The Seeking Daddy Project Day 18: Tuesday.

It's Tuesday.

A random, run-of-the-mill, nothing-special Tuesday.

Is God in the mundane?

The softness of my sheets when I wake up.

The sweetness of the green juice I drink every morning as Lottie eats breakfast.

Indulging in McDonald's for breakfast because the sales manager brought it for everyone.

Conversations about work, about our dogs, about our lives, with my coworkers.

Lunch outside, shivering a little as we try to get some fresh air.

Accomplishing something pretty great at work today.

Filling up my gas tank on the way home.

Cuddling and petting Lottie after a long day away from her.

Playing games on my iPhone with my aunt, 300 miles away.

Our evening walk, up and down and around the subdivision.

A single whiskey-and-lemonade to end the night while watching TV.

Snuggling in bed with my little girl, another day drawing to a close.

Does God care about these things?

Is He here, on Tuesday?

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 17: Justice or mercy?

“I sympathize with the correctional officers,” Tate declared.  “They have to deal with that insanity every day!”

I stared at him in disbelief.

At long last, on Saturday afternoon, I’d gotten him to watch Orange is the New Black, which has become my new favorite show.  He agreed to watch one episode, and I picked my favorite:  it’s about six episodes in, where the inmates hold elections to represent them to the officers, like student council.  Prison surroundings or no, it’s just brilliant social commentary – and hilariously written, in my opinion.

It might be a coincidence, but the timing of Orange couldn’t be better for my emotional well-being.  As one of my best friends is in prison now, in a similar Federal camp like the one that inspired Piper Kerman’s memoir, I’m keenly aware of the broad strokes of truth in the show - even if the relationships are dramatized a bit.  Since my friend’s situation was the result of ignorance rather than malevolence, and he’d be a functioning, productive member of middle-class society were he not there, I’m all the more invested.

Tate, though, sees it differently.  As a 7^th grade science teacher in a, shall we say, rougher neighboring city than Raleigh, especially since he’s a generally mild mannered gamer guy who looks remarkably like Harry Potter, he has to deal with tough, disobedient, mouthy kids on an hourly basis.  About a third of the way through the episode, watching the caricatures of inmates of all races, backgrounds, and education interact, it became too much for him and I had to turn it off.  He said it was like watching his students.

“Look, I deal with kids just like that every day.  They get put in prison because they did something wrong, and then the officers have to keep them under control.”

“But…didn’t you think it was funny?”  I was so disappointed.

“They’re not that smart.  Those are just well-written versions of who they really are,” he said flatly.  “Of course, the officers are all mean and evil because they have to enforce the rules.  Well, how about don’t do something to get sent to prison in the first place?”

“But they’re still people!”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean the officers are bad.  They’re just doing their jobs.”

My feathers were ruffled.

Tate’s job is very difficult, and it changes him in tangible ways that I’ve already become keenly aware of in our five months of dating.  Over Christmas break, I wondered who this giddy boy was and what he’d done with my usually more serious boyfriend.  The stress that often hangs over him was gone, and he became lighter and more joyful all throughout those couple of weeks.  Since it’s not my first time at the rodeo of dating a teacher (not to mention that both of my parents are educators), I get it, and I don’t hold it against him.  It just saddens me.

Our conversation left me thinking – who gets the mercy?  Who deserves the clemency?  Do the correctional officers deserve sympathy, whether or not they’re short-tempered and unfair?  Do the inmates deserve pity and leniency, since they’re already in such an awful, dehumanizing situation?

Does it have to be polarized, or should both sides get some slack?

On Orange, some of the correctional officers are simply horrible, abusing their power and using the inmates to further their own selfish motives.  One such instance even results in a young girl’s death, among other tragedies.  I don’t doubt that, similar to the rest of the show, the underlying, broad strokes of these events ring true in real life.

I’m a bit of a bleeding-heart liberal, as Tate often teases, citing the cycle of poverty, the lack of role models, and the virtual imprisonment of abusive situations as many of the reasons many inmates end up incarcerated.  I combed through Piper Kerman’s book with vigor when I first got it, and did my share of research outside of the book as well.  

But I also know I’m biased, and situations like my good friend’s aren’t always the case.  Sometimes there is malicious intent, sometimes the law is knowingly and purposefully broken, and sometimes the punishment is necessary.  The man who terrorized my neighborhood early last fall, holding several women at gunpoint and kidnapping them to rob them, comes to mind. 

So who deserves grace, and who doesn’t?  Or do we all?  

And who measures who gets how much?

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 16: Back where I began.

This afternoon, Tate and I went to see Les Miserables in downtown Raleigh, because he'd never seen it live before and my roommate is an assistant stage manager for the show.  Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day!" quite like a tragic musical about the French revolution.

I love the show for the most part, mostly because of how introspective it is, especially about God.  I saw the movie three times in the theater (and I rarely go to the movies these days).  I was fully expecting to post part of Fantine's "I Dreamed a Dream" for my blog post today...and then I heard other lyrics that struck me even more.  The women sing this as they clean up in the aftermath of the massacre at the barricade (emphasis mine):

Nothing changes, nothing ever will 
Every year another brat, another mouth to fill. 
Same old story, what's the use of tears? 
What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears? 
Turning, turning, turning, turning, turning 
Through the years. 

Turning, turning, turning through the years 
Minutes into hours and the hours into years. 
Nothing changes, nothing ever can 
Round and round the roundabout and back where you began.
Round and round and back where you began.

I couldn't have said it better.

Sometimes this merry-go-round I call belief feels like an exercise in futility - especially when I inevitably end up right back where I began.

