Weeds, Rain, and Time Capsules

Yeah, it's a bit strange of a title. But this will be a bit strange of a blog.

The other day my dad had a list of chores waiting for me when I woke up. Before I even saw the list or went downstairs, I finally took the time to pray and talk to God. I had no time limit and no where to be (which was lovely), so we talked. I asked Him to show me a new thing in myself. It was so wonderful that I could have cried.

The first thing my dad asked me to do was pull weeds out of the mulch beds in front of our house. This is a new chore for me; usually I'm working inside. So I went out thinking the sooner I got it done, the better, and it would be less hot earlier in the morning than at mid-afternoon. You know what? I learned a LOT of lessons pulling out those stupid weeds. The kind that reside in my front yard have long, long tentacles that spread out in every direction, and it's so hard to find the true root; I must have wasted so much time pulling at the individual tendrils, which only broke off in my hand, before I found where it started and got the whole thing out. Lesson number 1: there may be many things in my life that are spreading out and clinging to everything, strangling the good, but I can't nit-pick at each annoyance. I need to find the root cause, and that will clear up all of the little sins and mistakes that aren't the true problem. Another thing about weeds is that they grow thickest near the bases of trees (at least in my front yard). I figured it was because the trees take the most nutrients, so if the weeds grow there they can feed off of the nutrients near the tree and good soil. Lesson 2: weeds in my life tend to "grow up" around all of my big dreams and aspirations. The things that God has for my life are the things that are targeted by weeds, because I give them the most energy and effort. Satan plants them there to drain my spirit before I can even get to the "tree." Finally, whenever I would get down on my hands and knees to really get these stupid things up, the gnats would attack. I have a new-found hatred for gnats. They only really got to me when I was pulling up a weed with a vengeance. Lesson 3: When I begin to weed my life, and get rid of all of the sins and temptations growing there, there will be gnats that get in my way, to try and frustrate me away from weeding and letting the stupid things continue to grow. They may be other friends, a busy schedule, or whatever; all gnats that keep me from weeding out my life.

I was SO glad my dad asked me to do this, or I wouldn't have had such an introspective time of soul searching.

On a completely different subject, there is something completely breathtaking about sharing the rain with someone. "Caught in a moment out in the rain, tell me there's something we can say..." Oh Mat Kearney! You somehow know exactly what to say for me. We dance, we laugh, we tell stories and look at the future. There are deep conversations and silent words and plain old talking and the best place for all of the above is on the trunk of my car, with a cool breeze sweeping itself up and over us, beneath the golden glow from a street lamp. We can pick out the contrasting whites, blues, and grays of an overcast sky that sometimes lets a galleon moon wink through, and listen to crickets and thunder rumbling, and pay some small attention to the lightening. I can recite bits of poetry and you can tell me about childhood card games. We're nerds. I'll wave my arms at the sky and tell you it looks like it could snow, and you can look at me like I'm crazy and pretend you're in the past. And then, it rains. It washes away the words and the barriers and leaves us clean and free and raw. Big, fat drops that splash on our faces and soak us immediately, while we dance to no music and it doesn't even matter. You hum something random and I laugh. My forehead is cold and wet and my hair is a mess, but you push my bangs aside and leave a warm, warm mark above my temple and next to the freckle by my hairline. The rain is good and the thunder is low and the lightening illuminates everything we want to see, that which is right before our eyes. Thank you.

Sometimes, I want to take time as a linear entity and roll it up until it's wrapped tight around my finger and I can string it out however I want and whenever I want. There are moments in my life where, as they instantly happen, I think to myself, this has always been happening. This moment has been occurring over and over again until I got far enough down time's line to experience it, but it's always been here, waiting for me. There are moments in my future that are happening right now, waiting to get to me, or really, waiting for me to get to them. Because time in happening in a straight line, like a ladder. Just because you haven't got to the 10th rung yet doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It does exist; you just haven't gotten there. You follow? Sometimes I want to take the things I experience in a few precious minutes and save them, like diamonds, in my heart; maybe I'll turn them into bracelets or necklaces or rings, or maybe I'll twist them into tears or smiles or music notes, which can be replayed over and over again. My own personal time capsule. My future is already mapped out like a constellation; people always think of their life like a series of choices, and one choice leads to many other things, like those books you can read where you pick the ending depending on what page you decide to flip to. But I don't think it's like that. You're choices have already been made, and even though there are billions of stars all over the sky, there's a constellation that's already been connected and decided, and that's your path. You can't know the next star you're connected to, the next moment that's going to take you farther along time's line, but it's already there.

I feel like my head is exploding. Enough. What's there is there, and what's here is here. There's nothing to fear, no room for doubt, no "time" to decide. Let's just do it and do it right. Mm.

Hook, Line, and Sinker

We ladies are strange creatures, I'll admit. We have odd tendencies, unpredictable emotions, and downright confusing trains of thought. We cry at sad movies or sappy stories; we laugh at random things that usually aren't even funny; we act mad when we're striving for attention. What's more, we thrive on unpredictability. There is nothing better, for us, than doing something out of the ordinary or unexpected— we want to be seen as unique, clever, capable, mysterious. Anything but normal.

Okay, maybe this is just me. But I sort of doubt it.

Girls speak, in my opinion, through body language. For us, communication through our actions is essential and, though we find the intentions to be painfully obvious, easily misinterpreted. Guys, I've noticed, say things. Guys talk. And while those two statements are stupidly plainspoken, it's true. Girls want to be read and "figured out." We say, oh, well, if they can't tell what my silence/crossed arms/wide-eyed look/whatever means, they must not be paying enough attention... why aren't they paying attention? why don't they get it? why don't they try harder to understand? Ah! ... oh brother. Not to rag on my own sex, but we make it extremely difficult to be understood. We blame guys for being shallow and ignorant, but sometimes I think we ask impossible things of them. They are not mind readers. Yeah, something they should pay much more attention and yeah, they can be incredibly naive. They cross those invisible lines and we roll our eyes. But is it really so bad? Probably not.

