RIPPLES

See, this is where blogging gets difficult. I can't write about the thing that's bothering me tonight. It's a heavy weight, sinking with great and terrible gravity upon on my already overladen, shattering heart. But it's not part of my story. It's not for me to write about.

It must be frustrating for you too, right? You now want to know what it is and I guess I've piqued your interest with that cryptic opening paragraph. That's the problem though isn't it? A stone is dropped into the water, it sinks unseen and then later, the steadily expanding concentric ripples grow and gather together at the shore, their epicentre now curiously quiet. All we have are the ripples.

I mention all of this because of the effect this dreadful sinking stone has had on me today. I've felt very heavy - heavier than I've felt for at least five years - and I think it's affected my general mood, despite me trying not to let it. I made a decision tonight at church that was a bit unwise, possibly upsetting someone - mostly because my mind was elsewhere. I then went on to play like I was wearing gloves and singing through a sock. Thankfully, I don't get as bothered about that as I used to and I let it go in the end, focusing on the Reason we were there. It's funny how actually, worship always starts off and ends up being exactly that - an exercise in letting go. Later on, with the team flowing in a beautiful collaboration of voices and heart, I stepped back from the mic and I just had a moment with God, if you can process such a thing. It was of course, exactly what I needed - but that wasn't the reason I did it.

-

"Who hopes to get married one day?" asked the pastor, this morning. My right hand was suddenly made of lead. "I do," I whispered, but I couldn't respond manually. I've been thinking about that. My hand ought to have shot up. I've wanted to get married since I was very small - it's always been part of my future and it has always been my hope. Why couldn't I say so? What am I afraid of?

I stared at the drum kit, thinking it through. A lot of people would have you believe that because you're not part of something, you're not qualified to talk about it - and even if you do, your authority is fatally undermined by your lack of experience. Parenting is a classic example of this - the initiated know what it's all about and they've got the boil-washed t-shirts to prove it. But the rest of us, boy have we got a shock coming when the day comes. Curiously though, the esoteric argument actually makes less sense with parenting than it does with marriage - I mean, the childless people must have had at least some positive or negative experience of parenting at some point, whereas us singletons might well have no clue whatsoever about what it's like to be married, other than the clues we've spent years observing of course.

"It's hard," they say, sagely, nodding at the floor. "It's really hard. It ain't all it's cracked-up to be."

Got it. It's also great though, isn't it? I mean isn't it a wild adventure of soul-mates mapping out a shared path of jaw-dropping highs and breathtaking lows, learning the ropes of trust, taking in the best and worst view of your selves as seen by another person and then drawing out the very best in each other? Isn't it a thrill-ride of laughter, belting arguments, crashing disappointments, hilarity and passion? Isn't it just being such good friends with someone that you want them to be the best version of them that they can possibly be and you'll do anything to make it happen, safe in the knowledge that they feel exactly the same? Maybe I'm being naive. That's what I want it to be. That's what I need it to be.

What am I afraid of? Making a mess? Probably. Getting it wrong? Mhhm. I've seen it go wrong a few times now and I'd rather gouge out my eyes with a hot spoon than have it happen to me. Still, I don't think that was the reason. I think I needed that hope to be a much more private thing. It burns within me sometimes like a longing for a destiny that's already passed me by, an unquenchable sadness with the fragrance of a failure. I have a feeling admitting it in front of all those people might have caused me to explode with tears - and I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for that stone to tumble carelessly into the pond.

Sometimes you have to think about the ripples.