i have been running a lot more than usual lately - well not really running running, more sort of mellowly jogging. i am very much enjoying it, because its giving me more energy and helping me get some time to contemplate and talk to God. I find i talk to God better when i moving around and looking at the ocean and listening to amazing music (current favorite running music = Yppah). a couple weeks ago, i felt almost all my relationships were strained and it was frustrating me. I was running/walking/praying on the beach, asking God for answers, wanting Him to show up somehow, perhaps even subtly wanting him to justify my frustrations and make my struggles go away. As i was saying this, i looked up and saw a red mark ahead on the rocks in front of me. As i got closer, i saw it had a word above it. A few more steps and i saw. It said "MORE" and beneath it was a red heart. And i stood there smiling, looking at the MORE LOVE rock.
today, i ran again all around my neighboorhood and then on the cliffs and then to the lighthouse and then took a 20 min walk on the beach. I prayed into the wind, Yppah playing in one ear and my own voice sounding like whispers from someone behind me in the other ear (i have to pray out loud or my thoughts takeover my brain and i can't concentrate too well). my mom had just finished telling me i need to learn to be in the moment, a message i have heard far too many times without much change on my part. I walked on the beach praying and hoping no one would hear me and think i was crazy. then, ahead of me i see a tiny blonde girl playing in the waves. Her dad is watching her, holding her pink sweater and she is in bright fluorescent bathing suit and nothing matters to her right then except that she is playing in the water and that her dad is watching her. And then next to them two girls walked, a puppy between them carrying a stick in his mouth and they smiling and laughing. The puppy ran ahead and caught the eye of another blonde girl playing in the sand and they had a moment. The puppy then raced off to be with his own girls and i smiled. And i became overwhelmed. And i became happy. A few things i have loved with an inexplicable love since before i can remember are the ocean/any body of water and puppies/dogs. I was a little fish as a kid, always wanting to be in the pool or river or creek (we lived in landlocked ohio, so the ocean only became a love once we moved here when i was 5). Also as a kid, i loved dogs and would constantly be playing with ours or anyone elses who would let me. Also, i was a very blonde haired little girl.
Walking back home through the sand, smiling about puppies and blonde girls and laughter and watching fathers, i felt happy. I walked in the sand and started to walk in the deeper tracks left by cars who had crisscrossed the beach some other time or day. I started thinking about how hard patterns are to break, how easy it is for me to live in some other time, to live in expectation, to live in fear, to live in doubt and to always wonder what is next... my own thought patterns well worn and entrenched before me. Without thinking, i stepped out of the tracks into the sand where only a thousand foot steps remained, aiming myself not in a familiar well worn path, but in the direction that would most quickly lead me home.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
inside and out
what a delightful and life giving gift it is to share a lengthy, intense, multi-layered, dynamic conversation with someone who is engaged and engaging and interested and interesting. i have found that all the little neurons in my brain light up when i am able to have these conversations and it just fills me with so much energy and light. i feel i am at my best in these times, like something is flipped on inside of me.
i realize that this most often occurs when i am talking to other women. i am not saying i don't have profound conversations with men and that they aren't good, solid conversations... but there is something intrinsically different for me when i communicate with another woman. based on my tiny amount of knowledge about the female brain (courtesy of a book i read about halfway through called, interestingly, "the female brain") we as women are neurologically wired for connection and communication. of course there are varying levels of this, but as they study the male and female brains, they are finding that female brains are significantly different than males in our verbal and relational centers and this contributes to much of our behavior dichotomies. anyhow, i digress...
the point being that when i come off of these conversations, i am left feeling more alive inside- it's visceral, really. i think this specific convo was especially life giving because of the unique vantage points myself and my fellow conversationalist were speaking from. she admittedly stands "outside" of the Christian faith, and i would consider myself "inside." Though in most cases, these positions of inside and out would cause incredible disharmony, discord, and likely disagreement, i do not find any of those present in my conversations with this friend. and its not like we avoid the subject... in fact, the subject of faith is what fuels and enlivens the words we exchange.
one snippet that stuck out to me was the question of belonging. my friend has (until recently) only really experienced Christianity as a place where people who don't "believe," are made to feel outside of the community of believers. we conversed about the alternative, which has is roots on "the Celtic Way of evangelism." essentially instead of it being
Behave, believe, belong = Roman Evangelism (bringing people in)
it is actually
Belong, believe, behave = Celtic Evangelism (sending Christians out)
Christianity can often assume the stance of being the moral police of the world, beating people over the head with the rules of how they should "behave." Once they "behave", then they can make the choice to "believe" in God/the bible/the church and then, finally, they are allowed to "belong" to the Church (which at this point seems more like a secret fraternity or exclusive country club.)
What if, instead of being asked to jump through the hoops of first behaving and believing (which in the context of those who have already chosen to follow Jesus are important and necessary), they were asked to belong? They were extended the open arms of Christian community? Engaged in the dialogue and life and beauty and messiness of the Church?
another topic was the question of sin and repentance- why that issue is hard to face, especially when you don't feel like your life is mired in too much "morally questionable" behavior. this is a tough one, because in comparison with other "sin," many of our everyday blunders seem inconsequential or even tedious to consider when you look at the behavior of far more violent and evil people. i struggle with this, too, since i've always been a bit of a goody-two-shoes. i brought up the fact that I truly believe that self-hatred and a distorted view of self could be considered sinful behavior. I don't say that to quantify or categorize those behaviors so much as to point out that we must "repent" (or change directions) from them. to hate yourself or to hold the view of yourself as anything other than a beloved child of God is essentially telling God he made a mistake when he made you, devaluing His creation that is you and denying the fact that you are His image-bearer.
these questions kind of tie in with another thing we touched on, which is the reality that in God's kingdom, everyone is equal. we began our conversation talking about the school system, grades, prep schools and the generally misguided attempts by our culture to quantify peoples values based on test scores. she is a college professor, so this isn't some loosey-goosey hippy mama who believes we all need to live in a commune and give the finger to "the Man" (not that there is anything wrong with being like that :) ). she is a legit academic, well-written, published and accomplished, but she doesn't buy into the game. i kind of love this. though i did "play the game" and do my schoolwork and graduate college, i felt a sinking suspicion as i went through school, kindergarten to college, that the school system in general didn't necessarily care about the content of my character or my ability to love or my desire to bring change into the world. they mostly just wanted me to pass tests and behave and check the boxes and finish. of course, this isn't every one and there were a number of dynamic, amazing teachers i encountered. the people didnt seem the be the issue... by and large the system is what seemed strangely mechanistic and ultimately kind of sad.
all that to say, our shared negative views on school systems driven to "succeed" by grade fits right along with all the ideals in scripture that indicate it is the "least of these" that Jesus was most acutely aware of and caring toward. He loves us all the same, to be sure, but there was no posturing with Jesus. he wasn't about to give special rights to the rich - he asked them the hardest questions. and he wasn't tempted to play favorites with his disciples, even when they out rightly asked. jesus is so far beyond all our strategies about popularity and our ideas of who "deserves" what. he is asking us to live outside of the whole structure of culture and that makes him pretty badass if you ask me.
ok, its getting late- but other topics we touched on that i dont want to forget to expand on later
the abyss... the empty... the loneliness....why it's so hard to rest
once you start walking down the road of deep spiritual formation, can you turn back?
how do leaders wrestle with theology, yet still maintain a consistent message in their community
i realize that this most often occurs when i am talking to other women. i am not saying i don't have profound conversations with men and that they aren't good, solid conversations... but there is something intrinsically different for me when i communicate with another woman. based on my tiny amount of knowledge about the female brain (courtesy of a book i read about halfway through called, interestingly, "the female brain") we as women are neurologically wired for connection and communication. of course there are varying levels of this, but as they study the male and female brains, they are finding that female brains are significantly different than males in our verbal and relational centers and this contributes to much of our behavior dichotomies. anyhow, i digress...
the point being that when i come off of these conversations, i am left feeling more alive inside- it's visceral, really. i think this specific convo was especially life giving because of the unique vantage points myself and my fellow conversationalist were speaking from. she admittedly stands "outside" of the Christian faith, and i would consider myself "inside." Though in most cases, these positions of inside and out would cause incredible disharmony, discord, and likely disagreement, i do not find any of those present in my conversations with this friend. and its not like we avoid the subject... in fact, the subject of faith is what fuels and enlivens the words we exchange.
one snippet that stuck out to me was the question of belonging. my friend has (until recently) only really experienced Christianity as a place where people who don't "believe," are made to feel outside of the community of believers. we conversed about the alternative, which has is roots on "the Celtic Way of evangelism." essentially instead of it being
Behave, believe, belong = Roman Evangelism (bringing people in)
it is actually
Belong, believe, behave = Celtic Evangelism (sending Christians out)
Christianity can often assume the stance of being the moral police of the world, beating people over the head with the rules of how they should "behave." Once they "behave", then they can make the choice to "believe" in God/the bible/the church and then, finally, they are allowed to "belong" to the Church (which at this point seems more like a secret fraternity or exclusive country club.)
What if, instead of being asked to jump through the hoops of first behaving and believing (which in the context of those who have already chosen to follow Jesus are important and necessary), they were asked to belong? They were extended the open arms of Christian community? Engaged in the dialogue and life and beauty and messiness of the Church?
another topic was the question of sin and repentance- why that issue is hard to face, especially when you don't feel like your life is mired in too much "morally questionable" behavior. this is a tough one, because in comparison with other "sin," many of our everyday blunders seem inconsequential or even tedious to consider when you look at the behavior of far more violent and evil people. i struggle with this, too, since i've always been a bit of a goody-two-shoes. i brought up the fact that I truly believe that self-hatred and a distorted view of self could be considered sinful behavior. I don't say that to quantify or categorize those behaviors so much as to point out that we must "repent" (or change directions) from them. to hate yourself or to hold the view of yourself as anything other than a beloved child of God is essentially telling God he made a mistake when he made you, devaluing His creation that is you and denying the fact that you are His image-bearer.
these questions kind of tie in with another thing we touched on, which is the reality that in God's kingdom, everyone is equal. we began our conversation talking about the school system, grades, prep schools and the generally misguided attempts by our culture to quantify peoples values based on test scores. she is a college professor, so this isn't some loosey-goosey hippy mama who believes we all need to live in a commune and give the finger to "the Man" (not that there is anything wrong with being like that :) ). she is a legit academic, well-written, published and accomplished, but she doesn't buy into the game. i kind of love this. though i did "play the game" and do my schoolwork and graduate college, i felt a sinking suspicion as i went through school, kindergarten to college, that the school system in general didn't necessarily care about the content of my character or my ability to love or my desire to bring change into the world. they mostly just wanted me to pass tests and behave and check the boxes and finish. of course, this isn't every one and there were a number of dynamic, amazing teachers i encountered. the people didnt seem the be the issue... by and large the system is what seemed strangely mechanistic and ultimately kind of sad.
all that to say, our shared negative views on school systems driven to "succeed" by grade fits right along with all the ideals in scripture that indicate it is the "least of these" that Jesus was most acutely aware of and caring toward. He loves us all the same, to be sure, but there was no posturing with Jesus. he wasn't about to give special rights to the rich - he asked them the hardest questions. and he wasn't tempted to play favorites with his disciples, even when they out rightly asked. jesus is so far beyond all our strategies about popularity and our ideas of who "deserves" what. he is asking us to live outside of the whole structure of culture and that makes him pretty badass if you ask me.
ok, its getting late- but other topics we touched on that i dont want to forget to expand on later
the abyss... the empty... the loneliness....why it's so hard to rest
once you start walking down the road of deep spiritual formation, can you turn back?
