Rare Beneath

Originally written: April 5th of 2009, Sunday night.

This morning I went to church at St. Benedict’s. It was a Roman Catholic Church. It’s been a long time since I went to any service, Catholic or Christian. The difference between the two is enormous. Although I can say that today, it felt lovely to be able to acknowledge God in my life again. I’ve been pushing him away for some time now, as I have always intermittently done through the years.

Today marked a difference in my worship. Some of the songs were very familiar to me because they were the same songs I sang in my Christian church, but there the similarity ended. I knew no one in that church, save Julie who was singing in the choir and wasn’t even in my line of sight. So I had the freedom to simply do what I wished while following the routine that all Catholic churches religiously follow in every mass. It was the first time I was in a Catholic church as a grown-up and I could actually observe and understand what was going on. There were so many rules in a church like that. When everybody stood, you stood. When everybody kneeled, you did too. When everybody said something in a chorus, you had to say whatever it was as well or be silently marked ignorant or unreligious by those near you.

Of course, I felt no compulsion to say whatever it was they were saying. Most of it were memorized and meaningless to most of those people anyway. There was a rather past middle-aged couple to my left side. The woman, who was next to me, looked like the kind of matron who was rich and very concerned with appearances. She was one of those who had most of the verses you had to say memorized. I doubted whether she truly understood what she was saying. So many people there looked like rigid robots following a universal code of religiosity. There was no passion in most of them. They were probably there to see and be seen. Mainly to be seen. Church was simply a part of their reputation that they needed to keep intact.

However, there were still people there who were rather human and were truly believers in God. The other couple on my left side were Koreans. They were people from a different country but they seemed to be more sincere in being present in that church than the other couple. They never said a word through the entire mass, but somehow they listened and were less rigid in their postures.

Nevertheless, I was surprised when I heard the priest speak. He was a foreigner with a slightly British accent. I learned later that he was an Australian. Listening to him was uplifting. His voice was soothing and invited you to share in the humor of what he was saying. His homily was actually pretty simple and very short. He didn’t bore and he didn’t waste time. I doubt if the entire thing took ten minutes. He spoke of excitement and being so happy to see the Pope, likening this to the way Filipinos react when seeing an actor in person, and soon connecting the entire thought to the way the crowd received Jesus when he went to Jerusalem for the Passover during the last few days of his life on earth. He then described the way the same crowd would jeer and condemn him to crucifixion a few days later.

His message was very simple. But I don’t think the crowd got it. It ended too quickly before even I could grasp what he was trying to tell us. I’m not even sure if he intended any serious message in it at all. But he was funny and there were moments when I remembered just how Jesus died for the purpose of saving my skin and making me feel like a cad for being such a heartless child. I almost cried. Perhaps that was the priest’s message. Perhaps he simply just wanted us to remember what Jesus went through for love of us.

But the reaction of that crowd to that message was discouraging. Just like in any other Catholic mass, people showed no sign of understanding or acceptance. They all just stood there and followed those rigid codes ruling their every movement.

When the mass ended, there was no sign of a changed life, though I didn’t really expect anything like that.

But in some ways I liked that kind of service. It was peaceful and it demanded nothing from you but simple attentiveness. In being there, you were also meeting God halfway and allowing him to somehow replenish your spirit, especially a parched spirit like mine. Some people are probably destined for only that kind of worship. The kind of passion demanded by missions and by the true offering of one life to God is beyond most people.

People like me.

I still can’t believe that my bestfriend is married now. I just can’t believe it. It’s so damn unbelievable.

I still don’t know what the future holds for our relationship, but I can say that I will allow no husband, no matter how fine or true, to get in the way of our friendship.

She was my sister before she became his wife.

Perhaps I am both bitter and joyful. She seems to be quite ready for this marriage, though only yesterday I was completely convinced that she was much too young for this impossible situation.

She seemed to be truly happy, with a deeper kind of knowledge that she knew just what the hell it is she’s getting into. I have no such certainty, but I do hope that she will live her life with enough love and contentment to keep her happy and free.

I will watch and wait… And I will always be here for her.

Near the front of the church I sat and waited.  My best friend was sitting some distance across from me, facing the altar.  I was facing her and her future (as in within the next 24 hours) husband.

It was odd.  I never thought such a day could ever come.  I still can’t get a handle on what’s going on.  Everything is unreal.  That can’t be my best friend going through rehearsal for her wedding day tomorrow.  I simply can’t imagine it.  Even when the very fact is in front of my face, I still can’t figure it out.

