Goodbye, dream; hello, dream

I need to warn you about this post. I'm going to write about the menstrual cycle. If you feel the need to skip reading this post, I won't be offended. (However, if you feel the need to lecture me about talking about this type of thing in mixed company, I'll be pretty darn offended.) I'll try to not get too personal or too graphic, and I definitely won't include any photos. (Sorry.) Also, I'm not a medical professional or an ordained minister. But I am a woman. And I'm going to gush-ramble for a little bit.

About once a month, I spend a little time hating Eve (the first woman, the one who influenced Adam to sin, the one who ruined everything for every woman who came after her and for all of humanity). This may sound terrible, but I hope Eve isn't in heaven, because if she is, I think I'm going to kick her butt when I meet her. Really hard. Or maybe Jesus will host field trips to hell so that every female citizen of heaven can take turns punching Eve in the jaw. Really hard.

The menstrual cycle is a really, really, really big deal to a woman. It ends up controlling many of her everyday decisions. Her entire month could end up revolving around it. I myself need to keep ibuprofen and chocolate handy for the week leading up to it, and I need to keep feminine napkins and lots of toilet paper handy for the week during my period.

Because eventually, it's going to happen.

If a woman doesn't get her period every month, she's either pregnant or something is wrong with her health. Any young woman who has never had a period by a certain age might need surgery to correct the problem. Any woman (like the one in Matthew 9:20-22) who gets a period that never stops will either need surgery or a miracle to correct the problem. I once knew a girl who was anorexic in junior high, and she stopped getting her period while she had her eating disorder. After she came to her senses and started eating again, her period didn't come back again on its own until she was in college. I've heard stories of some women who have very painful, irregular periods; in these cases, doctors often prescribe birth control pills because they cause women's bodies to have light, regular periods.

Speaking for myself, if I am very stressed out, I will skip my period that month. That is actually what happened to me last month... so this month's period is particularly heavy. (Hence the inspiration for the writing of this post.) Yay, I get to skip a period, right? Wrong. Try having PMS for a month. Yeah, I know.

In cases like that, finally getting my period is a relief... and yet simultaneously, it's like an unwelcomed guest in my life. To me, having a period is the most disgusting thing about being a woman (which is an otherwise wonderful thing to be). Once a month, blood very gradually gushes out of a major body cavity and threatens to stain everything you wear and/or sit on unless you take the proper precautions. It takes some serious skill and finesse to live with your period and even to hide it from other people. It's a slimy, sweaty, stinky, gross process. There's no stopping it once it starts; you just need to wait 5-10 days and let nature take its course. Thanks a lot, Eve.

Actually, when I attempted suicide 15 years ago, I was on my period, but it stopped suddenly while I was in the psych hospital. I guess a traumatic experience will do the trick.

As if having your period weren't already traumatic enough. In my 26 years of having periods, the worst experience I ever had was when I was about 16 years old. I was with my family at a Baptist camp, and I was inadequately prepared for my monthly visitor. I had an accident, and my birth mother drove me back to our motel room for a change of clothes, etc. During the process, I accidentally locked us out of our room; while I was getting a spare key from the motel office, my mother threw her back out while she was lugging our ice chest out of our car. She was bedridden for pretty much the rest of the week at camp, and she blamed me for it. (There is so much wrong with this story... because I was being shamed on top of being embarrassed... and I didn't force her to retrieve the ice chest which we didn't have an immediate need for... while we were being total snobs who didn't sleep in tents or dorms like everybody else at camp. Yes, I was pretty much raised by wolves.)

But if you're a woman, unless you have extenuating circumstances, you're going to get a period every month.

I don't think it's an accident that God created the menstrual process to be a weeklong, very gradual process. It would be enormously inconvenient and embarrassing if my body were to suddenly eject a never-born infant's blood supply in one huge gush. Now that I think about it, I'm kind of glad God makes it last several days. (I mean, my body isn't a computer. I don't get like a pop-up flash across my eyeballs or anything like that: "Countdown to monthly ejection in 10... 9... 8...")

God knew this. The menstrual cycle shows up in random places in the Bible, from the woman with the issue of blood to Rachel lying about being on her period while she was hiding some idols (see Genesis 31:34-35). God gave Old Testament laws about what to do and not to do during and after a menstrual cycle. I read an article online once that was written by a Jewish woman who, from what I understand, still does the ceremonial cleansing that God ordained in the Bible. If I remember correctly, she said that the ceremony is a beautiful thing that represents the loss of the baby that will never be born -- of a life that will never be.

And that leads me to the point of this entire post. God showed me recently that the menstrual cycle is basically the monthly death of a dream.

This totally makes sense. The death of a dream can be a very gradual, messy process as well. (Some dreams can die very suddenly, but the grieving process can be gradual and messy.)

"Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us. Selah." (Psalm 62:8)

"Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it spring the issues of life." (Proverbs 4:23)

"Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain." (John 12:24)

All of us have something that God designed for our future -- a purpose, a calling, a destiny. Oftentimes that something (or somethings) starts out as a dream. That dream germinates, is cultivated, and grows -- sometimes for a very long time -- until it is finally realized.

But other times, a dream will die permanently.

Sometimes you know it's coming; sometimes you can brace yourself for the gory process. But other times, the death of your dream will take you by surprise, and you feel very ill-prepared, disoriented, and humiliated. Still other times, the people around you who were supposed to support you during your grieving process end up hurting you during your crisis.

There isn't anything gentlemanly or discreet about grief at all. By its very nature, grief is an unavoidable monster that is best handled by allowing it to take its course. If the process makes you uncomfortable or if you do anything to try to stifle it, you could severely harm yourself.

