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25 June 2007

tired tears

a vivid description of the recent pain: (as told to ashley hepburn)

here is my very long story made as-short-as-possible: i was feeling very sad on thursday night because i wanted so badly to try out this new discovery (an al fresco bar in the highlands) and i drove by it hoping i could conjure up the courage to go in alone and i was simply overwhelmed by my own incapacity. it frustrated me that I couldn't be brave enough to go in alone, and it sadness me because i feel a lack of companionship here (and the always lack of people pursuing me). understandably, no one hopes to go out alone, but i have no grace for myself and i thought the fault lay invariably in myself. "clearly, there is something wrong with me," i reasoned in my silly little head. so i was calling you to do what i consider fairly normal, which is leave you a little reminder of the many million times every week that i wish we lived in the same city, or even, considering the circumstances, i just needed a reminder that it was OKAY to not have the courage at that moment, that despite the lack of new girlfriends or good companions to accompany me for a cerveza doesn't represent my value. however, forgetting you were traveling to dallas, it was a surprise that you answered at all (i almost always expect to miss you, though i don't "hope" to miss you, it's just that we have a voicemail relationship) and a wall within my chest collapsed when I heard that you were arriving and embarking upon this amazing weekend adventure with quality friends and goodness abounding---- i was envious, of course, but more than that it was timing that felt like acid in my already fresh wound of loneliness. NONE of this could have been prevented, all of this is somehow embodying God's spirit and the presence that moves us along in life, but neither does it mean that we will always see life from the mountaintop. so that is why i was choking on my own words when we spoke briefly on thursday night. i almost think i didn't need to talk at all, rather i just needed to hear a voice that was comforting and truthful and real. i'm sorry for you that i can't be stronger, i want to be but maybe this season of my life is just about me hanging on a bit less to my fa├žade of fortitude and well-being, and maybe it is more about trusting God and leaping dangerously into the unknown. regardless, that is my story. and i began to write you late thursday night, but i went to delete something after typing about 5 minutes worth of text, and the freaking "firefox application encountered an error and was forced to quit." so i lost everything i wrote you and my tired tears couldn't bear writing it again. thank our very gracious Lord that the hours continue onward, and we do as well.

"tired tears" is a phrase i have coveted these past few weeks, and it is derived from Betty Smith, author of my current read, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, in her editor's note, written in 1947. the quote is: "My cup flowed over, literally, when I added a few tired tears to the water."

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