Good for the Soul

"And since your history of silence
Won't do you any good
(Did you think it would?)
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don't you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out..."

~ Sara Bareilles, "Brave"

Yesterday I did something very brave and very wonderful. A brief conversation that I dreaded and feared, but nonetheless broached, symbolized a huge personal breakthrough for me. I made a much-needed confession that relieved a yearlong burden from my spirit and mind. I knew what I needed to do (there was no question about that), but I was afraid of the possible outcome of that decision.

So what did I do? I informed an official (there is no pastor) at my small-town ultraconservative church that I will not apply for membership (despite faithful attendance and tithing during the past five years) because I've realized my political and social beliefs (I support gay marriage, gasp!, for starters) do not align 100% (or at all) with those of the church (and most likely those of its attendees). 

I'm not sure what response I expected, but I feared the worst: a religious debate (which I hate) and confrontation (which I hate even more) focused on why my beliefs were wrong and/or being asked to leave the church. (Heck, I probably expected the church's walls and ceiling to crumble around me and a bolt of lightning to strike me dead for expressing my shockingly liberal (for this church) views.) It's funny how we build these things up in our minds, isn't it, allowing fear to fill in the blanks with unsettling imaginings. 

The response, though, was so much different from what I feared. The church official (or HGIC - Head Guy In Charge), whom I like despite his near-weekly anti-gay marriage rants from the pulpit (as a "good" Christian, I try not to hold his sin against him ;) ), surprised me by saying that he understood completely because church membership is a huge personal commitment that should never be made lightly. 

He didn't ask any questions, but I went ahead anyway (I was ready for this!), adding the reason why. He shocked me again by saying it was great that I was thinking for myself rather than allowing a church to dictate my beliefs. I told him that as contradictory as it might sound, I like attending the church (despite its narrow-mindedness) and I like the people who are there (who, though narrow-minded in some of their beliefs, are remarkably welcoming and accepting in spite of them). I have no intention of leaving the church (I mean, even if I wanted to, where in my small, rural area would I find a church that doesn't subscribe to some outdated, small-minded beliefs, without driving 100 miles every Sunday?), but I cannot, in good conscience, become a member of it. 

(Thankfully, I wasn't asked to elaborate on my differing political and social beliefs, so the feared confrontation failed to come to pass. That's a very good thing. I think the walls really might have buckled and someone might have fainted if I'd dared express support for gay marriage in that building. Baby steps for all of us...)

It might not sound like a big deal, but for me it was a very, very big deal. I know it's not a conversation or a subject that I would have initiated a year ago or even a few months ago. But I've changed a lot during the past few years; I've become more liberal and more open-minded. I'm no longer the conservative, closed-minded Christian zealot who blindly followed my church's teachings throughout most of my twenties. 

And, to be honest, those changes haven't been quick or painless. It's so much easier to maintain the status quo, even when it's stale and unsatisfactory, because it's more comfortable than questioning beliefs that you once mindlessly accepted. (Perhaps that's where my church's attendees are right now, where I was a few years before.)

I freely admit, now in hindsight, there was a direct correlation between my religiosity and my judgmental sanctimoniousness. The more "Christian" I was, the less loving and accepting I was. I'm ashamed now to think of the restrictions those self-imposed chains placed on my life. But the past has passed. (And as I stated in my 2014 resolutions post, I'm determined not to dwell on it.) Now that I consider myself more spiritual than religious, I'm more concerned about my character than my image. I want to become a better person, someone other people like, but more importantly, someone that I love.

Today, I feel so relieved and so proud of myself. I didn't choose the path of least resistance this time. And beyond that, I learned important lessons about myself and other people. I'm braver and stronger than I give myself credit for being. I'm also learning how good confession (to yourself and others) can be for the soul. It's okay to be honest and vulnerable sometimes; the result can be liberating. 

And sometimes, when you expect other people to judge and shun you if you show them who you really are, as I've come to expect from Christians, they surprise you with their acceptance and understanding, which makes you think you should, in turn, be less judgmental of them. I think I need to work on accepting them as they are right now, as I hope they'll accept me as I am, regardless of whether we ever agree 100% on social and political issues. And in that acceptance, find compassion, understanding, and some sense of unity. Exactly what I believe Jesus wanted for us.

