I am trying to finish this story that I started writing in December as a gift. I’ve been ruminating over it for the past couple of weeks. And tonight I sat down to write. The only problem? I think it was deleted from the computer I started it on. So I’ve been searching for it everywhere. Everywhere. I’ve looked in both email accounts. I’ve searched both parent’s computers. I’ve sifted through my notebook (and let’s say that’s a freakshow of a mess!). And I’ve come up with empty.
But one of the more creative ideas I had was researching my “friend history” with someone on Facebook (with whom I had at one point discussed the story). Well, I did not find the information I needed. I guess I’ll have to scrape up a hardcopy from somewhere. But I did find some good sweet nothings between this individual and myself.
And it was like this renewed flood of conviction. It is so interesting to me how this happens. It’s intriguing how one can go for awhile on a string of poor choices: investing in the wrong things, spending too much money on the wrong things, believing that the things of the world will be satisfying, hoping that we can play hopscotch over the line of sacred and vulgar–and for a time we feel no regret. It’s like The Voice is blocked out by the noise of the “fun” we’re having.
But then you have a moment of conviction. I mean a real moment. The ones where you feel hollow and feverish and sick to your stomach; you shake because it is impossible to contain the rage against yourself and you know you won’t eat for days or sleep for many nights. Those moments.
It’s a song. Or a word. Maybe an email. Even a short text.
And then the waves of conviction don’t stop. I was reading the history of our friendship and I saw the moments that were good. Running. Talking “book.” The time my FB was hijacked by a small child. Serving. Hearing that I am loved.
I hate conviction. But it’s good too. It just comes up in the weirdest moments and it is so infuriating. I was yelling at Caitlin on the phone last night, today I had to text her and say I wasn’t yelling at her. I was yelling at me in the midst of talking to her. I can see her shake her head and roll her eyes before she texts me back and says she wishes I was in WA with her.
And then Kyle asked me what my game plan was. What is this? Twelve steps to righteousness for Sara? I laughed. But then Hannah tells me about the troubles of a friend and another girl texts that she needs me and I know I need to figure my ish out. Because I’m startlingly empty now and I cannot love out of my selfish emptiness.
all this from a silly new app on Facebook.
Thanks Zuckerberg. Thanks for creating the social network that Jesus decided to use today for more holy purposes than even you intended.