Just Like Me
I like to express my thoughts in my own words. But every now and then some else does it better than I ever could. I have some brilliantly wise friends. . .
"I'm your 'average' female ... I hog the phone, my eyes glaze over when boys talk about cars or computers, I like coloured pens and paper, I bake cookies and still sleep with stuffed toys (at the ripe old age of one and twenty!) ... Oh yeah, and I dream about Prince Charming rescuing me from my castle tower by slaying the dragons who breathe fire on any intruder. Ever since I could remember, the fairy-tale resonated deeply with my heart-strings.
Fast-forward ten years and welcome to the pandemonium that ensues the onslaught of teenage hormones, catty bitch fights and the torrent of questions about self, the world and everything in it. Oh yeah, and did I forget to mention the power struggles with parents as we negotiated the fine line between freedom and responsibility? The world grew bigger as horizons broadened and 'discovery' was the word of the day. Dimensions of understanding were stretched into the previously unchartered treacherous waters of science, history and new languages. There was a quest for finding our place in this big world as we attempted to reconcile the injustices of this world and our idealistic naivetyA
nd yet, the world was also a small place ... increasingly so, as the expedition of understanding turned inward. It was an 'interesting' period when what people thought mattered oh-so much. Their opinions shaped and identified and the terror of being considered anything but 'cool' engulfed and consumed. It was in such a milieu ... that the childhood dreams take on a new twist. The boisterous childhood confidence of when my prince would come gave way to questions of whether I was worthy of such a prince, plaguing my childhood daydreams ... or worse still ... what if he never existed? Could it be that I would be left to fend for myself. Strong and capable as women are supposed to be in this post feminist era, the thought petrified me.
Behind much of the activity that surrounds high-school life, is the search for identity ... often misplaced in a boy ... the logic flows that if there is a knight ... then I must be a princess. I was never fortunate (or maybe unfortunate - I still have not made up my mind) enough to have a boy fall at my feet ... no, not even close!! I think back with a half smile at the thought of all the sleepless nights I spent begging, whingeing, bargaining, pleading with God and pounding in frustration (to no avail) ... the number of times I cried myself to sleep and awoke to a wet pillow. "Why not me?" Questions plagued my young head.
It was a period where one got easily lost in the romances of others ... be they novels, sitcoms, chick flicks ... or just a figment of our overactive imaginations. I do not believe that I'm alone when I sigh and swoon at the thought (or sight ... if you've seen Colin Firth emerging from that scummy pond) of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He has just the right combination of manly charm, perfect flaws (that he overcomes) ... and room for our fantasies to fill in the gaps.And so I have been from twelve to twenty (and would still be) had it not been the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ.
In recent months, my mind has been exposed to new ideas that have never before come its way. It was a rude realization to discover that I had, in fact, been idolizing romance; putting it on a pedestal and seeking affirmation and security from it's stony perch. All would have been satisfactory (though not the best) were it not for Yahweh, my jealous God whose glory and holiness calls for my worship. Comfortable as my cramped tent was with my scruffy idols, the magnificence and majesty of the creator of the universe demanded something more, a radical change that would see an end to my enslaving misery.
What followed can only be described as a fierce tug-o-war between the comfort of habits (bad as they were) and the shock of a refreshing breeze of pure worship. The struggle was not only to concede to the new (but scary) lifestyle of abandoning my idols (that had become almost like friends) ... but to do so joyfully, gratefully. The decision was made and the feelings followed. However, the game was far from over. During the course of subsequent months, the weeds of misguided thoughts and attitudes were slowly surfaced and exposed. The sweet poison of fantastical romantic fairytales had been running in my veins and the realization prompted an onslaught of withdrawal symptoms of the most violent nature.
However, such measures did not suffice. Not only did the source of such romantic preoccupations need to be curbed, I was challenged to discipline my mind and 'take every thought captive'. Now, for one who lives spontaneously, free and rather flippantly, the concept of control is rather novel and unwelcome. As one may suppose, success in this domain was a rather rare occurrence and the defeated self succumbed to the storm of popular culture that raged. The emotional and spiritual havoc to which such unprincipled surrender lead is anyone's guess.
In the absence of boundaries, preoccupation exceeded its borders and flowed unruly into the realms of near-obsession, leaving little room for anything else. It was in such a climate that the need for discipline was so great as to even exceed the discomfort of breaking habits ... I say 'habits' for there are several ... the romantic childhood notion of damsels in distress and valiant princes, the laxity of mind and spirit and girlish discourse, juicy and gossipy. Riding the waves of hormonal roller-coasters, resolve regarding the matter wavered periodically. One surge, of late, conjured fantasies more whimsical than many before and proved most distracting. Granted, there was little to be distracted from for the daily routine was rather monotonous and dull. One may suppose that there was the void of a vacant mind that amply nourished the entrancing notions. With such preoccupations, perspective was, as suspected, warped in the most horrific fashion ... the work of the devil no doubt for what could be a more convenient way of diverting a youth's attention from matters of gravity than the flighty, engrossing contemplations of romance?"
