Teacher, can't I just copy the answers from the back of the book and be finished with it?

For the last 48 hours or so, my g-chat status has said, "Meredith Cooper has lots of questions."

It really wasn't the wisest thing to put up for all to see, because as encrypted messages go, this one solicits quite a lot of, well, questioning. In the midst of pondering several big issues in life, I'm not exactly ready to explain myself to the everyday gmail-passerby.

Still, my vague announcement offers insight into the psyche of Mere. On some level, I want people to have an idea, at least amorphously, that I'm struggling, but rarely do I want to get into the nitty gritty of it. I avoid episodes (like one I had the other night) where I involuntarily break down in front of one of those friends who's really not "in" enough for me to know that the sight of my mascara strewn face won't make him run for the hills. I keep it together because despite preaching vulnerability (and I think perhaps actually being fairly good at it at some point in my past), I prefer that people see me as a strong and pleasant person. I don't want to be a burden, I think, forgetting that by allowing others to bear my burdens, I afford them an opportunity to display Christlikeness. I forget that intimacy and fellowship are the first steps to being like Christ, how only in community can we actually carry out many of the commands of scripture--to be forgiving, patient, to lead and share wisdom.

So I did post for the world to see, and am furthering the cause with this, that I am praying through some life stuff, that I am asking questions of God and waiting patiently and persistantly for His response. A few people have messaged me to offer an answer--to one I jokingly finished his sentence: yes, I do know the answer, "Jesus!" I hoped the exclamation point was sufficient to convey the childlike (albeit sarcastic) enthusiasm that I once used to answer every question in Sunday School. It was a joke. It felt cliche. But I knew it was true.

It's like so much math homework, I realized. I know the solution--the answers to all the odds are in the back of the book--but now I'm mulling through the process of showing my work. Like I tell my students, you have to practice it so it will sink in. The homework is just extra studying, extra practice for the test.

And so it is, I assume, in my life. It's not in the finishing that life comes, not even always in the tests, but life, rather, is lived in the daily journey. Seemingly cliche, but true in a way that rises above it. Sometimes the questions are hard--I don't always know how to get there, but at least I know what the end point looks like, what I should start running toward and why.