What if we didn’t love the wrong people during the holidays?
What if we let people in, instead of shutting them out?
What if we realized how messed up the world is? Even at this very moment?
Would our fridge still be full of food we are not going to finish?
Would you tell me that it didn’t matter?
Would you tell me that everything is going to be alright?
Would you believe it?
What if you asked a stranger “how are you?”?
What if they told you they weren’t alright?
What if you asked a friend?
What if they told you they are alright, but you know better?
What if you asked me?
What if, even with a cross around my neck, I told you I’m not?
Have you ever been followed?
I experienced this tonight as I was talking a nightly walk in the cold winter weather. When my usual route came to its end, instead of going home straight away I walked to town. Since I live about five minutes away from probably the most crowded part of the city, I didn’t see that as I problem. I’ve done it before.
However, as I was crossing the usually trafficked but now almost empty highway, I noticed a car parked too close to the crosswalk. (Yes, I am studying for my driver’s license.) As I passed it, I saw a man, about thirty years old, staring at me through the window of the car. I looked away because I’m socially awkward and continued walking. He turned the car around and followed me slowly as I continued on another, biggest street, containing more people. I noticed that he was following me when I stopped and he had to drive around the house to look at me again without stopping the minimum traffic. There was stopping, parking right next to me, waiting in the corner of the house I had to pass to continue walking on the street, and lap after lap as I stood completely still, not knowing what to do. Fear struck me. The raw, aggressive, blinding kind of fear, and I just stood there, seeing him passing me by slowly and passing me by again.
I am fine. I am perfectly fine as I’m laying in my bed right now. I ran to my boyfriend’s place and he followed me home and that’s that.
I have been spoiled, or blessed, call it whatever you want, with never having to be afraid. I have always known that I have people around me that care for me, and I have never been scared of someone. And I just realized as I came home tonight that so many people are living with this fear. This biting, blood-pumping, icing fear. The fear of not knowing what to do or where to go. The fear of not knowing how to get out of your situation, or being afraid no one will ever care.
I just experienced a glimpse of the fear some people live with all the time, and that was absolutely terrifying. So, tonight my prayers go out to all of you. If you are reading this, you are strong and I know you will get out of it. I believe in you.
All my love, Sara
Almost three months ago, the seventh of September, I came along with my boyfriend Max, his dad and his dad’s girlfriend Pia, to their grandmother. I love meeting Max’s relatives and I had a really good time with good food and good company.
However, As we were heading home, his dad turned around and began to drive back. “What are we doing?”, Max asked and looked around.
“Wait, there’s something I want to show you.”, his dad said at the front seat. Pia looked over at him from the passenger seat and smiled as if she knew exactly what we were going to do. “What’s going on?”, I asked her, bending forward to avoid shouting. She looked back at us and smiled wide.
It was pitch dark outside, except for the yellow streetlights casting its light down for us in the most comforting way. Trees were surrounding us form the sides and I suddenly realized how much I love driving in the dark. There’s something calming about.
After a couple of minutes the car slowed down and turned left, onto a small uphill leading to a small village close to where I live, but never visit.
“Where are we going?”, Max asked once again, bending forward to get a better look out of the windshield. As the light reached his face it hit me once again how beautiful he is.
“We’re almost there”, his dad announced. Max looked at me curiously. I shrugged, looking back out of the window.
We kept on driving, through the still awake village and off into the dark. No cozy streetlights. No bypassing cars. Only us against the dark.
After a couple of minutes we pulled over. “You might need this.”, Pia said, handing us a big, warm blanket.
“Are we…?” Max started. Yes. Yes, we were. Max’s dad owns a convertible car and I was too excited to let Max finish his sentence, I threw the blanket over us and crawled over to him.
“Now, look at this.” Max’s father pressed a button somewhere on his side and the roof began to roll back. It was dead silent.
And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.
– Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower.
The most beautiful starry sky was before us. Thousands and thousands of stars, too close to each other and too many to get a glimpse of any constellations. I looked up at Max who’s eyes were fixed to the sky and I thought about how many people there are looking up at the same sky, both at this moment and at all the times the sky has looked at this. I wondered how those people felt and thought and it, and if they still remember it today.
“We are infinite”, I whispered into the silence, loud enough for them to hear me whisper, but quietly enough for anyone not to hear what I’d said.
Max looked down at me, wondering. I shook my head, smiling, not daring to say those words out loud once more. But that night, in the car, with the endless amount of stars, the four of us. In that moment, I swear, we were infinite.
I’ll have you know that I have dreamt of writing this post. I always imagined it to be full of joy and how I tell you how wonderful everything is. I imagined this part of my life to be like the song “I’m Alive” by Peter Furler. Things never really are exactly as you expect them to be, are they? It’s not that I’m disappointed, because I’m not. It’s just that I imagined this time of my life to be… easier.
Do you remember me telling you that I had some sort of body-ache? It felt as if I had this creature on the inside of my ribs and how it grabbed my ribs, pulling them inwards, making a hard time for me to breath. I never told you, but it got worse over time. I ended up having trouble hanging out with Christians, I couldn’t go to church, I couldn’t pray nor have other Christians pray for me since I would literally manifest. That is, by the way, the grossest thing ever. I threw myself backwards and forwards and I kept making these hand gestures as if to protect myself from the prayers.
However, I was in Denmark over summer-break and this one guy, this one pastor, Curry Blake, laid his hands on me and commanded it to go. Sadly, it wasn’t as pretty as you thought it would be. He didn’t walk up to me and was like: “Hello there, God’s child. I come to you in holiness and I command your body-ache to disappear.” Nope. I had a hard time even walking up to him since I had this thought telling me to run in the other direction. When I got to him and he put his hands on my shoulders, I backed away. When he once again put his hands on my shoulders, I began to shake violently and growl at him. The really weird thing was that I knew that I was doing these things; backing away, shaking, and growling, but I couldn’t control it. I remember standing there thinking: “Sara, what on earth are you doing? Stop it!”
It did disappear though. Not at once. Not as he was praying from me, nor as I was walking out of that place that night. Not even the day after. It wasn’t until I got back to Sweden as I realized that it was gone.
So, that’s that, I guess. I was delivered. I am delivered. I think it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet.
I’m not sure of what I was expecting, but this is not it. I feel like a war is starting, not a physical one, but a spiritual one. A new, different war. The thing is that I’m sickly excited about it. I am now sure of where I stand, and I know that nothing can really hurt me. At least not anything from the spiritual world.