We moved into our current apartment on August 15th, 2009. We had really wanted the apartment next to us, which had hardwood floors and a new kitchen and clean carpets, but it was $50 more a month and wouldn't be ready until the 30th of August, which was $50 more than we could afford and two weeks more than we could wait, so we took this one. It isn't bad, or at least it isn't impossibly bad. It's the sort of bad where you don't care if your baby throws up on the rug in the hall and it leaves a little stain. You know, that kind of bad.
Anyway. At the time we waited to see who would move into the great apartment next door to us. I was particularly interested because the word on the street was that it was a young married couple and I had no friends in this new town and was very hopeful that she might be my first. David never shows the slightest interest in our neighbours no matter where we live as long as they don't make any noise under any circumstances and don't eat smelly food. But I cared. I cared A LOT.
They moved in a few weeks later and I got to meet them. Let's call them Bob and Clair. They seemed very nice and a little shy but that could have been my exhuberance. And then we barely saw them. I mean every time we did they were very nice and everything, but they made no effort whatsoever to become friends. I felt myself going a little crazy whenever I ran into Clair, actually. I would become this overly animated, uber-interesting gal about town, essentially the polar opposite of who I really am, in an effort to appear effortless. The two times I found myself in their apartment (both times were flukes, really) I was so uncomfortable, so stiff, that I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. If only Clair had made some friendly gesture, some open-ended invitation up for coffee or something. But she never did. And I never did. And a year later Bob got a job in the States and they moved away.
New story: Today I wound up using a software program that randomly selects a Saint for you to have for the year. The idea, I suppose, is to learn more about a Christian you didn't know much about before, to gather courage and inspiration from someone in the past, and, if this is something that you believe in, to ask for prayers from your patron saint of the year. I thought it sounded fun and my randomly generated saint popped up as Saint Catherine of Siena. I scrolled down to see what she was the patron saint of, and my eyes glued to one specific thing. She protected those who were ridiculed for their piety.
Believe it or not that hit below the belt for me. I have known for way too long that my love of friendship and comraderie with others, Christian or otherwise, is a dangerous desire. I wanted to make friends with Clair so much that I stopped even being myself around her. Saint Catherine of Siena would have had no use for me, I'm sure. Those who are ridiculed for their piety are those who are so immersed in their God that they have no use for how others see them. They are who they are, they know the truth to be the truth, and forget the rest. I am not that woman, I'm afraid.
And so, although I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, I'm making a New Year's Prayer-olution. I'm going to do my best this year, my utmost, to be, under all circumstances and in the presence of all people, the woman God wants me to be. It is going to be a hard slog for me, I assure you, and I encourage all of the readers out there to look within themselves and ask what aspects of their personalities are less than acceptable to Him, and bring those up to snuff. Are you a slave to little white lies? To gluttony? To avoiding your chores? Have you come to accept some sins as just part of life and unavoidable? Think on this.
No comments:
Post a Comment