And Somedays, They Last Longer Than Others

I would like to start off by saying that I have no "real" justification for taking so long to update my blog. Time has been molasses over the past two weeks - well, in the way that time does, eternal days that accumulate collectively and then seem so fleeting in retrospect - but practically everything that could have gone wrong has, so I haven't exactly been bursting at the seams with encouraging words. Even my little one, who is usually bubbling with mischief and whimsy and all that is good is currently ill so I've had to find other ways to satiate my drive for adventure. Today that included going to a pro-life/pro-choice rally on campus (it's a weeklong event so Pax and I are discussing the possibility of making an appearance tomorrow) and finally tapping into some uninhibited dance moves. Yes, that's correct, I locked the doors and decided to dance. And what should happen when I went to turn on my ipod? Ah, my headphones were broken. Fortunately it didn't prevent me from seeking alternative means to accomplish my impromptu dance party but it was the straw that broke the camels back. I realize that this phrase usually carries a negative connotation, but tonight it presented itself in a much different light. I started laughing hysterically. If anything (and this comparison is undoubtedly quite presumptuous on my part), at least I can somewhat get a glimpse into what it must've been like for Job. At the end of the day though, I can sit around and mope about some misfortune that'll probably pass in a week or two - this is my first bout of true homesickness - or I can dance like a fool in my living room and say "Screw you demons! Your shenanigans have authority over me no more! Be gone with all of you!"

And if it wasn't self-evident enough, I'm learning to be more self-assured. There's something so empowering about this season in my life. While I'm still relying on the support of my awesomely patient and supportive family, friends, and boyfriend, I'm finally getting the hang of carving my own way and I'm finally beginning to hear what my own voice sounds like. Several months ago, I had an encounter with a recently divorced woman who had just moved to Texas. She accepted a temp manicurist position at a local Dallas spa and I happened to be there for an entirely unrelated thing but they were running behind and offered me a manicure to "appease" my demand for high-quality service that I both fortunately and unfortunately inherited from my father. Anyway, she and I entered into a conversation that started with the typical small talk and as I asked how she ended up in Dallas. As she began to tell me that she moved to live with her sister after divorcing her husband, I was rather quick to vocalize my general distrust of the male population (which has, for the record, since restored itself). Before I could finish listing my grievances/explaining to her the ups and downs of raising a child sans father, she cut me off rather abruptly and told me this: "I used to think that I needed to tell everyone what it was that I was going through so that they might understand or it might help to explain why I was as I was. But then I began to realize that I am who I am and I don't need an excuse for that." This statement totally rocked my world. At the time I couldn't imagine toting my precious P around, who used to take advantage of every opportunity to cry, and not making apologies and offering excuses to everyone around. (Sam - my boyfriend - once said in response to the judgmental eyes that we received upon the incitement of one of Paxton's breakdowns at some coffee shop, "Oh! You think YOU'RE tired of hearing him cry!?" I have an unyielding respect for the way that he manages to tackle stressful situations)

Today, some five or so months later, I'm finally beginning to understand what this lady meant. While obviously I'm not proposing that we approach the world with a general spirit of disregard, I do think that we should make a more conscious effort to quit attempting to explain ourselves to others. We are all existing in exactly the place that we are supposed to be. I happen to find a whole lot of comfort in the notion that we are divinely created with meticulously mapped paths. This is why I can find solace in a string of fourteen bad days because I know that He makes no mistakes.

I have a painting hanging up in my home that my Mom did for me. It reads "Don't wait for the storm to pass, learn to dance in the rain". As for me, I'm going to dance until I can't feel myself move anymore.

To splashing through the puddles,

Lauren