Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?

I’ve never really been much of a New Year’s kind of girl. When I do go out to celebrate, the results are generally disastrous and serve as fodder for my stories of my rotten luck. But I do love the closing scene in “When Harry Met Sally” when Harry starts questioning the lyrics to “Auld Lang Syne”. I can’t hear the song and not think of that scene. They same is true whenever I hear the phrase, “Waiter, there is too much pepper on my paprikash.” To be fair, I am usually the one saying that one and “But baby fish mouth is sweeping the nation”. Great writing should be quoted often regardless of its relevance.

I have been thinking about all my friends this holiday season. Wondering if I am a loon for forging out on my own with little to no safety net. I have been discovering the profound instability of friendships I thought I had here. And I have been thinking, as I usually do around my birthday, of all the men that have drifted in and out of my life. What I never realized is that the poem from which this song derives its lyrics actually is asking a rhetorical question. Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? I guess it depends on the acquaintance.

Before I left LA, I had coffee with an ex-boyfriend. It was benign enough. He managed to make one remark as we were leaving that tweaked my little brain for a week or so. I was recalling the conversation to a friend and she said, “When you go to Nashville, do me a favor and don’t unpack him. Leave him in California.” These were wise words. For me, the believer that I can make anything work, it is difficult to look at anyone or any situation and walk away feeling that I did all I could. That it would never be any different than it is. As I have gotten older, I have become more accustomed to leaving well enough alone. My heart, my trust, my loyalty are easily won. But I am both too young and too old for them to be easily kept.

I have been feeling quite self-absorbed these last few months. Consumed with trying not to feel as unsettled as I actually am. And I know that as I settle, it will be easy to forget those that I love. Or at least forget to keep them an active part of my heart and mind. I think that is the point of the poem. Reminding us not to forget those who have shaped us, loved us, cried with us, laughed with us, etc. As we grow and change and walk down new roads and face new adventures, we must guard against the real danger of forgetting who shared our path. For good and for bad.

I had a chat with the Captain of my store today. (The equivalent of a general manager just keeping with the nautical theme) He was talking about mistakes. Making them, learning from them, and not fearing chastisement for having made them in the first place. He said something that was so lovely; I wanted to write it down. Now I fear that I will not quote it accurately. He said:

We must start each day excited about the adventure of making our next magnificent mistakes while being vigilant not to repeat our old ones.

So that is how I would like to start this New Year on this silly little blog. I want to wish you all blessings and joy in this coming year. And I hope that you look excitedly forward to your next grand mistakes. Remember those that have made you who you are. Don’t unpack the ones that mess with your head. Keep your heart soft. And determine now that this time next year, you will either being crying tears of joy or sorrow as you look back on 2011. Otherwise, you just might have wasted your time.

Merry Christma, drama rod.

For the first time in 17 years, Nashville has had snow on Christmas. I think it is my arrival. They are just so happy to have me they have blanketed the city in snow. It’s just a theory, but I’m going with it.

I was not with my family this Christmas which was like a kind of torture for us all. We are a Christmas family. Hard core. We rival the Griswald’s. It is hard to describe if you have never experienced a Stokes’ Family Christmas. Suffice it to say, we are rad. Even though we were apart, I felt their love surrounding me all day. I love and miss them all terribly. My nephew told my brother “I like all my presents. I just don’t want to talk about it.” Comedy. I was invited to a new friend’s house for dinner. I very comfortably ate all of their delicious food. It is lovely to feel welcome with strangers. The ice on the way home was not as awesome.

Last night, I was doing a little laundry. There was a super cute guy in the laundry room who had misplaced his laundry card. (Card operated machines rather than coin). He asked me if I had some money on my card. Not enough for both of us. So he loaded some cash onto my card. When I returned to put my clothes in the dryer, he was not there. So I left him my card and a little note telling him when finished to return the card to my apartment. Smooth, right? He dropped by. We chatted for a moment. He lingered and eventually departed when I wished him a Merry Christmas. I went back to get my dry laundry and he was there folding his. Yes! I remained true to my drama rod self. Here is how the conversation went:

“So why are you doing laundry on Christmas’ Eve?”
“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you are doing laundry on Christmas’ Eve. I just moved here from LA. No family and friends so why not laundry? You?”
“Similar story. I moved here from New York.”
“The city?”
“Yeah, Queens.”
“How does someone from Queens end up in Nashville?”
“Well…my soon to be ex wife found out she was pregnant and is from here.”
(L.E. panicked and thinking “Seriously?”)
“But I am glad I moved here cause I like it.”
“Well, that’s good. Merry Christmas again.”

Classic. The story had such potential until there was baby mamma drama.

My birthday is in two days. And year after year, I suffer some type of disappointment that casts a shadow over my birthday. I can catalogue them. It is uncanny. This year was no different and I am not referring to the super cute laundry room guy. But this year unlike any other, I am resolute to be defiant. I will not let this dampen my spirits. I have been brave. And not everything is going to plan yet, but when does it? I shall not be damp!

So to everyone that reads this nonsensical blog, and I know and love you all, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday! I hope that you have been filled with love and peace today. And I hope that the blessings of your life far outweigh any of your sorrows.

