What Have I Become?

The funniest thing happened to me the other day. I was sitting at work when I glance over to the TV I noticed an infomercial for a CD set of the greatest music from the 90’s. As the song titles scrolled up the screen I found myself saying aloud, “I remember when that song first came out” and “can you believe that was popular when I was a freshman in high school?” when all of a sudden it hit me. I’ve become one of them. You know who they are. They are the men walking through the grocery store proudly sporting their tattered KISS t-shirt and their motorcycle boots. They are the ones with the hair cuts that went out of style circa 1987 but don’t seem to care that they let their subscription to GQ expire. They still use the same pickup lines that they used twenty years ago and wonder why they don’t give them the desired results. I can only assume that they woke up one morning and stopped listening to any music that hit the airwaves after that moment. And now, I have joined their ranks I guess this means I know what I must do. I need to go out and buy six of every piece of clothing that currently hangs in my closet so that I will always be prepared. I need to cancel my membership to the music club and change my CD player from shuffle to repeat. While I’m at it I should probably go and buy a few extra CD players so when the “next big thing” hits the stores I won’t have to worry about not being able to listen to my good ol’ tunes. In ten years when you run into me at the store I’m sure you’ll still recognize me. No, I won’t be wearing a KISS t-shirt but rather the faded Gap polo. You’ll recognize my pickup lines because they’ll be the same ones that you heard when we first met. Instead of KISS you’ll hear Creed. And yes, the scent of Hugo Boss #6 that will still announce my presence.

Starbucks Vs. The Church

For the last nine months I have been attending a church on a fairly regular basis and while my work schedule tends to keep me from attending every service the church holds, I have been able to make it to at least one if not two services every other week. After attending the church for this amount of time, I still feel as if I am a stranger in a crowd. Week after (every other) week I arrive with plenty of time before the service begins and I usually take my time leaving after its conclusion but so far no one has taken time to talk to me. Now, to be fair, I have had two people come up to me and say hello but both of those individuals were professors of mine from college. Before I get feedback from those who say “You shouldn’t be looking for your church to meet your interpersonal needs” I will say that my goal in going to church is not for have “my friendship needs” fulfilled but I will admit that recently I have asked myself why is it that I feel more welcomed at Starbucks than in a place where a thousand people profess God. Apart from leaving Starbucks with my beloved Soy Carmel Macchiato in hand, I normally am warmly greeted upon my visit and on several recent occasions, the employees have even had my special drink awaiting me by the time I made it through the line. I can honestly say that my spirits have been lifted more times within the last nine months by being treated like a real person at Starbucks, than by how my “body of believers” has treated me. While I don’t plan on changing the scriptures to read “Forsake not the assembling of yourselves at the pusher of America’s last legal drug” I wonder if those at the house of God could learn something from the pride of Seattle, the purveyor’s of the almighty bean.

Selfish Gentleman Seeks Imperfect Lady

I want to be in a relationship, but I think it is because I am selfishly full of wants. I want to have someone to lavish gifts upon. I want someone that I can surprise by having a single flower awaiting her on her desk when she arrived to work. I want someone that I can make feel special not for how she looks or what she does, but just because she IS special. I want to take her a bowl of chicken noodle soup when she isn‘t feeling well. I want to be the one to help her pick out the pair of shoes that will match the dress she bought for the special night. And I also want to be the one who returns the three additional pairs that she didn’t like once she tried the dress on. I want to spend hours on the phone without saying a word , but know that I did the right thing because all she needed someone who would listen. I want to give her a hug when no words can fix the situation. I want to spend all day working on her favorite dinner because I know she had a stressful day. I want to encourage her to go shopping with her friends even though I had planned a quiet evening for just the two of us. I want to miss the big game on TV because it is opening night at the theater and her favorite play is in town. I want to see the surprise on her face when I finally ask the question. I want to be the one that arrives at the church hours early to make sure that our day is perfect in every way. I want to spend three hours waiting for her at her car to surprise her when she leaves work on our anniversary. I want to be the one to tell her she is beautiful when she asks for the third time if the outfit makes her look fat. I want to be the one that encourages her to spend more on herself and enjoy every moment of it. I want to encourage her to get some sleep while I pace the floors trying to hush the newborn’s cry. I want to tell her that one mother’s day a year isn’t enough to show my appreciation for her. I want to give her the afternoon alone by taking the children to story hour at the library. I want to tell her that I don’t mind that she doesn’t look like she did on our wedding day, because I feel that she is even more breathtaking. I want to be with her when the doctor breaks the news that we had been fearing. I want to spend restless nights sitting in her hospital room instead of comfortable nights away from her side. I want to ease her concerns that we will not be able to make it without her. I want to give her permission to let go, while inwardly I am pleading for her to stay. I want to be the one to say the last prayer for a miracle and yet not lose faith when the prayers don’t seem to be answered. I want to be there to say the final goodbye. I want to be the one to experience the loss instead of having her mourn my passing. I want to be the first one at the church and last one to leave the graveside. I want to look back and not feel remorse for years missed but rather joy for the years we had. And I want to breathe my last breath knowing that her love was the closest thing that I ever experience to the love of God.