how do leaders wrestle with theology, yet still maintain a consistent message in their community
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
choosing to love
i just found this image and laughed. even in the 1950's, we needed books to find and keep men. i won't lie-- the eternal search for my "soul mate" consumes much of my time and energy. being a pretty constant emotional processor, i can't help but let my mind wander and consider what "man" i will end up with and what that will all be like. my suspicion is that i probably have it just a tiny bit built up in my head. i am trying my best, in light of my girlish tendency toward the romantic, to see things more realistically. or more exactly- realistic, but also hopeful.as cheesy as i may seem, one book that has really helped me in seeing reality of this search for love (don't laugh!) is "he's just not that into you." me and some of the gals are making a night of it this friday and going to see the movie its based on. check it:
i mean honestly, what is with the eternal search for love we seem to be on?
and truly- what, really, is love?
i am finding out, through my exhaustive personal and professional research, that most times love at its best and most real comes down to choice. love in the God way, and love in the lovey valentiney way, and love in the getting married and lasting forever way. choosing to love, especially when you don't feel like it, doesn't much feel like love to me, in the traditional, conventional way i have always viewed love. but love, if it is to last, means choosing to love someone or Someone, regardless of how you emotionally feel toward them.
i often have to ask myself - have i emotionally loved anything consistently for very long? sure, i have always loved my parents, but sometimes i haven't felt like emotionally loving them, but i chose to love them anyway. i have loved some of my dear friends for a long long time, but have there been times when my emotions towards them have waned, when i wanted to back out, when i haven't felt much toward them at all? absolutely. but have I chosen to love some of them through it and made it last? yes.
but the call to live solely out of emotional love is everywhere. if you honestly ask any girl what their idea of love is, almost every single one of them will probably immediately revert to some romantic comedy story line or some tv show that caught them and unrealistically shaped what they view "love" to truly be.
how do we let go of the addiction to emotional love? not to say its wrong... emotional love is necessary to our hearts and lives, no doubt. but its not lasting. and it does not sustain. love has to be a whole lot more than just feeling affection/romance/lust toward someone. "true" love has to be more.
true love is a choice.
the ability to choose is God's gift to us ... some brilliant theologians and thinkers i have been reading and talking to have really been making me think more deeply about this lately. God's world was designed to allow for the freedom of choice. though he strongly cautioned against it, he gave his original people the choice to eat from the tree of knowledge, even though that would end up being their downfall. this might seem mean and callous, to give us an option to cause our own demise, but God was not trying to be mean and callous when he laid out the options before these people. instead of programming the people he created to do and feel exactly what he wanted at every turn, God gave us choice... this choice factors in most importantly in how we relate to him- he wanted us to be able to choose to love him, not to be forced or programmed like robots. he wanted a creation that would be able choose him, that would be able to have a real honest, reciprocal relationship with him. real love, as defined by God from the beginning, involved both parties choosing the other.
and in allowing for the choice toward him, God also allowed for the choice away from him.
so it seems, choices and love have always been risky- even from the very start.
in all of our searching, maybe in the end what we really want is to find S/someone we want to keep choosing... and to find S/someone who will keep choosing us.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
no weddings and a funeral
another funeral this winter... my other grandma this time, grandma betty. she had been my absolute favorite as a kid, we just had the most fun together and adored each other to bits. she had been sick since before i can remember and every year we wondered if this would be her last. we had been expecting this for so long that when the phone call finally came in, i was shocked and relieved at the same time. she hadn't been living for so long... it seemed to me that she just sort of existed much of the time, my grandpa at her side feeding her, giving her pills, helping her dress and undress. her life seemed vivid and awake only when she would talk to us or when she had visitors or when she got to go out to dinner or the occasional big party. my perception of her life between these events or moments was one of monotony and difficulty and pain and longing.
watching my grandpa these last few days, i think my idea of her boring monotonous "life" between visits may have been wrong. grandpa bill, once lanky, strong, and stoic, is almost unrecognizable under the weight of the last year. this man, this man who once seemed to be able to take care of everyone (even my own dad) and do so without missing a beat, can hardly make it an hour without crying. and all he can do is talk about how much he misses her, how much he wants to see her, how he thought she would come back from this one. its so strange to watch someone once so strong and capable, become someone who is now utterly breakable, someone who seems to have had all the life and energy drained from him.
watching him, its breaking my heart... but, a few days in, i am now seeing that this is the result of loving someone for almost 60 years, loving them through every imaginable physical ailment over 20 years, loving them despite extreme lows, loving them through kids and grandkids, loving them as you travel and explore and build together, loving them in the boring everyday-ness of life... this deep sadness is due to this deep love.
and so maybe, though my grandma's life seemed to brighten up so much in our presence, her steady, solid, lasting marriage was this sustained liveliness that kept her going. maybe it wasn't always the high of her granchildren's constant presence, or the hope of a healthy body, or the desire for the ability to travel (all things she desperately wished she had)... maybe what she had every day, day in and day out, with her everloving bill, maybe she fought for that just as much.
watching my grandpa these last few days, i think my idea of her boring monotonous "life" between visits may have been wrong. grandpa bill, once lanky, strong, and stoic, is almost unrecognizable under the weight of the last year. this man, this man who once seemed to be able to take care of everyone (even my own dad) and do so without missing a beat, can hardly make it an hour without crying. and all he can do is talk about how much he misses her, how much he wants to see her, how he thought she would come back from this one. its so strange to watch someone once so strong and capable, become someone who is now utterly breakable, someone who seems to have had all the life and energy drained from him.
watching him, its breaking my heart... but, a few days in, i am now seeing that this is the result of loving someone for almost 60 years, loving them through every imaginable physical ailment over 20 years, loving them despite extreme lows, loving them through kids and grandkids, loving them as you travel and explore and build together, loving them in the boring everyday-ness of life... this deep sadness is due to this deep love.
and so maybe, though my grandma's life seemed to brighten up so much in our presence, her steady, solid, lasting marriage was this sustained liveliness that kept her going. maybe it wasn't always the high of her granchildren's constant presence, or the hope of a healthy body, or the desire for the ability to travel (all things she desperately wished she had)... maybe what she had every day, day in and day out, with her everloving bill, maybe she fought for that just as much.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
in the mess
i guess i once said something to the effect of:
its not like you ever figure out all your issues-- you just learn over the years to navigate the mess.
i was surprised by that statement, because i am not impressed with much that i say- except that that seemed like something truer than i could have known at the time. and its so true now.
here i am in my room. raining outside, cold outside (i haaaate cold), my feet at the heater, candles lit, wearing 3 layers of warmth. my room is destroyed.
boxes of christmas gifts unwrapped, laying on one corner. my bed piled with pillows and un-put-away clothes i couldn't decide about early this morning. my floor scattered with boots i need to keep my constantly cold feet from completely freezing. all my bills and important papers fill my dresser and a stack of half made christmas cards on my chair. my purse upside down. my closet a mess. my bed unmade.
here i am in the mess.
i have learned so much recently-- all the things i wrote about in may on my cottage castle rereat have become more real... and their reasons clearer. but this time, the consequences of waiting to deal with them almost became too much. and i almost went down. but, by the hand of community and the grace of my life's Author, the chapter kept going and is being written.
it doesn't mean its all easy. the mess is still here... but i am learning to be more ok with the messes presence, to understand its not as scary or overwhelming or powerful as i had once let it be. maybe its simply naming it. like, when you see a pile of something gross and you can't figure out what it is, it makes it that much grosser. like a pile of rotting food could look like other things (you know other things...) and then when you realize its just old food, you arent as grossed out. Our big piles of stuff look way more forbidding in the dark-- what IS that massive lump? What's in it? What underneath it-- then you turn on the light and realize its just a bunch of clothes you didnt put away. what we don't know always seems so much worse.
i am a mess.
or, rather, i am aware of my mess. and i see it for what it is... and what it is not. and i am ok with it, because i know i am not defined by it. its just a part of me that will always be there til i get to be made completely Whole one day.
god bless this mess.
its not like you ever figure out all your issues-- you just learn over the years to navigate the mess.
i was surprised by that statement, because i am not impressed with much that i say- except that that seemed like something truer than i could have known at the time. and its so true now.
here i am in my room. raining outside, cold outside (i haaaate cold), my feet at the heater, candles lit, wearing 3 layers of warmth. my room is destroyed.
boxes of christmas gifts unwrapped, laying on one corner. my bed piled with pillows and un-put-away clothes i couldn't decide about early this morning. my floor scattered with boots i need to keep my constantly cold feet from completely freezing. all my bills and important papers fill my dresser and a stack of half made christmas cards on my chair. my purse upside down. my closet a mess. my bed unmade.
here i am in the mess.
i have learned so much recently-- all the things i wrote about in may on my cottage castle rereat have become more real... and their reasons clearer. but this time, the consequences of waiting to deal with them almost became too much. and i almost went down. but, by the hand of community and the grace of my life's Author, the chapter kept going and is being written.
it doesn't mean its all easy. the mess is still here... but i am learning to be more ok with the messes presence, to understand its not as scary or overwhelming or powerful as i had once let it be. maybe its simply naming it. like, when you see a pile of something gross and you can't figure out what it is, it makes it that much grosser. like a pile of rotting food could look like other things (you know other things...) and then when you realize its just old food, you arent as grossed out. Our big piles of stuff look way more forbidding in the dark-- what IS that massive lump? What's in it? What underneath it-- then you turn on the light and realize its just a bunch of clothes you didnt put away. what we don't know always seems so much worse.
i am a mess.
or, rather, i am aware of my mess. and i see it for what it is... and what it is not. and i am ok with it, because i know i am not defined by it. its just a part of me that will always be there til i get to be made completely Whole one day.
god bless this mess.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
go see CALL+RESPONSE
images are powerful and word of mouth is stronger than almost anything, so i hope this helps you make the effort to go see this film:
for show times, check out: http://callandresponse.com/tickets.html
i promise if you do, i will be your friend and comment on your blog more often :)
for show times, check out: http://callandresponse.com/tickets.html
i promise if you do, i will be your friend and comment on your blog more often :)
Sunday, August 10, 2008
the flying
reading john maxwell for work, i didn't think i would like it at all. i was worried it would be too corporate and too mega-church and too much. but there is some good stuff. i haven't read the whole thing, like i was supposed to, but so far, its actually been inspiring.one of the best metaphors so far has been that of why birds fly in a V shape. as i type this (and as i have typed my last blog) i sit at the bay windows of my housesitting house (which has an ocean view!) and i have seen at least a dozen flocks of birds flying in a V shape. As i watch them, i see even more depth to the metaphor.
well first, the original metaphor:
apparently, by spacing themselves apart properly and flying in a V formation,
"birds can achieve optimum positions that reduce the drag of every bird in the formation.
However, not all birds benefit equally. Even though the V formation benefits all of the birds, the bird in the lead position has to work the hardest. When this bird tires, it will drop out of the lead position and fall further back into one of the lines of the V. Another bird from further back will rapidly move forward to take the leading position and maintain the formation.
The two birds in the furthest trailing positions also tire more rapidly than those in the middle, so these positions are also rotated frequently to spread the most fatiguing locations throughout the flock.