She has always been the ‘younger’ between us, though she was almost two years older and always had more experiences in romance and rollercoasters.  I was the fixer, she was the impulsive.  She was spontaneous, bright, and unstoppable.  I was cautious, safe, and rather dull.  She was also prettier, with more self-confidence, and blessed with a dauntless spirit few can match.  I, on the other hand, was blessed with intelligence I couldn’t use on guys in our town, was outwardly quieter and rather less stunning than my best friend.

But for all our differences, we have always had one thing in common.  We needed each other.  She recognized in me some ephemeral thing she wanted to have, and I saw in her the freedom I’ve always desired.  Though now I can say that I am freer than I was and in no great need of the shining beacon she used to symbolize… well, habits die hard.  There is also the possibility that we each saw some strength in each other.  Our relationship would have crumbled if we hadn’t respected one another.

So here I am… a maid of honor.  I can’t say much for honor, but I can give maybe a 90% assurance on being a maid.  Being exposed to a lot of people wearing a godforsaken gown that makes me look like the flabbiest overbloated balloon used to qualify as THE WORST situation an insecure me could have ever imagined.  But now, it’s just one more cross to bear for my best friend. I could look like Mrs. Claus in a gold and green gown, as long as my best friend would look like a brunette Scarlett Johansson in her ivory white.

But still… She can’t be getting married!  She doesn’t have the maturity nor the foresight to even realize what she’s jumping into!  She’s simply too… unprepared.  I’m already thinking that she just allowed everyone to shove her into this position because, one: she thinks she really loves the guy (like all the other times she’s fallen in love), and two: because her parents and his were simply too hard to disappoint.

I’m sorry, buddy bridegroom, but I don’t think you’re ready either.  But who am I to maul you over with my negative and most probably extremely biased opinions?  I’m just gonna smile here and let you think everything is bright and sunny.  You guys chose to jump into the cesspit of marital disaster and you aren’t ever getting out.  So if you ever have any problems with my best friend, don’t ever let me hear of them because I’m going to come after you with a scythe, slash your guts and cut out your entrails to stink in the sun. 

I may have appeared to be less boisterous and a little bit more grounded than my best friend, but I can give you every assurance to the contrary.  I am a tigress with a wounded cub.  My insanity is beyond your realm of knowledge.  It is even beyond mine.  I am also vicious and brutal, my rage simmers just beneath the surface.  You are taking what has always been someone I consider precious enough to love, so when you make a mistake, I’ll be on you before you ever see me coming.

I give you fair warning, I am distrustful of everything that seems good and true when a man comes with the package.  There is NO SUCH THING ON THIS EARTH.  What I see now between the two of you is something I fail to understand.  But I will give you the chance to make her happy, and you better do so for her entire life.  Only then will I be satisfied that your headlong plunge into catastrophe is guided by the All-Seeing-Hand, whom I don’t understand either.

So anyway, before I got distracted by my litany, I was just going to say… May all the goodness follow you both in marriage.  I can only hope for a bright future for you….

“Perhaps my epitaph would read: “Here lies she who wandered.”

To you who have found the glimmers of your shining dreams, you who have discovered the bedrock of your futures… congratulations.

I doubt you will ever understand that the faith that made you strong, that completes the honorable part of you - that same faith that changed your life and reconstructed your jaded spirit from the rubble you cast it on a long time ago - was not enough to make me stay.

It wasn’t enough to keep me; not strong enough to convince me.

I miss you. I miss the old days of love and freedom. I miss your friendship and the color you once brought to the life I used to love… But you never made me complete… You brought me my greatest joy and my happiest days, but you never brought me peace.

And though I miss you, you must understand that I will never return to you. You are a part of my past and I will love you always. This torch inside me will always burn for you and the memories we shared. You will always be the one who tempted me and will forever tempt me to believe in Jesus the way they say we should.

But my faith will always be different from yours. Yours may be clearer and more specific, but mine doesn’t hold Him down with boundaries and definitions.

Nevertheless… my heart will always yearn for you. In sudden unexpected moments, when my memories of you would be crystal clear, I would wish that things had been different… That perhaps I should have been more accepting of the faith we were offered. That I shouldn’t have left and become the wanderer I am now. That I should have been less afraid of what I would feel for you had I stayed.

You would still be my friend. We would have gone through the same trials together. We would have discovered that innate strength that changed us, together…

But you’ve found your strength. I’ve found mine. Your mentor is a great man, mine is the world outside the one we used to know. With every wrong turn, you were corrected and remade, whereas I kept moving blindly until the walls closed in around me and I had to fight back to keep breathing.