Maybe they (and I) will grow more from our coexistence than we would from our separation. Maybe there's hope for us yet. Maybe they (and I) are more Christlike than I thought.

Waste Not

One of my strongest, most significant identifying quirks (of which there are many) is my extreme frugality. I've always been thrifty and sentimental, the result being that I spend carefully and infrequently, and when I do, I try to hold on to those possessions for as long as humanly possible. 

I second guess nearly every purchase (from toothpaste to tomato sauce to clothing to vacuum cleaners) and feel guilty whenever I spend what seems like a lot of money on something, especially when I don't really need whatever it is. I try to buy everything on sale and use coupons whenever possible. 

That's how I was raised, for one thing. My family was never poor, but I'm not sure if I knew that as a child because we shopped at thrift stores, my mom spent hours clipping coupons, my parents seemed to count every penny they had, we made few if any big purchases, aside from  a new car every few years and a satellite dish, and Thou Shalt Not Waste Food was one of my family's staunchest commandments. (If we didn't eat it, it went in the fridge as the following day's leftovers. Try as I might, I'm still, 20 plus years later, unable to waste food unless it's spoiled or moldy. I'll eat something I don't enjoy, gritting my teeth as I chew and swallow each awful bite, before I'll throw it away uneaten.)

Those thrifty practices have not only stuck with me but been reinforced by years of college-student poverty and post-college underemployment as an adult. Thankfully, I'm now on firmer financial footing, but I'll save a buck wherever and whenever I can. Ninety percent of my wardrobe is thrifted, and I drive a 10-year-old car and watch 15-year-old TVs. (Obviously I live by the rule of not fixing something that isn't broken.) I own nothing of any real significant value, but I'm ridiculously sentimental about what I do have. 

Last weekend, for example, I stopped at Goodwill (my idea of shopping heaven) and purchased two gently-used handbags ($5 each!) to replace a two-and-a-half-year-old purse with a torn zipper and frayed handles and a stained, worn-out two-and-a-half-year-old beach-type bag that I used as a lunch/assorted crap tote. Both selections were a huge stylistic upgrade over their predecessors. 

But when the time came to chuck the old bags? I was nearly in tears at the prospect. I tried bargaining with myself by reasoning that perhaps I could get a little more use out of them. Maybe I should keep them in my closet just in case. But I knew what needed to be done (and I knew I didn't need any more junk cluttering my closets). So I did what needed to be done. It was painful, but I think it built character (isn't that what we always tell ourselves in a futile attempt at solace?)

I'm glad I'm almost pathologically frugal, and I probably wouldn't alter that quality of mine even if I had a choice, although it does occasionally dampen my enjoyment of life's finer things (or negate it altogether). 

(Perhaps I should add making an expensive unnecessary purchase or throwing away uneaten food without guilt to my list of 2014 resolutions?)

Resolutions

Two weeks ago, I sat down and reflected on the year that had passed and pondered the year ahead. At that time, I wrote out several general goals to work on throughout 2014, but until now, I haven't gotten around to actually posting them on here. So before something else goes awry or otherwise prevents me from doing just that, here goes:

More than anything, I want to keep evolving and maturing. 

I want to continue setting boundaries and standing up for myself as often as necessary. (This is a huge weakness of mine.)

I want to be less afraid, or at least more willing to face and demolish my various fears.

I want to make real, true, lasting friendships. (Another struggle for me. Have I mentioned I'm relationally challenged?!)

I want to help others without worrying about the cost or inconvenience to myself. (I want to be less selfish.)

I want to become more cultured by broadening my artistic horizons, enriching my mind and spirit with new, previously undiscovered (by me) art forms.

I want to worry less and relax more. I want to smile more and frown less.

I want to laugh and love more easily and more often.

I want to focus on my life in the present, stop dwelling on past mistakes, and worry less about might (or might not) happen in the future (which will take care of itself).

I want to criticize myself and others less frequently and be more content and less judgmental.

I want to focus more on beauty than on the dark, ugly, destructive things of this world.

I want to be happier with myself and mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically healthier than I have been in the past. 

I want to live at peace with God, myself, and the people who have been placed in my life (for a reason).

I want to be the best imaginable version of myself.

I'm sure I will think of many, many more throughout this year, but these are more than enough to get me started. 

So, cheers to 2014! So far, so good.