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 15: I was wrong.

Some days, as I predicted would probably happen, I have so many words and yet none at all.

This poem's been swirling around in my head for days, so I'll let W.H. Auden say it the way I can't.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 14: The benefit of the doubt.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

It's only the second year out of all of my 31 that I've had a boyfriend on Valentine's Day.  I'm very excited for our weekend plans.

However, since I have spent 29 Valentine's Days without a boyfriend, I had instead to find love elsewhere; and in many years past, I found that love - that comfort, assurance, peace, and joy - in Daddy, God.

This year is different.

This year I feel estranged from the source of love I could always count on.

I was on the phone last night with a close, faithful friend who knows my story, and who himself has also been led by God into some of these same mountains and valleys.  I listened to him in silence for awhile as he talked about theology, his church, and some of the issues therein that he's dealing with right now.

Then, even though he knew already, the words came tumbling out - about this blog, about how far away I feel, about how  I don't understand how God could let this happen.  How, even worse perhaps, He would will it so.

My friend knows my hurt personally.  He's been through it before.

"That's really tough, I know - believe me, I know," he said finally, after a few seconds of silence.  "You just have to keep trusting Him."

I'm a big believer in giving people the benefit of the doubt.  I do it almost to a fault.  It's part of the reason I'm in this situation in the first place, frankly.  To the people I love, I'll continue to give grace upon grace upon grace, whether or not they've shown they deserve it or can be trusted with it.  I fully admit that I give people the benefit of the doubt probably well after I should.

God showed me grace when I didn't deserve it, so how can I not give it to others?

There's always a moment, though - a moment that is enough.  A moment where I have taken it on the chin one too many times and I can no longer bear it.  A time when I feel like I have to stand up for myself and say not this time.

I don't think it's supposed to be the same with God, though.

You just have to keep trusting Him.

I hope I can someday.  For now, I'll keep seeking out what that really means.

I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently find me. -Proverbs 8:17

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 13: Breaking through the ice.

Snow is many things:  it's inconvenient, it's cold, it's dangerous.  It's also beautiful and reminds me of my childhood, of long winter days spent sliding down the hill in our backyard, of warmth and hot chocolate and time with family.

But what I love most about snow is that it tends to make everything go quiet.

Raleigh is closed down today.  When Lottie and I went out earlier this morning, she skated back and forth across our tiny yard, her barely 6 pound body not able to break through enough to give her balance.  I had to stamp out a circle in the ice for her to be able to get the necessary traction to do her business.

It started snowing pretty steadily again about two hours ago.  When I took Lottie out for her afternoon constitutional, snow evenly falling all around us, the quiet hugged me like an old, familiar friend.

These days, I feel like there's so much noise - well meaning noise, but noise nonetheless - from friends, family, and everyone around me.  I can't get a word in edgewise.

You should go back to church!

You shouldn't care so much about the past.

You should do this or that or this and that to further your writing career.

Why aren't you doing it?!

Why are you letting this stuff get you down?!

Except, of course, from God.  From God, I hear nothing.

After Lottie finished, she wanted to go back inside immediately because she was cold (and, I suspect, she kind of hates her coat).  But I didn't.  All I wanted to do was stay outside.

So I put her back in the house, pulled on the boots I got to tramp around the Renaissance Festival two years ago, turned on some music, and went back outside.

I walked up and down the sidewalk as the snow fell around me, breathing the cold air in deeply and relishing every moment of the snowy hush.  I traced a pattern along the sidewalk in my subdivision, stopping occasionally to take pictures or to let the lyrics that were playing sink in.  I walked until my hair was soaking wet; until the snowflakes were sticking to my eyelashes and I could barely see.

A tree with tiny buds, now frozen over before they could bloom.

Up and down I walked, all by myself, enjoying just a little bit those moments when I had to stomp down hard to keep my footing firm.  It felt like a decision every time - a decision to keep walking.

I was breaking through the ice.

The Seeking Daddy Project Day 12: SNOW!

As you might have heard, Raleigh is suffering under a huge snowstorm right now.

Around noon, it began to flurry, and in a flash, it was full-on snowing.  Our office closed, and a very sweet and obliging coworker of mine with a 4-wheel drive SUV offered to drive me home, as my house is on the way to his apartment and I drive a Ford Focus.

The 9-mile trip took about three hours.

Three. Hours.

In that time, every exit we took - every way we tried to get to my house - was blocked by accidents.  Down the off ramp from the highway; on the side road we took to try to circumvent the exit; people swerving and stalling and getting stranded all around us.  I've never been so scared in a snowstorm in my life - and I'm from Pennsylvania.

At one point, after we realized we had turned around twice and were trying to think of another way to get back to the main road, I started to panic.  We're not going to make it, I thought.  I was in a dress and a cardigan; my tights were super cute but not at all what you'd call warm.  I hadn't eaten since breakfast; we had no water, no food, and everywhere around us people were stranded, cars sideways, four-ways flashing, getting out of their cars and walking.

For the first time in a long time, I started to ask God for help.  Please get us home, I whispered inwardly.  Please don't let us get stranded.  I'm so scared.

I tried not to show my friend how terrified I was, but he sensed it and put his hand on my arm.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.  "Don't worry, we'll be fine.  I'll get you home."

The exit off the highway.

No one could get up the hill.

When we finally pulled up to my house about half an hour later, I struggled to blink back tears of relief as I thanked him.  I don't know what I would have done otherwise.

Sometimes my prayers are answered when I don't even realize I'm praying. Grace surprises me sometimes.  And so it should, I suppose.

"I'll get you home," he said.

And he did.