A Secret Message Decoded

Whatever you're doing inside of me,

 it feels like chaos but somehow there's peace.

You're up to something bigger than me,

Larger than life, something heavenly. (Chorus)

This is a Sanctus Real song, and for me, its the one that really put them on the map in my life. At the time I first heard this song things were going well, but I made a mental note of it. I knew it would be one of those songs I would cling to in the middle of the night someday. And it has been. It's the anthem of reassurance. Pain is a necessary part of life, especially life as a Christian. Pain can signify when somethings not right, and it can allow growth. Nobody likes it, but there can be a peace that passes understanding when we understand that whatever 'it' is, it's bigger than us.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,

it feels like chaos but I believe,

You're up to something bigger than me,

Larger than life, something heavenly (Chorus 2)

They played this song at the inaugural concert at the Stroh Center at BGSU. I've heard it dozens of times, even recently, but I found a new message tucked inside of it, like a secret note just for me. In the same way that 'Beautiful Things' by the band Gungor symbolizes more to me than being remade--its about making new life, making beautiful things out of dust, out of us. Tonight the words 'inside of me' grabbed my attention and gripped my heart. Perhaps it's my training as an English major that makes me find meaning where there isn't intentionally one, but I couldn't help but feel that I was supposed to pick up on that tonight. The song is supposed to be about emotional turmoil during difficult times and I get that, big time. But for me the meaning is more literal. I have no idea what God is doing inside of me in terms of allowing me to become a mother. And it feels like chaos sometimes. All the tests and data collecting and stress and baby drama definitely can create internal emotional chaos. And sometimes it feels like physical chaos when my body reacts to the medications. But when I remember that God does have a plan for me (Jeremiah 29:11) and that plan is bigger than only me there is a peace that can override the chaos. I believe that God has a plan and all of this is intentional and purposeful, and I believe that with all my heart.

Whatever you're doing inside of me,

it feels like chaos but now I can see,

This is something bigger than me,

Larger than life, something heavenly (Chorus 3)

I consider this last variation of the chorus to be a promise. I've been able to get to the top of a mountain after trudging through a valley and see how the struggle was part of a larger plan. And those past experiences reassure me that nothing is without purpose, and someday I will see. Even if that day comes on the other side of Eternity, someday I will see how this struggle and journey has been bigger than me. And at any rate, what God is doing inside of me is larger than life. It's about so much more than creating life. It's strengthening me, drawing me to Him, requiring me to share my heart, and expanding my faith. That is most certainly something heavenly.

But I'm still a dreamer, a believerOh, I've lost my faith in so many things, but I still believe in You
'Cause You can make anything new

 This is the chorus to a different Sanctus Real song but it seems like the best way to end this post. Sometimes I do lose my faith in the process. I stop believing that all this struggling and hoping and praying and dreaming will work. But even when I've lost faith in everything, even myself, I still have my faith in God. And God is still faithful to me. He can make anything new, even a body that doesn't work properly. My favorite word in the entire English language is 'believe'. That word is in every room of our house, one way or another. I'm not always good at showing my belief, but I believe deeply and I dream even deeper. And it's okay for me to dream and believe even while facing difficult realities, because God is a redeemer. No matter what I may lose or never gain, I have Him. What else is there really?

Sticky Cobwebby Memories

Memories are a powerful thing. So easily evoked, so much harder to shove back in the shoebox and under the bed. Especially complicated memories. Memories that are wholly good are welcomed gladly. Come in, stay awhile, let me reminisce, chuckle to myself, or even better share a belly laugh with a friend. Memories that are wholly bad are quickly banished from thought and stripped of their power to summon my emotions to react.

But those messy complicated memories are another story. Half good, half painful, they flare up at the most inconvenient and unexpected times. I'll be going on my merry way in life, enjoying the sunshine, smelling the roses and suddenly something happens which transports me faster than the Delorean back into my past. A scent, a song, a photo, a phrase, and I'm somewhere in the chronicles of my past. I suspect that even my facial expression changes, that I get a bit glassy eyed as if hypnotized by something, which is partly true. I shake it off, sometimes literally, like trying to shake sticky cobwebs out of my hair, but the feeling of the memory lingers. Like a sticky cobweb, it feels all day as if it's still in there.

Perhaps this is why movies like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind seem appealing, until we discover what we would be without our memories. I may wish to shed my old memories, the unsettling, confusing ones but with that I would shed entire years of my life.

Historians can't find whole years of Shakespeare's life. There's census records and other official documentation that tells us where he was for most of his life apparently, but here and there large chunks are missing. Not a year here or there, but several years in a row he goes undocumented, unable to be found. No one knows where he was or what he was doing. That's how it would be for me if I were able to erase those memories. Two, three, four whole years, or more, would be gone. Two years worth of stories, both good and bad, I can no longer tell. Two years worth of faces I would no longer know, songs I would no longer recognize, moments I could no longer cherish.

My memories are messy because I am a real person with a real story to tell. Life got complicated, I got  complicated, and the aftermath of that is complicated memories. As convenient as it would be to never feel suddenly back in 2003, drowning in old memories, I think, no, I know that I would lose something of myself without those memories. Those years shaped me, perhaps more than any other. From 17 to 22 I grew up, changed, made choices, made memories that have defined the woman I am today. For the better or for the worse, I don't know. If forced to choose I would say better. More complicated, more difficult (especially for my husband who never got to know the carefree me) but better. Wiser, stronger, smarter, more humble, more sure of and realistic about the woman I hope to someday be.

My memories are mine, to keep, to throw away, to share, to hide. One of the most true lines from a movie is from Titanic when Old Rose tells her captive listeners, "a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets." What she means are memories. Complicated ones that arise at the strangest moments. But I'm grateful for mine, they serve to remind me of who I used to be, who I am now, and who I want to be. And it has been my memories, those sticky cobwebby memories, that have given me a reason to write. To write my novel, write poetry, write this blog. Writing makes sense of the complicated, keeps the painful ones at bay, and invites the good ones to come in and stay awhile.