Author: <span>Rebecca Matheson</span>

I wrote this post for part of a gush thread… but due to server problems I couldn’t reply:

I’m very much not the person to express things physically… like
running round madly etc. I’m not a huggy person.

Yes there are many occasions when the situation requires more than words… I guess I just generally tend to empathise differently (although yeah… attempting to speak
someone elses love language is a rewarding thing to do, it’s curious how the
general principles seep into other areas of your life.)
I’m a ‘be there’ person… an ‘advice’ giver (:) words and time). I’ve never been overly good at letting somone cry on shoulder kind of thing, I shy away from it.

I can stand back, see how it works with others. I can understand, because I’ve had brief insights of it in my own life. Generally speaking, physical stuff its not really
my way of expressing how I feel.

Now I don’t know. I wonder if along the way some of that expression of self through ‘physicality’, what? disappeared, or is a lesser known side of myself, even to myself and not one that I excercise frequently.

I have felt the need before.

All I could do then was run. (yeh ok a 12year old’s grief over a pet. still significant)

To scream at the world at God… but that is still using words.

Being keyed into reading body language… maybe it’s more an interpretation of understanding, and adapting to fill that role, to love the person in they way they are loved best. It’s fulfilling. But I don’t know.

Expression.

how do I express myself?

The Cider House Rules

…I haven’t come away from a movie so quietly disturbed like that for a long time, not since Dead Poets Society.

Are the base layer issues too close to home?
The idea too align with what Mon’s been through… no it wasn’t an option for her, but did the thought cross her mind?

So strange… so rich in symbolism but passive.

Pro-choice

a rethink on tolerance, on understanding.

an acknowledgement of my foolishness to ever offer advice.

a warning to not assume the depth of feeling or comprehension.

the importance of life.

no words.

Psalm 139
fearfully and wonderfully made. I know that full well.

who justifies the wrong?
you do.

not angry, just…why?
what’s it like God to know their hurt?

I’m sitting here, the sun is over my paper. The light shows up every slight pit and texture. Is that how it is when you look at me? Your light, your holiness exposes me. What looks smooth – white, ready to fill with words – when under close inspection looks rouch, is marred and dented. I could go on about metaphors – my mind creates them constantly. What do you see when you look at who I am? You know every detail, every smooth, every rough, every covered section. You know what words my choices will write on my life, you know what words I will let you write and those I’ll scrawl in my own impatience.
God you remind me over an dover how you chose me, how you love me. When I went to walk yesterday, to be alone, to even maybe spend some time talking with you – you were reminding me just how much you love me. It was strange but I hardly got a word in edgeways. You slowed me down. It wasn’t an overwhelming sense of anything, it wasn’t audible, it wasn’t filling, crowding my mind. Just a heightened sense of being right where I was, a greater reality. It was an understanding. Your still small voice. You don’t work like we do.
Those words fail to explain it, it wasn’t surprising or magnificent. I felt like me, not anything more.

This is how much you love me. More than experience here will allow me to understand. More than anyone can tell me, stress upon me. More than a walk and a faint idea. More than the words that can be written. More than a touch. More than a smile. Much more.

Nice discovery. Write in pencil and snoopy look over shoulder people on the train (I’m not one of those, I just eavesdrop) can’t see what you’re writing – although neither can you when you get home late and the lighting in your room is not fantastic.

After an extremely rushed 15min wake up (2nd time). sitting on the train mostly alseep I get to the Box Hill area and see the White Horse City Church – which stands out as it looks so… clean. I had been looking at the graffiti as you do when you stare blankly out train windows. There was a sign for their youth group: Xtreme Youth, painted graffiti style on their massive whitewashed building. I almost laughed, it struck me how in an attempt to ‘fit in’ they had created one massive barrier. Now I don’t know if people think about such things, but against the general mess and art of station wall graffiti it looked simply weak. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great youth group. I’ve been several times as one of my really good friends goes there – they have a fantastic community drop in centre etc… but yeah.
Does anyone stand back and look at a simple thing like signage objectively… because I do.

…half an eavesdrop, bought to mind the topic of ‘Boundries’. It’s interesting when you see a ‘couple’ on the train – whom you strangely admire. Not talking about physical boundries or anything here… but the guy was talking to the girl about setting some boundries – I don’t know what about – but really stressing something to her that she needed to mmm set boundries (mmm words are coming thick and fast tonight). I doubt I would have noticed it had I not been told this week’s lifeskills topic was, “boundries”, had a conversation with Jo about wanting to find out a bit more – not the physical side of things, that’s always kind of obvious. But the mental, emotional boundries -something I wonder about on and off, but never come to any conclusions on.
Frankly I don’t have a clue.

When I hit a point of having more than 6hrs sleep the night before I might decide to think about it.

It was an interesting threesome, no foursome. Two guys, a girl and a baby. Really mmm… how to put it? Aussie. Slang- their words really down to earth, with the occasionaly four letter one thrown in. Talking loudly and natrually on the train. So unlike most snobby, self concerned others. Rough kind of people – maybe not stacks of education. I couldn’t work out who was the dad at first. It’s so completely bizzare to see a guy going all ‘soft’ over showing a tracksuit they bought for ‘her’. The friend was holding her (the baby) – just looked really at ease. The baby can’t have been quite 1yr, on his lap perfectly content. A curious mix of, ‘We don’t have a clue what parenting is all about, we’re new to this.’ and the ingrained ability to care.
Despite the language, the rough and ready, dole bludger appearance (which is kind of judgemental… but how do you explain?) I think it was a better situation for the kid than an overprotective, sanitised, fantatical, ‘knowledgeable’ couple.
Oh I doubt they were married. I felt sorry for the kid at first – think of environment, but I changed my mind. She was happy.

God, I’m sorry. I jump to conclusions on first apperances. You are the only one that should judge – who has the right to. Help me to see people for who they really are, the way you see past each of my mistakes. Show me God how you see others and teach me to look at them the same way.