throw down your arms

so this seems to be a season of acceptance. the time in my life where i literally and figuratively issue my unconditional and absolute surrender to a Power larger than myself. for someone who has spent the bulk of her life fighting like the dickens for the next thing, capitulation is a hard concept to grasp. it's incredible to realize that i don't have to fight, all the time. in fact, sometimes fighting is the exact opposite of what i should be doing, because in the midst of the fighting, you sometimes miss the little pieces of wonderful that can come along and suprise you.

case in point: if i play my cards right, and don't get busted for soliticing or anything really scandalous, and don't screw up my model lesson, i'll be teaching three classes at the day school connected to my church. HOLY CRAP. that's right...someone is letting me mold and shape young and impressionable minds. theology (DOUBLE HOLY CRAP!), journalism, and public speaking. and my boss is totally fine with it, thinks it's a super idea, and isn't going to cut my salary. TRIPLE HOLY CRAP, Y'ALL. and all of this comes on the heels of me literally laying in the middle of my bedroom, crying and asking G-d to just DO SOMETHING, because the last six months have been pretty miserable, work-wise. and i have been fighting, fighting, fighting. and all i had to do was lay down, and be willing to be still. funny how G-d always manages to do just the right thing when i get the hell out of the way.

but it's not just work that needs me to lay down and take instruction, to be humbled, and to be disciplined in a real and profound way. i talk big. i think bigger. and my dreams are beyond belief, somedays. and fighting with God about what i should/shouldn't have, and when and how i should have it isn't really helpful, or fun. and i'm over crying in the car, and in the bathroom, and on the phone. and you've all been reading about that, too. and there's really nothing new to say about that. so i'll just leave your imaginations running wild. but not too wild, i mean, this is ME we're talking about. and trust that if there were/are any hot dates, i'd be sharing them with all the interwebs, in pg-13 detail. no, it's more like i'm just laying down on the floor of my heart, accepting that i still have a lot of feelings and thoughts to work through, some old scars to heal over, and i know that when it's time, it'll be time. and it'll be for all the marbles, and i won't even have to wonder what the hell is happening, because it'll be happening. and that's enough to get me to the end of the day, today.

ramble much?

mil besos,
rmg

how this be

i imagine that if we all compared our inner-monologues, we would all be at least half-crazy. for instance, while i was waiting in the drive-thru at subway, i went from shaving my legs, to buying new shoes, to aristotle and current american politics in about 15 seconds. seriously.

for the last year, much of my prayer life has been focused around a prayer i read several years ago, by a man named mychal judge, who was the chaplain to the nyfd, and was the first registered casualty of 9/11. father mychal's prayer, the way i say it, goes like this:

"lord Jesus, help me to see what you want me to see. help me to hear what you want me to hear. help me to meet who you want me to meet, and help me to stay out of your way."

it's the first thing i pray in the mornings. it's the last thing i pray at night. i know that to learn what God wants me to learn, i have got to practice radical and absolute surrender, and to be radically compassionate to everyone i encounter. and that scares the absolute crap out of me. to know the power behind what i am saying, to understand the underneath meaning of absolute and unconditional surrender to the God who made me. i mean, it's not like you can really fight city hall, anyway. but being willing to go along for the ride, to abdicate my silly right to kick and scream and protest seems to be the key, lately.

all of which is to say, i really want to get married and have kids. and it's profoundly difficult to understand and appreciate that even though i may want that, it may not be what's in store. and i have to decide, every single day, if i'm going to be sad about what i think i want, or be expectant and excited about what God is doing, at this present moment. some days, it's chicken salad. some days, it's chicken shit. the jury is still out on today.

mil besos,
rmg