fear is a garbage emotion
I really don't know how to start this my very first blog post, because my heart is feeling a multitude of different things, back and forth like a yo-yo, and I can't decide which parts to write about. I'm simultaneously thanking God for this new place I am in and the sun soaking into my skin, and wanting to fall into the depths of despair because my insides miss, well, a lot of things. Being known, my family, my friends, acting, other deep heart-achy things that I won't get into now. It sounds so dramatic but, as I say to my family all the time, "it's because I'm an actress." Kidding. Sort of.
You know the movie, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl? (If you don't... go watch this piece of cinematic genius). It's this tender movie that always makes me cry my eyes out, about a little girl during the Great Depression based on the American Girl series. There's this tender scene in which Kit is writing to her father, who has gone to Chicago to find work. She's typing a letter furiously on her typewriter, mourning all the horrible things that are happening to her and her mom in the boarding house they run in Cincinnati, demanding that her dad come home because she needs him and misses him so much. Her typewriter ribbon gets stuck, forcing her to stop. She takes a breath, rips out the letter, and restarts. This time, she writes about the good things, however little they are, and mails that letter instead. (In case this little excerpt was so moving it made you want to watch the movie, you can rent it for $3.99 on Amazon. Not on Netflix though, sorry).
The reason I bring this up is that I feel exactly like Kit. I could explode and cry right now, about how I miss my friends so much it hurts, about how church this morning made me lonelier than I've felt in the last week, about I am so not looking forward to searching for a new church again, about how I am just positive I am not going to fit in with the other girls here, about how everyone else at my job are probably already friends except me and I start work tomorrow and help.
But then, as my chest starts to bubble with panic, the wind blows across my face as I sit on the porch, as if God is whispering to me, as God so often does, "fear not. I didn't bring you this far to leave you, you know." I remember a phrase coined by author Marilynne Robinson in a talk she gave at Wheaton this March: fear is a garbage emotion. S
o. I backspace the fear, the garbage cluttering my brain, and start again, with the things that I really want to write about. Little things, that don't require much explanation but are new ordinary miracles. Little things, that I want you to know about this really beautiful new place I am in:
There is a very ripe and beautiful lime that's perfectly lit on the tree in my new backyard. (There is also a peach tree!)
The wind chimes are softly singing to me, and the breeze reminds me of my dear friend Jill who is currently doing amazing things in Pennsylvania.
There are mountains surrounding me, and some really beautiful hikes a five-minute walk from the house I'm living in. I've discovered that it's really lovely to say Shakespeare aloud to yourself (and to the deer and the birds) as you walk the trails.
I can ride my bike to the library and, across from this library is the cutest market you have ever seen, with some seriously delicious produce and beautiful pink flowers. I am never buying produce in a grocery store again.
It's only an fifty-minute, stunningly gorgeous drive to the beach in Santa Cruz.
Birds are singing all the time!!!
The walls in my room are yellow, which is good because I had a weird fear they were going to be dark blue or another sad color.
The keyboard I got for graduation fits in my room, and my walls are covered with pictures of people I love.
I'm living in a house for incredibly reduced rent because of... well, because of God. That's a longer story for another day.
This house has a tiny Shih Tzu named Bandit (or, as I affectionately call him, "wittle bandi") and he reminds me of my old dog Gibson, the sweetest miniature poodle that ever lived.
Little things that, together, put up a pretty good fight against the garbage doing it's best to knock me over. FEAR IS A GARBAGE EMOTION! I have to just keep saying it.Trusting God is hard, friends. Every day, trying to be like Mary, Mother of God. Trying to be like Ruth and like Esther. Beautiful women who I've never met, but whose stories permeate mine. Again, longer stories for another day.
That's all for today, I think. Peaches on the counter are calling me to make them into some type of pie, I start work tomorrow, and I could write forever because being concise is not my greatest strength (this is probably hilarious for those of you who know me).
Feel free to comment below, if you want.
Until next time, friends. Miss you guys.
-alyssa