The Mystery Of Knowing

I had a couple of people at work ask me if they could come over to make a resume, since I have templates on my computer.  So, the other day, one of them came over.  It was around 5 in the afternoon.  I wasn’t going to give her a tour of the house, because I knew that would lead to getting distracted, but Mom insisted.  Jess, the girl, seemed to be enjoying the tour.  She loved all of the paintings and pictures I took.  She also loved the house.  She told me later on that she did not envision me living in a house like this.

Last week, I told you I had put up two posters in my room.  One of them was a Zelda poster (Ocarina of Time), and the other was my favorite poster out of all of them: Jeremy Camp.  I don’t know if I’ve told you why Jeremy is so important to me.  If I haven’t, then you’ll just have to know that he means a lot to me.

Well, when Jess and I got to my room, I just kind of said, “Here’s my…room.”  I didn’t really want to get into anything personal, mainly because I didn’t know if she did.  But, she asked about my Zelda poster, and I told her all about the game and the series, and that that was the game that made me realize that I was a writer.  She sat down in my desk chair, and I turned around to look at my Jeremy poster.

I didn’t want to talk about it.  I had been talking so much already, and if I continued, I knew I was going to talk even more, and maybe, even cry.  I try not to tell people stuff, because most people don’t care about what I have to say.

I looked at my poster.  Should I tell her the story? Why?  Because why not?  Might as well, right?  Well, honestly, I felt like I had to.  I felt like I needed to.  For her?  For me?  For the both of us?

Towards the end of my story, I glanced at Jess.  Her eyes became red, she put her hand over her mouth and she said, “You’re going to make me cry.”  I’ve never made anyone cry.  This was different.  And, of course, I felt like I was going to, now that she was.  And yes, a couple of tears escaped.

It was strange.  Here I am, telling a story about how I was told crying was stupid, and yet I’m crying.  And she’s crying, and we’re both just two bundles of emotions.

After we dried our eyes, she asked me if I had always been a Christian (Jeremy Camp is a Christian musician, and my story was riddled with God and Jesus).  I told her about my Christian walk and explained my way of thinking in regards to religion.  I must have said something right, because she then opened up to me and explained her way of thinking.  She also told me about her recent situations and thoughts, and she got teary eyed again.

I don’t know what happened.  I don’t know what caused this, but I started saying the first things that came to my mind.  I didn’t know if it was going to make much sense, or if it was anywhere close to what she needed to hear, but I said it anyway.  Next thing I know, we’re standing in the middle of my room, crying on each other’s shoulders, embraced in something called a “hug.”  I don’t do stuff like that, but she needed it, and I needed it too.

Sometimes we do things, and we wonder why we did them.  Sometimes we see the effects, and sometimes we don’t.  I didn’t know what she needed to hear, but my soul did.  I guess you could say, the Holy Spirit in me, knew what the Holy Spirit in her needed.  Or you could say… well, whatever the heck you want, really.  But I think, no matter what you say, we can agree that we’re all connected.

Something, some force, some person, some idea, connects us.  How do we know?  Seriously, how do we know?  I don’t know.  Maybe that’s a good thing.  The beautiful thing about not knowing, is that we don’t have anything to fight against.  We have to know light, to know dark.

And yes, she did get her resume done… five hours later.

Good night!  Good morning!  Good everything!

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