The Picture.

In George MacDonald's book, The Wise Woman, there is a scene in which a girl stands in front of a picture. The picture is what she wishes for. A girl, much like her, standing on a stream, unassuming, good. She wants to be that little girl, and as soon as she wants it, she is allowed into the picture. She steps in, and realizes that the idealization of the situation of the little girl was a misstep, for the other little girl's life was not at all free of problem or pain.

In my C.S. Lewis and friends class, my professor asked us to write a description of our picture--the ideal situation--the one that we convince ourselves to believe would be better, our "if only" picture. We read them to each other after ten minutes of writing. Here is what I wrote. It is not very well written, after all, it was more of a stream of consciousness, 10-minute endeavor. But, there is a beauty in the rawness of an admittance of our ideals as they come to us.

The little girl was quite puzzled by the first picture that she came upon. It was much like an infinite regress of pictures. A picture, of a picture, of a picture, of a picture, of a picture, of a picture of a, well, picture. And she supposed it would go on forever. When she finally got past the confusing nature of the picture itself, her eyes rested on the "initial picture," the first layer, and she realized that it was a girl, much like herself, at least in station, staring at a picture, eerily like herself, and then, of course, she realized that just as she (the onlooker) was looking at a picture of a picture of a picture of a picture, etc, so was the little girl in the picture. There was one primary difference, however, and that was that the girl in the picture was not half as confused by the picture as the little girl outside of the picture. She was, it seemed, quite a bit more satisfied with her understanding of the picture. The little girl was immediately envious of the girl once removed. Upon further reflection, the little girl was almost angry at the little girl for her wise and simple looking face and posture in the midst of what seemed to be such an overwhelmingly complex visual conundrum. Her anger at once turned to conceit. I deserve such wisdom and understanding, thought the little girl. That should be me. Things would be infinitely better if I could understand things like infinity, as this girl in the picture seems to. And suddenly, she found herself in the picture. It looked different, but the same...

I am...

a planner.

If you don't believe me, check this:  I have the next 3 summers pretty well planned out--including the hairstyle of the summer after my junior year. I will have dreads, and Alexandra will have a shaved head as we take our month long trek through Europe. You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.  I know my class schedule for not just the fall, but also the spring, and the summer of 2009. (even though, as a philosophy major, its not like i have to cram hours in). I have, in my head, and idealized version of what is going to be occurring in the year to come, and even farther on into my life.

Its not that I don't trust God to take care of it, but rather that I enjoy planning.  It gives me something to be excited about, something to look forward to.  However, that looking forward almost inevitably turns into idealizing, turning my future into something worthy of a best selling autobiography.  This doesn't happen on purpose, of course, but really, who plans a difficult future for themselves? Not I.  

The Lord knows me.  So, as I think back to the beginning of the summer when i was plagued with sickness and not allowed to go to Kids Across America Staff Training, I realize what the Lord was shielding me from.  NOT from Staff Training, mind you, but, from myself, and my planning, idealizing ways.  You see, a just a couple days ago i started thinking about Kamp, there has really not been an opportunity to do so until now, nor would there be anything of substance to think about.  Since I missed staff training, I am going in somewhat blind to this whole affair.  I have NO idea what to expect.  

Will I be with a cabin of girls who know each other or will they be simply grouped by age?  Will I be expected to have serious basketball skills or just sit back and watch them play?  Will I have a co-counselor in my cabin or no?  Are the themed parties one every week or a couple a week?  Will I build life long relationships with my staff or mainly with the campers, or both?  What will my typical day entail, any rest, no?  Am i crazy and loud enough to contribute, or will I be a quieter type in this atmosphere? What is this atmosphere?

I don't know.  And I don't know about you, but when I don't know something, I don't like to think about it.  Thus, my thoughts on camp have been few and far between.  All I can think is, Lord, I have absolutely no idea what I am getting myself into, so prepare my heart for whatever happens.

Had I not been forced to go home instead of attend the beginning of the summer training, my heart could not possibly be where it is right now--ready and waiting.  Right where it needs to be. The Lord is doing great things.