Small Talk

I have come to almost despise small talk.  I am bad at it. How can you hold a conversation about the weather? I can’t do it. I am horrible with “how are you?” conversations as well. Like, I’m good? No. Hardly any one is ever “good.”  There is none good but God (Mk 10:18)! People are either hurt, stressed, worried, sad, happy, fantastic, rejoicing, sorrowful, mesmerized, smitten, broken spirited, confused, or all of the above.  No one is ever “good!"  However, in a typical small talk situation, if you say anything other than “good,” people tend to think something is wrong with you.  WHAT IS THIS NONSENSE? I can’t take it.

This is why I dig too deep, too fast.  I ask people deep questions that are probably too personal.  I crave deep conversations. What can I say?  I’m good at them.  I am a pretty empathetic person, so I’m good at listening to people talk about the things that are either making their hearts rejoice or suffer. I love it. I crave it. I need it.

This blog post is a partial rant, partial apology, and partial explanation for my conversation habits. If I seem socially awkward in small-talk conversations, I apologize.  If I ask you too deep of questions, please inform me that I’m diving too deep, and I will try to swim back to our figurative kitty pool of conversations we like to call "small talk." 

I hate small talk, but I understand it is an everyday part of life that I really can't avoid.  I need to build a bridge, and get over my struggles.  Until this happens, please be patient with me. J

The Little Things

I have decided that the little things mean the most. Well, at least the little things mean the most in my life. So.. Maybe I’m a little weird! Here are a few examples:

Whenever I see a penny on the ground face-up, I smile and pick it up.  It makes my day knowing I now have a “lucky” penny.

It’s the little things in life, like a lucky penny.

Whenever I get a letter in the mail, I jump for joy and skip all the way back to my apartment. Letters are one of my most favorite things.

It’s the little things in life, like a letter.

God has blessed me with the best mother ever.  One time she had to mail me something from home, and she left a note in the package that just said, “I love you, <3 Mom!” This made me miss her so much.  I still have the note hanging in my room.  She probably has no idea.

It’s the little things in life, like random notes.

Sometimes, my roommate notices that I’ve had a bad day.  She will ask me one simple question, “Do you want some biscuits and chocolate gravy?” 9 times out of 10, I say yes.  We will make ourselves this delicious snack and talk about things. She is wonderful, and so are the chocolate gravy and biscuits!

It’s the little things in life, like biscuits and chocolate gravy.

When people hold the door open for me, I am always grateful.  I try to express my gratitude with a smile and “thank you.” It makes me upset when either (a) someone does not hold the door open, or (b) someone holds the door open for someone else and they do not say thank you.

It’s the little things in life, like a simple “thank you.”

Whenever certain songs come on the radio, I have to change the station.  Sometimes I can bear the songs when I’m riding with other people, but sometimes I have to ask them to change it. They bring back memories that are too difficult to deal with at the time; they can make me crumble.

It’s the little things in life, like the songs on the radio.

Whenever there is a daddy-daughter dance at weddings, I pretend like I have to go to the bathroom or run out to my car; anything to get me out of the room.  I will never be able to have a daddy-daughter dance.  Sure, maybe I could have one with my step-dad or grandpa or something (if they danced with me at my reception, I would be so very grateful), but it’s not the same.  I envy those who are able to have one, and I leave. I don’t want to cry in the middle of a reception. 

It’s the little things in life, like a daddy-daughter dance.

Until recently, I could not listen to the song “It Is Well with My Soul” without tearing up.  My uncle Ted used to lead this song all the time at church.  It was his favorite.  Every time I would hear this song after his death 3 years ago, tons of memories would flood my head of him singing, being happy, the way certain, mean parties treated him, the horrible grief my grandparents have to bear, and the way he looked the last time I saw him in that casket.

It’s the little things in life, like church songs.

Sure. The big things affect my life, but the big moments are few and far between compared to the little moments.  This is why I have decided to take note of these moments in life and give them some recognition.

Because it’s the little things in life, like lucky pennies, letters, random notes, biscuits and chocolate gravy, a simple “thank you,” songs on the radio, daddy-daughter dances, and church songs that matter most.

Letter to M

Hello readers! Just so there is no confusion, I wrote this a while back in reference to a time in late October 2011.  I have changed the names in order to keep certain parties confidential.  However, if you know me well enough, it will not be hard to figure out who the characters are. This is a real life story that I chose to write as a letter to M. 

