say goodbye again. Nevertheless, I grieved that I would most likely miss seeing the ongoing beauty of transformation in their lives.
Yet, the kindness of God is abundantly more that I can ask or think.
The eulogies of one cracked open the door of a heart I did not know. To be sure, I counted her a friend. We had worked together on projects, prayed for one another, even studied the Word together, but a kindred spirit friend? I wouldn’t have thought so. Her kind words surprised.
As did her phone calls, long-distance touches looking for ways to pray. Then, e-mail followed up on requests; her faithfully pursing friendship, now stretching to half a dozen years. Unexpected to say the least.
So often tightly shut heart doors attempt to hide pain and scars. Watching God gently open those doors, gives a front row seat to the wonder of the Redeemer at work. This drama told a different story.
Rather than doors barring pain, a curtain hid from view beauty my soul could not yet see. Now, not just a good friend, but true spiritual sister, spurring me on to love and good deeds: a kindred spirit in so many ways. How had I missed the richness this friendship held during all those years we lived side by side?
Now I know. And my heart burst with gratitude to God for “The New Me.”
I love you dear friend!
March 4th, 2010 at 8:42 pm
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