To my inner circle this is not news, this is equivalent to saying: "Fire is hot," but when yours is the lens through which the scene is captured, it's not at all that easy. After all, I often have episodes of mental acuity not unlike the three-toed sloth... I need help.
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I remember a similar incident when I ended up confronted my beloved Coach Calculus in the faculty workroom with: "I thought you were my friend! You let me walk around with THIS in my teeth?"--pointing at my mouth's keepsake-- after we had gone out for lunch.
No; friends need to take note: true friends inform buddies of tooth boogers.
So as I'm cuddling up with my "Jesus" pillow, now freshly aware that I "should" do this because I mentioned it on eHarmony once (and thus my inner Pharisee tries to run the show), regardless of the joy and comfort I get imagining going to sleep in my Lover's arms, it strikes me: I like to cuddle.
And I'm interested in dating other women, I must be, because logically-- you don't sign up and pay eHarmony if you are not interested in dating women, so I must be interested, so why do I say I'm only dating Jesus, when I'm out there chatting on eH-mail? or am I cheating on eH-mail? Am I two-timing Jesus? Why can't I just admit it to myself? I'm such a pretender; dang it. Or maybe just a frightened little boy in a world of experienced women? It's inner dialogs like this that make Woody Allen seem a neophyte at introspection.
The Apostle Paul and Jesus both recommend staying single; am I unfaithful?
So then I have this inner-demon self-abasement [squirrel!-- I like hyphens] session where I'm wondering "..am I a spiritual slut to Jesus," because I want to explore the possibility of finding my perfect match online, and then I remember: Jesus is ok with sluts, in fact Jesus LOVES sluts in a pure, holy, redemptive, bride-honoring kinda way that only He can do, because those of us who have been intimate with Him know he will not take advantage of our vulnerability.
So I guess I'm a sorta spiritual slut that Jesus adores, because He's cool like that.
I don't know what my future holds. This whole single-thing-again is a weird gig, trying perhaps for the first time in my life to discover what would be the perfect partner for an imperfect me, but life is good and I rejoice in it's contradictions. The Paddle Partner once reminded me of a wise old sage, whose thoughts I will conclude with here, conjured from the creativity of Margery Williams:
"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
[The Velveteen Rabbit, p.12-13]
May you join me in this awesome adventure of discovery called life.
Cheers,
Jim
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