Maybe Not

My friend Libby has decided to take a ride on the Change Train this summer. Her Change Train is on a non-stop route; destination unknown. The conductor is a scary, tatoo clad personal trainer. To hear her describe this vehicle makes me think of the scary boat ride on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I always had to close my eyes during that part of the movie. And if the Change Train at all resembles the boat, then my response is the same. I don't mind adventure. Nor do I resist new things (with the exception of course, of sushi. and now that i have mentioned sushi, i fear that any comments i receive will be about how i am missing out on God's favorite food. let's try to stay focused, people!).

But real change. The kind that causes you to forgive, let go, make new habits, believe in God at a new level . . . you will always find me covering my eyes and rocking back and forth at the mere suggestion. And with the exception of the promise of "ridiculous fun" and viewings of "Sex and the City" reruns on DVD, I want nothing to do with Libby's change train.

The funny thing is that I have spent my whole life held captive by the belief that I need to change. I want to change. Sometimes I am so immersed in self-disgust that all I want to do is change. I have spent hours dissecting myself with the hope of finding the cancer that has caused such disdain for myself. But I can't find it. Maybe my biggest problem is that I won't accept that there is a blood coursing through my spiritual veins that ripped the cancer from me years ago. Maybe the root of my sickness is my obsession with needing to be broken.