Comprehending and Processing

Now that the final wedding of the summer is over, and I'm back "home," it's time to hit the gym with brutal force.  Somehow paying $30 every month motivates me to utilize 24 Hour Fitness, and, unfortunately, I have no excuse.  After all it's open all day, every day; however, I've concluded that I go to the gym for the future... reducing future medical costs, preparing for future, outdoor endeavors, staying healthy for the people I love and will love.  I go because it's good for me, but 24 and I haven't bonded to the point of unconditional love or even unwavering addiction disguised as commitment.  No, we sort of have a love-hate connection going down.  

I understand why everyone looks like death on a Stairmaster.  Who knew climbing 80 floors in 20 minutes-I'm sure the pros do more than 20-could be that taxing.  My friend and I want to go to Peru next summer on a hiking trek along the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.  It's been on my list since high school Spanish, and Donald Miller did it, so that means I can do it, too.  But everything I've ever heard, read, or seen about this hike leads me to believe that the Stairmaster could be real helpful.  If I do 30 minutes a day until we leave, I might not collapse in Peru.  Logical thinking.  And who wants to pay $500 to pass out on the trail?  Not moi.

(Hikers on the Inca Trail:  Damn, that Random Hill setting on the recumbent just wasn't enough...")

All that ranting about the gym was a long (but apparently necessary-hello Stairmaster anger!) tangent, which proceeds to the more pressing concern:  Precious.  Despite warnings from friends and family ("you're going to cry and might not make it through in one sitting), I'd resolved to see the film.  I wanted to relax after my Stairmaster experience, and Precious wasn't the right choice.  Not only did I have a good cry, I ruined my 80-floor workout with a large bowl of ice cream (whatever... I work out, so I can eat what I want).

All over the movie, it says, "based on the novel," but we know that Precious is a composite story.  People suffer from similar abuse, illness, and poverty daily down the block from my cozy apartment.  My reaction to the film made me think about the professional route I want to pursue:  social work.  If I can't hack a movie, how will I ever do my job?  Am I cut out to hear people's stories day in and out and find some way to help them out of the downward spiral?  Who am I-broken and ill-equipped-to "handle" others' problems with some formal training and compassion?  

But what amazes and encourages me beyond my frailty is the beauty in the tragedy.  If I choose to go into social serves, my heart will be broken.  And it might be nearly impossible to completely separate from the people I serve, because they are people.  Individuals with feelings, hopes, dreams, fears.  But that relationship, that vulnerability is beautiful, and tragedy can be healed into restoration.  It might be difficult.  It will be tiresome.  It will be unnerving.  It will be underpaid.  It might not yield tangible results.  But I want to experience a better, fuller life with all people everywhere.  And I believe it is possible, even in the darkest situations.