Let me set the scene for you. It is the first warm evening of the year, the one where everything sticks to you. You step out of the shower and suddenly the air is too thick. Hair clinging to you neck feels like tiny kisses. You become faintly aware of the sound of frogs outside, the sun melting into syrup as it fights for its final moments of glory, and the creek of well worn floor boards as they greet a family's footsteps. Your whole world is sticky. The night sticks to your skin and your senses as it wraps you in its warmth.
It's the beginning of Spring, and sometimes I feel like this whole season belongs to me. It whispers in my ear and blows playfully on my hair, making me laugh and smile despite my best efforts to remain focused. Summer is a far way off but Spring is Summer's long outstretched arm saying, "Come! Follow me. You're going to love this!" I am an April baby so maybe I'm biased. But when I fall asleep at night with the fan humming softly I can't help but to think that the day was a gift just for me, and that tomorrow it is my responsibility to give a gift of my own.
I really don't know how to paint the colors on the cheeks of laughing children. I can't be the warm breeze that blows through your open window at a stoplight. And I will never be as wise as the moon. But I can be myself, a child of Spring, a lover of light, a bright eyed wink to make you smile. If I can do just that - create more smiles to decorate the earth for Spring - then I will have given back the gifts of all these beautifully sticky days.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
The Moon and I
There was no reason for the light. No sun, no stars. Clouds and whispers were all the dusk held. But one spot of light danced, unashamed. The light stood triumphant, clinging to the hope of minutes in a day that had already passed. Light with no source, beaming through the night sky. It made no sense. And it was beautiful.
It passed as fast as a yawn in the morning. Like the final deep breath before you wake, the sky shuttered and stretched and the light was gone. Then the moon slipped in like a secret. A light with source, something sensible to guide the night. The stars were invited too but they lingered back to make a grand entrance in the darkest sky. So for that moment it was just me and the moon. I looked at him and he stared back at me. I asked him where the light came from and he just laughed.
Don't you know? It's the Light of the world. God is light.
But it must come from somewhere?
God creates light from darkness. Something from nothing. He can do it, you don't have to understand.
But it makes no sense.
There is no sense in beauty.
It passed as fast as a yawn in the morning. Like the final deep breath before you wake, the sky shuttered and stretched and the light was gone. Then the moon slipped in like a secret. A light with source, something sensible to guide the night. The stars were invited too but they lingered back to make a grand entrance in the darkest sky. So for that moment it was just me and the moon. I looked at him and he stared back at me. I asked him where the light came from and he just laughed.
Don't you know? It's the Light of the world. God is light.
But it must come from somewhere?
God creates light from darkness. Something from nothing. He can do it, you don't have to understand.
But it makes no sense.
There is no sense in beauty.
Friday, March 11, 2011
We Matter, Too.
My job is interesting because I get to meet and work with new people every single day. Along with that comes the little small-talk, getting to know you questions. Or, more accurately, the people who have "real" jobs trying to size up the temporary person to see where exactly in life they failed so epically to not have a "real" job. The questions are generally always the same - where'd you go to school, do you have your degree, have you applied for any other jobs, do you know so-and-so with your same last name... etc. But I was caught off guard by a line of questioning the other day, one that confirmed for me some thoughts I've been playing with for quite a while.
She said, "So Lauren what's your story? Are you married?"
Stop right there. Exhibit A. The way she asked the question made it clear that my "story" really had nothing at all to do with what I was doing or had accomplished, but whether or not I was married. Ok, moving on.
I replied, "Oh, no not married. Uh, just..." (and I was going to tell her about my actual story, until she interrupted me) She sort of crinkled up her nose and snarled her lip a bit when she heard I wasn't married, and as soon as she regained her composure she fired back, "Oh. Well do you even have a degree?"
Even have a degree. As if a girl who can't land a full time job and is obviously not even good enough to convince a man to keep her could not possibly be intelligent enough to earn a degree! Of course I know that this is not the mind set that most people have, but it might surprise you to know how many people I've talked to that do think this way. And I am not here to get on my high horse about women's rights and how we need to stand up and fight to get out from under this oppression and expectation of relying on men and blah blah blah. In fact that's not what I think at all, I think that God made women as man's companion but that's a whole different blog.
Let's move on to Exhibit B. I was talking at work with a group of women whom I knew fairly well. But really by "talking" I mean listening to a conversation about them and their husbands and families, which I was completely left out of since they all knew I didn't have a husband. (So apparently I know absolutely nothing about being a part of a family.) However, somewhere in this conversation engagements came up and I mentioned that I had been engaged to be married a few years ago. And then - boom! - magic. All of a sudden they were including me, asking me questions about my beliefs on families and relationships and kids. Suddenly, I could be included just by the fact that - at one time - someone thought I might be marriage potential. If that hadn't been the case then my opinions and beliefs really wouldn't have been worth hearing.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm sick of people not taking me seriously because I'm not married. I know this seems crazy, but I think other single girls my age would vouch for me here. We're treated like we're incapable and it's just not fair. It is sad to me that in 2011, the world's definition of success for a girl still has so much to do with whatever guy is standing (or not standing) by her side and so little to do with what she has actually worked to accomplish.
The two most common questions I get asked even by close family friends are: Do you have a job? and Do you have a boyfriend? Is this all that matters? Are those the only two things that make me important? I speak for all the single girls out there when I say that there is a lot more to me than this, and I challenge you to find out what it is.
She said, "So Lauren what's your story? Are you married?"
Stop right there. Exhibit A. The way she asked the question made it clear that my "story" really had nothing at all to do with what I was doing or had accomplished, but whether or not I was married. Ok, moving on.
I replied, "Oh, no not married. Uh, just..." (and I was going to tell her about my actual story, until she interrupted me) She sort of crinkled up her nose and snarled her lip a bit when she heard I wasn't married, and as soon as she regained her composure she fired back, "Oh. Well do you even have a degree?"
Even have a degree. As if a girl who can't land a full time job and is obviously not even good enough to convince a man to keep her could not possibly be intelligent enough to earn a degree! Of course I know that this is not the mind set that most people have, but it might surprise you to know how many people I've talked to that do think this way. And I am not here to get on my high horse about women's rights and how we need to stand up and fight to get out from under this oppression and expectation of relying on men and blah blah blah. In fact that's not what I think at all, I think that God made women as man's companion but that's a whole different blog.
Let's move on to Exhibit B. I was talking at work with a group of women whom I knew fairly well. But really by "talking" I mean listening to a conversation about them and their husbands and families, which I was completely left out of since they all knew I didn't have a husband. (So apparently I know absolutely nothing about being a part of a family.) However, somewhere in this conversation engagements came up and I mentioned that I had been engaged to be married a few years ago. And then - boom! - magic. All of a sudden they were including me, asking me questions about my beliefs on families and relationships and kids. Suddenly, I could be included just by the fact that - at one time - someone thought I might be marriage potential. If that hadn't been the case then my opinions and beliefs really wouldn't have been worth hearing.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm sick of people not taking me seriously because I'm not married. I know this seems crazy, but I think other single girls my age would vouch for me here. We're treated like we're incapable and it's just not fair. It is sad to me that in 2011, the world's definition of success for a girl still has so much to do with whatever guy is standing (or not standing) by her side and so little to do with what she has actually worked to accomplish.
The two most common questions I get asked even by close family friends are: Do you have a job? and Do you have a boyfriend? Is this all that matters? Are those the only two things that make me important? I speak for all the single girls out there when I say that there is a lot more to me than this, and I challenge you to find out what it is.
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