Driving to Him

I had this minor teenage identity crisis (please keep reading, hopefully it gets better) last year. I had to take one of those personality profile tests which determined I was split, belonging to both the introvert and extrovert categories. I felt befuddled, confused as to how such a huge part of who I am could be murky, indefinite. You might think that I was silly to ask a quiz to tell me who I am; why not ask myself?

To put it simply, I don’t know that I will ever secure an answer to that question. I debated on this one component of my identity: I have friends, like being social, and while initially shy, with those I am comfortable around I sometimes can’t be shut up. I like sharing my inconsequential triumphs, confiding my secrets and hopes, spilling my thoughts for others to soak up (as perhaps evidenced by having a blog in the first place). At the same time, however, I usually find peace whilst completely alone. I enjoy not being anything for anybody and simply existing. I hunger for solitude when I am completely surrounded. I was glad to be balanced rather than an extreme introvert or extrovert, but still I wanted an answer.

My uncle cleared the mystery up for me, explaining that extroverts probably wouldn’t feel so natural being alone as I do, that they would hunger for company rather than solitude. Once he told me this, I found that stupidly obvious answer right in front of me—or rather, inside of me.

I had this unbelievable experience last year, where I went on an Ignatian Silence Retreat. I’ve never felt so in-tune with who I am, so strong, so simple, so peaceful. It felt as though God told me to seek answers from the obvious place: within myself, guided by prayers towards Him.

I’ve always harbored this burning question, to which I would never want to discover the answer from first-hand experience: what must it feel like to be an atheist? How does one exist feeling that one’s thoughts are not being heard? My mind seems open-ended, infinite, with the belief that God listens. He is everywhere, in this world, in nature, in humanity, in the heavens, in the air, beside me, above me, in me. How does one survive without being crushed by….futility, hopelessness, and utter, terrifying aloneness without a belief in God? I have this comforting thought sometimes, when I screw up, embarrass myself, or hurt someone else, that God knows my intentions and my heart.

He gave me this simple blessing today, that I hadn’t realized how much I needed until I received it: the house to myself, a day of my own. It’s healing for someone like me, a (belatedly) self-proclaimed introvert, to have a day off from attempting to interact with others.

I took a drive with God tonight. I drove and found peace. I thought of how much I love to drive, especially on an overcast night, with Kansas fields reminding me I'm home and my favorite QuikTrip drink in hand. Then I thought of how much I will miss driving next year while abroad and how life is designed in this tricky, frustrating way where we anticipate the future until we are on the cusp of realizing it. Somehow it seems cruel that I idealize the past and the future, at the cost of sometimes overlooking my current blessings.

On this drive with God, I started praying aloud. Perhaps, you might think, this girl has had too much silence. But truthfully, by myself, I can hear God’s voice the loudest. I spoke to Him of my fears and uncertainties, of how much I adore him, of how little I deserve His perfect love, of my desire to be better. I told Him that in all the ways we, humanity, try to replicate His perfection and fail, I know I can always return to Him and find my example for everything. I told Him that the way in which He listens, the way in which He loves, the way in which He comforts, the way in which he strengthens me again and again and again fulfills me. I apologized for forgetting. And I smiled.