Something Pretty

Painting again! Currently I'm working on a painting for one who must not be named (for the just in case circumstance that this person is reading these words right now), and I got very excited at the idea of making a playlist for the painting. Then I started thinking how cool it would be to not only have the playlist for my listening pleasure and inspiration while painting but to also burn it to a disc and make it an accompanying gift with the painting. I'll probably start doing this, but for this particular painting, I found myself pulled solely to Enya (you're welcome or sorry to you-who-must-not-be-named (timely HP reference))--perhaps by the nature of the painting. But I think mostly it was me yearning for something pretty.

Now, there is a song called "Something Pretty" by Patrick Park. It's not really a great song, but I got hooked on it at some point this summer when I borrowed one of those OC season mixes from the library and got the song then. I walked to my first class this semester listening to this song on repeat, not recognizing the lyrics' foreshadowing for the culmination of my learning experiences this semester. Most of the song is pretty depressing... all about loneliness and ugliness and stuff, but mostly the singer begs for [you] to "show me something pretty." I didn't know then that I would be begging the same thing now at the end of the semester. I especially didn't know I'd be begging it of myself.

I'd probably have to write a lot and somehow acquire a lot of patience I don't have in order to fully unfold what I'm trying to get at, so that's not likely to happen. As I said last year, I become extra attuned to blessings and moments of nostalgia before breaks. Just a few minutes ago, I got a text from my freshman year roommate Adrienne that reads, "Listening to the song 'The Milkmaid," reminds me of you and good old freshman year.'" Me too, Adrienne, me too. In some ways I actually look back on who I was freshman year as a good representation of who "Something Pretty" is talking about. No, I don't think I was really just a "dumb punk kid," but I do think I've grown a lot since then. I've grown enough to see how much more I still need to grow. It's gotten to the point that I stood in church yesterday and before service really started, I prayed that God would show me something pretty. I prayed for God to show me those things I don't even know to ask for: love I can't understand, a faith that breaks my rational barriers, timely reading of Scripture that brings me to my knees in life-changing convictions. I begged to be something more than a "dumb punk kid." I want to be more than myself, because who I am is not a great place to settle. I don't want another year to go by and only wind up saying, "here I am, where I've been."

I think I've written a lot about clinging to who I am. At least, I've thought about it a lot. At freshman group, I got everyone to write down a long term goal they have for their lives. Mine was malleability to become who God has purposed me to be. I guess God will have his way with me no matter what, but I don't want to always have to look back over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of a passing blessed moment. I want to not only be conscious of the ways I'm changing but to also make great strides in changing myself in the ways I know I need to change. I'd like to stop complaining about the things that are wrong with me and actually open myself up to changing those things. This might require me to be who I'm not. This might test all the limits I've put on honesty and genuineness, my most prized possessions. But I'm pretty sure Jesus spit a big wad of "no" on my possessions long ago when he told me to throw all that away and follow Him. I guess I do know ugliness, but I'm begging God to show me something pretty, which is something He always promised He would do.