Shattered Prison

“The thing that irks me most is this shattered prison, after all. I'm tired, tired of being enclosed here. I'm wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart, but really with it, and in it.”

My whole being aches for home. I long for my family and friends, for a sense of belonging. I long for Marsh Creek, where I know of a spot that has perfect lighting. I want to feel the familiar winding of the back roads and failing light of fall.

My memory is short. Only two years ago I left for an adventure on the other side of the world. Already I have forgotten most of the lessons I learned there--and learning them again is painful.

For two years I have wanted nothing more than to be some place that desperately needed Love. Every single person deserves unconditional love and I wanted to give all I had. I never knew that being a servant of Love could be so lonely. I should have prayed for strength while I was praying for wisdom.

The best part of being broken is that you are never quite the same after you are put back together--the healers always leave a mark. So now the mortar that holds me together is laced with Jason, and my family, and God. Wonderfully, they are all much more beautiful than I am. Having wounds healed by their patients and love has let me stunningly scarred.

I don't know what to say next or where to go, but I know that if every single one of us loved those on the fringe our world would be a much, much more beautiful place.

To work with Love

And what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.
-Kahlil Gibran

Here I am, once again an unemployed college student. It's as if only yesterday I were wrestling with the transition from college student to scientist. And now, in a way, it's time for me to transition back. Today was my final day of work. And I cried. I cried a lot. I cried last night and I cried the moment my foot crossed the threshold of the research building this afternoon. I've never been good at letting go.

My experience in that lab as taught me so much--about science, about relationships, and about myself. I'm so blessed to have had a job that I absolutely loved and that was incredibly rewarding. I often spent my long commute thanking God for this opportunity and asking for the wisdom and courage to return those blessings. I grappled with the question, "How could I possible show those around me how thankful I am and how much they mean to me?". What this all boils down to is the classic question, "What does it really mean to love someone?".

In just one short year I have been shown such an out pouring of love and my seeming inability to return that love weighs on me. After much thought, I came up with a catch phrase that could help keep me focussed on loving people.

Love is cleaning up dog poop when everyone else is asleep.

As you may image, this revelation came to me one evening when my dog pooped in the house and everyone else was asleep. I knew if I left it there, my mom would clean it up in the morning. But to love someone means you don't ignore the dog crap on the carpet. To love someone means consistently putting his/her needs before your own and expect nothing in return. I love the way Kahlil Gibran puts it. He basically says to work as if you are serving or creating something for the love of your life.

The wonderful thing I learned at my job is that by working with love, you come to really love your work. I'm not an incredibly open person and am slow to form relationships, but by working with love I found that I genuinely enjoyed getting to know my coworkers. And I enjoyed them getting to know me. Leaving at the end of the day really broke my heart because I have become so invested in the project and the people I spent many years working for.

What an incredible blessing that lesson is. The timing couldn't be better. As I look forward to marrying Jason, I look forward to picking up his dog crap (Well, hopefully that doesn't happen literally. Our apartment has a "no pet" policy and I'm pretty sure Jason has been potty trained). I know it will be difficult, but the great thing about Jason is that he is willing to pick up my dog crap, too. We make a good pooper-scooper team. :)

PS. And maybe I'm excited about working in a new lab in graduate school, but I don't think I have the emotional capacity to mull that over yet.

What happens in the ever after

I love fairy tales. I'm painfully practicle and, although I wear dresses, I usually pair them with chukka boots. But despite my total lack of a "princess" aura, I am utterly in love with the fantasy of far away lands. I grew up watching every disney movie ever made and in response I spent most of my free time with Corrine either dressed as a princess or dressing our barbies as princesses. The years went by and instead of growing out of fairytales, they grew with me. The classic princess made way for a new kind of heroine. She was usually strong-willed and independent and always distinctly different from her peers. Whether she lived 500 years ago, or 1000 years in the future, or in a completely different dimension, she always had a greater purpose. She wanted justice-for her family, the nation, or the entire human race. Inevitably she found her self fighting evil, trekking uncharted territory, and befriending strangers all in the name of the greater good. And along the way, that boy that she hardly noticed before becomes her best friend and confidant. He slowly chips away at her heart that has been hardened by the focus needed to overcome such insurmountable obstacles. Suddenly his bravery, strength, and faithfulness shine in a moment when the heroines own strength and bravery aren't enough. And that's when she loves him back. I really love fairytales.

I've yearned to star in my own fairytale, and some how it miraculously happened. I've always been stubborn and focussed. I saw my chance to fight injustice through academics. I worked hard and am on my way (hopefully) to a PhD program in something along the lines of Pathobiology/Immunology/Microbiology. My fight is for improved healthcare in third world nations. I've traveled to far away lands and met incredible people. And along the way, that quiet boy on the frisbee team snuck up on me. He leant me his sleeping bag when I was sick and watched baseball with me so I didn't have to do that alone. He stood back as I wrestled with a broken heart. Before I knew it, I was in love with him. He told me that he would support me in my fight and hold me when things seem too difficult. Like every good heroine I gave into this love because I know that we are stronger together and because now that I've met him, I could never live without him. It's only fitting, that in true fairytale style, our story ends with a wedding.

Here's my dilemma. I've spent my life fixated on fairytales, hopelessly disconnected from reality. My infatuation goes so deep that I even constructed my own life to model those in the numerous books I devoured. But every fairytale ends the same way. The happy couple gets married, takes the thrown, and lives happily ever after. What happens in that "ever after" period? No one writes fairytales about the ever after part! How am I supposed to structure my life if the scaffolding isn't there? I guess the scarier question for me is, are the lives of the hero and heroine so utterly boring that no one ever bothered to write down their story? I want nothing more than to marry that quiet boy on the frisbee team, but I'm not ready for our adventures to end. I'm scared that I will only get one fairytale, and that that fairytale is quickly coming to a close.

I don't have a solution, really. I know that I'm marrying a man who loves a good adventure. And I know that I can't sit still. In the end, I will probably have to write my own fairytale that begins at ever after. Until then, I will wait patiently for the final chapter in this current story-the one where I get to marry the boy that softened my heart. I don't know about you, but the anticipation is killing me.