How do you know that He exists if you can't use your senses to observe Him?
*****
I've been dealing with a really frustrating health problem for the past three months. I know that something is wrong, but I don't know what it is yet. I feel it every day, almost every minute.
I'm not a doctor. Even though I have the world's largest library at my fingertips, there is nothing I can do on my own to discover what is going on with me. Nothing.
*****
And friendships. How do you manage them. How do you know that your friends who are far away care about you. How is it possible to be a good friend when you are far away. Is it?
Me: "Finding good friends that live nearby is kind of a matter of faith, too."
Danny: "And statistics."
That was probably the most depressing comment anyone could make. Somehow thinking that there is definitely 1 person out of every 3 million that would totally get me and want to be my friend makes it seem even less likely. 1/3,000,000 might as well be 0.
Danny: "But you're not that unlikable."
At this I burst into tears.
Later, talking about it more he says, "Like, 1/300 at the worst. And that's totally doable. It might take a little work."
[Danny is not actually a jerk. This is his way of flirting with me.]
By the way, I originally accidentally wrote 1/3,000,000,000, and Danny looked over my shoulder and said, "Whoah, one in three billion? You're definitely not that unlikable! That's like one out of a third of the world's population! If that's true it's a miracle you got married!"
*****
Epistemology. How can you know something. When do you need to let go and trust that something which feels right is right? If you can't observe something yourself, how do you release your pride and trust somebody else?
On Tuesday I meet with the specialist and they will interpret the results of the test I just had. Either they will know what is going on, or they won't, and they'll do another test. I feel pretty helpless.
I want very much for my friends to care about me. I hope that they do. It would make logical sense; why would they endure me if they didn't like me, and how do you like someone you don't care about? When your friends are across states or continents, when you only communicate with them in silent lonely typed letters - how can you trust that they are real, that they think about you, and that they hope you stop feeling like your chest is on fire and you're swallowing shards of glass and your stomach is blown up like a giant balloon and the back of your head has a constant low buzzing ache and...?
I guess you just do?
It is easy for me to have faith in my God. It is a lot harder for me to have faith in my friends. Why should it be that way? Can't I be more trusting, more patient, more submissive? Why does my pride always force me to feel like I am unlovable? It's totally stupid. Even statistically.
*****
How I treasure a true and lasting friend.
Standing with me always to the end.
How they notice my thinnest faintest smile.
How they take me stripped of all my guile.
Inner worlding, talking mind to mind.
Sharp and witty. Sensitive and kind.
Holding steady, steering me aright.
Laughing freely. Always in the light.
Never lonely, never solitude.
No pariah. Not misunderstood.
Deepest friendship, worth beyond compare.
Lasting friendship.
Somewhere. Somewhere.
Kate: I am too old to be your friend but I do like you. When I read your posts it makes me feel sad. You sound deeply depressed. I wish I could send you more of the messages we shared when you were in High School. I hope you doctors find what the problem is and that they give medicine that will help. A person only needs five friends to feel truely loved. Things can get better if you think about the worst that can happen and see that it won't. If you talk about things to yourself as Danny talks to you. That will help you to think about something else. Do something nice for a neighbor. It can fill you with joy. I am looking forward to seeing you toward the end of September. Yvonne
ReplyDeleteThank you for caring about me, Aunt Yvonne.
DeleteI think I was more depressed when I was in High School, to be honest. High School was really rough. I went to France for a year and when I came back, nobody had changed. I had changed a lot. I started dating a great guy in my stake who shared the same exact birthday, but was a grade younger (because I skipped 4th grade). My parents really liked it because he lived an hour away :-) so our relationship was basically me laying on my back in the laundry room with my legs on the dryer or the wall, talking for hours and hours about everything.
At BYU, I suddenly realized there were a lot more people in the world like me. It was one of the happiest times in my life.
If you could see how this post was written and compare it to some of the happier-sounding things I wrote in high school, you would probably not think I'm so depressed. I was typing on a laptop in bed, Danny was reading the comics on his phone. He looked over and started talking. I was laughing - then crying - then laughing more. He helped me find a funny and appropriate comic for this post.
I feel like some of these posts are like "vague-booking" (that's the term for writing vague posts on facebook). A lot of that is because I am not good at expressing the thoughts and feelings in my heart. Unlike some people, I can't just be silent and hold them in. But they always come out garbled and wrong, with way, wayyyyyy too many words.
Looking forward to seeing you in September, too. My mom is really excited. She has been planning the little gathering at Reiman gardens for months. :-)
Don't worry too much about me. I am going to be fine. Especially after hearing from the doctor about their opinion on what is going on in my body.
It wasn't clear from the Google+ post that there was all this commentary. We are still your friends even if we are geographically incompatible - inside joke if you have read Bellwether, which everyone should. All roads lead to St. Louis if you stay with Monsanto so we are just biding our time until you guys move into the neighborhood and we can hang out with you at the neighborhood pool while the kids swim.
ReplyDeletehttps://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bellwether_(novel)
ReplyDelete