I Don't Remember (Exercise #3)
Companion Exercise to I Remember (Exercise #2)
On a side note, I’ve been terrible at keeping up my freewriting. Get too distracted by my own stress and anxiety about making sure I get interest relief on my massive student loan, what I’m going to do now that my in-between dream job is out of reach, whether I have completely lost my ability to play slo-pitch softball with a bunch of beer gutted alcoholics, and whether I am ever going to figure out how to do the things I think are important without getting distracted. I think I need to do more freewriting.
I don’t remember the peace or the comfort. Not really. There were moments, sure, but they were filled with awe. And when they were over, there was strife and conflict. There was, above all, struggle. What decision to make, how to deal with teenage heartache, what toll my sin would take. Hardly a peace that passeth all understanding.
And what about the loving arms of your church? I don’t remember those either. I felt a part of something bigger than myself, sure. But what part? Don’t give me that shit about all parts being important, or all parts needing each other. I was a part, but a separate part. I felt important. I didn’t feel integrated though.
I don’t remember trusting my church family. I don’t remember feeling like I could tell them anything. Yes, my bug confession to Prime was an important breakthrough, but rather than lead me deep into the arms of your Grace, it lead me away.
I don’t remember the miracles. No healings (really), no windfalls of unexpected money, no unanticipated jobs, no supernatural rescues from disaster.
I don’t remember feel satisfied. There was a continual promise that Revival was coming, that God would use me mightily. The inflated sense of importance. The anticipation of being one step away from something of such magnitude that you held your breath and braced yourself. And like a cartoon, you slowly opened your eyes and relaxed because nothing happened.
On a side note, I’ve been terrible at keeping up my freewriting. Get too distracted by my own stress and anxiety about making sure I get interest relief on my massive student loan, what I’m going to do now that my in-between dream job is out of reach, whether I have completely lost my ability to play slo-pitch softball with a bunch of beer gutted alcoholics, and whether I am ever going to figure out how to do the things I think are important without getting distracted. I think I need to do more freewriting.
I don’t remember the peace or the comfort. Not really. There were moments, sure, but they were filled with awe. And when they were over, there was strife and conflict. There was, above all, struggle. What decision to make, how to deal with teenage heartache, what toll my sin would take. Hardly a peace that passeth all understanding.
And what about the loving arms of your church? I don’t remember those either. I felt a part of something bigger than myself, sure. But what part? Don’t give me that shit about all parts being important, or all parts needing each other. I was a part, but a separate part. I felt important. I didn’t feel integrated though.
I don’t remember trusting my church family. I don’t remember feeling like I could tell them anything. Yes, my bug confession to Prime was an important breakthrough, but rather than lead me deep into the arms of your Grace, it lead me away.
I don’t remember the miracles. No healings (really), no windfalls of unexpected money, no unanticipated jobs, no supernatural rescues from disaster.
I don’t remember feel satisfied. There was a continual promise that Revival was coming, that God would use me mightily. The inflated sense of importance. The anticipation of being one step away from something of such magnitude that you held your breath and braced yourself. And like a cartoon, you slowly opened your eyes and relaxed because nothing happened.
posted by deadwriter at 10:46 a.m.
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