A Road Less Travelled

I just read Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. Once again, Gabrielle was right–I did enjoy it, and it was a harsh book. The main character is a little boy named Ender, who is being trained as a soldier. Because he has the best potential to be the commander they desperately need, his training is especially cold and hard. He is honed into the perfect soldier at the expense of his family, any chance of friendship, and anything else that got in the way. I bonded with the main character for a series of odd reasons. It started when he doubled numbers in his head to distract himself. 1,2,4,8,16… I’ve done that. Unlike Ender I can’t get as far as the ten thousands before I have to stop, but I understand having a brain that works that way. Then I read this: “Graff had isolated Ender to make him struggle. To make him prove, not that he was competent, but that he was far better than everyone else. That was the only way he could win respect and friendship. It made him a better soldier than he would ever have been otherwise. It also made him lonely, afraid, angry, untrusting. And maybe those traits, too, made him a better soldier.” This resonated with me far more strongly than I would have liked. My childhood was nowhere near as difficult as Ender’s–I had my family. Ender was trained to rely only on himself. The only people I believed could really rely on were my family or myself. I didn’t have very many friends as I grew up. Outside my family circle I unconsciously assumed that no one would like me unless I was perfect–better than everyone else. Looking back, this really threw a wrench into my early attempts at friendships. In the end I think that was why I moved up here. My family will always be there no matter where I live. But if I’d moved back home after a year of living here I would have turned my back on the first real friendships of my life. Gabrielle and I might have e-mailed for a few months or longer, but sooner or later our real lives would have gotten in the way and the friendship would have slowly crumbled apart. Now a few thousand miles between us would be a strain, but I don’t believe it would pull us apart. I hesitated to acknowledge this because I’m afraid if I admit it I’ll have to do it–that God will say that I belong somewhere else now. That’s what would have happened to Ender. I know better than to think this way, but I still catch myself in it. As though my life were directed by frazzled commanders desperately pulling together resources for a planet they may or may not be able to save. As though my skills might be needed somewhere, but in the grand scheme I am personally expendable. But God already won the battle that we fight. He trains us as soldiers, not because He needs us, but because He loves us. He trains us up as His soldiers to His glory not at the expense of who we are, but to the fulfillment of who are. Every small happening, whether easy, harsh or beautiful is planned to be the best possible thing for each one of His children at the same time. He’s training me for my place in His church, whatever and wherever that may be. I suspect that I’ll need my determination, the tone that Gabrielle calls my ‘No’ voice, my perfectionist streak, and all my other not-so-lovable qualities many times before I’ve finished my job. I’m also going to need the ‘it’s okay’ voice, the ability to care about people even when it hurts, and many other things I’m trying to learn right now. I hope that I’ll be able to spend the rest of my life here in this city, even this same street, practicing these skills. If God calls me somewhere else I’ll know that it’s better, not just for me, but for everyone around me. And in the end the struggle will not make me lonely or afraid. Instead I will be surrounded by friends and fellow soldiers as we sing praises to the God who brought us through it all. However harsh the story that came before, I’d say that’s a happy ending.