But the best way to let grief take its course is by crying into the bosom of your Creator. When your dream dies, you'll have a giant hole in your heart; what was once alive will be gushing out of you in ways that you might not be able to control. The entire process will be messy and terrible, but it will be beautiful.

You think it doesn't hurt when your dream dies? Heh. Let me share just a couple of my personal examples with you.

I used to want to be a novelist. This dream of mine has died twice, and it was God's idea both times. The first time, He told me to just lay it down; that was 16 years ago, and I was dangerously mad at Him. Then He rekindled the dream inside me about 5 years ago. Then about 3 years ago, He told me to let it die so that I could learn how to cultivate a dream; thankfully I'm not mad at Him anymore, and the new dream is way cooler (now I want to be a worship pastor, which is a calling that He hadn't told me anything about until a few years ago).

But while I had been cultivating my novelist dream, and while I had been watching it gradually die, I encountered all kinds of heartache related to it. I started a novel a couple of times, but it never got off the ground. I wrote several short stories, but none of them sold to any magazines I had submitted them to. I even wrote a play, but nobody bought it (and it stank). Meanwhile, I had moved back in with my birth parents (wolves), and I tried to write, but I was constantly distracted (no, thank you, I don't want to watch another useless made-for-TV movie), and then they wondered why I wasn't writing.

Years after I permanently ventured out on my own, I can see how God's vision for my writing skills reached far beyond what any stupid novels could accomplish. I hope Windowbrawl has helped people connect with Him (in addition to being therapy for me).

But the process of letting that dream die (both times) was rather painful. You think it's easy to get fired from a writing job? You think it's easy feeling like a screw-up? You think it's easy to earn a college degree in writing, only to watch people with terrible grammar, language, and communication skills get their work published instead? Yeah, I know.

Here's another dead dream: I used to want to get married. This dream took a really, really, really long time to die, because getting married is a really big deal (especially to a woman). Actually, I think this particular dream is still in the gradual, gory, gross process of dying. I have felt little painful squirts here and there from time to time, sometimes with little warning or preparation. Letting it run its course has downright stunk.

You think it's been a picnic to go 21 years without a date? You think it's been wonderful to allow your heart to develop feelings for somebody, only to watch him pursue other women instead? You think it's been easy to watch your friends marry guys who you used to have a crush on? (That's happened to me at least twice.) You think it's been flattering to practically throw yourself at men who end up registering on match.com instead, or who end up whining on Facebook about their singlehood, or who end up just ignoring you altogether? Yeah, I know. Sometimes I feel like a useless container for ovaries. (And I'm very surprised that I haven't punched every member of the male species in the jaw. Really hard.)

You think it's easy to pray for a husband and for God to be silent? You think it's easy to hear Him finally start talking to you, when He tells you that you're not going to have a husband? You think it's easy to hear people preach at you about God giving you the desires of your heart?

Of course it isn't easy. They have no idea what kind of storms have raged inside your heart. They have no idea that something has already been in the process of dying inside your heart and that it's about to gradually flow out of your heart forever. They have no idea how painful it will be for you to let that death run its course. They have no idea how God wants to use your pain to make you stronger, help other people, draw you closer to Himself, and hopefully earn you some sweet rewards in heaven someday. (Not counting getting to kick the crap out of Eve.)

Only God knows.

He is the best Person to grieve with. His bosom is the best place to express the angst that builds up right before, during, and after the death of another dream. Sometimes He's the only One capable of saying anything that actually encourages you while you're hurting. And He's definitely the Expert at rebuilding old dreams and creating new dreams.

"The Lord builds up Jerusalem; He gathers together the outcasts of Israel. He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (Psalm 147:2-3)

Living alone with two cats isn't the kind of life that I would have chosen for myself when I was fresh out of high school or college, but I'll take it. God told me a long time ago that my independence was a gift from Him, and I think I understand now what He meant by that. I don't think I would have time to cultivate my new dreams if I were too busy trying to rescue the old ones. I don't think I would have had time to spend 16-17 hours at church this past weekend if I had either 1) a novel to finish writing and/or 2) a husband and children to clean up after. Honestly, I'm very thankful that my teenage cats are still alive, and I'm glad they support my current life pursuits by just napping and being themselves.

I almost wonder if perhaps God planted the seeds of my current life inside me when I was a kid. I used to play/pretend that I lived all by myself in an apartment where I had everything I needed. And when I was even younger than that, I had a kitten whom I referred to as "my son."

But while I'm letting my dreams die, and while I'm learning how to cultivate new dreams, I'm going to hold on to God as tightly as I can, and I'm going to let Him hold on to me. I think in addition to being the Expert dream-builder, He Himself is also the ultimate Expert at letting dreams die. From what I understand, Adam and Eve were God's dream to populate the earth with little human expressions of Himself. But they royally messed up that dream for God and for us.

So, God created a new dream: to repopulate the earth with redeemed human expressions of Himself. That dream grew over the centuries, and it finally came true when His Son Jesus came to earth, died, and rose again. And God's new dream comes true every time somebody gives their heart to Him for the very first time.

For a woman, being on her period is a very awkward time of the month. But it's worth pushing through the awkwardness because she knows that without this natural process, she couldn't reproduce herself. Similarly, letting your dream die is a painfully terrible process that possibly only you and God will understand. But it's worth pushing through it because without this process, you might not be able to make room in your life for the tailor-made dream that God has for you. And you could get to know God at a deeper level than ever before.

Maybe someday, Jesus will host a field trip to hell where He'll let me punch the devil in the crotch. Really hard.