Discomfort

So here it is, late on a Sunday night and I'm trying to come up with something current to write about. Unfortunately I've lost interest in my list for the most part and now I'm just kind of flying blind. It's hard to write when everything in your life is so unrelenting...I think that's the right word. I feel like I've become a whole new person in so many respects, but I can't even put my finger on a single reason why. It all started in Hawaii, when the past finally caught up with my future, and I let it go once and for all and for good. I've finally been able to move forward, and I feel like life is running ahead of me with a rope tied around my waist dragging me forward at a pace a tad uncomfortably fast for me. It's good to finally be getting somewhere, but it is a time of testing and growing and changing--and thought I always enjoy those times in an adrenaline-rush sort of way, they are always--shall we say--trying.

It's strange, having one foot in Hawaii the way I do, finding that no matter how long I am home in California afterwards, I feel somewhat distracted. I feel like I can't get back into any real routines, like I can't get too settled in because I have to be mobile, able to hop a plane at the slightest mis-beat of my dad's feeble heart. He is going to Bangkok to undergo experimental stem-cell surgery in less than a month, and he may not come back alive, so off I am again, to celebrate what may be the last Thanksgiving I ever get with him. This also marks the possible last chance I will have to share Christ with him, which--based on last time when he told me "never speak of it again", promises to be a daunting task. Defiitely leaning on the Lord for a miracle there.

On top of all that instability, one of my best girlfriends Abby (otherwise known as Poka Bean) moved an hour south to San Diego, and I have been hard pressed to find the time to see her. All of us girls who used to meet almost bi-weekly are now lucky to catch eachother twice a month, which makes life much lonlier and flatter up here in my little apartment. Even though the other three of us still live within a mile of eachother, we can't get it together to get together. It just wouldn't feel right without our Abby. The delicate chemistry of our little group has been messed with, and now we are having trouble adjusting to the new version of "us"--I know I'm not the only one. It's hard going through all of this without your friends readily available to you...not that I'd want to be unloading everything on them everyday, but just to know that you're in someone's life and that you have people in yours. That you're not cut off from the rest of womankind. That there are people who love you who aren't supposed to like your family or your husband. I miss that.

Also on the brain is my husband's tempermental back. He broke it as a teenager and then found it had miraculously (by the grace of God) healed. Now, unfortunately, it is acting up again--a direct result of his "I'll do it tomorrow" attitude about diet and excersize--and it is forcing him to re-examine his entire life. We have been talking constantly and well into the night, working on ourselves as individuals and as part of a couple and a marriage. He is becoming the man I always hoped he would become--motivated, confident, submissive to God, and a spiritual leader for our home. But I am having to step back and let him grow, learn new dynamics and ways of communicating, stretch out of the familiar and cozy little shell our six and a half years as a married couple have afforded us.

And then there's the music. Letting that back into my life was a difficult decision because I know that I am one of those people who is in danger of being almost completely swallowed up by her artistic side. it TAKES OVER. I am a control freak, and having such limited control over myself makes me beyond nervous. I can't keep normal bed-times, I can't stop thinking about songs and words and music and books and poetry. I become moody, emotional, depressed, and completely illogical. The dishes are stacking up, the laundry pile is overflowing and the bed rarely gets made anymore. If I'm Dr. Jekkyl/Mr. Hyde, it's the nasty monster one. It's the unfettered side of me that I keep locked in the basement when I'm in civilied company. I know it sounds stupid, but it's just how it is. Now that I have a chance to do things the way I want them in music I feel I can't pass the chance up. But of course I'm doubting myself everyday. Am I doing the right thing? Didn't I swear the music industry off forever? Yet here I am. And how can I know if I made the right choice until I put my foot in the water and see if it burns or goes in fine? I can't.

I guess there isn't a point to all of this, except for me to try to make some sense of it all and reflect on what God's doing. Sometimes I wish all the testing would end, but I know that before that happens, my dad will be long dead and that seems like an awful lot of time to skip over--though it's tempting considering the things I'll be missing if I do.

Who knows...only One does and He's not telling. And, truth be told, I wouldn't want Him to. It's all to learn, it's all to stretch, it's all to grow. It's supposed to be uncomfortable. And that may be all the comfort I need right now.