It's not about Indians

So I was sitting there on the couch in my Uncle's office reading. A book. The book must have been invisible, because another attorney in the office sat down and started talking to me. I will never understand this phenomenon. He must not like to read. People who don't like to read interrupt my reading and if you want me to be completely honest, when they begin running their mouths, usually saying something that is generally not one-quarter as interesting as the sentence I am trying to finish, I want to throw my book at them. There. I said it. Anyway, I am trying to read and Mr. Bankruptcy lawyer, who often reminds me that he is doing God's work, and, as he put it today, "would be a saint if I were Catholic or dead," begins to try and make up for what he said to me earlier about Indians. About an hour before, he was talking to me about something of little relevance to anything else, and he referred to the lot of them in a degrading manner. As he walked away, off to save another client from losing everything to the people they owe, he must have been interpreting the look on my face. It told him he probably should not have said what came out of his mouth before he had a chance to reason through it...that is, if he ever reasons through what comes out of his mouth at all. So when he sits down the second time and interrupts my reading (did I mention that yet?) he asks me if I am Indian. I said yes and the conversation continues with him saying various nice things about Indians, about how his last client was surprisingly attentive and eager for an Indian. He thinks this is painting him in a more positive light to me. Then he begins to tell me about this Indian friend that he used to have who was actually a Kentucky Colonel, like the Kentucky Fried Chicken one. I think Sanders was his name. That point is irrelevant to the rest of my story, but I thought it was interesting. Anyway, this Indian-colonial-friend of his was once involved in the Hollywood scene, and had many relations with women in his old age, and that he could believe only a fraction of the stories that his Indian-Colonel-friend told, the fraction probably being close to half. This friend of his was rather nice "for an Indian" and had some pretty Caucasian qualities about him. There were a few shits and damns mixed into this part of the story about his Indian-Colonel-friend, and when they entered the picture, I stopped listening and realized that I am an adult. This attorney feels comfortable enough in my presence to flippantly throw shit out there, without the gates that usually surround the language a respectable man says around a child.

His lips keep moving, the gray hairs of his beard following suit, but I am gone. "When did this happen?" I ponder. "When did I become a real adult?" "How long have I been like this and why didn't I notice before." I have friends who have children, who are married, who are fighting a war, who own homes and cars and boats. Of course they are adults. But for some reason, I feel immune to it, as if it's all one big joke that society and history and movies and our parents play on us, kind of like the reality of death to someone who is alive and not terminally ill. And then it makes me wonder about what the definition of adult is...Webster's says, "fully developed and mature," or "grown-up". I forgot to mention that the Indian-Colonel-friend actually had Mr. Bankruptcy attorney deemed Colonel by the governor of Kentucky...which would make him Colonel-Bankruptcy-attorney…again, irrelevant. So, in the Colonel's eyes I am an adult. In my parent's eyes, I am adult-like with a few shortcomings. But in mine, I don't know that I will ever be an adult...I will probably be eighty-three sitting in a rocking chair, listening to the oldies on whatever music playing device that has been developed by 2066 - by then maybe Jack Jonson will be considered oldies - and I will be wondering when I will reach adulthood.

When I think of grown-up, which was the second part of Webster's definition, I think un-fun, responsibility laden, no-time-to-sit-and-enjoy-a-cup-of-tea-or-the-smell-of-the-rain because there are too many things to get done...and if that's the case, I don't ever want to be a grown-up. Maybe that's why I work at Starbuck's making $3 an hour, despite my bachelor's degree, and not in an office. Maybe this post just affirms the suspicion I have been having that I need more therapy. It also may be that I live with my parents during this current season of my life, which makes me feel like a child most of the time.

It's funny. I am going to bed early tonight because my alarm will go off ate 3:45 tomorrow morning so that I can be there by 5 AM. If that doesn't make me feel like an adult, I don't know what will.

I heart Anne's books

I just finished Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. I swear, her talent for writing truth about life and faith is a part of her DNA code...it's like she has perfectly written little paragraphs floating through the blood in her veins. That sounds a little morbid, but I believe it. I always feel more hope after finishing something she has written...it's like she has subtly sprinkled it with magic fairy dust that is invisible to the naked eye, and that you can't see when you are in the midst of it, but when you close the book to move onto something else, like say laundry, you just feel more optimistic about your lot in life and more optimistic about who God is. This is what one would call a recommendation.

