Princess Water

Wednesday, March 4, 2009


I went to bible study this week. I didn't go the week before because I had to try to find something to wear to my friends funeral. I considered not going this week because every other week we watch a video, do the lesson during the week, and discuss it the following Tues. I didn't do the lessons cause I didn't watch the video. Not that I would have done the lesson if I had. I've got more important stuff to do; like write blogs and obsessively check my e-mail. Ladies and gentleman you can have all this and more under the umbrella of homework. Not to make light of my lack of discipline but it's not so much about the bible study for me. It's about the relationships I have established with these women. They have been slow to grow because....I don't like women.

My first female friend from church was Nancy. She got me by default. She worked on the Helps Committee, and boy did I need helps. Bad. She played the role of mentor for a while. Now she is like an older sister/mother when I can leave myself vulnerable. Nancy invited me to join the study several times. I used the excuse that it cut into my biking, which it does; and I'm a freak, which I am, and I wouldn't fit in. The truth is I still sometimes view the people I encounter at church as the Shiny Happy Christian People. Hence my reluctance to subject myself for more than just a Sunday service. The church that I go to is huge, 3,000 per service and the pastor gets alot of bad press. If you google his name you'll find people that actually think he's the anti-christ. Awesome I say.

This is what I've learned about judgement. I'm not fit to. Especially from far away. The dichotomy between what happens in that church and the negative press it receives is a chasm large enough to swallow this fuzzy mitten I live in. I attended for 5 years before I became a member. I didn't want to do anything impulsive. I mean I was trying to break old habits right? So when the invitation for bible study came again, I reluctantly said "I'll go check it out, but I can't promise you I'll stay". That first night I wouldn't even tell these women my last name and I wouldn't write in the book because I wasn't coming back. We were laughing about it Tuesday night, because things certainly have changed. My judgement was way off.

I'm still not entirely comfortable there. Nobody is I've noticed. You can tell. The study begs us to answer personal questions and lays out the opportunity to share. This is where I've realized just how much a symphony of crickets resembles some of Vivaldi's work. My desire to share usually burns under the surface, but I've never been one to jump first, especially with the Shiny Happy Christian types. This week a woman got honest. I'll try not to go into the details of her story, but I'll tell you what I shared with the group in response.

In '97 I tried to kill myself. I swallowed enough Klonipin to kill a horse. I wanted this young woman to know that no one could have stopped me, for a few reasons. One, I didn't tell anybody my plan. Two, I didn't tell any body my plan. It was obvious she was in a great deal of pain. Her veil was wearing thin. I asked her if she felt responsible for keeping him alive, and of course she did. Our leader asked me who stopped me from killing myself. To which I replied, "Nobody did. That's God's job." This poor woman is being held hostage by the living dead. I looked her in the eye and told her that no matter what happens, she is not responsible for the actions of an irrational person. I told her that people like that are sick and need help. I know. I told her the most loving thing she could do is call the authorities. There were no dry eyes in that group of women during prayer that night.

I don't mean to sound calloused about the suicidal. Experience seems to breed compassion. That state of mind is not foreign to me. Sue asked me how I recovered from it. How did I become willing to live again? Meet someone who really wants to die and succeeds. Watch in horror as his sister cleans his brains off the couch. Sort through his things and imagine you can still feel his presence in them. See the despairing relief in his mothers eyes. She doesn't have to worry about when it's going to happen again.

This is the thing with me. I can't see myself. It's hard to see the picture when you are the star of the show. When my dad came to see me in the hospital I saw that look of despair in his eyes too. It never occured to me that if I succeeded, I would have been the third child he buried. It never occured to me that my children might actually be better off if I was alive. It never occured to me that God loved me inspite of everything I had done, and was probably going to do again.

At Gregs funeral I made a descision. I decided that his life, although over in the flesh wouldn't be wasted. It could at least keep me alive even if I didn't think I deserved to be, and it did, until I wanted to be.

I want to live like I have never wanted to before. I don't mean anything spectacular like fortune and fame. I mean loving people in general. It's hard because honestly, you guys suck alot of the time, except for my few select friends of course. I went to the bike shop to pick up the love of my life tonight. As I was driving home I pondered who I was going to love besides him. I stopped at Marnies on the way home before I could delve too far into self pity. Her brothers were there doing the things her husband would have been doing. A business called asking for him. "My husband passed away" she said. I wonder if she will ever get used to saying that. I got to love on those two beautiful boys and help get them ready for bed. I loved someone today. It was a good day. Look, I realize that my knight in shinning armour will never show up with the princess water. Not in real life anyway. I might not get the kind of love that I want. I get the kind I need.

Oh, I almost forgot. My boyfriends back and there is gonna be trouble. I took him across the street to the park and ran him through the mud in the dark.


I think he liked it.