"Speak what we feel..."

"...not what we ought to say."
So last night I finally took Joy's advice and made it to a production by the theater group Overshadowed. (Go to Joy's blog to find the link. You know how backward I am when it comes to these things. I'm just fighting with the backspace key here on the Garard's computer this afternoon.)

In order to prepare for seeing a three person show of King Lear, I pulled out the old Norton Anthology and "brushed up on my Shakespeare." I thoroughly enjoyed the prep work. Good thing, too, because I had to explain it to Mel, Grace, and Crystal. In the version I enacted for Grace, the roles were played by Splenda, Equal, or Sweet N' Low packets. Albany, Edgar, and Gloucester were all yellow Splenda, which kept throwing me off. Without an understanding of the basic plot of a Shakespeare play, there's no way to understand things like deeper meanings or even to really enjoy the beauty of the poetry itself.

So back to the play. Although the trip into the Chicago area with Joy, Grace, and Crystal was eventful in itself, I'll save that for another time. The performance was very well done. With only three talented actors and a handful of simple props, there we were back in Shakespeare's world inhabited by larger than life characters who spoke words that expressed our innermost thoughts and captured our wildest dreams. Nathan Bennett, Rebecca Hervas, and Andy Croston put, it seemed, their whole selves into portraying the story for us in that hour and a half. You pay to see a play like that, and still you walk away feeling like you've been given a gift. I've got food for intellectual thought for days and new motivation to finish that dusty Brit Lit II correspondance course on my shelf.

Insomnia

It's been a long time since I've had this kind of insomnia. Sure, lots of times I can't sleep, usually due to worry or illness or some other negative thing. But last night I had the good kind of insomnia. You know, when you can't sleep because you're so excited about what is going on or about what will happen next-- like when you're a kid on Christmas Eve or like when Joy would put a crockpot of soup on to cook overnight and I would wake up at 3 a.m., because it just smelled so good. Tomorrow is so full of potential that it's hard to wait.

I wasn't prepared for this feeling. I had a long conversation with Pastor and Jennie last night. One of those that starts out with, "Let's talk about a certain situation" but quickly develops into, "Let's talk about Karyn's life issues and spiritual needs." :-) I don't always exactly enjoy these kinds of conversations, but I am always thankful for them. But last night I couldn't sleep because of the excitement that was running through my mind.

God is working in my life. He is answering my prayers to show me where I need to change to be more like His Son. He is preparing my heart learn more of Himself. He loves me so much that He is intervening once again in my life for my good. He's also answering prayers for provision and direction in the lives of people that I care about around me. God is working, and I am thrilled to be allowed to be be part of His plan.

I woke up as soon as light came through my window. BEFORE MY ALARM! Don't panic, it would be too good to be true if that became a habit. The excitement was just still lingering on. So, yeah, I have an overwhelming and frightening list of "things to work on," but if God cares enough to let me know what those things are, I am excited to see how He will work to help me overcome them.

From the library

So, I'm finally checking my blog from the crowded computer lab of the Rockford Public Library (trying not to think how many germs are on this keyboard and feeling thankful for hand sanitizer).
Carl, it seems, is threatening to pull out old videos of my sixth grade self. Really, Carl, you were there. You know how icky that would be.
It's funny, but I've thought about that girl some this week already. She was so skinny and self-conscious, tripping around in her too-long plaid uniform skirt with the too-long mass of red hair, always wishing away her big glasses and buck-teeth. She hid from reality a lot in any book she could get her hands on. Occasionally her friends forced her out. Let's see, we had Pleasant, Karyn, Lisa, Stephanie, and Angie that year. I think it was called "United Sixth Grade." Frightening that I remember that. United could have been left out, though, since we fought all the time. Alliances were made and broken, the black top was a battlefield on the days we weren't laughing together. We fought about boys and other friends and petty misunderstandings and boys. The one with the loudest mouth and the biggest vocabulary often won-- and then I'd go back to my book.
I'm thankful that so much has changed. Now, friendships are more valuable and their maintenance is taken seriously. The Biblical principle of going to a friend in private when you learn of a problem is practiced more faithfully. I'm always so thrilled to walk away rejoicing after finding out that there was no problem or after resolving it while it was so small. Friendships are strengthened, and communication lines are kept clear and open.
It doesn't always happen so smoothly, of course. Sometimes you walk away rejoicing and find out days later that second and third and fourth parties have turned something simple into something like an avalanche. It's then that I bump into her: her, the sixth grade me who wants to come out kicking and screaming with frustration. Change is realized when I watch her shouts turn to tears. Grace is poured out when she can follow wise counsel and sit tightly with her mouth shut. That's so unnatural. When confronted with a discouraging, "I heard that she said that he said...", my mouth actually opened and said, "I can't listen to that. He or she should talk to me to my face. I will not listen to or act upon second-hand information anymore." Bizarre and amazing.
I'm sure I'll suffer a relapse. Sins of the tongue and heart are besetting until we die. I just pray that I can somehow hold onto this joy of a clean conscience for a little while, that I can continue to resist the urge of detailed self-defense, that I can focus my thoughts on the One who really matters, that I can keep from bitterness at finding out that other people are just as sinful as I am.
Go ahead and pull out the Ollie Octopus video, Carl. I can take seeing that girl again. I need all the reminders I can get to go forward. I don't want to fall back into being her again, unless it's weight-wise. :-)