"Tell Michelle"

I had the strangest realization driving home from my cafe tonight. I was flipping through radio stations because I couldn't find the one cd I wanted to listen to, and I landed on this Christian radio station, and this song was playing about God's grace, and I actually liked the sound of it, so I stopped twisting the dial. While I was listening I remembered why it is I like this faith.

And I almost felt ashamed, well, I did feel ashamed, for listening to Christian radio (granted, there are some things I really don't like about it or agree with). I've realized that I've become very ashamed of expressing belief in anything, or even my opinion to people who might disagree. I try and keep my mouth shut.

I'm not out to evangelize at all, but I'm starting to realize that I stifle my own growth by trying to hide what it is I care deeply about. Faith is a vulnerable spot.

The strangest thing that came to me suddenly, that made my eyes feel tight and misty and a smile stretch across my face in the dark of my car was that I am allowed to believe things. I can claim something. I can claim belief. I am allowed.

I think I don't want to express my beliefs because I am afraid I won't be valued by some people for them. And I need to be valued by EVERYONE. I am desperate to be valued by everyone.

And while I turned onto my street I thought of something else, that I want to be a brave person. I want to be courageous, and very true to what I think, who I am. I WANT this. If I do not embrace what I am, I might lose it. And the truth is, I kind of like what I have here in this skin and bones. It feels good. Feels soft, tender. Warm. Light. Yellow. In the fibers of me, the me that I like best, is faith, is belief, is Christian belief (even), is some other beliefs, but mostly Jesus. It's true.

I want to take more risks. I have nothing else. I have myself.

In other news, my friend Rachel told me tonight that she's getting a tattoo on her wrist that says, "The Lord provides." I liked the phrasing because it's not "The Lord will provide," it's that he does, that he's doing it right now, and it continues. When she told me this, I had another smile stretching, eye misting experience. I don't think I often believe that I will be taken care of. I imagine myself most days, mouth bursting through waves for air, swallowed sporadically by white foaming curls of water. I am trying to survive. Emotionally, spiritually, physically, financially. I am trying to survive. And the business of survival has stripped me of my humanity. It has stripped me of my ability to believe in something bigger, because my eyes are not looking beyond this ocean.

The Lord provides.

I love that. I really do. It resonates deep, somewhere. It holds something at the base of me.

It makes me think of the middle-aged man (actually exactly twice my age) who visits me at the cafe, who brought me a stack of sticky notes that starts with "Tell Michelle" and lists tons of songs and artists he's heard during the week that he thinks I would love. And all of his recommendations are AMAZING. He knows me well. Though we only know each other because of the sweet little cafe I work at. And he cares enough to write me a list of songs on sticky notes. I think of my father who can't even tell me, can't write me an e-mail that says, "Merry Christmas, Michelle. I hope you have a nice day." I think of him and how he forgets my sisters' birthdays and middle names. Who cannot spell our first names. And I think of this man, and I think, The Lord provides.

Though I do not see him as a surrogate father, he has remembered me. I am provided for in this way. And it is good. And I am thankful.