neurological dryer lint

so it's 1:15 and i'm at work, our mail server stopped responding. remind me to buy remote-controllable UPS's. remind my company to give me some money to do so.

complaining about such things is childish. it's my job. and part of me really likes this part of the job, to be completely honest. i feel important and responsible, driving out to the office, using two keycards to get in, finding and fixing a problem. usually praying that God will fix it miraculously. no matter the circumstance, he always does. cue the bob seger truck commercials.

the only reason i whine about things is to attempt to garner a shred of compassion from people. poor justin. got it so hard. :) please, don't indulge me. it's not good for me. i'm fine, and things are good, and i don't have any reason to complain.

i spent some time reading through blogs and AIM profiles and other windows into my friends' lives. i see a lot of them struggling with hurt and loneliness and pain over broken relationships. what is it about the love relationships we pursue and worship that sweep our lives apart with their collapse? clearly, a bunch of stuff. the inherent vulnerability, most obviously. the expectation, hope, of satisfied needs.

the opposite end of the spectrum - the raw, bleeding void of those needs suddenly unfulfilled, the terrible pain. the cabin door bursts open and contentment is evacuated, startlingly. the labor and toil to create a solid partnership; the almost stupid ease with which it can be torn down. months and months to build a house and a tornado destroys it in literally seconds.

i remember when susannah left me in 1997. i remember never feeling like i'd recover. there was a really long period of ...

sometimes analogies become my language so intensely that i can't express simple facts. well, that's a mistake. oogh rip head off.

anyway. long period of feeling the open wound, like i was staring open-mouthed at a gunshot wound in my chest and i couldn't even comprehend what i was looking at, i was so startled. i didn't really receive any consolation or anything; mostly no one knew how. you feel that, when you look at someone who's hurting in this way - what good will your feeble words produce? you can't describe a complex battlefield such as the heart while blindfolded... you can't understand the torrent of feeling and so why try to fake it like you do?

why am i writing all this? oh. right. i guess you don't know what to say to someone. i know in my head, factually, what the cure is. telling someone that their creator will ultimately satisfy what no other thing / person / feeling can, is like telling a gunshot victim 'the doctor can fix this! really!'. useless words. experience, cohesion of soul, is necessary. how do you, then, call God 911 and have him show up in the ambulance? for those whom a relationship with God is a hobby, an extracurricular, the words are empty. encountering God intimately is the only real, lasting cure, for any ailment of our heart. the only real restoration. but like all difficult things the heartbroken, usually stubborn and closed off, will only discover this when they are ready. took me like six months initially before i'd even lift my head to hear the notion. it was so subtle, the way God crept in and comforted me with silence from the shadows until finally i was willing to see his face. perfectly executed.

to the heartbroken, you'll let him in eventually, if your desire for his intervention is merely an ember. that's all he needs. and we cannot expect it to be easy or quick, because what do we learn then?

i have learned, i think. i have a relationship greater than i thought possible between two people. i have hope and no doubt in the slightest that there is nothing we two can't get through, fix, resolve. when i was ready (not when i THOUGHT i was ready) the girl that clicked perfectly with me showed up and things have just worked since. my lord has given me much, and made me do something i'm categorically incapable of normally to get it - wait, a long, long time :) and while things aren't perfect, and she isn't my God, she is the pieces that fit into my longings for a companion. i'm envisioning a tetris analogy that i'm just going to avoid.

i wildly hoped for such a thing seven years ago. i hoped for it like children hope they'll get an aircraft carrier for christmas. and how cool is God that i unwrapped my paper and she was there, and I GET TO KEEP HER.

wow. reread, and it sounds like i'm gloating. i mean what i say above, but i'm not better or more fortunate or more loved by the almighty than anyone else. no no no. no. i think it's just how things ended up, how the pieces fell. i had my time of waiting and heartache, my valleys. some of them are behind me now. i didn't trust God, really, i doubted him a lot in this whole thing, but there was some hope. is that all we need? a little hope? can he work with that? in his own time, for anyone, yes, seems like he can. it's tough to believe when the tornado is outside every window. what else can you say? oh, cool, service pack is done installing. i'm going home :)

listening to: duran duran - come undone