I used to think it was horrible, the way that society lead every little girl to look for a specific brand of "prince charming." You know, the whole tall-dark-and-handsome thing; the prince that comes riding in on a white stallion to rescue the beautiful lady in distress, and he sweeps her off her feet and kisses her passionately and slings her behind him on his steed, and off they ride to who knows where. But at the same time, it really wasn't Hollywood that invented this mental image, this paradigm of the perfect (nonexistent) man. It was us. Well, in a roundabout way it was us. It was really God, and then we allowed it to be twisted.

I can only speak from my own experience, and while I would love to say I can speak for all females, I can't. That would be ignorant and rude. The following is my own opinion. What I want, more than anything, is to be lead and protected. It's instinctual. God created that and put that in me, and truly, only He is "man enough" to fulfill that desire. I know this. But He also created man and woman to be together, and there is a physical need for that protection and leadership. Don't get me wrong, all of the other things are incredibly nice. Being romanced is wonderful and joking around makes for a great time. However, want I want in a man is authority and confidence. Women in general, I think, are naturally attracted to men of authority. No matter how independent or smart a woman is, I don't think she always wants to be in control of a relationship. That's not how God intended it— Adam did come first. (It's not like I'm anti-feminism or anything crazy like that; I'm for women's rights or whatever, I don't really care.) The man needs to be sure. Sure in his Faith, firstly, and then sure in his own self, sure of what he wants, sure of what he's capable of. My questions are, can you protect me, would you be willing to fight for me, would you be willing to stand for something or anything, are you determined, can you carry the burden, are you able to take the support I'm so willing to give you? [As a side-note, the "you" in this is for a general audience.] I want to be loved. God is my first and ultimate Love, He is my rock and my foundation. I know that when my heart is broken, He still loves me, hallelujah. But to be loved for who I am, without makeup, without a smile sometimes, crying or laughing, happy or angry, hopeful or doubtful, pretty or ugly... to be loved for me, Kristina Lorraine Weeks... that's what I want.

I'm a passionate person, I can't help it. Grab my hand and make me follow. Talk like you know what you're doing. Say you have a plan or say you don't have a plan— I don't really care, so long as you're in action, in motion, and I'm there. Pick me up off of the floor when I'm out of breath and carry me to rest when I'm exhausted. Because of all the crazy things we are, women know how to love. I'll respect you, I'll support you, I'll care for you and try to help you achieve whatever you're striving for. "I" being women in general. I think it's so funny how God made us... He has a sense of humor, He does.

This was sort of random. But it felt good to follow the thoughts.

Inevitable.

Today is August 1st.

I've never had a day hit me so hard before. I used to love the beginning of August, because it was familiar. My birthday is this month. Normally, a familiar school year would be around the corner, filled with faces I've known for years and teachers who half-care and already recognize me. I would have it under control, ready to go, with no unsettling bumps or twists. But this year, of course, is different.

August 1st, 2009, is the epitome of change and chance. I move away from my home and, in a less literal sense, myself, in 22 days. A new chapter in my life opens— the overriding question is, am I ready? And perhaps more looming, does it matter whether I'm ready or not? Stepping away from childhood has always seemed so appealing. I've always been "mature" and "outgoing" and "ready." My dad tells me how I could have been held back a year before starting kindergarten because my birthday is so late in the summer, but how they knew that I had this whole ready-concept going on, and they put me in as the youngest kid in the class. And apparently I flourished from there. But this is a much bigger pond I'm swimming in now. It's not really a pond at all; it's more like an ocean, and I'm afraid of getting swallowed whole.

Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I'll be away from those I love the most. My family, my friends, my church, my boyfriend, even my dog... none of them too close, and yet, none of them too far (excluding Amanda Boyle— Texas!). Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I think I'll fail, whether socially, academically, or spiritually. Do I know how to organize and maintain each? Sometimes I think I'm afraid to leave because I fear conformity. I don't want to be one of the crowd, but how to walk with a new step when there are literally thousands of "me" walking in the same direction? Yet I know that even with all of these reasonings and possibilities to define my fear, none of them are the root. The real reason I am afraid is because I don't know what's going to happen. I don't have control over my future. I can't see past August 22nd, and therefore, I dread it. I really, really do.

That's not to say I'm already hating the thought of college life. I know it will be good, and I'm pretty positive that I'll love it once the ball gets rolling. Well, I'm roughly about 92.3% positive. And that's the majority, right? I just have to get over the initial shock. It's like swimming in a cold pool on a blisteringly hot summer day. If you slide yourself in little by little and let the icy water climb higher and high, you're going to lose your resolve and back out, because it's just so cold. The best thing to do is get on the high dive, take a couple good bounces, and then jump without a second thought. That way there's no going back. I guess, then, that I'm just looking for the courage to climb up the ladder to where the diving board is waiting for me, and ultimately, the water is waiting to embrace me. Unless, of course, it rejects me and I land flat on my face (belly-flop style) on a surface of ice... but on hot summer days that doesn't seem to happen very often.

"Do you remember when we were just kids

And cardboard boxes took us miles from what we would miss?

Schoolyard conversations taken to heart,

And laughter too the place of everything we knew we were now.

I want to break every clock,

The hands of time would never move again,

We could stay in this moment

For the rest of our lives.

Is it over now, hey, is it over now?"

--Inevitable, Anberlin