Did you know that my middle name is cliche? Well, I fugure I may as well earn it with this post. Consider yourself warned
I'd like to go ahead and claim the childbirth metaphor with Helen. Most males who do this earn the scorn, disdain, and criticism of their female peers -- oh well. Yesterday, as you may know, I emailed my SIP to Dr. Fikkert, Dr. Mask, Prof. Corbett, Asha, Ben, Peter, Bekah, and a whole slough (slew?) of people who might give me some feedback, positive or otherwise. It was surprisingly like to what I have heard about mailing baby announcements.
For a long, long time I've been calling my SIP "Helen." It was a good name in the classical, symbolic sense but also in the common, functional, sense. That is to say, it reminded me of Paris' captive Grecian bride and it made possible all sorts of cute phrases -- such as "Helen the Hellion."
The last three weeks have seen me grow increasingly uneasy about this image. Of course, I maintained the ruse during friendly discourse. "Helen and I are defining our relationship tonight," I would say. Or, "I've been working at guarding my heart with Helen, really setting boundaries." Ha. Ha. On the inside, however, I began to feel a more organic connection with this tiny little piece of research. I began to feel connected in a more vital way than I would with a girlfriend.
Shortly thereafter, contractions began. I was in serious labor for a LONG time. I forgot the names of close friends. I stopped sleeping regularly. I had strange food cravings. My fingers ached from typing and then deleting, over and over. My brain would run for miles at a time, exhausted and yet focused on THE BIG PUSH. PUSH. PUSH. PUSH. Well, what do you know? Out popped a baby! Imagine that!
Only, what does one do with post-partum issues?
I recently ran across the following email. The job it did of summing up some important truths felt this semester and last was so powerful, I felt as if I had written it to myself. Perhaps I was prjecting my own feelings, as I wrote? In reality, this email was written last October. I have replaced the recipient's name with my own and edited it a bit to keep taht person anonymous. The message is included here as a testament.
THE LETTER:
Hi, Bob.
Thanks so much for your encouraging email. It was balm-ish for me. Here's another splash of encouragement. Ready?
I really like your personality. I really like the way your face reflects the activity that goes on behind it, and the way you value a person with face and body posture when you listen to them. I like your word choice and the small chores you do to make others feel important. I like the fact that you love your hallmates even when they don't see it, and that you don't shy away from loving them even when they do see it and when they share their always-sinful stories with you. I like the fact that you're interested in my major. I like your roots, because I have lived near where you live and go back there regularly. I like your patience and keen inner vision and flexibility.
But I don't love you because of these things.
Bob, I just love you. Mostly, I guess, it's because Jesus loves me more than I am able to tell you about, and you're more like him every day. NOT necessarily in what you do, say, think, wear, know, or feel! Just in your being. Remember this morning, when I talked about being confident? I am confident that you won't crash beyond repair -- indeed, I may say that I know this. I know that you won't hurt other people past their ability to forgive and reconcile. I KNOW that you won't ever intentionally or unintentionally make God turn away from you his unending stare of delight. We have confidence because of those words you sent me from Isaiah; He is the LORD, who created an awesome environment TO BE INHABITED. And he doesn't tell us inhabitants to seek him in vain! Instead, he runs our way with mystery and incarnational sympathy as great high priest and marrow-dividing prophet and sovereign, sovereign king of us.
It is so hard to know this all the time, but the Holy Spirit used your words to whisper peace to me today. Truly ignorant am I when whoring after idols. Surely Yahweh is Lord, and there is no other. Before him all knees bend and tongues speak truth: in him is all righteousness and strength. I am found righteous in the Lord and I exult with you tonight.
When I think about how much I long for particular people in my life to just tell me a story about myself when I was younger, or to value me with a reminder that I am not a disappointment, I almost cry. Well, ok, I cry about half the time. Anyway, one thing about which I am supremely confident: Jesus loves me. I know a song about it, actually, but the words of it always escaped me until I came to college. ("...this I know, for the Bible tells me so, little ones to him belong...")
May the hope of Isaiah, when he wrote those words you sent me, and the love of God the Father be very, very real to you this semester.
Thanks for your email.
Bob
typing typing typing word
industry from within
just a little while
midnight oil
brilliant
moon
I wrote this the other night. You should know, dear reader, that my SIP is due on Tuesday. The following Thursday is my oral defense. The next day is opening night for Hedda Gabler. We have performances the 20th, 21st, 27th, and 28th. After that I have five days to revise my SIP one last time.
Last weekend I put 25 hours of work in on my SIP. Aren't you glad I posted, you lucky dog? Thanks for the love.