I know I am not a great writer, but writing this was one way I chose to cope.  A friend of mine told me it was powerful, so I thought I would share.

So, yeah!.  Here it is:

Hey, M.

                I’m scared to get on this ride. Cody, a 9 year-old, boy from my church, couldn’t talk anyone from our group into riding the Mind Bender with him.  Not even Ben , the energetic 11 year-old roller coaster fanatic.  He’s been sticking close to his mom.  It’s Fright Fest here at Frontier City, so there are several creepy looking people walking around. I don’t blame him for wanting to stay close to his security.  I feel like I’ve lost mine, especially in the context of this ride. Although riding the Mind Bender seems like the most unappealing and uncomfortable thing I could possibly do, I agree to go with him. 

                The line is a lot longer than it was the first time I rode this. Goodness, Fright Fest has brought some serious creeps out of their hiding places.  Where to start? There are the freaks who are talking about insanely inappropriate things right behind us in line, and then there are the young teens in front of us who are so high it’s obvious.  Well, maybe it’s only obvious to me, M, because I had to work with Kent a lot last year.  He went to school with me and would show up with his eyes glazed over talking about the pills he just popped.  It was hard for me to get used to.  At least he could function.  The kids in front of us seem disoriented, and frankly, it is ridiculous. Cody shouldn’t have to hear or see these things.  Perhaps after Halloween, they will retreat back into their hiding places.

                “I hope we get through the line quickly,” Cody whispers to me. I nod and force a smile despite the fact that being suspended on the Mind Bender without you sounds horrifying. Standing in line with these strange strangers is starting to sound better than confronting the fear in my heart.

The first time I rode this ride was about a month ago, as you are well aware. You were the one who was in control, Mr. Roller Coaster Operator.  It was so cool being friend’s with the guy who operated roller coasters.  You had such a big smile on your face whenever you recognized me in line. “Hey punk,” you jokingly said to me, face beaming, eyes glimmering. Somehow I felt fearless knowing my safety was dependent on not only the ride’s structure, but also you.  I trusted you.  I screamed when the ride whirled upside down, but they were happy screams, fearless screams. I could see you smiling from the operation booth. I knew I was safe.

 “Looks like it’s our turn! Chrissy, are you ready?” Cody asks, pulling me from the tragic thoughts that have forced me to become numb.

“You’re right,” I reply softly. “Go find us a seat.” Fortunately for my sanity, the seats that we sat in last time are taken.  We get buckle ourselves into the safety harnesses. Click. Click. And off we go.

The ride starts off slowly swinging us forwards and backwards. Forwards and backwards. Forwards and backwards.  We start going faster and faster, M.  As soon as we start getting high enough into the sky, the ride starts to flip. My hands are grasping the handle bars. I do not feel safe. Uh oh, M. Now the ride has slowed down, and we are suspended in the air, upside down.  I can’t scream. Not just for Cody’s sake, but I physically cannot scream.  Choking back the tears are getting harder, M. I’m squeezing on to the handle bars as if they were the last strands of sanity I have left. How long have we been hanging here? Everyone seems to be counting; even Cody, but I can’t make a single word. “827,” I thought. “That’s how many seconds we have been up here.” GET ME OFF THIS RIDE. Not just the Mind Bender, M, but life. The ride of life is hard, and I’m done with the pain. I’m done feeling crazy whenever my friends give me the sympathy eyes. I’m done crying every time I hear a Rascal Flatts song. M…

Suddenly we’re stopping. I’m not even sure how the rest of the ride went. I opted for keeping my eyes glued shut. Thank goodness that is over. After the safety harnesses are lifted up, I run my fingers beneath my eyes real fast so Cody doesn’t see the mascara that’s trying to run down my cheek.

“Can we do that again?” Cody asks with a huge smile on his face. I’m glad he didn’t notice my little break down.

“I’m not up to it, Cody.” I say, gathering a smile on my face. “Look at the line. It has gotten ten times bigger, and we still have a lot of the park to cover.” So we get up and meet up with our group, devising a game plan. I know what I want to do, M, but you’re the only one who knows. I want to leave site and cry. Cry for hours until there is nothing left of me and I wither away.

That ride resembles my life in so many ways right now, M. You couldn’t even imagine. I have my ups and downs in dealing with you leaving. The downs are insanely painful and the ups are only times of numbness. My life has flipped upside down since you left me. It’s only been two weeks, yet I don’t sleep. I force myself stay awake to the point of exhaustion, hoping to fight off the dreams. I can’t dream of you, only to find out that you’ve left and are never coming back. I can’t concentrate when people are talking to me. Some people have almost completely stopped trying to deal with me. I don’t blame them, really.

