(For the girl I lit the candles for)

I play the “what if” game a lot and friends, family at times aren’t that helpful, they seek some type of logical explanation or try to assign blame for how life turns out – both good and bad.  I’ve realized (and it’s hard at times) that things play out the way they do, because they do.  I had many good and amazing days, and those matter.  I also can’t hide the bad years or my mistakes, but that in itself is a gift.  

We are designed to be imperfect and frail at times.  But I am really strong.  And also really weak.  Really brave and really scared.  Very human and still created in the image of God.

As I see it, one of the main goals in life (if not the primary one) is to be loved for who we are – all of it.  If you can’t get that in someone, then it’s not truly love.  I really didn’t get much of it in this life.  People loved me when I had something to offer – knowledge, guidance, kindness, protection, being funny.  I did so many things to receive love.  And although I listened to my heart, I doubted it a lot.  Earned the degrees, took difficult jobs, tried to do brave things, gave others what they wanted or needed, etc. – many times just to be loved.

This time – I will wait and be more patient.  This time with you, I will be more honest – all of it.  I showed people either my armor or silly side, but the truth is deeper and more complex.  I cannot offer you wealth, power, status.  But my heart, soul, experience is yours (and an amazing network and cooking skills), that’s most of what I’ve kept – while few in number, they are not insubstantial or inconsequential.

I don’t know if you’ll ever feel anything back, but I’m so grateful I could love you from afar.  It changed me.  It kept me alive in many ways.

(For the girl I lit the candles for)

You’re the person I’ve prayed the most for in my life.  Not only on the road, but at other times as well.  I’ve rarely prayed for others, even and especially myself.

Prayer has always been a secret and private practice for me.  In public, I often showed disinterest or even disdain when people prayed.  Part of it is poor experiences with family, at church, and with those who use prayer as a magic incantation or spell, excuse to do nothing, or a throwaway set of empty words.

Personally, I resisted praying at times because I figured that God already knew what I was thinking and needing at any particular moment.  I also generally don’t like closing my eyes and joining the crowd, as well as pretending to listen to long-winded prayers that seem to be written to impress others.

But I realized over time, I inherently believe in the importance and even the power of prayer.  Every time I pray for you, I feel the beginning of peace, alleviating of pain, and a lightening of the load.  And I really do want you to be safe, secure, and happy – as much as possible in this uncertain, complex world.  That was the intended and hoped for motivation in the midst of chaos and competing emotions.

I really like what Bono has to say about prayer – “Someone has likened prayer to being on a rough sea in a small boat with no oars.  All you have is a rope that, somewhere in the distance, is attached to the port.  With that rope you can pull yourself closer to God.”

Praying for you confirms those sentiments.

(For the girl I lit the candles for)

And here we are at the end of the world and this is where it all begins and ends.

In my life, there were always two streams constantly warring with each other – that God was all He claimed to be and the exact opposite.  There is much truth in the idea that our perceptions of God are heavily colored by our experiences with our parents.  If our parents are absent or cruel, then we believe God is too.  If they are loving and kind, then He is as well.  So on and so forth.  

Because mine were so unstable, ill-equipped, and generally all over the place, I struggled a lot with fully trusting Him.  It depends on the day, but overall and lately, I choose the stream that represents Him as good.  Despite all the difficulties, pain, and struggles, I can see His goodness.  Not all the time, but enough.  

Life is life.  

Humans are humans.  

God is God.

I saw and experienced a lot of darkness and disappointment – personally and through my professional positions, calling.  But I think that I also saw God – in the places I traveled to, the people I met, the beauty I saw, the deep emotions I felt.  The story I remember from the Bible is God allowing Moses to see a small part of Him.  After this rare opportunity and gift, Moses is changed and at peace with all he has gone and will go through.

The saving grace in all our lives is that God saw everything.  The good and bad days, the hidden deeds and misdeeds, ours and those of others.  For me, this is comforting because the past would be impossible to evaluate or sort out without a higher, divine wisdom.  Not to mention the future.

I’ll also say this, during a conversation with a close friend, I remarked and realized that even though God allowed difficult times and pain, I’ve never been seriously hurt or completely destroyed.   I’ve never broken a bone, barely been bloodied, and my soul, spirit, mind are somehow intact.

I ask Him about you a lot. And this time around, for His help. The answers I get back seem to be encouraging.

(These writings were for someone I loved for a long time. I call her the girl I lit the candles for)

I originally wanted to write these stories, reflections, musings, or whatever they are just to record them for trusted, close family, friends, and myself.  Many are the first time I’ve ever told anyone about what I observed and experienced over my lifetime – either orally or in writing.  There were few opportunities or avenues to share them.  I’ve narrated some as a teacher, but other than that, rarely elsewhere.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I wanted to write more for and about you.  These ones are just for you.  You’re either the focus or are in some way involved in most of them, but some reveal my more private thoughts on topics close to my heart.  You’re in some of the rest I wrote as the girl I lit the candles for.

At this point of the journey, I want someone to know all the things I kept hidden away, not only for years, but decades.  And for some of them, I would like it to be you.  Even when we were younger, I always wanted it to be you. I just knew – call it God, intuition, guesswork, the universe, or whatever.  So many of the car rides we had together and other conversations, I wanted to tell you so much.  You are one of the only people I’ve ever told the details of some of my casework to as well as how I grew up, my hopes, fears, and other topics.

I also wanted to know so much about you – big things, small things, deep things, silly things.  I rarely felt that way about anyone, even those who were supposed to be closest to me.  Most of the time, I was just too happy, nervous, or excited just to be with you.

I’ve written for a living – legal, academic, policy, strategy, but I’ve never written like this before.  The reason I think is because of pain.  It’s like the inadequate pottery once containing everything has shattered and now it all just flows out.  It’s also like someone else or a higher, mystical power is holding the pen and these stories are writing themselves.

It makes sense.  The powerful writing in the Bible is similar.  David on the run.  Paul in prison.  Solomon as a weary, jaded ruler.  I suspect this is true in other works of literature or art as well.  In my world, Bono and Eddie Vedder because of their upbringing and other life experiences.  And so many more examples.  The skills I’m proudest of – the jumpshot, the guitar, saving shots, catching fly balls, problem solving, and even writing – in significant part, from pain.

I have also finally found better, more appropriate words and perspectives to more accurately convey these thoughts and feelings.  Naturally introverted and sensitive, I absorbed a lot but took a lot of time to process what I saw, heard, and felt.  I wasted so many of my words, love, and energy on less important things. That has started to change.

I can’t really sing for you. But these are my songs for and to you.