We Are All Just Guessing

Well, I survived my first snow/ice driving in Nashville. It was…daunting. My poor brother had to endure me absolutely losing my crackers as I was stuck in the driveway of my apartment complex. There was no way I was getting in. My engine would soar, make a weird noise and smell, and I would move incrementally. There were some good Samaritans out and they came to my aid. I was in a state. Fit to be tied, if you will. For now, the ice has melted and all will be well until Wednesday night when another storm rolls through.

I had a conversation with a friend Saturday night that has been cooking my noodle a bit. And since I have spent almost the entire day in my apartment, I have had some time to mull it over. It would take a while to recap the conversation. And frankly, I would like to preserve the dignity of my friend by not blasting the contents on the interwebs. Suffice it to say, there were many questions raised regarding the providence and involvement of God in our lives and what all that looks like. As I listened and nodded, understanding the questions more poignantly than I would care to, I expressed the thoughts that have been swimming around in my brain for the last few months. First a little background.

The notion that God has a set plans for my life unraveled a while ago for me. I have never been what my brother calls toothpaste Christian: one that asks for the Almighty’s guidance on every decision including “Aquafresh or Colgate?” As though God gives a rat’s ass which toothpaste I use. However, I was a firm believer in tapping into or suddenly discovering God’s path for me. And my weirdo dreams that come true never discredited the notion. I didn’t sweat the small stuff. In my mid twenties when nothing was going according to any discernable plan, I started to even question the idea that there was any grand purpose or plan. And if there was, I was not terribly convinced that my hopes and dreams made the cut. I had a pastor once tell me he was going to pray that I get a husband. I told him, “Well, that is sweet, but I am not sure that me getting laid is high on his list of priorities.” He smiled at me and said he would pray nevertheless because it was high on his list. I appreciated the sentiment. I made an agreement with myself to be at peace if there was never be a husband and family for me, but that I would never stop looking, hoping, and asking for one. Even in my doubt and substantial discouragement, I still searched for “my path”. Asking God to speak to me, to guide me, to show me what I was meant to do. And if there was no “meant to”, maybe just point me in the direction of what I would enjoy more than what I had already been doing. Oddly enough, he eventually answered. And now I live in Nashville and work at American Eagle. And I am crossing my fingers that I will survive school and like being a nurse. But I do wonder if it is all just a new tablecloth over the rickety old table that has been and is still just me.

I told my friend that I had been wondering how much it would change my theology or my approach to seeking God’s purpose and guidance if there were no heaven. I know this is Evangelical heresy and I am sure I will commit it again before the post is finished. But we spend a lot of time in Christianity focused on doing everything here for a payoff there. Or not doing things, for that matter. And I wonder if we put so much pressure on hearing and doing what God wants because we fear we would be living our lives for ourselves if we did otherwise. But that approach can be paralytic to both our souls and our actions. Meaning, we can stay in a place of inaction waiting to hear before we do. And if we don’t hear, we don’t do. When if we had just done, we might have heard in the doing. Or maybe not. But at least we would be living. Jesus said that he only did what he saw the Father doing. But our only evidence of what the father was doing, was what Jesus was doing. So…how do we figure out what the father is doing? Shouldn’t we just look and see what Jesus did and go from there? Is there a super personalized plan for all of us? Or are we just supposed to do our best with what we have and what we know? He said to store up treasures in heaven. But did he mean that literally? I mean, do I have a credit account in heaven? Or was he speaking figuratively? Was he asking us to devote our lives to the things that matter, to kingdom values, to love, to charity, to generosity, to sacrifice, to being a blessing? What if there was no heaven? Then wouldn’t the point be to live the most Christian life that I can within the confines of my talents and abilities and, frankly, doing the things that I enjoy? Not engaging in behavior because we fear it is a sin, but because we know the damage it does to us and to others. I’m not advocating Christianity as merely a well-developed piece of moral regulations. There has to be room for surprise and mysticism. And we have to be open to that. But I just wonder if we should spend the majority of our time trying to leave every place we are better than when we found it. If God wants to interrupt us, well, he is God. I am sure he can manage it.

I told my friend that the best I can do now is try and do something that has some meaning. He said, “Meaning to you.” Well, yes. If I am striving to apply the values of Jesus’ life to mine, then I feel like most anything I would do will have some meaning. But I would prefer it to have meaning to me too. I’m not saying we all have to dedicate ourselves to humanitarian work. I think there is a reason we are given talents and passions. And I don’t think charity or sacrificial work is the only way to live out a Christian life. There is beauty and importance in art, music, literature, social justice, laughter, love, doing things for the sheer pleasure of it, etc. Hell, there is value in plumbing. I guess my question would be that if I lived my life that way - not excluding God from consultation or guidance, but not dependent on it for movement – would I finish my life a little more satisfied? Feeling like it mattered I was here. That I fulfilled the task that was given to me to do unto the least of these. I’ll tell you this much, I wouldn’t have wasted so much stinking time petrified to move for fear that I wouldn't make the right choice. Or even more time when I was hopeless, believing that there was no plan and no meaning. I would just do. Find who I am, and decide what it means to live out the Gospel in all of my decisions.

Life is short. And as much as Biblical literalism and the notion of the inerrancy of Scripture are comforting, it can be really debilitating and silly. At the end of the day, I think we are all just guessing. So here is my best guess: God is love and light, so I am going to try and be love and light more of the time than not. And try to find things that make me happy in the process.