"I'm your 'average' female ... I hog the phone, my eyes glaze over when boys talk about cars or computers, I like coloured pens and paper, I bake cookies and still sleep with stuffed toys (at the ripe old age of one and twenty!) ... Oh yeah, and I dream about Prince Charming rescuing me from my castle tower by slaying the dragons who breathe fire on any intruder. Ever since I could remember, the fairy-tale resonated deeply with my heart-strings.
Fast-forward ten years and welcome to the pandemonium that ensues the onslaught of teenage hormones, catty bitch fights and the torrent of questions about self, the world and everything in it. Oh yeah, and did I forget to mention the power struggles with parents as we negotiated the fine line between freedom and responsibility? The world grew bigger as horizons broadened and 'discovery' was the word of the day. Dimensions of understanding were stretched into the previously unchartered treacherous waters of science, history and new languages. There was a quest for finding our place in this big world as we attempted to reconcile the injustices of this world and our idealistic naivetyA
nd yet, the world was also a small place ... increasingly so, as the expedition of understanding turned inward. It was an 'interesting' period when what people thought mattered oh-so much. Their opinions shaped and identified and the terror of being considered anything but 'cool' engulfed and consumed. It was in such a milieu ... that the childhood dreams take on a new twist. The boisterous childhood confidence of when my prince would come gave way to questions of whether I was worthy of such a prince, plaguing my childhood daydreams ... or worse still ... what if he never existed? Could it be that I would be left to fend for myself. Strong and capable as women are supposed to be in this post feminist era, the thought petrified me.
Behind much of the activity that surrounds high-school life, is the search for identity ... often misplaced in a boy ... the logic flows that if there is a knight ... then I must be a princess. I was never fortunate (or maybe unfortunate - I still have not made up my mind) enough to have a boy fall at my feet ... no, not even close!! I think back with a half smile at the thought of all the sleepless nights I spent begging, whingeing, bargaining, pleading with God and pounding in frustration (to no avail) ... the number of times I cried myself to sleep and awoke to a wet pillow. "Why not me?" Questions plagued my young head.
It was a period where one got easily lost in the romances of others ... be they novels, sitcoms, chick flicks ... or just a figment of our overactive imaginations. I do not believe that I'm alone when I sigh and swoon at the thought (or sight ... if you've seen Colin Firth emerging from that scummy pond) of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He has just the right combination of manly charm, perfect flaws (that he overcomes) ... and room for our fantasies to fill in the gaps.And so I have been from twelve to twenty (and would still be) had it not been the grace of my Lord Jesus Christ.
In recent months, my mind has been exposed to new ideas that have never before come its way. It was a rude realization to discover that I had, in fact, been idolizing romance; putting it on a pedestal and seeking affirmation and security from it's stony perch. All would have been satisfactory (though not the best) were it not for Yahweh, my jealous God whose glory and holiness calls for my worship. Comfortable as my cramped tent was with my scruffy idols, the magnificence and majesty of the creator of the universe demanded something more, a radical change that would see an end to my enslaving misery.
What followed can only be described as a fierce tug-o-war between the comfort of habits (bad as they were) and the shock of a refreshing breeze of pure worship. The struggle was not only to concede to the new (but scary) lifestyle of abandoning my idols (that had become almost like friends) ... but to do so joyfully, gratefully. The decision was made and the feelings followed. However, the game was far from over. During the course of subsequent months, the weeds of misguided thoughts and attitudes were slowly surfaced and exposed. The sweet poison of fantastical romantic fairytales had been running in my veins and the realization prompted an onslaught of withdrawal symptoms of the most violent nature.
However, such measures did not suffice. Not only did the source of such romantic preoccupations need to be curbed, I was challenged to discipline my mind and 'take every thought captive'. Now, for one who lives spontaneously, free and rather flippantly, the concept of control is rather novel and unwelcome. As one may suppose, success in this domain was a rather rare occurrence and the defeated self succumbed to the storm of popular culture that raged. The emotional and spiritual havoc to which such unprincipled surrender lead is anyone's guess.
In the absence of boundaries, preoccupation exceeded its borders and flowed unruly into the realms of near-obsession, leaving little room for anything else. It was in such a climate that the need for discipline was so great as to even exceed the discomfort of breaking habits ... I say 'habits' for there are several ... the romantic childhood notion of damsels in distress and valiant princes, the laxity of mind and spirit and girlish discourse, juicy and gossipy. Riding the waves of hormonal roller-coasters, resolve regarding the matter wavered periodically. One surge, of late, conjured fantasies more whimsical than many before and proved most distracting. Granted, there was little to be distracted from for the daily routine was rather monotonous and dull. One may suppose that there was the void of a vacant mind that amply nourished the entrancing notions. With such preoccupations, perspective was, as suspected, warped in the most horrific fashion ... the work of the devil no doubt for what could be a more convenient way of diverting a youth's attention from matters of gravity than the flighty, engrossing contemplations of romance?"
posted by COURTNEY at 6:30 AM
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