My mind is abuzz, distracted, fuzzy. I'm thinking of nothing and everything, mostly, but one consistent question, albeit a self-reflective/probing question that was put to me today? Why is it so difficult for me to look people in the eye? To give my full respect and attention, or to feel a sense of connection, or to just get a good clear look at what it is that's in front of me?
The answers to this question, I am realizing, are complex, frightening, and, to a certain degree hidden. It's so very strange (or, perhaps not so much) that my trouble looking people in the eye has to do with the trouble I have in looking truthfully at the reality of my relationships, soul, mind. It just all seems like too much. It exhausts me to think of paying full and alert attention to everything going on in front of or in me. And, of course, there will always be things I don't know. Perhaps I'm so afraid, in part, because doing so would acknowledge that I matter, not in some egocentric way, but that I am a child of God, and that's pretty incredible! And also in doing this, I would have to acknowledge how I matter to you and how you matter to me, getting to the heart of things, risking, again. It challenges me to be fully live, to be seeking the Lord with all I have, and loving and praying continually. Perhaps it also frightens me because it would show me the extent of my sinfulness, and force me to name my sins. To name the ways I hurt others, and how others have hurt me. And how I am compelled by the love of Christ to forgive. To restore relationships. I'm almost afraid to mention the first thing that came to mind when I thought of an answer to this question: I am hideous. I can't stand looking at myself, dealing with myself, why or how should anybody else? I am afraid to reveal the full extent of my hideousness.
Lord, give me eyes. Your eyes. Somehow.
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Liv, I don't know of anyone who writes like you do: with one eye in the mirror, and the other on the page. Hideous or not (and you're beautiful, so far as I can see), you eschew pretense. You write your dissatisfaction with whatever is false, beginning with what is in yourself. That is a gift.
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