This cyclical rearrangement gives all birds the responsibility of being the leader as well as a chance to enjoy the maximum benefits of being in the middle of the formation. This sense of teamwork comes naturally since even the youngest members of the flock rapidly realize that it takes less work to fly in a V formation than it does to fly alone."
so, the metaphor works perfectly when we talk about working together as opposed to apart. when we are with other people, when we work together, we experience less "drag," we (ideally) share responsibility because leading is very tiring and, in the end, we can fly better and stronger since, apparently,
"studies have estimated that a flock of 25 birds in formation can fly as much as 70% further than a solo bird using the same amount of energy"
i love this.
looking at these birds flying in formation, i noticed that the front bird will be flapping then stop and coast for a bit, soaring on the momentum it has created... and as this front bird is coasting, the next birds back will begin flapping, using the momentum the front bird created to help their flapping. then as they coast, the next birds will pick up their momentum, and so on. this makes sense as to why the front "leader" bird gets tired more quickly... but creation in all its intention and beauty has given these birds the instinct to allow that front position to be rotated so that that one bird doesn't get too tired. so really, its not that one bird that gives all others the momentum, its the flock together that makes them be able to fly this way.
in my own "leadership," my wings are so tired because i (mostly subconsciously) don't trust that another bird taking leadership can do what i do. i am so afraid of failing or falling behind that i just fly and fly. sometimes i look back and feel i have lost half the flock because of my refusal to give up my spot. i don't do this intentionally. but i do it, because it seems easier. but in the end, its worse for everyone.
i don't want this anymore.
in all thats swimming in my head right now with what i am learning with leadership and structure from all these different place, i feel like i want answers or clarity or something very concrete to guide my way and make this all make sense and get it going.
but first, perhaps, i need to see my own fault, my own shortcomings.
the incessant patterns
i'm starting to realize the probably incredibly obvious truth about the incessant patterns we experience as human beings. i began getting into this idea a few years ago when i started to live on my own and started realizing how doing chores around the house is this never ending cycle, this pattern that is incessant, and truly inescapable. as good as it feels to get the bathroom spotless, all the dishes done, the living room just right, the trash taken out, make it all sparkling and perfect.... you have to do it again the next week, or in two weeks or whatever level of cleanliness you desire.
this is the same as laundry.
as getting our hair cut(/colored/styled for those of us who are picky about hair)
as working out (which is something i never do and i know that is going to catch up with me).
as eating.
as sleeping.
as clipping our toe nails.
as celebrating birthdays.
as having horrible days.
as having wonderful days.
as getting sick. and then better again.
as hurting people and having to have make up talks.
and on and on.
being a person who thrives on crossing things off of lists, this obvious truth is very difficult to deal with. i want to just be done. i want completion, a sense of being finished. though process and journey are all things i *say* i believe in, the deep down truth is i want things finished. so that i can move on to something new, so that i can feel a sense of pride that i finished something, so that i can feel successful in the next venture i take on.
this mentality, unless i am become an accountant or something, will not work. i work with people, developing leaders and ministries as an imperfect person for imperfect people. things are not nice and not cut and dry (where does that expression come from anyway?). things are a mess and are mostly non-linear. and a lot does not make sense to me. some things that seem destined for greatness fail and somethings destined to fail rise up to become great. sometimes i feel like nothing in the world is better than what i have right now and sometimes i feel so miserable and unsure that i want to give up.
i am having trouble making sense of it all.
i sat in on a class on renewing and restoring relationships. the teacher made the brilliant point that we, as people, need patterns- we rely on them. if we aren't able to see patterns and live in patterns, we would go crazy. it doesn't mean we live by our patterns alone, but we need the consistency they provide. it helps us make sense of what we are experiencing.
as much as I don't fully understand it, God made everything around us in continuous patterns or to function by patterns... the seasons cycle winter spring summer fall; the ecosystem sun, light, photosynthesis, water, soil, growth, fruit, decompose, break down, regrow. cells multiply, multiply, multiply, multiply. bodies grow born grow strengthen grow expand grow stronger grow mature grow recreate.
incessant.
endless.
this is the same as laundry.
as getting our hair cut(/colored/styled for those of us who are picky about hair)
as working out (which is something i never do and i know that is going to catch up with me).
as eating.
as sleeping.
as clipping our toe nails.
as celebrating birthdays.
as having horrible days.
as having wonderful days.
as getting sick. and then better again.
as hurting people and having to have make up talks.
and on and on.
being a person who thrives on crossing things off of lists, this obvious truth is very difficult to deal with. i want to just be done. i want completion, a sense of being finished. though process and journey are all things i *say* i believe in, the deep down truth is i want things finished. so that i can move on to something new, so that i can feel a sense of pride that i finished something, so that i can feel successful in the next venture i take on.
this mentality, unless i am become an accountant or something, will not work. i work with people, developing leaders and ministries as an imperfect person for imperfect people. things are not nice and not cut and dry (where does that expression come from anyway?). things are a mess and are mostly non-linear. and a lot does not make sense to me. some things that seem destined for greatness fail and somethings destined to fail rise up to become great. sometimes i feel like nothing in the world is better than what i have right now and sometimes i feel so miserable and unsure that i want to give up.
i am having trouble making sense of it all.
i sat in on a class on renewing and restoring relationships. the teacher made the brilliant point that we, as people, need patterns- we rely on them. if we aren't able to see patterns and live in patterns, we would go crazy. it doesn't mean we live by our patterns alone, but we need the consistency they provide. it helps us make sense of what we are experiencing.
as much as I don't fully understand it, God made everything around us in continuous patterns or to function by patterns... the seasons cycle winter spring summer fall; the ecosystem sun, light, photosynthesis, water, soil, growth, fruit, decompose, break down, regrow. cells multiply, multiply, multiply, multiply. bodies grow born grow strengthen grow expand grow stronger grow mature grow recreate.
incessant.
endless.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
day two: cottage castle retreat
Day two of “Befriending the Stranger” became perfect for day two of this retreat.
I spent part of day two writing, showering, driving and trying to find a warm, cozy spot in the Pebble Beach resort to sit and read some more. But this proved difficult because their café was closed and it was cold outside even on that nice terrace overlooking the ocean-side green that seemed inviting and I assumed would promise some outdoor heaters for its elite clientèle. Sitting out there, I listened to the golfer/tourists talk about all sorts of inane things that angered me, such as the rice shortage being fake and naming all the different cars one has. I tried to ignore them and read McSweeney’s and the election coverage in the paper, which I liked doing, because it felt good to flip open the paper and feel informed and part of things. Besides this brief hour on the cold terrace, I spent the day worried I wasn’t doing enough—I had a stack of books I brought (probably like 15), and a list of things to blog about and a handful of DVD’s to watch and then the whole praying business I came for in the first place. As I meandered home feeling defeated that I could only make it one hour on the cold terrace, I felt anxious and unproductive. I wondered which books I should read. I worried over what I would write. Am I doing what I am supposed to here, God?
I decided that since Vanier had been good to me last night, I would continue in that vain. Plus, I would feel good to maybe make it half way through this book.
And yes, Vanier was good to me;
That is why the Lord says:
‘For I will remove the names of Ba’als from her mouth’ (Hos 2:17)
which means,
‘I will take away all those things that have become idols for you,
the thing that you worship in place of God;
things that have taken on too much importance,
such as money, efficiency, know-how, reputation,
even friendship and community.
You have put your trust in them instead of in me.’
Reading this, I realized that even in my pursuit of a “spiritual retreat”, I let my idols of productivity, of busy-ness and of efficiency come in the way, causing anxiety and doubt about my time here to just eat away at any joy and peace I was hoping would come out of it. And of course, in reading this, there is the realization that in so many ways I let idols take the place of my worship of God… all of the above, and then some. Seeing this reality, letting it set itself in my heart, was a relief.
To see again that my poverty is always present makes the love God has for me that much more astonishing. I beat myself up now and almost always, with the feeling that I am never done. I am a compulsive list maker and long for the day when everything is crossed off the list. But its not ever done, those lists. I want to be a good friend, who keeps up on quality time, and phone calls and emails and correspondence, and no matter how much I try, there is always more. I long to be a prolific writer, keeping up on blogs, writing articles one day, perhaps even a book at some point… but I can barely blog once a month. These, to some extent, are just surface things, but there are a hundred more ways I feel I don’t measure up- my sensitive ego, my insatiable need to please others, my selfish hoarding of my time and resources, to name a few.
Vanier sums it up well:
"We tend to think that it is impossible for God to call us
and to love us as we are today.
We feel we are not good enough,
that we are totally unworthy of that love."
But he goes on:
"Yet if we listen, God constantly reminds us:
'I love you just as you are
and I am calling you today, ‘come and be with me.’
You may have been unfaithful at times
Because you forgot me;
that is why I am leading you once more into the wilderness
so that you can understand how much I love you
and so that you may know me.”
Let us take time to listen to God.
Perhaps we can just sit down near a tree
And hear God say to us
‘you are beloved
you are precious in my eyes and I love you.’
And this, this is what I needed to read, today, this moment. The truth of this lead me to pray, to really pray and let out my heart—to recognize all of my imperfections and bask in the truth that God loves me in the midst of them. To speak to him about all the things on my heart, all the people I care for, all the worries I have over my work and my future and my heart. To pray out of a place of knowing and taking in the love of God – this is what I wanted. And what I want to continue.
I often worry that when I share who Jesus is to me with someone who may not believe in Him as the son of God, that I will come across as insincere, or lacking in tough life experience. I worry that the gravity of my own little life won’t have much weight to someone who has had it tougher than I have had. Again Vanier speaks to this in relaying a story about one day when he spoke to a prison about God’s love. One prisoner challenged him, saying that Vanier had had and easy life, that he couldn’t possibly understand the difficulty of the lives of the prisoners there. The prisoner listed the events of his disastrous childhood- rape and prostitution and imprisonment. To this Vanier was silenced, but then thoughtfully replies
“it is I true, I do not know what you have lived.
But what I do know is
That everything you have just said is important”
Vanier gets permission to share this mans story with those outside the prison and encourages this man that when he does get out of prison, that he may need to listen to stories of people about life outside of the prison.
Everything you have just said is important.
Vanier listened and heard him. He validated him. And he encouraged him to do the same, to see things beyond what he had experienced.
I want to be this. To be a listener, first, to hear what someone is saying. I won’t be able to match every story I hear—even Jesus did not experience the lives of the prostitutes and tax collectors and sinners he encountered—but he heard them. And he offered them healing. Not co-dependent, weird, get-away-with- whatever-you-want, you-had-a-tough-childhood type of stuff- but honest healing and love from the source that never stops coming.
And to be a conduit of that source, I must know that source myself…. I must know it well. We have no business trying to help anyone else unless we know full well where our own healing comes from. What are we offering if we don’t? Our own depleted, half-grown, broken, numbed out, holier than thou selves are not going do anyone any good, even with the best of intentions. After Vaniers section on God’s love, he immediately goes into how that love translates to helping the needy and marginalized. But the love came first- the reminder of our source, the God above and within, that loves us more than we are capable of understanding, that came first.
As I watch the ocean disappear behind the contrasted trees, water trickles from the fountain outside. I imagine God as the source of all the water on earth, even the source of the ocean so powerful and beyond comprehension. From this source, every ocean, stream, river and lake is provided with water. And then I imagine us, at our little fountains and ponds and creeks, trying to provide people with sustenance by the power of our own tiny trickles of water. And while, yes, God is in our little streams, we must continually show those without that the source is far greater than us.
I spent part of day two writing, showering, driving and trying to find a warm, cozy spot in the Pebble Beach resort to sit and read some more. But this proved difficult because their café was closed and it was cold outside even on that nice terrace overlooking the ocean-side green that seemed inviting and I assumed would promise some outdoor heaters for its elite clientèle. Sitting out there, I listened to the golfer/tourists talk about all sorts of inane things that angered me, such as the rice shortage being fake and naming all the different cars one has. I tried to ignore them and read McSweeney’s and the election coverage in the paper, which I liked doing, because it felt good to flip open the paper and feel informed and part of things. Besides this brief hour on the cold terrace, I spent the day worried I wasn’t doing enough—I had a stack of books I brought (probably like 15), and a list of things to blog about and a handful of DVD’s to watch and then the whole praying business I came for in the first place. As I meandered home feeling defeated that I could only make it one hour on the cold terrace, I felt anxious and unproductive. I wondered which books I should read. I worried over what I would write. Am I doing what I am supposed to here, God?
I decided that since Vanier had been good to me last night, I would continue in that vain. Plus, I would feel good to maybe make it half way through this book.
And yes, Vanier was good to me;
That is why the Lord says:
‘For I will remove the names of Ba’als from her mouth’ (Hos 2:17)
which means,
‘I will take away all those things that have become idols for you,
the thing that you worship in place of God;
things that have taken on too much importance,
such as money, efficiency, know-how, reputation,
even friendship and community.
You have put your trust in them instead of in me.’