If my faith had been different, I would have cast it away and distrusted it forever. But as it is, it cannot be taken away from me. It is too wide and too encompassing, it is impossible to be rid of it.

But in the contrariness of my thoughts and the waywardness of my ways, I have found what to me is true. I have found a place that I can stand on, something that shifts with the tide, but is always real.

I do not expect you to understand. I don’t understand you and it doesn’t bother me. I just wanted to reach out and say, “Hey.” Before I walk away.

Yes I am. Those who really know me would agree. Those to whom I am really nice to do not know who I really am.

I can be kind and generous, helpful and forgiving. But if I need to be, then I’m the sneakiest bitch you’ll ever find.

My patience is long, very long, and very deep. This only means that if you have riled me up to such an extent that I would sink my fangs into your jugular vein, then you’ve messed up big time, boy.

I may love you, I may not. But when you step over the boundaries I set and disregard the warning I sent, then I wouldn’t care who you are, I’ll make sure you get a taste of hell.

If you could know everything at the speed of light, would you choose to?

If knowledge could be given to you at the snap of your fingers, would you take it?

If you had the power to see and love the truth, would you share it?

I wouldn’t.

It is true that omniscience is my deepest desire. But when faced with the choice to have it, I wouldn’t hesitate to step back and turn around. It is not mine to take, nor mine to use. Let the God who knows all be burdened by His knowledge, for only He has the power to contain it.

But gaining knowledge, she who is elusive and contradictory, has always been my chosen path.

I could write endless stories of fiction and try my utmost to make them reflect the truth, but they would be my versions of reality, not God’s.

I have always believed that I have a willing ear and a sympathetic heart in the person of Lion (not his true name), but I discovered to my chagrin that it was an unrealistic expectation.  How could such as he possibly understand that even people like us can have problems, when the ones he has faced are much greater and much deeper than ours? 

Yet it is also possible that I am committing the same mistake by thinking this of him.

He doesn’t yet know the extent of my strength so he gives me advice that I do not need. He probably believes I am some sort of weakling… but I would understand his supposition. He is after all almost a stranger to me and I to him.

And he doesn’t understand that I merely needed to tell someone what is in my heart, to hear my own voice and discover my own solution by doing so.  I simply needed to spell it out and be able to look at the situation from a distant point of view and thus find just where something went wrong.  But no, he had to go and start telling me what I should do and how I should react, never even trying to understand why I wanted to talk to him, when it was clear that I didn’t even need his help.  I just needed him to listen.

So where does that leave us? Nowhere as always.

Oh babe.  Just hear me out please. I don’t need your advice. I’m strong enough by myself. I haven’t needed anyone for years, I sure don’t need to do that now. I just wanted you to know. I just wanted you to listen.  But you were wrong if you ever thought that I am weaker than you.  I don’t know you and you don’t know me, so please don’t judge me by the little that you do know.  Don’t put me in a box and mark it yellow, my blood is red, my heart still beats. And my mind… my mind is too wild, too colorful to be contained.

Believe.                                                                        

“Well, you think that you can take me on, you must be crazy. There ain’t a single thing you’ve done that’s gonna faze me..”

Is that confidence or what? Hahaha.

It’s strange really. When you know the battle is the fight of your heart, you just know you won’t go down.

It’s an amazing thing. Knowing that you are in control of the situation because you have every possible skill you need. No one who looks you in the eye will doubt your victory.

It’s an innate, beautiful thing. To understand within you that everything you are is what you are supposed to be.

*Song title by Bryan Adams

It’s been a crazy year. Still crazy.

Why are life quotes so popular these days?  Everybody’s trying to send “wise” and “what’s-the-right-thing-to-do” messages. 

Just the other day I received more than five messages with similar thoughts.  They were all saying “choose to be happy, live with an open mind, be couragaeous.. yada yada yada.”

They were all vague and “Desiderata-ish”.  Like people actually have time to meditate on vagueness.

I’m not saying the people who send these messages are stupid or something.  I’m actually one of those who do. And I’m stupid only on two things: Jesus and love (debatably just one).

I just get a bit tired of all the noble vagueness sometimes. Wouldn’t it be more creative and more interesting if they were actually specific? 

Like when we were kids we loved stories. Well, we still do.  And stories had plots, characters; specific, detailed. 

Couldn’t those messages actually tell stories of real men who were truly courageous? Give examples of people who stepped out, became truly different, and were truly happy? That would be incredibly more entertaining.  Unfortunately, most of us are just a little too uneducated about such people.

Or maybe we could share little moments of our own lives when we decided to be brave and discovered that there was more to us than vagueness.

As this is all vagueness.