DEAR STRANGER

Last week, I met someone who I will probably think about at least once a day for the rest of my life. I'm kind of using the term "met" loosely. Like, really loosely. As I've mentioned before, I work in my university's Office of Admission. I have two different jobs there, but they're both in the same office. Kind of funky. This particular day, I was working the front desk. A school was taking a field trip kind of thing to DePaul; they were getting an information session and then a tour of the campus. I was sitting there swiveling in my chair (if you tell me you sit in a chair with wheels and don't spin around, you're lying), watching these 7th and 8th graders walk in our front door with an overwhelming sense of innocence and curiosity. Once they all headed into the auditorium to hear from one of our admissions counselors, my eyeballs went back to my computer to finish the email I was sending. A few seconds later, an all too familiar sniffling sound drew my attention back to the door. I saw a girl trailing behind the rest of the group, followed by a teacher. The second I saw her, I knew what was going on: she was dealing with anxiety. She walked into our lobby and was sitting on one of our chairs, scared to death. She was sobbing, begging her teacher not to make her go in the auditorium. They were trying to call her parents to have them come get her, but weren't able to get a hold of anyone. This teacher was growing more and more irritated with her and started to get angry with her. The little girl finally stood up, looked her teacher dead in the eye, and said "You can't sit here and yell at me when you have no idea what is going on inside my head right now. I can't control my anxiety. This is hard enough without you getting mad at me." Those words hit me like a fricken ton of bricks.

This teacher was going about this entire situation in all the wrong ways. I was so close to going over to that lady, telling her to beat it and let me handle things. But I do have an ounce or two of will power, so that didn't happen. Finally her dad came and picked her up, and you could tell she left feeling bummed and disappointed in herself. Her teacher quickly got on the phone with someone who sounded like they also worked at the school. I was rudely eavesdropping, and was DUMBFOUNDED with the way this woman was talking about the situation and the student that she is supposed to be protecting and caring for. I'll spare you the details, but at one point, she said, "She was acting so irrationally and out of control, I can't believe they haven't hospitalized her yet". That is an actual quote, I couldn't make that shit up if I wanted to. I can't tell you how badly I wanted to walk over there and slap that lady across her stupid face, but I was pretty sure assaulting a visitor would have gotten me fired on the spot. I went against my better judgement and let her walk out of the building unscathed. I blew her up in my mind, though. And I'm not even sorry about it.

I watched this entire thing go down from my computer, tears silently falling down my face. On my walk home I called my mom to tell her what I had just seen. I couldn't even get a sentence out before I lost it. The emotion I felt for this girl I didn't even know was so unexpected that I wasn't quite sure what to do with it. I have never seen someone suffering just like I did. I've talked to people who suffer from it, I've read blogs and books, but never have I seen a girl (roughly the same age as I was when things where at their worst) saying the same things I did, acting the same way I did. I even recognized her cry. It was one of the toughest things I've ever had to watch.

I have not stopped thinking about her since that day, and I don't think I will be able to for a while. I wish I could talk to her for a minute. I've thought about what I would say and how I would say it, and this is what I've come up with.

I love you. I know that I am a stranger and that sounds crazy. But I wish I could make this better for you and take this badness away, because it's not fun. I know that you wish you could be "normal" like the other kids in your class who are able to do things without thinking twice. Things that seem so easy for them are so hard for you, and you don't understand why. I want you to know that things are going to get better. The things you are going through right now will make you a stronger and better woman. Someday. 

I want you to know that I'm praying for you. I pray that you have parents who support you and love you and make you happy when you're sad. I pray that you have teachers who are better than the one I saw you with that day. I hope you have someone you can confide in and lean on. I hope there is someone who can offer you comfort, even if it's just for a second. I hope the kids at school are nice to you even though they might not be able to understand what you're dealing with. I hope that one day you will look back on this and say, "I am so glad that's over". But more than anything, I hope you know that this is not your fault. I hope you believe that you are not defected, you are not imperfect, you are not damaged. You are just who you need to be. And that is a wonderful, beautiful girl.

I know she will never see this letter, but I think writing it here is better than never saying it at all.  

YOU FOUND ME

Religion is about as personal as personal gets. It's the most personal part I possess. It's something I don't really like talking about or sharing with other people, even though I know I should. My relationship with God is my own, and I like it that way. It's such a personal part of me that I would be really hurt if someone attacked me or disagreed with me. Everyone has different opinions about their God, and you would be hard pressed to find two people whose idea of God or religion match up exactly. But everyone has expectations and hopes for something greater than themselves.

I've always thought "You Found Me" by the Fray (sorry for the cheesy throwback) sums up my struggle pretty well. I've tried to pick out just a line or two to talk about, but that's far too difficult. So I'm just gonna look at some chunks.

"I found God on the corner of 1st and Armistad

Where the West was all but won

All alone, smoking his last cigarette

I said, 'Where you been?' He said 'Ask anything'"

 One thing I have realized is that you can find God in some really unexpected places. Sometimes even downright weird places. In the faces of the ones you love, in the faces of strangers, in the beauty of nature, in the mundaneness of a textbook. I think the strangest places I saw God was in a gas station bathroom. Couldn't make that up. I'm telling you, it's possible.

"Where were you when everything was falling apart?

All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang

And all I needed was a call that never came 

To the corner of 1st and Armistad" 

"Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret". Except my name's not Margaret. So I guess this Judy Bloome reference from the 70's isn't totally applicable. But the feeling she was talking about definitely is. Like I'm sure I've said a million times, I grew up in a Catholic family going to Catholic schools. I was taught how to read the Bible, had to pray the Rosary, what to say when during Mass. But what I was never taught was how to really talk to God; I was never taught how to believe. My faith was a duty for me. I would go through the motions of it all, but it never meant more to me than that. It was a chore. Whenever I had a hard time, though, my first instinct was to pray. It was strange, like something just kicked in. Most of the time, nothing would happen. At least, I felt like nothing was happening. It was like "UHM HELLO!! HI. I'M HERE. CAN YOU PAY ATTENTION TO ME?" 

"Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me

Lying on the floor surrounded, surrounded 

Why'd you have to wait? Where were you? Where were you?

Just a little late, you found me, you found me"

Where did God found me? On my bathroom floor at around 3:30 AM. After nights and nights and days and days of feeling like I really didn't see what the point was anymore, I was laying on the cold tile floor when I had a sudden overwhelming sense of peace. It was a few days into my intensive program, and I was scared to death that this wouldn't work. But it HAD to; this was our last resort. This was it. After this, it would be a white flag waving. I was lying on the ground, with the faucet on so I wouldn't wake my parents up with my crying, because I was absolutely terrified of waving that white flag. All of a sudden, the words "You will be okay" came into my head. Over and over. At first, I thought this was my optimistic thinking. But it was enough to get me off the floor and back into bed. As time went by, I realized that was not my optimism. That had to be a God thing. Now I can't prove it, but I think that's the point of faith. I believe that was him reaching out to me. Maybe it was a little bit later than I hoped, and I was undoubtedly scared and lost, but he got there. He was always there, I think. But that's where he found me. Or maybe that's just where I found him.