Restless

Tonight I am restless. I don’t know if it comes from being lonely or what but for the first time since I started my current job I honestly let myself ponder on the thought of applying for a job back in Buffalo. Through a strange set of circumstances, yesterday, I came in contact with someone whose father works for a radio network I listened to when I lived in New York. After the conversation I looked up the network’s website and noticed that they are hiring a news bureau chief for Buffalo. Part of me wanted to jump at the opportunity to move back to where my roots are but in all honesty I don’t believe that I am yet qualified for the position and I’m also not sure that I’m ready to overlook the reasons I originally left Western New York to return. If, however, I had a few more years of experience under my belt, and I still felt the way I do now, I am almost positive that right now I would be filling out an application and preparing to make a transition back north. Maybe I am not showing the gratitude that I should be showing for having a great job, which I love, but the loneliness that plagues me here in Ohio is something that I am finding harder and harder to overlook. But even if I were to move back to a place that is familiar to me I still wouldn’t have any guarantees that the loneliness I feel now wouldn’t simply change zip codes with me. In the mean time, as I gain more experience in my field, I am left with no other option than to cry out to God for the strength I need to overcome this loneliness and the determination to move forward with my life.

"It's Easier To Leave Than To Be Left Behind..."

“It's easier to leave than to be left behind…” belted out the artist on the CD I was listening to the other day. At first I was singing along without giving much thought to the lyrics, but then it started to sink in that this simple statement is truer than I had every really taken time to admit. When I was in college I would enjoy going back home to visit my parents, but leaving to return to school was easy and painless for me as my trip and busy life occupied my thoughts. My departures, on the other hand, were extremely difficult for my mother to handle and she was often overcome with emotion as the car left the driveway. Even though I had taken part in many departures from loved ones to that point, I really hadn’t really put much thought into being left myself. But that soon changed as the day on the day after I graduated from college. My parents stayed at my apartment that weekend and soon it came time for them to head back home, and at that time I experienced the sadness that had plagued my mother on so many previous occasions. This time, I was the one standing in the door way waving goodbye as the vehicle pulled out of the driveway leaving me alone. On several occasions since that day, I have had to say goodbye to friends and relatives as they left my hometown to return to their homes, and one thing I can say is repeating the process has not made it any easier. And what about the times when we have to say the ultimate goodbye? As hard as death may be, isn’t it harder to be the one left here to grieve, often alone? To this point, I have been very fortunate in that I have not lost someone that I am close to, but having watched individuals in their grief I would have to say that the truthfulness of the lyrics are not limited to temporary goodbyes, but also include goodbyes that have more permanents. While I cannot dogmatically say that I understand why it is so hard to say goodbye and be left behind, I can say that I am glad to know that one day all tears will be wiped away and all goodbyes will be nothing more than a fading memory of the cruel reality that we had once called life. Until that day comes, I am sure more sadness will accompany goodbyes, but as I experience those low points, I am glad that I have some hope to cling to that such moments are not the end of it all, but rather they are just small steps en route to achieving the ultimate prize.