I think I could post about her writing for a year and not run out of inspiring material...but I won't, because it would be more beneficial for one to just go out and read something she wrote, instead of my take on something she wrote. But I want to write about something...she is writing about taking things day by day, and about what you do when you need to forgive someone (her mother) or someone else (president Bush), and she says she is going to go for a walk to the library, because the library "makes her think kindly of her mother" and that she has "found sanctuary in libraries" her whole life...the line that struck me about her walk to the library goes like this..."I am not sure if this will lead me directly to the soupcon of forgiveness, but you never know. You take action, and the insight follows". I love how that helps the steps that I am taking in my own life...my last post was about the wrong equation most of us live by. Key for me was the realization that I can't just change it all on my own, that I have to open myself up to being transformed by God (there is quote in the book from Anne's pastor that says that much more eloquently than I did...pg 225 if you want to look it up)...but on the other side of that is the work that I do have to do...that He is probably not going to reach down and wave His magic God wand and transform into truth every false lie that I have always believed, ensuring that I will never have to look back or fall back into the ditch. I wonder how I change it, how do I stop the negativity, the self deprecation, stop the thoughts that drift in out of nowhere, while I am folding clothes or filling someone's cup of coffee, or starting my car? "You take action, and the insight follows." So lately, I have been asking myself this question...If I really was excited about my person, if I was thrilled with God's decisions in making me who I am, what would I do, what would I wear, who would I call, what would I eat? What actions would I take that would help the healthy insight about myself follow? Well, I would not wear a sweatshirt and jeans every day to hide each "flaw" that resides underneath and I would accept a friends invitation to meet for coffee even if she hasn't seen me since I gained this last ten pounds and I wouldn't eat a cookie every time I felt alone or tired or loathsome. Nor would I keep myself from ever eating a cookie. So I am praying that God would help transform my heart's feeling about me, and letting Him know I believe He can. And I am putting on my cute khaki board shorts with the button on the bottom and going to work.

The Real Us

I talked to a friend last weekend about my troubles. Mainly my inability to be content with me on a regular basis. She went through some kind of intense spiritual equipping program a few years ago, and we dug out some of the notes she took during that period of her life. Much of it was truth I needed to hear. I thought it was worth sharing.

the wrong equation so many of us live by (especially including me):

what I do + my successes at what I do + what you think of what I do (how you rate my successes) = who I am

the right equation:

I am made in the image of God + I am loved uncausedly and unconditionally by God + I can respond to Him in obedience and know Him = who I am

This is the equation I am supposed to operate from.

"We have to have our identity based on the fact that we belong to and are loved by God. The reason you are loved has nothing to do with your efforts. You are loved by God because you exist" and inversely - you exist because you are loved by God..."Man was intended to have his identity in this love"

"The reason we feel inferior is because another outside voice entered the picture that wasn't God's and told us the lie that man is autonomous."

"We operate out of this lie and instead of choosing God we become ashamed of our belief in the lie and our failure to succeed in life. Instead of saying that the lie isn't true, we live in it, stuck in it. We try to make the lie work and believe it is true. Instead of choosing a new base for ourselves" - and opening ourselves up to God to help transform the lies into sustaining truth - "we try to improve upon it and make the lie base work. It never will. We will never be able to handle life independenlty from God." I don't completely agree with the last sentence. I think we can handle life. I just don't think we can thrive in life or find true contentment and joy in life apart from God. Who wants to just be able to handle life? That sounds pretty sucky to me.

I know some of this can seem pretty elementary and it's like, "duh, meredith," but seriously, I have known this for some time but have not been able to truly claim it. But all of the surface struggles I have in life are rooted in something bigger...the lie...and the fact that the daily struggles are rooted in something that isn't even true, and yet I still operate from...it makes me sick to my stomach. Identity is such a huge cornerstone to fulfillment and mine has been based on fine grains of sand sliding down a ginormous mountain that sits atop an enoumous fault line...seriously...I have got to get my priorities strait.

We also talked about how this happens, how we begin to base our identies on the stability of God, and stop believing the lie. Knowledge is not enough. I have had the knowledge for some time. A friend of my uncles that came into the law office the other day said that if you are a parent and you tell your child from an early age that black is white and white is black, they may grow up and find out the difference, and be corrected by a good hearted teacher, but they will always question it in their heads...as an adult, they will always look at black and wonder if it is indeed black, or if maybe it's white. I think that is a lot like this. I may be told the truth, but I still wonder. I think a lot of it is discipline, telling my brain to stop being negative when a worthless Meredith thought pops into my head. But I have to believe that part of it is opening my soul up to the Spirit of God and telling God that I believe Him and asking Him to work it out, that I trust Him to do it, that I believe He will do it, that I am worth enough for Hom to take the time to do it, and that I will be here for back-up...to try and buff some rough spots I encounter along the way.

I am off of work tomorrow. I really enjoy my job, especially the part where my schedule is not 8 to 5 and sometimes, I just have a thursday off. I like not viewing the week as this structured thing where I long for Saturday and Sunday...I like to think of it as an even playing field.