Reading this, I realized that even in my pursuit of a “spiritual retreat”, I let my idols of productivity, of busy-ness and of efficiency come in the way, causing anxiety and doubt about my time here to just eat away at any joy and peace I was hoping would come out of it. And of course, in reading this, there is the realization that in so many ways I let idols take the place of my worship of God… all of the above, and then some. Seeing this reality, letting it set itself in my heart, was a relief.
To see again that my poverty is always present makes the love God has for me that much more astonishing. I beat myself up now and almost always, with the feeling that I am never done. I am a compulsive list maker and long for the day when everything is crossed off the list. But its not ever done, those lists. I want to be a good friend, who keeps up on quality time, and phone calls and emails and correspondence, and no matter how much I try, there is always more. I long to be a prolific writer, keeping up on blogs, writing articles one day, perhaps even a book at some point… but I can barely blog once a month. These, to some extent, are just surface things, but there are a hundred more ways I feel I don’t measure up- my sensitive ego, my insatiable need to please others, my selfish hoarding of my time and resources, to name a few.
Vanier sums it up well:
"We tend to think that it is impossible for God to call us
and to love us as we are today.
We feel we are not good enough,
that we are totally unworthy of that love."
But he goes on:
"Yet if we listen, God constantly reminds us:
'I love you just as you are
and I am calling you today, ‘come and be with me.’
You may have been unfaithful at times
Because you forgot me;
that is why I am leading you once more into the wilderness
so that you can understand how much I love you
and so that you may know me.”
Let us take time to listen to God.
Perhaps we can just sit down near a tree
And hear God say to us
‘you are beloved
you are precious in my eyes and I love you.’
And this, this is what I needed to read, today, this moment. The truth of this lead me to pray, to really pray and let out my heart—to recognize all of my imperfections and bask in the truth that God loves me in the midst of them. To speak to him about all the things on my heart, all the people I care for, all the worries I have over my work and my future and my heart. To pray out of a place of knowing and taking in the love of God – this is what I wanted. And what I want to continue.
I often worry that when I share who Jesus is to me with someone who may not believe in Him as the son of God, that I will come across as insincere, or lacking in tough life experience. I worry that the gravity of my own little life won’t have much weight to someone who has had it tougher than I have had. Again Vanier speaks to this in relaying a story about one day when he spoke to a prison about God’s love. One prisoner challenged him, saying that Vanier had had and easy life, that he couldn’t possibly understand the difficulty of the lives of the prisoners there. The prisoner listed the events of his disastrous childhood- rape and prostitution and imprisonment. To this Vanier was silenced, but then thoughtfully replies
“it is I true, I do not know what you have lived.
But what I do know is
That everything you have just said is important”
Vanier gets permission to share this mans story with those outside the prison and encourages this man that when he does get out of prison, that he may need to listen to stories of people about life outside of the prison.
Everything you have just said is important.
Vanier listened and heard him. He validated him. And he encouraged him to do the same, to see things beyond what he had experienced.
I want to be this. To be a listener, first, to hear what someone is saying. I won’t be able to match every story I hear—even Jesus did not experience the lives of the prostitutes and tax collectors and sinners he encountered—but he heard them. And he offered them healing. Not co-dependent, weird, get-away-with- whatever-you-want, you-had-a-tough-childhood type of stuff- but honest healing and love from the source that never stops coming.
And to be a conduit of that source, I must know that source myself…. I must know it well. We have no business trying to help anyone else unless we know full well where our own healing comes from. What are we offering if we don’t? Our own depleted, half-grown, broken, numbed out, holier than thou selves are not going do anyone any good, even with the best of intentions. After Vaniers section on God’s love, he immediately goes into how that love translates to helping the needy and marginalized. But the love came first- the reminder of our source, the God above and within, that loves us more than we are capable of understanding, that came first.
As I watch the ocean disappear behind the contrasted trees, water trickles from the fountain outside. I imagine God as the source of all the water on earth, even the source of the ocean so powerful and beyond comprehension. From this source, every ocean, stream, river and lake is provided with water. And then I imagine us, at our little fountains and ponds and creeks, trying to provide people with sustenance by the power of our own tiny trickles of water. And while, yes, God is in our little streams, we must continually show those without that the source is far greater than us.
the cottage castle retreat
This is the most ridiculous view you have ever seen, its absolutely unreal. I am sitting in the sun room of a little miniature tower- part castle, part English country home. It’s beautifully decorated and quaint (old fashioned/old lady country style), warm and cozy. But this being alone here is quite difficult. I felt I had been craving solitude for months, sensed this need to be away from the everyday machine of work, play, friends, bills, errands, busy, schedule, email, traffic, shopping, money. Not that I live in some crazy city or something… but life is this way, no matter where you live. If I were a farmer, it would be just as busy, but in a different way- getting up early, eating before light, working the fields, tending the cows, whatever.
So here I am on my retreat, away from all that, and its really really difficult. I woke up this morning semi-panicked—what am I going to do with myself? The gray skies lied to me all morning, looking like 6am for hours— which caused multiple back-to-sleeps, resulting in my getting out of bed at 12:44pm. I think I slept for 12 hours, but I don’t know, since I don’t have my phone and there are no clocks in this place. For most of last night and the morning, I didn’t have any clue what time it was. Which should have been nice, except my compulsive need to be busy, to have a reason to do something, to have a sense of purpose, kept me from enjoying this mellow schedule I am supposed to have here.
I mean, that, and it could be the fact that the gray hasn’t lifted at all since yesterday. All the perfect pebble beach trees and the ocean waiting beyond have no shadow, no contrast, because all the sky can give them is the matte, depressing gray. The weather report last night said partly cloudy, highs in the low 60’s… and of course it had to pan over to santa cruz and report sun and upper 60’s. This is my vice, of course, the pursuit of the sun. I want it/need it so badly… to have it beat down on me, to feel the warmth all around, to be perfectly at peace with all my surroundings. This may explain my sense of hopelessness, at the moment, to some extent.
But even with sun, I would expect that the anxiety and lack of hope I feel would remain, because I am here, with an entire day left, to do whatever it is I want. And though this should be relaxing and fun, looking back on the last 24 hours, I am not too pleased with what I chose for them. I was late in getting here (of course), got lost somehow (of course) and when I did arrive, I hadn’t thought ahead enough to bring food with me (of course). So I ventured back out into traffic and had to spend an hour getting food basics, only to find that the yummy looking quesadilla I had picked from the local deli had the stinkiest cheese I had ever smelled and tasted terrible. Back here in the cozy cottage/tower, I proceeded to watch television for about 6 hours straight, all the while cursing myself for not being more “productive.” Its not that I was even watching anything particularly good- but I have this problem… television is literally an addiction for me. Chalk it up to watching it constantly as a child, but the minute I turn it on, unless you give me a reason to stop, I will watch and watch as the dark of night surrounds me and I am enveloped in the blue haze, until I pass out in a pop culturally mind-numbed bliss.
By the grace of God, I finally switched it off somewhere between 11 and 12 (but who really knows?). I sat laying there, in quiet, wanting to talk to God, but feeling like a fake. I did, finally, confessing my doubt at Him, my doubts about all these areas of my life, my fear at failing, of being numb, of never feeling like I am actually doing anything with my life. I finally made it up the spiral stairs to my bed and opened “Befriending the Stranger” by Jean Vanier.
“God’s ways are not our ways; God’s choices are not the choices of society.
God chooses “the poor, the weak, the needy”,
Those who recognize their poverty—
Not just a material poverty but an inability to cope with life,
A feeling of powerlessness and not knowing what to do.
A mother who has just lost a child is “poor”.
A women whose husband has left her is “poor”.
A man who has lost his job is “poor”.
The girl who learns she has cancer is “poor”.
The man who senses his body growing older and weaker is “poor”.
People who are faced with difficult family situations are “poor”.
The problem is that we refuse to admit our weakness, our needs, our poverty
because we are frightened of rejection.
We have been taught to be strong, to be “the best”, to win
in order to become “someone”.
Since society tends to marginalize those who are weak
we think weakness means rejection.
Se we try to hide our own poverty for as long as we can
and to pretend we are strong;
We build up an appearance of being in control.
We need to hear that gentle, inner voice of God who tells us:
“You do not need to pretend.
You do not need to hide your weakness.
You can bee yourself.
I didn’t call you to community
First of all to help others
or to prove that you were generous or efficient.
I called you because you are poor,
Just like the ones you cane to serve
And because the Kingdom of God is promised to the poor.”
Read that again.
And then again.
After a couple times, I realized that it was exactly what I didn’t know that I needed to hear.
Coinciding with this retreat, I was in an existential mini-crisis about my purpose and place in the world. What was I really doing to serve the Kingdom? Is my heart truly surrendered to God and His will and direction for my heart and life?—or am I in a pattern, a way, that makes it easy to appear so, while all the while allowing my heart to soak in my own comfort and selfishness? Am I effective in my job? Is anyone in the church really experiencing community?
And in the midst of all the questions, the shame.
I am not doing enough. There are still people who feel alone when they walk through our doors. The people of myranmar are dying every second. The world is hungrier now than ever before. I am selfish with my time, trapped in a bubble. I don’t truly give myself to others. And on and on.
I am not poor in material wealth. I am not poor in friends or purpose. I am not poor by the standards of outside looking in.
But I am poor in spirit.
Because of my own, broken humanity,
I crave my own comfort.
I defer to my own needs before others.
I stay busy so I don’t have to feel.
I am addicted to being needed, because I am scared of being useless.
I have little, if any, self-control.
I am weak.
And I know that in all these things, and in more,
I need God,
who loves me beyond reason.
Later, Vanier (who is Henri Houwen’s mentor) goes on to say
“Let us ask Jesus to help us discover our poverty,
not to be frightened or ashamed of it
and to become more aware of our call, our mission.
God’s call is different for each one of us
And yet it is the same.
It is a call to grow in love, in wisdom and in inner freedom,
And thus to bring greater love, peace and freedom into the world.
Once we have recognized our call and found our place-
which takes time-
Then we need to learn to put down roots
and to be faithful to that call.
Each person has his/her role in building the community.
Each has to deepen his/her sense of being called.
It takes time for choices to deepen, to mature and to bear fruit.
Each call is unique
but we are all called to give life
and to give life together, as a community.”
As sad as it is to say, being the director of community for our church, the heart of these two truths I have forgotten- that beyond all our details and circumstance, we are simply called to give life and to give it together in community.
How easy it is for me to forget my source of life- God… and easy to forget that I actually do need God.
How easy it is to forget my context, that life is given in community. And that I need community.
Maybe there is a reason I don’t feel so good here.
The loneliness I feel, even after one day, feels like fasting from food. Food is not bad, it gives our physical bodies life and sustenance—but when we fast, it reminds us of our weakness, and how blessed we are that we do have food, when we get to have it again. I feel the same for the people in my life right now. I am fasting from them to be reminded that despite how busy I get or overwhelmed I get, I need them. I need them around to remind me I am human, that I am accepted and loved… and specifically that my acceptance and love comes through the truth of God’s presence in my life. The community I have is, and must remain, a constant reminder that the body of Christ is bonded together through God, who is our source, the headwater in our streams of life. He has given us to each other as gifts, to remind each other of what is true and right.
As dirty as I feel about my television overdose, some of what I saw yesterday reflects some of what I am realizing right now—
In “Walk the Line,” Johnny needed June to help him from his darkness. June needed Johnny so she would stop being afraid of love.
On “Wife Swap,” over-controlling family from Michigan needed mellow family from Ohio to learn how to be more free and less rigid (though they didn’t listen in the end). Ohio family needed Michigan family to help them have structure and boundaries, so they could raise healthier kids and have saner lives (and they did listen in the end).
In “Rent,” the rag-tag bohemians absolutely needed each other to survive the ravages of AIDS, materialism, poverty and prejudice- their liveliness and creativity thrived from being together.
On “Sex and the City,” Carrie and the gals realized the value of family/community, created or biological, as a place to come home to when everything else feels lost or broken.
