Saturday, September 20, 2008

She was aware of the movie

She walked home slowly, alone. She was aware that, if her life was a movie, there would be sad music playing, that the camera shots would emphasize that she was the only one on the sidewalks, that she would look very small and forlorn in comparison to the size of even her  small city. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet darkness. She was aware that in the story that would have been a movie, everyone would feel very sorry for her, and that she deserved their pity.

 When the one person you really wanted pity from doesn’t even see you, you deserve others’ pity. When you walk home slowly, alone, and no one really even knows you left, it’s understandable that compassion should be there. When your smallness and loneliness in comparison to the love that should be is so stark…wouldn’t you want someone’s pity?

 The funny thing is that as she walked home she was aware of how it would be in a movie. And she was sad that no one noticed, that she was going home to an empty house, that even her hopes of closure for the evening had been quietly crushed. She was aware of the incomprehensible irony that on an evening in which she had planned to lay to rest a cherished dream of supportive love, there had been public talk about how people really need supportive love. She was aware of how ridiculous it was that on the same evening she had planned to let go of the dream because the love she longed for was missing, that she had been filled with an inexplicable compassion for the one who didn’t see her. When anger had been her only ally, to steel her heart against further pain, it had deserted her; and in its place was only forgiving, patient love, an unexpected calm willingness to continue loving and hurting rather than disobey her God and give in to the bitterness and despair to which she was entitled.

 She was aware that she should be as sad inside as the movie would look. She was very sad, but it was so quiet that it didn’t hurt like some other kinds of sadness. It was patient. She wondered if it was the kind of patience that the Bible talks about where it says “…we also exalt in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:3-5) She wondered if that was what it was. Hope sounded good, although there was not much to be seen of it on this night of the lonely movie—just the promise of it in that patient acceptance in her heart.

 Well, if there was hope, then there was the possibility of almost anything, wasn’t there? She was aware that the movie played on, its sound track a haunting melody, but not the kind that makes you shiver in the dark. 

6 comments:

purity201 said...

i thougth that this one is very intersting and make you think.

Joanna said...

Ali, Do you know how good your writing is? like seriously dude... this is wonderful. I like it alotamuch.

Keenan said...

The movie seems like it should be so predictable. We, however, know better then to expect anything easily predicted.

The movie will play on, and the characters will learn and grow, as they always do. And I suppose the tribulations will turn to happy endings, and the haunting melody will turn to a catchy, snappy instrumental.

That's hope.

Laura said...

I could picture this all in my head, like it was a movie. I do that a lot when I'm walking, pick the song that would fit the scene in my life. I wish you had been with us Saturday night, I'm blaming that on Andrew. I love you so very much, and I hope this week is a refreshing and relieving one.

Laura.mounts@gmail.com said...

So...I'm not trying to steal your thunder at all...I'm so not a writer, however...I feel that if I have a safe place to share, getting ideas and thoughts out is good and healthy...as I've told you before.

Keenan said...

And the movie would make you aware of the world, for at least as long as you watched it. Others' pain would become, maybe even momentarily, more important then your own, and we would be willing to do almost anything to help them instead of ourselves. Maybe it's guilt, maybe it's an epiphany, but it works. The soundtrack would turn to the credits, and some snappy, classy tune would pour out.

And there's the hope.