but Lord knows that this world is cruel
Twelve in12
Reading
The Lance Thrower ~ Jack Whyte
Finished
So much for sleeping like a normal person….
My mom has said something to me a few times the past few days and I’m not sure exactly how I feel about it. She keeps saying that she doesn’t see me staying at here at BCRC (the church I’m currently working at and a member of) for the rest of my life. I suppose I don’t really either. The rest of my life is a big unpainted, unrealized canvas and I can’t see much that will remain the same forever. Certain things I do believe are permanent, but not everything and not this either I suppose. But I can’t imagine where else I go. I’ve always been that type of person, even as a child. I know most things aren’t permanent and things are always changing, but I can never seem to see beyond the tip of my own nose. I’m much more contemplative about the past, my intimate personal past and the large universal past. Its not that I don’t dream or think about the future, but I just don’t see it as anything clearly defined. Perhaps its because so many things change and every time I seem to make plans, something upends and everything changes. So I’ve had to learn to not think that far ahead.
Ehh, thats not making sense, but back to Mommy Dearest.
She keep telling me she cannot see me staying at BCRC and working here for the rest of my life. She’s not clear on what she does see as my future, but she’s fairly adamant that this is not it. She talks about my working for a church that is more musically intelligent and challenging, with more musicians and a bell choir and perhaps she’s right. That would be a lot closer to what I want out of a church. But I do know I’m supposed to be here for right now, and my mother agrees with that. But thats for right now.
It bothers me and I can’t seem to figure out why. I don’t know if I want her to be right or if I want her to be wrong. There is a part of me that can’t just treat this as a waypoint. I know, for me, how important the concept of home is. When I was at school, I made a home for myself at St Mark and with my friends. It took longer than a few months, really closer to a year, but it definitely became home to me. I miss it and I long to return to it, even though I know it won’t be the same.
I want this place to be home, because I need this place to be home. I need to have a place that is my very own, a sanctuary. I’m lacking in that in a very big way right now because I’m not living in my own space. I’m grateful for the family who opened their home to me, but it is still their home and not mine. I’m still a guest, an intruder, an outsider. Its not sanctuary for me. In a way, my church office has become my sanctuary, but even that space is invaded by others too often to be a true sanctuary. I need this place, this town to become my home because that is what I need in life. And its just not there yet. And for my mother to constantly remind me that I’m "bound for greater things" is frustrating, because then I wonder what is even the point of trying.
But I also wonder if I can ever really make this place my home. And I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t know if its because they are too Dutch, or too CRC or too something. But I’m not sure that I can ever truly feel at home here, the way that Fredonia did for me in the past. There is a lot here that frustrates me. A lot that I don’t really believe will ever change. Its too steeped in its own traditions and cultures to allow room for outsiders. And thats what I’ll always be. I’ll never completely assimilate into this culture. Thats not really a bad thing, but I wonder if that lack of assimilation will prevent me from ever really feeling truly and completely at home here.
This past weekend has been extremely hard because of BCRC’s Candlelight Service. It is a service that I’ve always done on Christmas Eve at home with my parents and that family. This will be my first Christmas not going home. Yes, I will be going home for New Year’s and yes, my parents and I have planned our own little Christmas for when we’re all together. But its not exactly the same. I knew this day would come, as did my mother. We’ve been preparing ourselves for it for years now. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less when it actually comes to pass.
I’m still ridiculously frustrated with so much here. And often times the worst part is that I have no one who can help relieve that stress. Not completely. Not like Manny or James or Mouse. They understand my rants of frustration and are sympathetic, but they aren’t here to help me change it. They aren’t here to look at me and roll their eyes or make funny faces or poke me with a stick. I’ve learned, slowly, that while Laura is great and we do have a lot in common, we don’t have nearly as much in common as I originally thought. It almost feels that the more time we spend together now, the less and less we actually have in common. Perhaps that is the truth with many of the people I’ve met out in here in general. There are a few things at first, but as time goes on, the friendships don’t become deeper, they become less than where they started. I’m trying to recognize and accept what it is in them that puts that wall between us, but that rarely changes the existence of said wall.
I’ve talked about how I feel like my life is a house in the middle of a walled garden. The walls are circular around the house and few people get in very close. Megan has her own wing in the house, but few other people have been able to get as close. Manny used to talk about how he feels like he was constantly running into walls with me. He’s made it through and proven his staying power, but he doesn’t have a place in the house. More like he lives in the cottage on the back lawn, withhis own entrance where he can come and go as he likes. Most everyone else who has made it to the house only sit on the front porch and visit. I’m waiting to find that someone who will move into the house with me and help me build the house into a home.
My house has been ravaged and burned to the ground many times, and each time on the rebuild, more walls go up or are fortified against future attacks. I used to talk about how I felt like I was sitting on a pile of ashes, the remains of the house I tried to build. Now I feel as though I’ve got all the materials ready for building, but they are sitting and waiting now. I’ve jerry-rigged a temporary living space, but its not really a house yet. Its just a temporary, makeshift space until something worth while comes into the picture.
Perhaps that is what my mother sees. That I’m not really living in my house yet, I’m merely in this space held together with string. I’m waiting to get the blueprints for the next house I’m to build.
Now I was sitting waiting wishing
That you believed in superstitions
Then maybe you’d see the signs
But Lord knows that this world is cruel
And I ain’t the Lord, no I’m just a fool
Learning loving somebody don’t make them love you
Must I always be waiting waiting on you?
Must I always be playing playing your fool?
I sing ya songs I dance a dance
I gave ya friends all a chance
Putting up with them wasn’t worth never having you
And maybe you been through this before
But it’s my first time
So please ignore
The next few lines cause they’re directed at you
I can’t always be waiting waiting on you
I can’t always be playing playing your fool
I keep playing your part
But it’s not my scene
Wont this plot not twist?
I’ve had enough mystery.
Keep building me up, then shooting me down
Well I’m already down
Just wait a minute
Just sitting waiting
Just wait a minute
Just sitting waiting
Well if I was in your position
I’d put down all my ammunition
I’d wondered why’d it taken me so long
But Lord knows that I’m not you
And If I was I wouldn’t be so cruel
Cause waiting on love ain’t so easy to do
Must I always be waiting waiting on you?
Must I always be playing playing your fool?
No I can’t always be waiting waiting on you
I can’t always be playing playing your fool, fool
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing ~ Jack Johnson