an interval

Mrs Understood

A long time ago, I remember hearing someone say they had a “high need to be understood.”   I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t relate.

In the film Avatar, these fantasy beings have the ability to physically connect with each other, one-to-one, in a way that they know the thoughts and feelings of each other.   They see each other.   It’s a little corny in the film when they “hook up” and literally say “I see you” to each other, but then again, it’s my dream come true.  Instant understanding.

It was a given that in moving as we did, from Alabama to Ireland, fewer people would SEE me in my new home.  For good reasons – with no shared history and cultural differences – it is bound to take a while to build relationships where people really do get you.   I suppose I braced myself for being misunderstood in the first couple of years as I began to get to know people and understand them  . . . and hoped they’d eventually understand me.  And then, without even noticing it, I took it for granted that because I have felt that I’ve understood my friends, I thought they understood me.   Honestly most people are too polite to say if they’ve no idea what you are like.

Imagine my stunned surprise to find out that a good friend (i think?) has been harboring ideas that we actually belong to a cult and has what I’d call fears and reservations about what might my intentions might be.  Still walking around with my high need to be understood, I was more than stung with hurt.   I can see where the friend is coming from, to an extent.   But then, I was naive enough to think that my character would speak for itself.  Naive enough to think that where frame of reference doesn’t exist, somehow me being me would be enough.  I’ve avoided no questions.  I’ve been honest to the point of raw and painful.  I’ve answered the same questions repeatedly, giving the only story I have, the truth.

If anyone has EVER known me, they know that what you see is what you get.   I’m terrible at pretending. . . . or lying.   I’m me, straight up.   Ask me who I am, what I believe, what I’m about,  and I will tell you, no holds barred, simply because I’m not capable of doing anything outside of total honesty.  I’ve totally taken it for granted that my transparency is – well, transparent.

For the record, I’m a Christian, which isn’t a cult.  I’m not Catholic, but I tend to go with the Protestant label here because I suppose it’s close enough.  I’m not much on liturgy but it has its merits.  I have lots of Catholic friends, whom I love.  Some are more into God, some less.  I have some atheist friends, some agnostic friends, some Jewish friends.   I believe they can all vouch for me when I say that I respect their right to their viewpoint and I have not ever tried to force anything on any of them.   If they want to know something about my faith, they only have to ask.

We came here because Alabama, and even beyond that, the Southeast U.S., is teeming with active churches who love and serve the community as well as serving as community within themselves.  There are healthy churches everywhere.  There are people who love God everywhere.   We were just a couple of active church-going people who felt like God could probably use us somewhere else in the world where churches were struggling and the people who actively love God were few in number.   So churches and individuals in Alabama and other places, who feel that they’ve got a really good thing going with God (through the church, but not solely), have a generosity of spirit when it comes to sharing that good thing with other churches around the world.   When something is really fabulous for you, there is a tendency to want to share it.   And we two big Slates said “You know what – we’d like to go help out” and a couple of churches and load of people we know said “You know what – we’d like to make that happen.”  Call it charity.  Call it love.   It’s both.  And it happens in a lot of places, this willingness to go help out and this willingness to make that happen.  Frankly, I think the people who make it happen are spectacularly broad-visioned, kind-hearted, generous people.

Several years of exploring and one large detour from Spain to Ireland, here we are, motivated by our passion for God and the world-wide community that worships him.  But within that passion is a belief that people who want God – want him.  And people who don’t – don’t.   There is no brainwashing, no insidious subliminal messages, no hidden agenda.   We love God, we love people.  If people want God, we hope that we can point the way to him while we are here helping to build up the church.  It’s that simple.

I’m not as naive as I was last week, but then, I’m still pretty simple.  One friend said to me today, “I know you well.   Can I say one thing to you?   Crazy wife.”

That’s a little out of context, but that’s what Scott has always (lovingly) called me – a little bit kooky.   I’ll stand by that.

Today

Today, I tried to distract myself so I learned to read football league tables.  Or maybe I’ve only begun to read them.   And I had a go at analyzing team scores and thinking what that might mean in terms of playing offensively and defensively against certain teams within a league.  I’m sure there’s a science to this (-ish), but I thought I’d take my brain out for a spin and see if she can still accelerate, stop, and change directions.   That’s good for distraction.

Today, I spoke to my Mom and to several friends about some of the things that are weighing me down –  these same things that are bringing about the need for distraction.  These people love me, so even though I had to think about and talk about hard things, it was a little therapeutic.

Today I had a good walk.  I did dishes, laundry, helped with homework, went to the pharmacy, dropped something to a friend.  All ordinary stuff.  Ordinary stuff can be downright embraceable sometimes.

Last night, I didn’t sleep, really, until it was morning and then dreamt of witnessing an axe murder of a troll.   Can you say stress?   Of course, it’s quirky stress, but that’s my kind.

Yesterday afternoon, I went for a consultation with a doctor who suggested a couple of procedures that require anesthesia – one, exploratory, the other, more purpose-driven.  There is much to consider.  Not real excited about any of it, but when something is staring you in the face, you should react.  If you can.

If you can’t . . . . distract.