Sunday, October 31, 2010

My Regular


The sound of people chatting filled the single and open room. An aggregation of conversations filled the air. Several ladies in the corner laughed and giggled at how cute each of their hairstylists were, a seemingly somber couple addressed a number of issues, a young adolescent and a well versed middle aged man discussed “obedience” close by, but all of this was white noise to the ever vigilant studier, Sarah Asher.

A straight “A” student, she calmly read, highlighted and “dog eared” pages in her text book. From time to time she would frantically jot down annotations in her note book and forever seal them in her mind. Occasionally her hot coffee (or tea, depending on her mood), would grow cold as she would get lost in her information overload and she would need to get a refill to re-excite her taste buds. From the outside looking in, she had her life in order. In college she was successful, in her swim team she was consistently pushing herself to be better and not the least bit unattractive. No one, however, really saw her with any group of friends, not even one. People tried to befriend her and would get rejected with walls of excuses; they would just tell themselves “it’s a necessary sacrifice for academic and physical success”, to lessen the pain of rejection. Sarah, even, would say those exact words to keep her mind off of the real reason she kept to herself, her and her books. She knew they were excuses, but as long as she told herself them, she didn’t have to think back on her horrendous childhood.

From childbirth, she was unlovable by her parents. A bastard child is what the world calls her, a beautiful creation is what God calls her. That beauty, that love was so inaccessible to her because of the walls of security she built brick by brick around her heart. Confused by the sexual abuse her father unnaturally forced on her and the lack of sympathy her mother would give her began adding up by the age of five. Nights meant for adventure stories and fairy tales were drowned in the alcohol her father consumed each night, her views of beauty, distorted by a mother who would disappear several nights a week, returning the next morning, makeup smeared. By the time middle school rolled around, she found that if she locked herself away in her room and studied hard enough, she could block out the sound of constant fighting between her two dreadful parents. Someone could be finally proud of her accomplishments, her test scores and gold medals, even if she was the one giving the praise.

The abuse and neglect continued all the way through high school. There was no prom for Sarah, there was no “girls night out”, not even a desire for communication with piers, for that was untrustworthy. From time to time, she would look up from her books while in the library to see friends chatting over coffee, but then sink back into the corner of her heart, into the walls of security, the walls of prison. She knew it was prison, she knew she was chaining herself up on the wall, further and further away from the bars that kept out pain, further into the dark.

And this is where she finds herself today, a regular Starbucks patron. Determination written on her face, shame etched on her heart. The constant books and workouts don’t fully block out past memories or hurts, she knows this, but this prison is all she’s known. All her life. It’s comfortable. It may be prison, but she calls it home, and her heart grows darker each day she spends in it.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

The Purposes


I don't know what the purpose of this first anecdote was, other than Satan trying to piss me off. And it sucked, donkey balls.

Tuesday night was the first night I got to lead the prayer room, for three hours! Three straight, flat out, no interruptions time with G-dawg. New Life Church has now begun a 7 days a week, 24 hours a day someone always praying movement. They have 56 different people praying for 3 hour periods all at different times of the week so that every minute of every day there is someone praying in the prayer room. It's awesome. I have my three hour block from 9pm to 12am tuesday nights.
It was great! Spending that much alone time with my maker was so fulfilling and I could feel Him moving! I asked God what He wanted me praying for and I got "1st hour - offering up yourself. 2nd hour - Interceding for DLA and The Furnace. 3rd hour - Praying for those who need healing (that included those who's hearts hadn't accepted Jesus). It was great time, I can't wait to do this all year, and hopefully for the rest of my life.
Then it was time to be done, already an hour past my curfew, I had to make my run to wal-mart fast, so I blitzed over to the first wallly world closest to me. My mission - to pick up 10's to 8's ear gauging rings. This walmart did not have it, frustrated I asked a representative how to get to another one. She told me I had to drive quite a ways down Academy to the wal-mart on powers, which was close by my house.
Rocketing once more down what was an urban road which I so pleasantly made an interstate by the speeds I had been commanding, I was off. Several miles down the road the lovely city of Colorado Springs began to look... sketchy. More graffiti, low-riders and baggy shorts (with which I was sure carried an assortment of illegal firearms)all at 1 o clock in the morning. This was def a place I did not want to be lost. Further and further I drove, the more fear and sweat filled my car. Finally freaking out because I didn't want to be here and the fact that wal-mart didn't seem to be drawing any nearer I made a turn towards the direction I knew my house rested. Several other turns later I found myself hopelessly lost in a neighborhood. So unbelievably pissed off, I back tracked and somehow...found myself at the wal-mart. Relieved and pissed all in one, I stormed out of my car, towards the blue building. I noticed some guy on a weird looking machine was running over all the lines in the parking lot when I realized he was re-painting them. Only too late did I notice this for when I lifted my foot to check the bottom of my sole, a huge yellow line was war painted across one of my chucks. Scraping off what I could, I made it into wally world, with not a single representative in sight to open the earring case for me. Frantically I ran all over the store until 10 min later I found someone who could find someone to help me, thank god he was high out of his mind. *rolls eyes*. I didn't get someone who could help me for another 10 min.
At last! Success! I quickly made my way to the only register open, and low and behold, it was *that* guy.
"That guy" is always referred to someone who is so cosmically placed in your life (only to ruin it) that you cannot deny the evil forces against you.
That guy is always different, depending on the location or time of day. Unfortunately , I was in Wal-mart...past midnight. He was the guy who buys every piece of useless crap on every shelf and brings two karts up to the only line available. As if it weren't enough he was "that guy" but he was also the worlds slowest kart unloader on the planet. I had but two items (earrings and new pair of shades). TWO ITEMS! He had the entire store in his kart.
After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally my turn. I paid for my crap and started walking for the door. Easy. Only when I entered the section inbetween the store and ultimate freedom, the guys who were working on the electrical system for the doors screwed something up. I was stuck for another two minutes before they could actually open the door for me, and I'm sure they were making fun of me in their native Swahili tongue.
It was a great...rough night.