Internal Snapshot

         I was reminded today of something I should have known; something I knew that's been nearly forgotten for a long time. I sat down to watch a movie with my family about a woman--Sarah--who, after years of pain and abandonment, finally discovered redemption in the form of five Amish nieces and nephews looking to her as their only family. I thought it was beautiful, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried because I think tears are beautiful, too, when we shed them for things that really matter. The movie, one I haven't seen for several years, laid open my heart a little bit; we'll call it an internal snapshot.

         First, I wish I could feel love the way the people in the movie do. It's so easy to be moved by someone else finally realising how greatly they are loved, but it's just a story. How often do I feel like my family never has and never will understand? How many times have I wished I was closer to my sisters and brother than I am, but could never find the courage to open up? Eighteen and a half years I've lived with the people I call "mom" and "dad", and still I know nothing about family. And I wish I did.
         Sarah may have felt abandoned by her sister, who left to join the Amish community, but she had so many memories of her sister to look back upon that she never really thought about until she received a call telling her her sister was dead. I'm crying all over again at the thought that we--that I--rarely stop and savour moments, reliving memories of good times and bad ones until the people we care about are gone. As I'm slowly packing up and preparing for a 2,000 mile trip to college, the weight of the things I always wanted to do but never did and can't now is growing heavier every day. I never remember to live in a moment until I've moved on and it's too late.
         I'm jealous of the closeness and the faith of the Amish family. They had no secrets, no lies. They knew each other and they knew God. I spend so much time thinking and talking about love, but love begins first with God and second with family. They prayed with each other and for each other. Far too often, I wish that I could say the same.
         I'm selfishly feeling lonely and unloved. I attended a wedding today in which a beautiful young couple presented themselves before God and the church in a commitment to be one in the Lord. I've always been a writer; I could write myself a million happy endings but I encounter endless frustration trying to see where God is bringing me next. They have each other, but a part of me desperately wonders who I have. I have friends who would do anything for me and a family who loves me, I know. And I'm only eighteen--goodness knows I'm not ready to be married--but parts of me feel so much older than that. But you can't achieve that kind of closeness with friends or with family, no matter how devoted they might be. So I find myself wondering what God will have in store for me, if He will ever bring me the right person because I know a lot of amazing people. But I know in my heart I haven't found him yet.

         There you have it. I know it's kind of a mess; I'm kind of a mess. But sometimes messes can be beautiful, too. And I think the beauty or perceived beauty matters so much less than living a life of meaning. Because in the words of Point of Grace, "Take a few chances; let it all out. You won't regret it, looking back from where you have been 'cause it's not who you knew, and it's not what you did; it's how you lived." -Point of Grace, How you Lived (Turn up the Music)

I ask you to pray for me. Whether you leave me a prayer request or not, I will be praying for you. God bless.

~Sheridan