Sometimes you make mistakes. Grave mistakes. Mistakes that when you look back, you cringe, and you look in the mirror, and you say to your reflection, “That’s not you.’ And you peer into the eyes staring back at you, and you ask, “What happened? You would never do that! I know you, and that wasn’t you.”
And from time to time, when I think about the last year and a half or so, there’s a tightening in my chest, and a volcanic rage that erupts, because I ask myself these questions. And there have been moments I have spiritualized it, and moments where I’m convinced that God gave me a snake when I asked him for bread. And then times where I recognize where I lacked boundaries. But I also remember being sober and seeing everything that was wrong, but you know, when you over spiritualize some things, your spirituality can become a noose. And when you choose emotions --- wanting to be a good, Christian girl---, rather than being wise, well, you may as well just bury yourself in the grave you’ve already dug up. And when you silence your own voice in favour of other voices, you lie in that grave, a perfect corpse. Surrendering your last breath to good intentions. But the road to hell is paved with good intentions, as they say.
What’s the point to this?
Listen, there are good people out there; and then there are people who want to be good, but are tragically terrible; and then there are people who see that they should do better and are striving to do better, and then others who know they are bad, but rather than strive for better, they’d rather pretend to do good. God gives them one face, but they make themselves another, as Shakespeare wrote. And sometimes you do that too. And you did that. God gave you the face of truth, and honesty and integrity. And you’ve made your own face. Spent years making your own. And then you came back to accept the one you’ve been given but somehow not wearing it confidently. But that’s the only face that’s true. Authentic.
You know your face, you’ve just not accepted it because it feels too raw sometimes, too much. It pricks the heart, and speaks too loudly, its silence too deafening. And you know there’s a lot more coming.
So, again, what is the point?
Listen, those who scheme, are bold in their schemes. Those who are deceitful, are unashamed in their deceit. Those who plot, are organized in their plans. Those who are faithful, are faithful without faltering.
Are you catching my drift? Are you picking up what I’m throwing down?
You were unwise; you let your guard down, allowed yourself to get worn down, doubted too much, and you proved yourself the daughter of Eve.
But tell me you learned something. Show me you learned something. Show me that you dodged a bullet, and you are co-master of your destiny. Show me the locked gates where no fool shall trespass. Show me you’ve learned to be bold, and can pursue what you desire---show me that you are focused, and you are committed to building your house, and are careful to build with the right materials. Show me that there is no bitterness but gratitude, that your eyes were opened, and the prison gates are opened, and you let yourself out. Tell me that you laugh at lies when you hear them, and do not give them any heed. Show me that doubt is now fuel to dig deep, and push farther for that which you know exists. Show me that you know it’s yours if you want it. Let me see you laugh without fear of the future.
Show me once more that you are not a good Christian girl.
But a wise one.