Even the Home Shopping Network sellers of a hair care product looked so happy and alive being together, testing their hairspray on each other and receiving calls from housewives delighted to be part of their experience.
Its so funny what happens to you when you spend enough time alone.
So here I am on my retreat, away from all that, and its really really difficult. I woke up this morning semi-panicked—what am I going to do with myself? The gray skies lied to me all morning, looking like 6am for hours— which caused multiple back-to-sleeps, resulting in my getting out of bed at 12:44pm. I think I slept for 12 hours, but I don’t know, since I don’t have my phone and there are no clocks in this place. For most of last night and the morning, I didn’t have any clue what time it was. Which should have been nice, except my compulsive need to be busy, to have a reason to do something, to have a sense of purpose, kept me from enjoying this mellow schedule I am supposed to have here.
I mean, that, and it could be the fact that the gray hasn’t lifted at all since yesterday. All the perfect pebble beach trees and the ocean waiting beyond have no shadow, no contrast, because all the sky can give them is the matte, depressing gray. The weather report last night said partly cloudy, highs in the low 60’s… and of course it had to pan over to santa cruz and report sun and upper 60’s. This is my vice, of course, the pursuit of the sun. I want it/need it so badly… to have it beat down on me, to feel the warmth all around, to be perfectly at peace with all my surroundings. This may explain my sense of hopelessness, at the moment, to some extent.
But even with sun, I would expect that the anxiety and lack of hope I feel would remain, because I am here, with an entire day left, to do whatever it is I want. And though this should be relaxing and fun, looking back on the last 24 hours, I am not too pleased with what I chose for them. I was late in getting here (of course), got lost somehow (of course) and when I did arrive, I hadn’t thought ahead enough to bring food with me (of course). So I ventured back out into traffic and had to spend an hour getting food basics, only to find that the yummy looking quesadilla I had picked from the local deli had the stinkiest cheese I had ever smelled and tasted terrible. Back here in the cozy cottage/tower, I proceeded to watch television for about 6 hours straight, all the while cursing myself for not being more “productive.” Its not that I was even watching anything particularly good- but I have this problem… television is literally an addiction for me. Chalk it up to watching it constantly as a child, but the minute I turn it on, unless you give me a reason to stop, I will watch and watch as the dark of night surrounds me and I am enveloped in the blue haze, until I pass out in a pop culturally mind-numbed bliss.
By the grace of God, I finally switched it off somewhere between 11 and 12 (but who really knows?). I sat laying there, in quiet, wanting to talk to God, but feeling like a fake. I did, finally, confessing my doubt at Him, my doubts about all these areas of my life, my fear at failing, of being numb, of never feeling like I am actually doing anything with my life. I finally made it up the spiral stairs to my bed and opened “Befriending the Stranger” by Jean Vanier.
“God’s ways are not our ways; God’s choices are not the choices of society.
God chooses “the poor, the weak, the needy”,
Those who recognize their poverty—
Not just a material poverty but an inability to cope with life,
A feeling of powerlessness and not knowing what to do.
A mother who has just lost a child is “poor”.
A women whose husband has left her is “poor”.
A man who has lost his job is “poor”.
The girl who learns she has cancer is “poor”.
The man who senses his body growing older and weaker is “poor”.
People who are faced with difficult family situations are “poor”.
The problem is that we refuse to admit our weakness, our needs, our poverty
because we are frightened of rejection.
We have been taught to be strong, to be “the best”, to win
in order to become “someone”.
Since society tends to marginalize those who are weak
we think weakness means rejection.
Se we try to hide our own poverty for as long as we can
and to pretend we are strong;
We build up an appearance of being in control.
We need to hear that gentle, inner voice of God who tells us:
“You do not need to pretend.
You do not need to hide your weakness.
You can bee yourself.
I didn’t call you to community
First of all to help others
or to prove that you were generous or efficient.
I called you because you are poor,
Just like the ones you cane to serve
And because the Kingdom of God is promised to the poor.”
Read that again.
And then again.
After a couple times, I realized that it was exactly what I didn’t know that I needed to hear.
Coinciding with this retreat, I was in an existential mini-crisis about my purpose and place in the world. What was I really doing to serve the Kingdom? Is my heart truly surrendered to God and His will and direction for my heart and life?—or am I in a pattern, a way, that makes it easy to appear so, while all the while allowing my heart to soak in my own comfort and selfishness? Am I effective in my job? Is anyone in the church really experiencing community?
And in the midst of all the questions, the shame.
I am not doing enough. There are still people who feel alone when they walk through our doors. The people of myranmar are dying every second. The world is hungrier now than ever before. I am selfish with my time, trapped in a bubble. I don’t truly give myself to others. And on and on.
I am not poor in material wealth. I am not poor in friends or purpose. I am not poor by the standards of outside looking in.
But I am poor in spirit.
Because of my own, broken humanity,
I crave my own comfort.
I defer to my own needs before others.
I stay busy so I don’t have to feel.
I am addicted to being needed, because I am scared of being useless.
I have little, if any, self-control.
I am weak.
And I know that in all these things, and in more,
I need God,
who loves me beyond reason.
Later, Vanier (who is Henri Houwen’s mentor) goes on to say
“Let us ask Jesus to help us discover our poverty,
not to be frightened or ashamed of it
and to become more aware of our call, our mission.
God’s call is different for each one of us
And yet it is the same.
It is a call to grow in love, in wisdom and in inner freedom,
And thus to bring greater love, peace and freedom into the world.
Once we have recognized our call and found our place-
which takes time-
Then we need to learn to put down roots
and to be faithful to that call.
Each person has his/her role in building the community.
Each has to deepen his/her sense of being called.
It takes time for choices to deepen, to mature and to bear fruit.
Each call is unique
but we are all called to give life
and to give life together, as a community.”
As sad as it is to say, being the director of community for our church, the heart of these two truths I have forgotten- that beyond all our details and circumstance, we are simply called to give life and to give it together in community.
How easy it is for me to forget my source of life- God… and easy to forget that I actually do need God.
How easy it is to forget my context, that life is given in community. And that I need community.
Maybe there is a reason I don’t feel so good here.
The loneliness I feel, even after one day, feels like fasting from food. Food is not bad, it gives our physical bodies life and sustenance—but when we fast, it reminds us of our weakness, and how blessed we are that we do have food, when we get to have it again. I feel the same for the people in my life right now. I am fasting from them to be reminded that despite how busy I get or overwhelmed I get, I need them. I need them around to remind me I am human, that I am accepted and loved… and specifically that my acceptance and love comes through the truth of God’s presence in my life. The community I have is, and must remain, a constant reminder that the body of Christ is bonded together through God, who is our source, the headwater in our streams of life. He has given us to each other as gifts, to remind each other of what is true and right.
As dirty as I feel about my television overdose, some of what I saw yesterday reflects some of what I am realizing right now—
In “Walk the Line,” Johnny needed June to help him from his darkness. June needed Johnny so she would stop being afraid of love.
On “Wife Swap,” over-controlling family from Michigan needed mellow family from Ohio to learn how to be more free and less rigid (though they didn’t listen in the end). Ohio family needed Michigan family to help them have structure and boundaries, so they could raise healthier kids and have saner lives (and they did listen in the end).
In “Rent,” the rag-tag bohemians absolutely needed each other to survive the ravages of AIDS, materialism, poverty and prejudice- their liveliness and creativity thrived from being together.
On “Sex and the City,” Carrie and the gals realized the value of family/community, created or biological, as a place to come home to when everything else feels lost or broken.
Even the Home Shopping Network sellers of a hair care product looked so happy and alive being together, testing their hairspray on each other and receiving calls from housewives delighted to be part of their experience.
Its so funny what happens to you when you spend enough time alone.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
bits
i have like 50 blogs in me right now.
but i learned yesterday that due to the fact that I am an Extravert on the Myers-Briggs, some of my vulnerabilities are "distraction and suggestibility" which means that i am easily distracted and that if i am planning to do a specific task (blog, write, read, exercise, whatever) and something better or more pressing or more immediate comes up, then i am prone to be easily suggested in the new direction. so, i will not apologize for my not blogging for two months, i will only say that i intend to be more balanced in my overall personality, which will in turn help my blogging commitment, but this will probably take some time to change.
i am going to give you random out of order bits of my mind, with potentially longer blogs to follow.
1. i love my boyfriend. i just read his blog and all his thoughts and it made me love him so much. he would hate that i am being gushy in public like this, but i can't help it. this leads to the larger point that i am beginning to appreciate the introvert. being in a relationship with one for almost 8 months now has helped me learn to really soak up the opposite end of the spectrum. as i observe introverts in my life, here is what i see: introverts talk less. they listen better. when they do say something, its usually brilliant, well thought through and intentional. introverts are full of imagination and thought, but they don't need to always talk about it- they are subtler and easier in what they present, and they are not obvious. they tend to be ok with not being the center of everything, thus they seem more humble, gentle and sweet. i am jealous at their not talking. i want to be one, and i have moments, but i still talk too much, need to be the center and can't quite grasp that precious subtlety.
2. fashion shows are great and weird. i attended my first a few weeks ago, on that one hot weekend of glory. what i loved there was this intense sense of creativity and creation. all the people who flooded in to watch oozed with fashion and innovation-- for some forced, others beautifully hidden and delicate and simple. the music was inspiring and layered, thad completely rocked it. the clothes were recycled and great, being pushed and slinked down that runway like nothing else by the eclectic range models. they chose such a great variety of models, too, all different sizes, shades, attitudes. i was exceedingly proud of my friends who were in it, many of them involved with our church community, but totally immersed in this whole other world of color and texture. i loved how create the theme was too- all about nature and the elements, models and clothes representing the earth, reptiles, birds, early humans, the earth, the sun. so great.
the one thing that kept getting me was how many of the models didnt look at anyone- they just stared straight ahead, like they were looking for something or someone more important. this was the only real disconcerting part for me. i don't think i can be ok with that sense of detachment. if someone is in the room with you, seeing you, shouldn't they see you? but this was all that i could complain of. every other part was just so exciting and fun.
the best part, though, was at the end. once the crowds had cleared, i saw 3 women from our church-- they were each in their "dress up" clothes, two un their 60's and one in her 90's. they came to see the lovable Yarek, one half of the Ukrainian duo who keep VFC euro-fabulous at 9am on sundays. their presence about killed me. i loved that they came, that they wanted to support him, that they would drive over the hill and watch the show and then wait for Yarek in this eclectic art gallery, full of 20-something kids trying so hard to be something different and new and out of the ordinary, when really, it was these 3 who were the most unique parts of the night.
3. i have realized that one part of my job that's so hard is that i have to teach things to people that i don't think i completely understand or know.
ok, actually, will finish soon... have to go to sleep now...
but i learned yesterday that due to the fact that I am an Extravert on the Myers-Briggs, some of my vulnerabilities are "distraction and suggestibility" which means that i am easily distracted and that if i am planning to do a specific task (blog, write, read, exercise, whatever) and something better or more pressing or more immediate comes up, then i am prone to be easily suggested in the new direction. so, i will not apologize for my not blogging for two months, i will only say that i intend to be more balanced in my overall personality, which will in turn help my blogging commitment, but this will probably take some time to change.
i am going to give you random out of order bits of my mind, with potentially longer blogs to follow.
1. i love my boyfriend. i just read his blog and all his thoughts and it made me love him so much. he would hate that i am being gushy in public like this, but i can't help it. this leads to the larger point that i am beginning to appreciate the introvert. being in a relationship with one for almost 8 months now has helped me learn to really soak up the opposite end of the spectrum. as i observe introverts in my life, here is what i see: introverts talk less. they listen better. when they do say something, its usually brilliant, well thought through and intentional. introverts are full of imagination and thought, but they don't need to always talk about it- they are subtler and easier in what they present, and they are not obvious. they tend to be ok with not being the center of everything, thus they seem more humble, gentle and sweet. i am jealous at their not talking. i want to be one, and i have moments, but i still talk too much, need to be the center and can't quite grasp that precious subtlety.
