Every Wednesday night, I attend a small group at Wesley called Restless Hearts. It's easily the highlight of my week; I love all the group regulars and find the subject material both challenging and stimulating. Perhaps strangely, perhaps not, I find it's easier to be the me I want to be when I'm there. Sometimes I feel like, in my everyday life, I'm too quiet, and I've had people tell me I don't smile enough. But when I'm at Restless Hearts, I'm engaged and interested, and I try to answer every question. And I laugh often, because I happen to be doing the study with a group of very funny people. I like that feeling, so even when I'm stressed or my mind is elsewhere, I try to make it to Restless Hearts just so I can spend a portion of the evening truly being in the moment. Does that make sense? I'm not really at my most articulate at 11:30 at night.
This week we discussed feeling hungry for God and discovering our true names. Both subjects resonated with me. I'm a Christian, but sometimes I find it difficult to keep the faith, and my belief in God is something I struggle with. Naming, I think, goes right along with being hungry for God. It's all a voyage of discovery. I'm on a journey to find my vocation, my calling in life, and certainly I think the Christian faith is a big part of that journey. When I actually find that calling - and I don't know if I'll ever fully find that, or if there is just one set vocation, because I think people are called to different things at different times in their lives, and vocation is a lifelong process - I'll also discover part of my Name. And see, I'm quite particular about names. They should be strong, and they should have meaning. I'm named Aida after my grandmother, who died not long before I was born. It was my mother's tribute to her mother, and now that I'm older I can understand that better. My name is still constantly mispronounced (not Ada, like the counselor at my high school graduation decided so vexingly to announce when it was my turn to walk across the stage, or Aída, like Verdi's opera, but Aida - phonetically I-duh - like you might expect your great-aunt to be called. Except it's not spelled Ida, because that is nearly as dreadful as Anne without the e. Anne Shirley, as you might have guessed, is my kindred spirit), and misspelled, but I've come to appreciate it for what it is. I hope that when I hear my true Name, I'll be able to recognize it, accept it, and eventually, embrace it.
While I'm at it, I feel like much of Madeleine L'Engle's work addresses a similar subject matter. If you haven't read any of her books, please do give her a try. She was amazingly talented, and I don't think I've ever seen any other author write so brilliantly about love, loss, and vocation. She might even be better than J. K. Rowling, although the Harry Potter books will be my favorites forever and always (and Rowling is quite brilliant about love, loss, and vocation herself, just in a different way). The Time series is great, if a little strange, and specifically brings up the topic of Naming. I think my favorite L'Engle is A Ring of Endless Light, though. A more beautiful book you really cannot find.
Had an excellent day today, incidentally. I got an A on a history paper I thought I'd bombed, lost two pounds without having been to the gym for a week, had a great workout tonight, really enjoyed both Constitutional Interpretation and my West Wing class, and got confirmation from my friend Michelle that she'll be spending the weekend with me. Things have been difficult for the past two weeks, but today made up for it. Praise God!
