Wrestling with the indefinite wait. Wrestling with my ownership and control over my money, and with my lifestyle. Wrestling with my will and thoughts. Wrestling with my blindness, of coming to terms with how little is in my control and knowledge. Wrestling with an imperfect faith. Wrestling with my hidden, deeper self’s true idea of God.If there’s one thing I’ve learned about my relationship God, it’s that it’s not a fairy tale. In its best moments, it can be a wrestling match on a roller coaster ride. When I ask God for faith, I don’t become robotic, unthinkingly obedient, or “automatically faithful.” It hasn’t been many days since the other post, but clearly I’m grappling with anxiety, hope, and frustration over the lack of prospects for someone to take my place in the apartment I’m subletting, and finding a place to move into, all before May 1.
On this ridiculous day, let me tell you why love terrifies me.
At last, 2012 is over.
My first ever documented dance is the robot dance. I was around two then, holding a fork with a slice of fried banana, indulging my parents in my interpretation of a mechanical contraption. (I probably had no idea I was even doing that.)