2. fashion shows are great and weird. i attended my first a few weeks ago, on that one hot weekend of glory. what i loved there was this intense sense of creativity and creation. all the people who flooded in to watch oozed with fashion and innovation-- for some forced, others beautifully hidden and delicate and simple. the music was inspiring and layered, thad completely rocked it. the clothes were recycled and great, being pushed and slinked down that runway like nothing else by the eclectic range models. they chose such a great variety of models, too, all different sizes, shades, attitudes. i was exceedingly proud of my friends who were in it, many of them involved with our church community, but totally immersed in this whole other world of color and texture. i loved how create the theme was too- all about nature and the elements, models and clothes representing the earth, reptiles, birds, early humans, the earth, the sun. so great.
the one thing that kept getting me was how many of the models didnt look at anyone- they just stared straight ahead, like they were looking for something or someone more important. this was the only real disconcerting part for me. i don't think i can be ok with that sense of detachment. if someone is in the room with you, seeing you, shouldn't they see you? but this was all that i could complain of. every other part was just so exciting and fun.
the best part, though, was at the end. once the crowds had cleared, i saw 3 women from our church-- they were each in their "dress up" clothes, two un their 60's and one in her 90's. they came to see the lovable Yarek, one half of the Ukrainian duo who keep VFC euro-fabulous at 9am on sundays. their presence about killed me. i loved that they came, that they wanted to support him, that they would drive over the hill and watch the show and then wait for Yarek in this eclectic art gallery, full of 20-something kids trying so hard to be something different and new and out of the ordinary, when really, it was these 3 who were the most unique parts of the night.
3. i have realized that one part of my job that's so hard is that i have to teach things to people that i don't think i completely understand or know.
ok, actually, will finish soon... have to go to sleep now...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
all the things i have needed to say
Ok…. I have been neglecting you , blog, for quite some time, I know.
I know… Truth is, I’ve needed this space.
But i am ready again and i have a few things I’ve wanted to tell:
christmas goodness
I had a wonderful Christmas. Literally, from Dec 1st, on, was great. A redeemed Christmas season, I like to say, because up until this point, Christmas-time since before I can remember has been bad… real bad.
But this Christmas, I:
• Got my first Christmas tree for my own place….which came with mistletoe…. which my roommate promptly hung in every doorway of our house ;)
• Home-made most of my Christmas presents (scented candles), in the spirit of Advent Conspiracy, which also inspired much of our teaching for december, a rad prayer path (yay render), 2 local service projects, a global support of living water international, a coffeeshop art show and lots of relational bonding throughout the church :)
• Held a good ol’ fashioned Christmas white elephant exchange with our church family to say thanks to all those who serve at VFC
• Shopping in Union Square in SF on the busiest shopping weekend of the year
• Participated in an Advent celebration, made my own wreath (which got hung on my apartment door), ate way too many cookies and sung Christmas carols.
• Celebrated Christmas morning with the Jensen family at Juletta (spelling?) which included waking up at 5am, jumping on the sleeping brothers, singing more Christmas classics (doing so at 6am with lots of sweaters is a Swedish tradition, i guess), drinking lots of caffeine, opening gifts of inspiration and then celebrating the end of the night with three special words from a very special someone.
• Feeling a deep sense of peace… a certain awe at the celebration of Jesus’ birth… a sincere wonder at the true heart of Christmas… an honest appreciation for my life, an appreciation that transcended the circumstances being good and reached toward something eternal.
goodbyes
On a sadder note, my Gramma Marlyn died in November. She was a good woman, a hard woman at times, but loved God in her way and is at peace. All told, I spent 10 days this past fall/winter in Ohio because of her decline and then death, and each day reminded me of how much I appreciate my life in Santa Cruz. I deeply love my extended family, but I also see the brokenness of that life…the routine of not hearing anything at all, of falling back into the pattern of anger, bitterness, pride, just not seeing. Almost a senselessness…. Like nothing is seen, nothing is heard, nothing is felt, beyond the present emotion. Life laps the shore endlessnessly, pointlessly, eroding…. Nothing overtly beautiful to it, at least not that I can see. But there are those moments and those looks that give me hope and I remember that I believe in a God who is capable of far more. I must hope.
e x p a n s i o n
I continue to be challenged by the Theodyssey course I am taking. Every bit of it is at once comfortably familiar (thanks to my years of therapy) and strikingly fresh (new ways to see the new self). We took a retreat in January that just filled me right up and inspired me to the brink, causing me to believe that every single person in the church should take this class. As soon as I articulated this out loud to my fellow retreaters, I realized that this was complete madness. You have to be ready and willing for something like this and it’s not easy to stick with. But worth it, to me, in what I see of it, because it’s changing everything and affirming everything, too. More later on this, I am sure.
this wall
For years, probably 3, I have felt myself striving for something. Direction for my future, a light on a path toward something else, a path or a destination or a place that is somehow obvious and perfect and easy to choose. But thus far, my life, its only this staying. In this stability, though, I have grown real and true. I really think this. I don’t regret not leaving or pursuing beyond what I have, because what I have and have had is just good. Real and true…. Really, honestly, just good.
But just beneath that stable goodness that has allowed so much and taught so much, lurks the next steps. I am being prepared, there is no question…. but for what, I don’t know. And everyone asks/encourages…. You should write. You should travel. You should pursue your masters. And I love that. But the what, the what. What, what… what…. is the what? (a good question and an excellent book). I don’t think I know my what and I feel like time is now beginning to slip away.
I am 26. They say babies aren’t safe past the mid-30’s, that you gotta pop those things out early to be safe. My dad had this conversation with me the other day, especially cause i only got the one ovary now. But, um, Dad, shouldn’t I have a husband first? Shouldn’t we figure that out first? And the dozens of engagements swirling around (slight exaggeration, but not by much) exert that 6-month pressure on me that seems unavoidable in Christian dating world—you’ve been together 6 months, are you getting engaged?! Are you kidding me?! This is the rest of my life!!...Can I have at least a year to figure that decision out? Is that ok with you? But, I digress.
So, I feel this wall. Like I have seen it from far away and known it’s coming. I even sometimes think its right in front of me, like my depth perception is off (it’s right here! I am going to hit it! It’s right in front of me, I can’t find a way through! What will I do?!) …but then I realize I have awhile to go before I hit it. And I feel safe again, knowing it’s impending, but knowing I have time. And I enjoy the present, as we do, giving slightly less consideration than I should for what I wish were a farther future.
But now, the length and height and width are more apparent, and it’s bigger and more beautiful and more terrifying than I had first expected. I was way off on this thing. And now, sitting here in the Gypsy Den in Orange County, having been up since 4:54am, traveled down here, sat through 8 hours of a conference, I am worn and tired, my emotions raw-- 07I feel like I could cry for all I want to know and all I want to say. Prayers have been sparse, I feel like I have said it all before. Revelation has been sporadic, something larger seems like it should come. Decisions have been avoided, I will wait for one that simply can’t be ignored. In this state, I just run my hands along the wall, feeling for the opening, waiting for that space that will let me through.
I know… Truth is, I’ve needed this space.
But i am ready again and i have a few things I’ve wanted to tell:
christmas goodnessI had a wonderful Christmas. Literally, from Dec 1st, on, was great. A redeemed Christmas season, I like to say, because up until this point, Christmas-time since before I can remember has been bad… real bad.
But this Christmas, I:
• Got my first Christmas tree for my own place….which came with mistletoe…. which my roommate promptly hung in every doorway of our house ;)
• Home-made most of my Christmas presents (scented candles), in the spirit of Advent Conspiracy, which also inspired much of our teaching for december, a rad prayer path (yay render), 2 local service projects, a global support of living water international, a coffeeshop art show and lots of relational bonding throughout the church :)
• Held a good ol’ fashioned Christmas white elephant exchange with our church family to say thanks to all those who serve at VFC
• Shopping in Union Square in SF on the busiest shopping weekend of the year
• Participated in an Advent celebration, made my own wreath (which got hung on my apartment door), ate way too many cookies and sung Christmas carols.
• Celebrated Christmas morning with the Jensen family at Juletta (spelling?) which included waking up at 5am, jumping on the sleeping brothers, singing more Christmas classics (doing so at 6am with lots of sweaters is a Swedish tradition, i guess), drinking lots of caffeine, opening gifts of inspiration and then celebrating the end of the night with three special words from a very special someone.
• Feeling a deep sense of peace… a certain awe at the celebration of Jesus’ birth… a sincere wonder at the true heart of Christmas… an honest appreciation for my life, an appreciation that transcended the circumstances being good and reached toward something eternal.
goodbyesOn a sadder note, my Gramma Marlyn died in November. She was a good woman, a hard woman at times, but loved God in her way and is at peace. All told, I spent 10 days this past fall/winter in Ohio because of her decline and then death, and each day reminded me of how much I appreciate my life in Santa Cruz. I deeply love my extended family, but I also see the brokenness of that life…the routine of not hearing anything at all, of falling back into the pattern of anger, bitterness, pride, just not seeing. Almost a senselessness…. Like nothing is seen, nothing is heard, nothing is felt, beyond the present emotion. Life laps the shore endlessnessly, pointlessly, eroding…. Nothing overtly beautiful to it, at least not that I can see. But there are those moments and those looks that give me hope and I remember that I believe in a God who is capable of far more. I must hope.
e x p a n s i o nI continue to be challenged by the Theodyssey course I am taking. Every bit of it is at once comfortably familiar (thanks to my years of therapy) and strikingly fresh (new ways to see the new self). We took a retreat in January that just filled me right up and inspired me to the brink, causing me to believe that every single person in the church should take this class. As soon as I articulated this out loud to my fellow retreaters, I realized that this was complete madness. You have to be ready and willing for something like this and it’s not easy to stick with. But worth it, to me, in what I see of it, because it’s changing everything and affirming everything, too. More later on this, I am sure.
this wallFor years, probably 3, I have felt myself striving for something. Direction for my future, a light on a path toward something else, a path or a destination or a place that is somehow obvious and perfect and easy to choose. But thus far, my life, its only this staying. In this stability, though, I have grown real and true. I really think this. I don’t regret not leaving or pursuing beyond what I have, because what I have and have had is just good. Real and true…. Really, honestly, just good.
But just beneath that stable goodness that has allowed so much and taught so much, lurks the next steps. I am being prepared, there is no question…. but for what, I don’t know. And everyone asks/encourages…. You should write. You should travel. You should pursue your masters. And I love that. But the what, the what. What, what… what…. is the what? (a good question and an excellent book). I don’t think I know my what and I feel like time is now beginning to slip away.
I am 26. They say babies aren’t safe past the mid-30’s, that you gotta pop those things out early to be safe. My dad had this conversation with me the other day, especially cause i only got the one ovary now. But, um, Dad, shouldn’t I have a husband first? Shouldn’t we figure that out first? And the dozens of engagements swirling around (slight exaggeration, but not by much) exert that 6-month pressure on me that seems unavoidable in Christian dating world—you’ve been together 6 months, are you getting engaged?! Are you kidding me?! This is the rest of my life!!...Can I have at least a year to figure that decision out? Is that ok with you? But, I digress.
So, I feel this wall. Like I have seen it from far away and known it’s coming. I even sometimes think its right in front of me, like my depth perception is off (it’s right here! I am going to hit it! It’s right in front of me, I can’t find a way through! What will I do?!) …but then I realize I have awhile to go before I hit it. And I feel safe again, knowing it’s impending, but knowing I have time. And I enjoy the present, as we do, giving slightly less consideration than I should for what I wish were a farther future.