I hope your death was painless. By the newspaper articles and various Facebook posts, you seemed to have died as soon as your car hit the tree. I’m scared to drive in the rain now, M.

                You have transformed me from being fearless to petrified all in one night. The Mind Bender made me face that, M, and that scares me half to death.  With this realization, my mind is bent.

                                                                                Forever fighting off sweet dreams of you,

                                                                                                Christine </3

Guilt is a Powerful Thing.

Guilt is a powerful thing.  It has the capability to make a person crumble into a million little pieces. It has the power to hold a person captive with no seemingly easy way to escape. It leaves a person weak and vulnerable to our adversary, the devil. If you don’t believe my previous statements, take a look at Matthew 27:3-5.

“3 Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders,

4 Saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? see thou to that.

5 And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.”

Guilt had Judas in such a strong hold that the only out in his sight was suicide. Talk about power.  This used to confuse me.  Jesus’ blood was strong enough to cover the sins of even Judas, but Judas chose a different course. How could he pass up such a wonderful opportunity?  Until I had experienced a great deal of guilt, I did not understand. Guilt has driven me to be tempted by things that I am too embarrassed to even bring up.  With this, I have a few things to say about taking away the power of guilt.

11.)    Seek Jesus forgiveness.  1 John 1:7 says that the blood of Jesus is able to cover all of our sins.  Take advantage of that.

22.)    Seek forgiveness from others.  Lean on your brothers and sisters in Christ! We are all supposed to forgive one another, and I am positive that fellow Christians will help you pick up the pieces.

33.)    Do not use guilt as an excuse to sin.  1 Corinthians 10:13 says that God will make a way of escape when we are tempted.  Keep looking for that escape! Do not allow guilt to overpower you.

44.)    Forgive yourself.  I think this is the hardest step of them all.  Think of it this way: If God forgave your sin, you should be able to forgive yourself.  I mean, it wasn't your son that hung upon the cross.  He is God’s son, so lay your burdens upon him and leave them there!

Guilt is a powerful thing, but I will no longer let it run my life.  I will not end up like Judas.

Be Careful What You Wish For..

Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.

I never understood this saying.  Why would you ask for something that you did not actually want?  Again, the truth in this saying is something I have learned the hard way.

Several summers ago I attended a church meeting in Oklahoma City.  Several girls from my home congregation were put in the same house.  Being teenage girls and all, we did what you would expect us to do.  We watched chick-flicks and ate ice cream.  I cannot recall the movie we watched, but I do remember an important character in the movie passed away. The movie was pretty sad.  All the girls were crying except me.  Sure, the death in the movie was unfortunate and all, but it did not make me cry. I remember Bayleigh, a dear friend of mine, looking over at me after she noticed my tearless eyes.  She had a horrified look on her face and asked me, “Don’t you have a heart? Goodness, Christine. You must be heartless” 

Although I know she did not mean harm by it, these words have always stuck with me.  She was right, in a way.  I had trouble relating to people. I had no idea what they were going through.  I have had a relatively easy life; I have never lost anyone close to me. Emotionally easy life, you see. After Bayleigh helped me come to this realization, I began to pray.  I prayed that God would give me the skill of empathy.  I prayed so hard and long.  I asked for him to let me not only know but feel what people were going through. I wanted, no, I needed to relate to people.  My mind could not comprehend the pain of loss.  I asked the Lord to let me experience loss. I remember praying for so extensively and intensely that I ended up in frustrated tears.  I tried so hard to understand.  Finally, I stopped asking.

God works in mysterious ways, folks.

During March of my junior year of high school, my uncle passed away.  We arrived to the hospital about 20 or so minutes after he passed.  He was still in his hospital bed when we arrived, and we were in there with him 5 minutes before a nurse came in the room to tell us he did not make it.  The pain was hard to deal with, but I asked for it.

The next loss that impacted my life happened in October.  M, as I called him in my previous blog post, was a friend of mine.  If you would like to know about some of the heartache I felt after his passing, I do encourage you to read my previous blog post.  For the sake of not being to redundant, I will not recall my pain in this post.

My point is that I have learned a great lesson.  I need to be careful what I wish for, because I just might get it.  The cost of want is high.  I realize this now.