It’s been a while since I’ve written, and while I know that no apology is necessary, I almost feel as though it’s compulsory to give an excuse for my absence. I don’t yet have the words for it, but I will do my best to try. Later.
In the interim, I stumbled across a short musing I had written early last semester. It’s wordy and written in a voice that I no doubt integrated from a book I was reading at the time, but it’s true nonetheless. That was a time that I quite enjoyed writing down what was going on with me. It is probably an exercise that had kept me sane back then. I know this because the throwback was enough to make me return here, as I’ve been trying to make myself do for the past few months. Perhaps that’s an indication that God has something to do with this – plus, it’s Thursday, the official day of the week for pensive throwbacks.
I was surprised, to say the least, to see how easy it had become to show love to a younger acquaintance, who had unknowingly disturbed my otherwise peaceful activity with her overly enthusiastic recognition of our supposed “friendship.” I was reading, thankful to God for the delicious pizza I had bought cheaply that afternoon, when she walked in with her brightly tinted “Hello!” and a rose coloured smile. Though it came to me the feeling of annoyance and a somewhat indignant dislike of her childlike character, I responded in kind, and the words that were necessary to continue the light-hearted conversation came to me unbidden. The result was a relationship that was more real to her than it was to me.
While sweet, the bitterness of the scenario was in the shock itself. There was a palpable separation between what I was saying and what I was feeling. Almost as though I was watching Jesus love her and taking internal notes, rather than taking the exam myself. When she left, I sat in minor amazement, wondering at whether what had just happened was in my head or in my spirit. The answer to that question came later during the class we have together, when she called my name to encourage me to join her workshop group. It touched me, to be sure, but my response was drowned out by the overwhelming preference to stay as far away as possible from the girl that sat on her left. The reason I disliked her, however, did not serve to justify my late reaction of a smile to the younger person’s preference of my presence, but rather brought to mind a statement of judgement that was said by my friend last week: “Perhaps the way you find it hard to love some people detracts from your ability to love others.”