But now, the length and height and width are more apparent, and it’s bigger and more beautiful and more terrifying than I had first expected. I was way off on this thing. And now, sitting here in the Gypsy Den in Orange County, having been up since 4:54am, traveled down here, sat through 8 hours of a conference, I am worn and tired, my emotions raw-- 07I feel like I could cry for all I want to know and all I want to say. Prayers have been sparse, I feel like I have said it all before. Revelation has been sporadic, something larger seems like it should come. Decisions have been avoided, I will wait for one that simply can’t be ignored. In this state, I just run my hands along the wall, feeling for the opening, waiting for that space that will let me through.
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
bells resonance
i have spent most of my life very acutely aware of my "issues." therapy and "deep talks" were just a part of everyday life from a very early age. my parents are, as i often say, intensity junkies and deep talkers. superficial small talk is nearly non-existent when i am with them. most of the issues and most of that acute awareness of self i have experienced has served me well and i find myself often counseling (with permission or not ;) ) most of my friends and even some acquaintances. to be candid, i often think i have a fair amount of understanding of self and of how to navigate those tumultuous emotional waters tossing and turning beneath our surfaces. but often i turn to look in me and i find myself covered in salty, dark, heavy waves i cannot even recognize as the sea at all. i find that all the navigation i thought i had done sometimes leaves me back in the same place i began.
i am currently taking a class on spiritual formation that i am convinced every single person who claims to follow jesus should take at one point. it is filled with the most simple truth and profound reality that i have yet to encounter in my faith... all the hints of what felt right in different christian settings and all the glimmers of what hope might look like in conversation and all the deep wisdom of such profound texts seems to be reflected in the content of this course. i dont want to be one of those people who says "try this [book/class/church/group/____], it will change your life" but if i had to choose one thing that i would say that about, its this.
i cant even go into all i have learned so far... its all so fresh, but at the same time, all so timeless, ((argh, i could write a book))-- but tonight seemed to illuminate something in me. so much movement happened in my heart, so many things rang true, so much was spoken just for me, it felt. a knot has been knitted in my throat, emotions just waiting to become real, its scary to think of letting that floodgate go. its still there, making it slightly hard to breathe.
you see, i am learning/understanding how to articulate a profound truth that we all see and experience life through a grid. first, before the grid, i learned that our perceptions of the world are formed very intensely in two periods of life-- a collection of images in our pre-verbal stage and a dependence on physical touch from others builds our early experience and impacts how we understand our place in the world and our value to others... am i accepted? am i lovable? am i worthy? before we are 3, mom is the primary giver of our acceptance, love, worth. then, in our pre-teens, we move away from dependence on mom (we were connected so deeply in the womb, we must naturally seperate and find ourselves away from her) and seek approval from dad, who tells us how to behave. if i am his daughter, i define the reality of my feminity based on how dad reacts to my change from girl to woman. if i am his son, i define my very masculinity on what he shows me and how he accepts me.
so the grid. through it we see our life. much of our grid can be good-- accomplishments, moments of love and acceptance, growth, healthy development. we see clearly through these spots, experience the reality of how life should be. but we also have these marred parts of the grid. the parts where things went wrong. mark #1: dad left before i became a woman... i can't trust that anyone will actually love me and stay with me... i am afraid of being left. mark #2: mom was chaotic and untrustworthy... i won' t be safe or provided for... i must be totally self sufficient. our marred grid spots keep us from the freedom to live without fear, keeps us from living in the fullness of how our creator has made us.
putting the intensity of my already hyper-aware mind together with the way this class articulates how we experience life at these deeper levels, i find this to be the best thing ever. not because it solves all the problems and not because it makes things easier. it just gives me voice. and words. makes these dark waves a little more clear.
so... do we have to live with these marred grids? must we always keep coming back to the same spots, realizing they block our view, making our perception of reality false?
they are etched into us, yes, and will always be there... but we have a choice as to whether we live by them, or whether we live in the freedom we find beyond them.
there are those bells that ring in those quaint small towns on the hour. you have to pull at them, those ones in the big bell tower. even after you pull on them enough times as there are hours, they keep on ringing, the ropes moving up and down with the bells weight. but as the bells stop being pulled, their sound gets fainter and fainter, the resonance lighter, till you can't really hear them anymore. we always have the bells, and they ring... but maybe when we know them well enough, know what they are, and why they are, we only experience the fainter resonance of their sound... once a day... then once a week... then once a month...
then, just once in a while.
i am currently taking a class on spiritual formation that i am convinced every single person who claims to follow jesus should take at one point. it is filled with the most simple truth and profound reality that i have yet to encounter in my faith... all the hints of what felt right in different christian settings and all the glimmers of what hope might look like in conversation and all the deep wisdom of such profound texts seems to be reflected in the content of this course. i dont want to be one of those people who says "try this [book/class/church/group/____], it will change your life" but if i had to choose one thing that i would say that about, its this.
i cant even go into all i have learned so far... its all so fresh, but at the same time, all so timeless, ((argh, i could write a book))-- but tonight seemed to illuminate something in me. so much movement happened in my heart, so many things rang true, so much was spoken just for me, it felt. a knot has been knitted in my throat, emotions just waiting to become real, its scary to think of letting that floodgate go. its still there, making it slightly hard to breathe.
you see, i am learning/understanding how to articulate a profound truth that we all see and experience life through a grid. first, before the grid, i learned that our perceptions of the world are formed very intensely in two periods of life-- a collection of images in our pre-verbal stage and a dependence on physical touch from others builds our early experience and impacts how we understand our place in the world and our value to others... am i accepted? am i lovable? am i worthy? before we are 3, mom is the primary giver of our acceptance, love, worth. then, in our pre-teens, we move away from dependence on mom (we were connected so deeply in the womb, we must naturally seperate and find ourselves away from her) and seek approval from dad, who tells us how to behave. if i am his daughter, i define the reality of my feminity based on how dad reacts to my change from girl to woman. if i am his son, i define my very masculinity on what he shows me and how he accepts me.
so the grid. through it we see our life. much of our grid can be good-- accomplishments, moments of love and acceptance, growth, healthy development. we see clearly through these spots, experience the reality of how life should be. but we also have these marred parts of the grid. the parts where things went wrong. mark #1: dad left before i became a woman... i can't trust that anyone will actually love me and stay with me... i am afraid of being left. mark #2: mom was chaotic and untrustworthy... i won' t be safe or provided for... i must be totally self sufficient. our marred grid spots keep us from the freedom to live without fear, keeps us from living in the fullness of how our creator has made us.
putting the intensity of my already hyper-aware mind together with the way this class articulates how we experience life at these deeper levels, i find this to be the best thing ever. not because it solves all the problems and not because it makes things easier. it just gives me voice. and words. makes these dark waves a little more clear.
so... do we have to live with these marred grids? must we always keep coming back to the same spots, realizing they block our view, making our perception of reality false?
they are etched into us, yes, and will always be there... but we have a choice as to whether we live by them, or whether we live in the freedom we find beyond them.
there are those bells that ring in those quaint small towns on the hour. you have to pull at them, those ones in the big bell tower. even after you pull on them enough times as there are hours, they keep on ringing, the ropes moving up and down with the bells weight. but as the bells stop being pulled, their sound gets fainter and fainter, the resonance lighter, till you can't really hear them anymore. we always have the bells, and they ring... but maybe when we know them well enough, know what they are, and why they are, we only experience the fainter resonance of their sound... once a day... then once a week... then once a month...
then, just once in a while.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
three days ago calls came in and flights were boooked. my birthday became preparation and washed by. friends faithful through it, one seeing my tears and weakspots and being steady in spite. long sleepless flights, body aching. seeing her wheeled in, i put my face near hers as the sun broke in and she smiles. would this be her last october?
death feels poetic when family flocks from everywhere...when people cancel and miss and excuse and fly great distances... when tears come spontaneously, in sad and glad...when hospice nurses observe 20 people squeeze into her small soft lit room to pray "our fathers" and "hail marys" and "now i lay me down to sleep," to say nice things before she falls asleep....
death is not poetic when the amublance drivers almost drop her as they transfer her from gurney to bed.... when hours of waiting produce guilty boredom.... when she can't use the bathroom on her own... when you just let her smoke one more cigaratte because it doesnt matter at this point
she does not have enough time
death feels poetic when family flocks from everywhere...when people cancel and miss and excuse and fly great distances... when tears come spontaneously, in sad and glad...when hospice nurses observe 20 people squeeze into her small soft lit room to pray "our fathers" and "hail marys" and "now i lay me down to sleep," to say nice things before she falls asleep....
death is not poetic when the amublance drivers almost drop her as they transfer her from gurney to bed.... when hours of waiting produce guilty boredom.... when she can't use the bathroom on her own... when you just let her smoke one more cigaratte because it doesnt matter at this point
she does not have enough time
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
there is not enough time
there is not enough time for all the music i want to listen to
there is not enough time for all the books i want to read
there is not enough time for all the magazines i subscribe to to be worth it
there is not enough time for all the amazing movies to be seen
there is not enough time for all the conversations i want to have
there is not enough time for all the questions i want answered
there is not enough time for all the places i want to see
there is not enough time for all the people i want to meet
there is not enough time for all the pages i want to absorb from the word that never fails
there is not enough time for all the ways i want to love
there is not enough time for all the things i want to learn
there is not enough time for me to sit and think
there is not enough time to cry
there is not enough time to be lazy
there is not enough time to stare out the window and wonder
there is not enough time to ride bikes in the sun
there is not enough time to absorb life happening in all the small ways around me
there is not enough time
there is not enough time
there is not enough tme
there is not enough time
she does not have enough time
there is not enough time for all the books i want to read
there is not enough time for all the magazines i subscribe to to be worth it
there is not enough time for all the amazing movies to be seen
there is not enough time for all the conversations i want to have
there is not enough time for all the questions i want answered
there is not enough time for all the places i want to see
there is not enough time for all the people i want to meet
there is not enough time for all the pages i want to absorb from the word that never fails
there is not enough time for all the ways i want to love
there is not enough time for all the things i want to learn
there is not enough time for me to sit and think
there is not enough time to cry
there is not enough time to be lazy
there is not enough time to stare out the window and wonder
there is not enough time to ride bikes in the sun
there is not enough time to absorb life happening in all the small ways around me
there is not enough time
there is not enough time
there is not enough tme
there is not enough time
she does not have enough time
Thursday, September 06, 2007
chosing hope.
its been a church heavy time. i have been so immersed in church busy-work this last 2 weeks, its not the kind you hate, but a good busy-ness, so many good things ahead. its been interesting over the past 3.5 years working in a church setting because you get all sorts of different perspectives on what church means... some people love the church (as in the organized church that usually meets sundays and has ministries, etc) and cant get enough- it's their lifeline, group of friends, place to serve, sense of belonging- essentially, it's their family. others have been deeply wounded by the church--"burned by the church" is a term i hear almost daily. and i think both of these people are valid in their view and dont discredit or undermine their experiences or any experience that lands somewhere on the huge gray scale between the love and hate relationship we can have with "the church." because of all the "church" focus, i am having all these thoughts swimming around in my brain about "church"... if i may....
- someone saying they have been "burned by the church" is almost analogous to someone saying that they have been hurt by another human being. its bound to happen to anyone and everyone at some point, especially because the church is made up of a bunch of fallen people. but just like when one person hurts another, there needs to be apologies. and just like in person to person relationshops, there needs to be forgiveness, even when you don't feel like it. and both sides need to recognize the part they played in the "hurt," because often times its miscommunication... or unmet/unrealized expectations... or a whole plethora of other relational glitches we have all experienced.
- no matter where you go, what organization you are part of, who you hang out with, how hard you try... things are always going to be at least slightly messed up and broken, if not totally messed up and utterly broken. you can look at any organization (including a church) or business or group of collected people, secular or non, and there are bound to be dysfunctions, disagreements, dis-satisfaction, and more. people are messed up. fallen. broken. prideful. sinful. some organizations and groups are more healthy than others, but all, every single one of them, is in process. they may be caught up in dysfunction at the moment and have no awareness of a need to change. or they could be coming out of dysfunction, on the path to healing and wholeness collectively. but no one, no group, no human-involved thing is without flaw. this does not mean we allow for brokenness to permeate and become the way we function. no. no way. we are just constantly looking forward, not worrying that we aren't enough or that we aren't where others are (collectively or individually), but we just ask "what is my next step in this?" (mark scandrette taught me that). and i just feel that if we can truly internalize these things, really allow the truth of our brokenness and the hope of our continual restoration, to just live in us-- man, it would just change the world.
