Praying Knees

I'm not a prayerful person.  I'm a self-centered, independent person.  I wish God didn't have to use things to knock me back to my knees, but when you're like me, it takes a lot to turn my focus on something other than number one.

Hello, God.  It's me, Laura.  I got your messages.  Sorry it's taken so long to return them.

I don't mean to be cheesy, and I apologize if I just made you groan.  There's just so much that's going on right now that should have been making me pray.  I've totally blown all of it off.  This weekend, I've realized -- again -- that I'm pretty stupid for doing that.

There's been family drama, some very hurt feelings, loneliness, some expected (and some unexpected) changes and subsequent worrying.  Thank the Lord my mom and I communicate well, and we've been able to help each other through a lot of that.  Our family is still strong, my dears; no need for alarm.  It's just been especially tough for a few months here, and probably will be for another few.

Along with that, I suppose it's time for me to announce that I've decided to move.  For about five months now, I've been working toward heading back closer to home.  It was an easy and clear decision in the beginning.  I'd been unhappy in the town I've been living for quite some time, and I was starting to really miss being close to family.  I'd formed very close relationships with friends who'd become surrogate family here, but I found myself crying most every time I looked in the rearview at my parents' waves and blown kisses (but only after I was far enough that they couldn't see that I was doing it).

I notified my principal in November that I was planning on resigning, and I submitted my paperwork to the county three or four weeks ago.  Both were sad days.  When I told the principal, I was somber but okay.  I then returned to my room and fought tears, for I then knew I was actually leaving, that it was real.  Same sort of thing occurred the day I turned in my letter of resignation: he said he was disappointed I was leaving then patted me on the shoulder, stoic Army man that he is.  That broke my heart.

Same sort of thing when my best friend Brandi and I finally allowed ourselves to talk about the fact that yes, I am indeed moving for sure and no, she indeed is not.  I still don't think it's fully hit me that next year around this time, I won't have seen my best friend for several months.  In fact, I'd venture to say that it's hitting me right now as I type, which is why you don't want to see what I look like.  It's been such a blessing that she began dating Jeremy right around the time I made my decision.  It's difficult not hanging out as much, but I'm acutely aware that God has been preparing us for the long separation ahead.  Bittersweet realization, for sure.

I have to find a place to live.  I have to pack and move my belongings.  I have to apply and interview for a job.  I have to find a new church and new friends and figure out the inner workings of a new school and figure out where I fit in with new coworkers who aren't my beloved ones here.

A difficult conversation is going to have to happen soon, too, one that could ruin a friendship that has become very special to me.  I've been worrying about it for a month or so, but it's really come to a head here lately.  I haven't handled things as I ought to have, so I vacillate between guilt and denial.  It's got to stop.  We're talking imminent awkward conversation, tough things to say, choices that need to be made, holy-cow-I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this kind of thing.  I've got knots in my stomach.  I really don't want to lose this person, but it might have to happen.  Ohhh dear.

People are dying all around.  In the past month or two, I feel like I've heard several heartbreaking stories of loss from people I know.  A student's dad died in a motorcycle wreck; a local father and kids died when their home caught fire, he got out, then died when he went back in to save them.  My friend's father-in-law passed after a battle with cancer and a very sudden turn for the worst; another friend's uncle passed while recovering from surgery, soon after the prognosis looked positive; another friend's sister passed in a car wreck on her way home.  The mother of an 8th-grade girl at school, a woman whom many coworkers and friends have known for years, a dear supporter of her daughter's friends, had to be taken off life support today after a very short and shocking battle with a disease that resulted in a stroke and eventual brain inactivity.  She was fine just weeks ago.  Her husband and kids are reeling, as is the community.  I don't even know her, but her story -- I can barely think on it.  I can't imagine.

And during all of this, all this serious, terrible, thought-consuming stuff, so often all I can think about is how much I want someone to love me, someone I can love.  It seems everyone is paired off, and I know that's not true, and I know it's not important.  So then I chastise myself for being focused on wanting a man when so much else ought to be demanding my attention, and I feel thoroughly guilty and weak for being so petty.  Then all I want is a good, long hug, but there's no man around to give one to me....

There haven't been many times in my life when I've consistently been aware of the effects of sin and death on the world.  I tell you what, though, it's really hit hard as of late.  I wish I weren't ashamed to tell you that I've cried more in the past six months than I had in the past six years.  It's true, though, and it's slapping me in the face, letting me know that there is no way I can get through this sharply painful life on my own.

You would think I would know this by now.

You would think God would start leaving fewer messages.

You would think I would listen to some of them.

You would think He would finally give up.

I guess when I'm the one doing all the thinking, I get things wrong.  It seems it's time to take a break and put things in the hands of One who actually has a clue what He's doing.