finding the hero

I found the hero today. Or I found his edges. He was off in a corner full of the dust of my house, still as heroic as ever. I set him up on my table and asked him about his heroic deeds and why he had done them. And he told me it was all because of the love that he had and the love that was him. I smiled because I knew that answer. And he didn’t offer anymore information about his heroism because I already knew, and he knew I knew.

But he remained with his eyes just fixated on me, so I decided to keep talking so things wouldn’t get uncomfortable. So we just talked about all sorts of stuff – marriage, my problems and depression, other people’s problems and depression, and more about him.

And I asked him what else he did for a living. And he named a lot of things, but what I remember is that he said he really liked art. All kinds of art. And I thought that was cool. He said his art reflected him but that it was not him. And I thought that was kind of an obvious thing to say, and kind of weird. But I just nodded. He offered me one of his paintings then, and I took it gladly, thinking that that made it all worth my while, taking him out of the corner and onto my table like I did. He seemed glad that I liked the painting, so I smiled. And he was smiling back.

I think he liked me a lot and liked to talk about his stuff too.

And then I backed up and looked at him because, you know, I had just realized that I really liked him too, and I couldn’t believe I had left such an intriguing guy to sit and get dusty in the corner. I backed up mentally, too, just to take it all in. He had told me about all these things he had done and how wonderful his character was and everything, and for the first time in my life, I kind of felt like he was the only guy who really deserved to talk about himself like that. And I just found him so interesting, you know? So perfect and talented and good and loving. So that’s why I backed up – because I had suddenly realized that my stuff wasn’t even really worth talking about and his was.

And when I backed up, he was just so beautiful… I can’t… I can’t even… His beauty just so outshone mine that I really just disappeared – kind of like a fragment of color in a whole big painting. Then we just sat silently together, admiring all his stuff and him. And he was God.

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    • Luke
    • February 13th, 2006

    How do you make someone love you without messing with free will?

    That’s a good question.

    • c.l.beyer
    • February 13th, 2006

    Luke, can you expand on that question in the context of my posting?

    • M
    • March 8th, 2006

    Carrie, this post was beautiful. I can relate, and this inspired me. And now I realize just how much I miss a good long talk with you. Love firever. And oh! Happy belated birthday!!! I can’t believe I missed it (again). Sigh.

    • Luke
    • March 22nd, 2006

    Carrie: Not really…I’m not really sure what I meant. I was going through my own struggles when I wrote that comment, and I was relating God’s desire for us to love Him with my desire for someone to love me. God gives us all a free will-which includes choosing to not love Him. Ditto for our earthly relationships.

    It was good seeing you and Kyle this weekend, even if I only got to talk to Kyle for a little while, and I didn’t get to talk to you at all, it was still good to see you there. (wow that’s an awkward sentence)

    God bless

    • dona
    • March 23rd, 2006

    Love this post (as I do all of them!). It’s so *real, and I can relate. Thanks for sharing your writings.

    It was good to see you this weekend. 🙂

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