White Oleander

I used to think this book was so awful. I remember being addicted to its pages, polishing it off, then wishing I could erase it from my mind. I felt tainted by it. Like its contents were nothing but impurities that I needed to precipitate off (help me, chemistry buffs! is that how it's said. how sad, I've forgotten the terminology.).

Then, six years later, I watched the movie. And the ending made me reconsider it entirely. Here's a mother who messed up her daughter's life sorely, I mean, no denying it. Selfish decision after selfish decision, sometimes veiled in manipulative, seeming-helpfulness, sometimes in outright bitter, negative speech towards her very own offspring. And the movie made the mother's ability to finally love her daughter -- her daughter who tried so hard to defy her mother's harmful influence, and whose wisdom outweighed her mother's -- so much more plain and stark than the book ever did. With the book, I was left with a feeling of entangledness that made me feel like I was covered with sinful moss, like the mother-daughter relationship was a feedback loop with no hope or reconciliation. But the movie showed the mother's one moment of strength, when she took her daughter's own advice to not make her lie up on the court stand to get her mother free out of jail. The mother found it in herself to sacrifice something for once for her daughter. And that thing was her entire life behind bars. Kudos to the moviemakers and actresses. I was convinced and changed my mind about the book. No need to erase it, now.

Look what time apart, cooling down from a dramatic plot, and a new artistic interpretation of another work of art can do.

Good Things

This blog post could be in the form of a list: Friends who care about my health, physical and spiritual. Change that turns out not to be all bad (Mrs. R's replacement is nice. But I still miss you, Mrs. R.). A group of 10 former students storming your room for last minute advice before taking the AP language test. Getting a surprise text from the brother you love but hear from and call infrequently. But I think I will dwell on one single good thing for a while. Linger over it like a really delicious cup of coffee with equally delicious reading at hand.

What I am going to write about is the slight sting of missing someone. Deeply.

I think the derivation of this internal pang has spiritual roots. We are ever longing to be in the right place, where we feel God's approval. Of course, this has a falsehood attached to it. God approves of us, but not because we're in the right place. We just go to the right place because that's where we can be closest to him. Don't we want to be in the closest possible place in relation to the one(s) we love?

What is the value of purposely creating distance, out of love? I really think it is a powerful way to express love. As my friend E. says, "it has to be the Holy Spirit that keeps lovers from just being together before they're married. It's choosing the opposite of what feels good. Which is insanely hard to choose against." OK, so I added a few words to her quote. Hope you'll for give me. But the spirit of her comment is maintained.

I derive hope and strength and happiness when I can love the one I love while apart. We're exhibiting love inside of the required distance that is the condition of our relationship. In my friend J's words, "we're staying on the playground."  Right now, we are not geographically distant. But spiritual wisdom mandates that we observe distance in other ways, even while we're together. It's in this space between that I am able to be God's child, to find myself simultaneously in my togetherness with a companion, and in my solitude by myself. The simultaneity is essential, I think. And it can only be fueled by the love I get from God. I could and would not ever be able to observe healthy distance without God's love in me. Today, I am relying on this love to give me endurance through any length of time or required space. And not only does He make me last through the odds, but He makes each moment delectable. Like I was saying, like a delicious coffee with a delicious book. He makes me dwell in unending satisfaction.