Friday, March 25, 2011
If you have spare time and enjoy eccentricities, I want to offer you a window into my mind. Well, into a specific area, the one that makes certain choices. I think it is flawed but I’m not sure exactly what the flaw is. Maybe if you’re smarter than me, you’ll spot it.
To start with, I've never dated, tasted alcohol, or been in love. I've been called a nun. I have sat through a memorable night of college friend trying to convince me sex with a soldier is a compassionate sacrifice for the country. A girl at Hopkins in case anyone assumes college meant state school. I’ve been pressed to try wine, champagne, beer. Polite refusals were enough and NA drinks were never spiked. I’ve been told my ideals belong in a fairy-tale.
I respect differing views. Learning opportunities often occur after I’m out of my comfort zone. So I’ll step out of my comfort zone and openly discuss something I’ve always kept private.
Without great looks or talent, I’ve met plenty guys interested in marriage, mostly because they passed my dad’s gauntlet and parents gave me the nod of approval. For various reasons, we weren’t compatible and that was okay.
Along the way, I fought any attraction to guys who weren’t specifically okayed by family. I remember a Nigerian with a velvety voice. A Jordanian resident who gave a girl a surgery that could have cost his job. A small-town Alaskan appreciative of daredevil antics and competitive spirit. Role models who had my confidence while they were mentors and lost it if they asked to step out of that role.
My worst sin was a handshake. Most Americans can’t see how a handshake could be a sin. Most Muslims will agree that a handshake is not a sin if the intentions are pure. That one time, I was thinking, "dang, you're so fly," and that made my intentions impure.
Oddly enough, I've never faced repression. I'm a New Yorker and accustomed to doing what I choose. My choices reflect values I was raised on and rules I won't break because I see the sense behind them. I don't have a problem with people living their lives based on their own beliefs as long as they don't attempt to keep me from my beliefs.
I’m not afraid to give voice to beliefs. For example, the Quran states that a person with no belief in God is the "lowest of creatures." I believe that verse and simultaneously see the humanity in atheist acquaintances. I'm intrigued by how closely their reasoning parallels my faith in some aspects, before diverging to a different conclusion. God is clear about the fate of those who deny His existence. Yet I don’t have the right to judge people. I believe I will be judged on the wrongs I commit and passing judgments on others while being so faulty myself is hypocritical.
My faith has kept me from getting hurt many, many times. I pray God keeps everyone I care about on the straight path. I pray I remain free from addictions - to Internet, phone, music, tv, news, anything. I pray for strength, forgiveness and justice. I pray I treat people I don't love as fairly as people I do love. I pray I never fail to be where I'm needed
I haven’t found my other half and the chemical imbalances irritate me. Chemicals can convert admiration to desire too easily. If only there was a switch to turn off desires when inconvenient. Then I wouldn't have to be on my guard or fight chemicals with logic. I have always let logic win. I know a relationship built on secrecy or deception would be shadowed by it. So I refuse to trust without a parental nod. If God wills, I'm not going to part with honesty or loyalty to faith and family.
Lately, I’ve been thinking. Is there a flaw in this careful approach?
Unless my ideal match is a one-eyed peg-legged pirate with a parrot that knows my name and there is no hope of his meeting with parental approval. My pirate would happily sail his ship while I sit beside him in tattered clothes making a better prosthetic for his leg. Gazing at a crimson sunset over the horizon, he'd ask, "where to, first mate?" I’d close my eyes, spin in a circle, and point somewhere. Anywhere. Then I’d realize, wide eyed, it doesn't matter where I go, so long as I’m with him. Home is with him, despite his missing organs that I keep patching up and the seaweed in my hair.
May God always let me see humor in ridiculous frustrations. I feel better now than when I started to write about my shallow problem. Sorry if you actually continued to the end of this mental diarrhea. Impatience might be that flaw I needed you to find. I would rather be patient now than join the greater number of women who've been hurt. Thank God I haven't. By love, anyway.
To start with, I've never dated, tasted alcohol, or been in love. I've been called a nun. I have sat through a memorable night of college friend trying to convince me sex with a soldier is a compassionate sacrifice for the country. A girl at Hopkins in case anyone assumes college meant state school. I’ve been pressed to try wine, champagne, beer. Polite refusals were enough and NA drinks were never spiked. I’ve been told my ideals belong in a fairy-tale.
I respect differing views. Learning opportunities often occur after I’m out of my comfort zone. So I’ll step out of my comfort zone and openly discuss something I’ve always kept private.
Without great looks or talent, I’ve met plenty guys interested in marriage, mostly because they passed my dad’s gauntlet and parents gave me the nod of approval. For various reasons, we weren’t compatible and that was okay.
Along the way, I fought any attraction to guys who weren’t specifically okayed by family. I remember a Nigerian with a velvety voice. A Jordanian resident who gave a girl a surgery that could have cost his job. A small-town Alaskan appreciative of daredevil antics and competitive spirit. Role models who had my confidence while they were mentors and lost it if they asked to step out of that role.
My worst sin was a handshake. Most Americans can’t see how a handshake could be a sin. Most Muslims will agree that a handshake is not a sin if the intentions are pure. That one time, I was thinking, "dang, you're so fly," and that made my intentions impure.
Oddly enough, I've never faced repression. I'm a New Yorker and accustomed to doing what I choose. My choices reflect values I was raised on and rules I won't break because I see the sense behind them. I don't have a problem with people living their lives based on their own beliefs as long as they don't attempt to keep me from my beliefs.
I’m not afraid to give voice to beliefs. For example, the Quran states that a person with no belief in God is the "lowest of creatures." I believe that verse and simultaneously see the humanity in atheist acquaintances. I'm intrigued by how closely their reasoning parallels my faith in some aspects, before diverging to a different conclusion. God is clear about the fate of those who deny His existence. Yet I don’t have the right to judge people. I believe I will be judged on the wrongs I commit and passing judgments on others while being so faulty myself is hypocritical.
My faith has kept me from getting hurt many, many times. I pray God keeps everyone I care about on the straight path. I pray I remain free from addictions - to Internet, phone, music, tv, news, anything. I pray for strength, forgiveness and justice. I pray I treat people I don't love as fairly as people I do love. I pray I never fail to be where I'm needed
I haven’t found my other half and the chemical imbalances irritate me. Chemicals can convert admiration to desire too easily. If only there was a switch to turn off desires when inconvenient. Then I wouldn't have to be on my guard or fight chemicals with logic. I have always let logic win. I know a relationship built on secrecy or deception would be shadowed by it. So I refuse to trust without a parental nod. If God wills, I'm not going to part with honesty or loyalty to faith and family.
Lately, I’ve been thinking. Is there a flaw in this careful approach?
Unless my ideal match is a one-eyed peg-legged pirate with a parrot that knows my name and there is no hope of his meeting with parental approval. My pirate would happily sail his ship while I sit beside him in tattered clothes making a better prosthetic for his leg. Gazing at a crimson sunset over the horizon, he'd ask, "where to, first mate?" I’d close my eyes, spin in a circle, and point somewhere. Anywhere. Then I’d realize, wide eyed, it doesn't matter where I go, so long as I’m with him. Home is with him, despite his missing organs that I keep patching up and the seaweed in my hair.
May God always let me see humor in ridiculous frustrations. I feel better now than when I started to write about my shallow problem. Sorry if you actually continued to the end of this mental diarrhea. Impatience might be that flaw I needed you to find. I would rather be patient now than join the greater number of women who've been hurt. Thank God I haven't. By love, anyway.
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