some Rilke,James, and other random incessant ramblings

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone enough to truly consecrate the hour. I am much too small in this world, yet not small enoughto be to you just object and thing, dark and smart. I want my free will and want it accompanying the path which leads to action; and want during times that beg questions, where something is up, to be among those in the know, or else be alone. I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection, never be blind or too old to uphold your weighty wavering reflection. I want to unfold. Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent; for there I would be dishonest, untrue. I want my conscience to be true before you;want to describe myself like a picture I observed for a long time, one close up, like a new word I learned and embraced, like the everday jug, like my mother's face, like a ship that carried me along through the deadliest storm. -Rainer Maria Rilke

It's midterms week, and for some reason, whenever midterms come along, life seems to pick up and sprint toward the end of it, and I think it's funny. As a college student in my second semester, I truly understand the importance of midterms. Cramming more information into your skull than you possibly ever wanted is somehow appealing at this time, right in the middle of the semester, and it's all I can do but not laugh and smile and scream because I want to do all of these things at the same time, and I know that's somewhat impossible.

I have a problem with procrastination. I don't mind it, all that much, but really, the problem is simply that I cannot do work unless I want to do work. I am a perfectionist, which means that when I do work that is not 100% good and that my heart is not into, I get frustrated easily and must start over. I'm also the type that--if I can get started on a subject--will spend all day on one assignment and not be at all upset about it because I love to learn and find my place amongst the academics of the world. And that's fine, and I like that. And my procrastination has been strong the past few weeks, and I had told myself, "Okay, Karis, this weekend, we're buckling down," and I was excited about it. Until I woke up Friday morning at 2 AM puking an entire-bucket full of liquids out of my system, and continued to do so until late in the day Sunday.

I'm feeling better now. Back to my original self and 100% healthy and happy, but I've stopped procrastinating, and I'm enjoying that. I'm enjoying learning, and having that desire to learn. I needed a break, I think, but now I'm here, and I enjoy wanting to sit down, open a book, and figure out the world. It's a good thing to have. Especially during midterm week, where God has blessed me so by changing test dates, providing answers, and giving time that I shouldn't have. And I've worried and fretted over this time, and God has been saying to me, "will worrying add a single minute to your life? What do you gain by worrying?" and I haven't been able to answer. And so I've been trying to trust God, and yet, I complain and I vent about things that will not matter in three days, or two weeks, or a year from now. And I forget how blessed I am to even have these things to complain about.

I'm not one that likes to rub my good deeds in the faces of others, so hopefully nobody who reads this will see it and think I am, but this is something that happened to me and really affected me, and so I must share. One of my bible studies has been reading Luke this semester, and we've been really convicted about worrying, and about noticing what other people are worrying about and taking care of those needs for them. We've been convincted of not helping Jesus. Jesus says that we don't feed him or clothe him because we do not feed or clothe each other, and this is something that is hard to hear, as Christians and privileged people, but we've tried to make an effort to be more Christ-serving. And so we made these little plastic bags and filled them with perishable, healthy food items (such as Vienna sausages, fruit cups, etc. etc.--a balanced meal) and are keeping them in our cars so we can give them to the homeless we see on the street corners.

I'll be honest. I don't normally see the homeless on the street corners. I'm not used to looking for people in need. I'm not used to looking past who I am and how I've been blessed to see those who need help, and this operation has forced me to do so. And here's what's happened.

The first day I had the bags, I noticed, for the first time, a man standing on the corner. I passed by him--I was in the wrong lane, late for class--but I felt horrible, and had the nagging feeling that I should have gone back. I finally did turn around, the whole time my mind reeling that he wouldn't even be there still, but when I pulled up, he looked so grateful. He introduced himself as James; I introduced myself, and we parted ways after a brief interaction. But I couldn't shake James from my head. This was last week.

This week, I was driving down Tennessee St., the same time as last week when I saw James, and I asked God to show me someone I could help. I wanted to serve someone for Him, and I thought the best way to guarantee I could was to ask God to give me the opportunity. And there was James, standing on the street corner. And it excited me. This is a man I'd been praying for and thinking about all week, wondering how he was, hoping he knew someone cared for him. This time I pulled over quickly, got out of my car, brought him food, and we talked. He recognized me, and I him, and it was good to see him. In that strange way. He told me how he hates begging for food, and I said I was glad to help him not have to. He was really just extremely grateful, and when we left, he said "God bless you," I said "God bless you," and he said "He already has."

It stopped me dead in my tracks. Here is a man who literally has nothing but a sweatshirt, jeans, and a sign that says "Hungry," and he's telling me how blessed he is. I got in my car and wept. How dare I complain about having to study for my college education? How dare I worry about whether or not I'm going to be able to eat tonight, or if I'll have to wait until morning? How dare I worry about these things! Here is a man, standing on the side of the street, holding a sign, unsure of where his next meal is coming from, and all he can say is "he already has." And all I can say is, "damn it, now I have to..." I am so blessed. So very blessed, and the thing that's so sad s that I don't realize how blessed I am. I forget. I don't pay attention to the blessings. I need to be more like James.

Because here's the thing. I'm privileged. I may not have as much money as I want to have, but I have more than I need. I have a million things sitting on my desk that I do not need. And the thing is, well, I look down on homeless people. I don't mean to. I don't do it conciously. But somewhere in my mind, I think, "oh God, I should help that poor man." I look at it as my duty to help him because he's homeless, and not because he's James. Not because he's a child of God, and a child who God LOVES. I look at him, and I wonder how in the world he could ever call himself blessed when he only has half of what I have. But he is blessed. We are all blessed. And while James may not be blessed monetarily like I am, he is blessed with amazing gifts. Gifts that allow him to see the Father's hand even in a slice of bread. And that makes me sad. That I don't see that.

So, I'm praying for James and I this week. Not only that he'd be blessed again, and that all of his physical needs be met, but that I would continue to be blessed by him. That he would continue to teach me that life is more than just what's coming up, and that being blessed is about more than the things we have. Life is about living right now, and being blessed is about seeing how God's hand provides for us in every little thing that we do.