Returning to "Me"

Listen.

Slide the weight from your shoulders.

You're afraid.

You're afraid you'll forget.

But you won't.

Move on.

Move on.

Move on.

Walk forward [into the Light]

--adapted from The Poisonwood Bible

In the fall of my senior year at William and Mary, my sister asked me to be in a quartet piece for her group choreography class.  She adapted the words above from a longer passage from The Poisonwood Bible and had each of the dancers speak a portion of the text during the piece as we danced to illustrate a community rallying around a grieving friend.  Like the friends of Job.

And I don't know why, but the words "Move on.  Move on.  Move on" and the choreography associated with each phrase has been running through my mind all day today.

The rest of this post will probably be rather cryptic.

And that's okay.

Just wanted to give you all the heads up.

Something to listen to while you read:   Music from Sarah's Quartet Piece (composer: James Horner)

* * *

I have been so very lucky to be surrounded by stellar friends and family these last couple weeks -- dear dear hearts who continue to shower me with love, support, encouragement, and continue to speak Truth into my life, even when it is hardest to hear.  The Lord certainly gave them the words I needed to hear, and I have been so convicted by them:  "Jess, do not be bitter."

When more than one person tells you the same thing in a span of 48 hours, there is a realization of "ah-ha, this is probably important."  For me, this moment was when almost everyone I spoke with advised me not to give in to bitterness.  Why?  As one friend aptly put it, "Jess, that's not you."  And she's right.  It's not me.  I am not a bitter or angry person; I usually find it difficult to remain angry.  I needed, and need, to be me.  But I don't feel like me.  And being bitter is so easy, so much easier than processing the hurt and the pain.  It gives me something to hide behind.  But it's also blinding.  I didn't even realize how small I sounded talking about what had happened.  She isn't his little girlfriend; she is his girlfriend.  And he loves her.  And his decision deserves respect, even if I find it so very hard to give.

I never thought that there would be a time where the memories of good times with him hurt just as much as memories of hard times.  But now they do.  And I don't know when it'll stop hurting.  Sometimes I don't even want to remember and think that it would just be easier to forget.  To forget everything that ever happened between us.  But I can't.  These memories are a part of me, just as much as they are a part of him.  I hope he remembers.  And someday, I'll want to remember.

I want to move on.  I keep wondering when it will happen.  I think hearing the words from Sarah's quartet piece over and over again in my head is my heart urging me to move forward.  I'm so sick of the cycles of feeling sad, angry, wounded, frustrated.  I desperately want to be "me" again.  I need to be me.  Bubbly.  Optimistic.  Laughing.  Sunshine.  Joyful.  Excited about Life.  I feel like it was a million years ago that I was carefree and an abundance of laughter.  It was really just last week.

I was incredibly blessed the other night to stumble upon the notes of encouragement my teachers left in my high school senior yearbook.  Voicing high hopes for the future and commending my passion for life and thirst for knowledge.  Reminding me that I am driven and capable, and even more than that -- that I have been given gifts for a purpose.  Such sweet, gentle reminders of who I am, even if they are from so long ago.

I know that in all of this, the Lord is using it for His glory.  That somehow, He's using this to shape me and teach me of His almighty power and never-ending Love.  That His plan for me is infinitely more perfect and beautiful than anything I could have ever planned for myself.  Even if I don't understand how or why.  As my dear sister Cathy said last week, "We think our lives end at Chapter 7, but you know what?  God's story for us is 20 chapters long.  There is so much more planned for you than you could ever plan for yourself."  Or something like that.  I about started crying in the middle of the library.  Praise the Lord that I am loved by the great Author, the God of all comfort, and surely He will heal my hurts.

It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.

-- Sam, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers [film]