- there is hope. oh, oh, do i believe it. i have heard about lots of people becoming "dis-enfranchised" from the church, in various places and for various reasons. this makes me sad, often it makes me doubt what i do as a person in paid ministry and makes me want to give up hope. but hope, hope is everywhere. i see it so plainly. re-imagine in sf is this amazing group of people committed to exist in a real kingdom way, in a neighborhood, covenanted around 7 values, striving to live in the way of jesus and yearning to make a difference in the lives of those around them. not an "organized church" in the traditional sense, it is jesus' church in every sense. and they are aware of their shortcomings, weaknesses, questions, failings. and though they don't "go to church" or have meetings in the same way, they still support and encourage more traditional churches, helping their leaders understand community values, even training one churches entire set of small group leaders. we got to have some members of their community come play music in our coffeehouse-- they form a band, the cobalt season, and they are "hopeful protest music." perfect. love it. i got to chat to them and some others who came from re-imagine and it was so refreshing not only to hear bits about what re-imagine is up to, but also to see their openness and their encouragement of what we were doing in our church setting. similarly, theodyssey is an organization that hosts intense 9 month spiritual formation courses- anyone from any church (or even anyone not part of a church at all) are able to take classes, and the leader, dave, works with local church leaders and members in the bay area, in portland and in other parts of the country. though he is part of a home church, he still believes in the mission of the local church and helps its leaders pursue a healthier and more holistic view of spiritual formation. even tonight, we met with many members of a smaller, denominational church we have partnered with in town. in pursuit of joining with them, we had an open meeting sharing why we wanted to join, and explaining that though it meant sacrifice on both parts, we believed joining as one was essential for the pursuit of the kingdom in santa cruz. during the course of the night, person after person from their small church came up to share why they thought joining together was essential. each one kept pointing to God's larger purpose in all of this, to the mission of seeing people of all ages, from all backgrounds and experiences, welcomed and loved in the way of Jesus. i was near tears for most of it, i just couldnt believe it. its all of these encounters, and many more, that give me hope.
re-reading this, i may be viewed as an eternal optimist, someone not in tune with the suffering or the "reality" of the world around me. this is not true and the darkness and brokeness of the world is often laid heavy on my heart and i have wrestled, especially these last months, with my place in being a small part of a redemptive movement to help this dark and dying world. but i figure i can wallow in the reality of the broken all the time, or i can allow it to touch me and affect me and permeate me to an extent and then chose to recognize that the only force for change that offers any actual hope or real change or absolute redemption is the saving power of our creator chosing us and love us and pursuing us with unrelenting, uncompromised, and unbelievable passion. and if it is my aim to be part of that force, then i can't help but see hope.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
mystics and relvolutionaries
in the midst of my almost incessant thinking about how to affect change in the world, i began reading/continued reading "the wounded healer" by henri nouwen. its never a linear journey through a book for me, i have these problems.
i don't even want to try to explain his wisdom and insights, i will just leave a quote to express where my heart rests currently on the issue:
"it is my growing conviction that in jesus the mystical and the revolutionary ways are not opposites, but two sides of the same human mode of experiential transcendence [he has early argued that modern humanity is searching for meaning through experiential transcendence in a mystical way or in a revolutionary way, as two totally separate pursuits]. i am increasingly convinced that conversion is the individual equivalent of revolution. therefore, every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change. no mystic can prevent himself from becoming a social critic, since in self-reflection he will discover the roots of a sick society. similarly, no revolutionary can avoid facing his own human conditions, since in the midst of his struggle for a new world, he will find he is also fighting his own reactionary fears and false ambitions"
i don't even want to try to explain his wisdom and insights, i will just leave a quote to express where my heart rests currently on the issue:
"it is my growing conviction that in jesus the mystical and the revolutionary ways are not opposites, but two sides of the same human mode of experiential transcendence [he has early argued that modern humanity is searching for meaning through experiential transcendence in a mystical way or in a revolutionary way, as two totally separate pursuits]. i am increasingly convinced that conversion is the individual equivalent of revolution. therefore, every real revolutionary is challenged to be a mystic at heart, and he who walks the mystical way is called to unmask the illusory quality of human society. mysticism and revolution are two aspects of the same attempt to bring about radical change. no mystic can prevent himself from becoming a social critic, since in self-reflection he will discover the roots of a sick society. similarly, no revolutionary can avoid facing his own human conditions, since in the midst of his struggle for a new world, he will find he is also fighting his own reactionary fears and false ambitions"
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
death
i had a dream last night that my brother died. it was the most helpless feeling, he had been there, cracking jokes, laughing, being his normal little brother self. then just gone. gone. i woke up with tears on my face and desperation.
death has felt present these last months, and though its always everywhere, right now, i feel like its right here. not ominous. just present.
both my grandmothers face it simultaneously. one, sick for 20 years with diabetes and all the ways its tearing her body apart. she is scared to die, scared to leave her husband, scared she will miss out on life here. she knows she will be with God when she goes and wants more than anything for her whole family to be with Him. she prays all the time for my family, she says. though she believes in heaven, she is scared to die. the other, sick for the last few years from the effects of smoking since she was 12, is not scared to die, but is not letting go easily. one moment, she will be ready to let go, refusing to eat and drink. the next, she wants to go to the hospital for an iv. her daughters don't know how she wants to die. she wants more than anything for the whole family to believe in God and be together in heaven. she prays every night for my sister, brother, dad.
my mothers co-worker recently died, inexplicably. she was in her 30's, a preschool teacher. they closed the preschool last week one day for the funeral. they dont know what happened.
a bicyclist was killed on a major road in town a few weeks ago. a semi-truck, a wrong turn. and he is gone.
a few months ago, a friend lost a sibling to suicide. his art hangs on our coffeehouse walls, reminding us of potential we think was cut short in his decision... perhaps of potential realized just in time. i could not understand my friends pain until last nights dream. now in the smallest ways, its present, next to me.
what of death tasted and then retreating? before last nights dream, my roommate and i had talked about near-death experience... the "unconditional love" some say they feel in the moments when faced with death. 90 minutes in heaven, one pastor claims, is what he experienced before returning back to live out the rest of his days having tasted the ultimate unknown.
one of our pastors revels in reminding us, in an oddly endearing way, that when we see the elderly people who come mondays and fridays to use our church building, that all of us will be there someday, will all someday pass away.
its the only guarantee we have of anything, beyond our birth.
after her co-workers death, my mother spoke with someone close to us who reads the obituaries everyday. she does it, habitually, thinking if she knows about death enough, the age of death, the cause, perhaps she can control or understand it more or somehow get it. she feels that being older, with no more kids in the house, with many of her dreams accomplished already, with nothing to look forward to, really, that she has no purpose. and so death is all there is. and death is scary, completely unknown.
a few weeks ago, we visited one of our oldest and newest church members in the icu. she lay there, as we entered, glowing. the doctors had pulled all the machines keeping her alive. she had made this decision, she said, and was at peace with it. and she was right. peace, peace. just peace. so simple and uncomplicated. she was facing the biggest unknown, the thing most of us fear the most and she was doing it with confidence. i am not sure i had seen such beauty. we got to spend a few moments with her on one of her last days on earth, praying with her, touching her hand. she passed the next week. her daughters told us the doctors commented that they never see people die with such peace and dignity like she did.
i am not sure what to think if this all. death still elludes me. what it will be like. what it will feel like. but i think i know how i want to go. with peace and confidence. dignity. unafraid.
death has felt present these last months, and though its always everywhere, right now, i feel like its right here. not ominous. just present.
both my grandmothers face it simultaneously. one, sick for 20 years with diabetes and all the ways its tearing her body apart. she is scared to die, scared to leave her husband, scared she will miss out on life here. she knows she will be with God when she goes and wants more than anything for her whole family to be with Him. she prays all the time for my family, she says. though she believes in heaven, she is scared to die. the other, sick for the last few years from the effects of smoking since she was 12, is not scared to die, but is not letting go easily. one moment, she will be ready to let go, refusing to eat and drink. the next, she wants to go to the hospital for an iv. her daughters don't know how she wants to die. she wants more than anything for the whole family to believe in God and be together in heaven. she prays every night for my sister, brother, dad.
my mothers co-worker recently died, inexplicably. she was in her 30's, a preschool teacher. they closed the preschool last week one day for the funeral. they dont know what happened.
a bicyclist was killed on a major road in town a few weeks ago. a semi-truck, a wrong turn. and he is gone.
a few months ago, a friend lost a sibling to suicide. his art hangs on our coffeehouse walls, reminding us of potential we think was cut short in his decision... perhaps of potential realized just in time. i could not understand my friends pain until last nights dream. now in the smallest ways, its present, next to me.
what of death tasted and then retreating? before last nights dream, my roommate and i had talked about near-death experience... the "unconditional love" some say they feel in the moments when faced with death. 90 minutes in heaven, one pastor claims, is what he experienced before returning back to live out the rest of his days having tasted the ultimate unknown.
one of our pastors revels in reminding us, in an oddly endearing way, that when we see the elderly people who come mondays and fridays to use our church building, that all of us will be there someday, will all someday pass away.
its the only guarantee we have of anything, beyond our birth.
after her co-workers death, my mother spoke with someone close to us who reads the obituaries everyday. she does it, habitually, thinking if she knows about death enough, the age of death, the cause, perhaps she can control or understand it more or somehow get it. she feels that being older, with no more kids in the house, with many of her dreams accomplished already, with nothing to look forward to, really, that she has no purpose. and so death is all there is. and death is scary, completely unknown.
a few weeks ago, we visited one of our oldest and newest church members in the icu. she lay there, as we entered, glowing. the doctors had pulled all the machines keeping her alive. she had made this decision, she said, and was at peace with it. and she was right. peace, peace. just peace. so simple and uncomplicated. she was facing the biggest unknown, the thing most of us fear the most and she was doing it with confidence. i am not sure i had seen such beauty. we got to spend a few moments with her on one of her last days on earth, praying with her, touching her hand. she passed the next week. her daughters told us the doctors commented that they never see people die with such peace and dignity like she did.
i am not sure what to think if this all. death still elludes me. what it will be like. what it will feel like. but i think i know how i want to go. with peace and confidence. dignity. unafraid.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
addiction....
...is so fascinating to me, which sounds terrible because it destroys everything it touches. but i think it explains a lot about god.
addiction messes up your pleasure centers- once you have indulged in an addictive behavior enough, a chemical reaction (or something like that) happens in you and it begins to tell the pleasure center of your brain that you can only be happy if you are doing that behavior. and the desire in us to access the pleasure center that allows us happiness is an extremely powerful drive. so when its messed up and reprogrammed, things are not good. once those chemicals mess with your pleasure center, stopping your brain from thinking that drinking/having sex/shooting up/working/shopping/eating/(insert addiction here) is not the center of all your happiness is nearly impossible.
which makes sense.
god asks us to be extreme sometimes. and sometimes he asks us to walk the line between two extremes. sometimes he tells us its better to be in the middle than go too far one way. the fact that our brains are basically wired for moderation makes me feel like god is real. because he made our bodies and brains in line with his ways. he knows its not good for us to overindulge in certain things of this earth because he knows the only thing we can really overindulge in and never come away sick or addicted or broken from is pursuing him and his kingdom in a healthy way. he jealously wants our whole selves and has created our brains in a way that we must moderate what exactly we put inside of us and what we surround ourselves with. when we don't, something inside us becomes broken.
but what's even better about God is that when we often fail to keep ourselves from extremity and addiction (because we are all addicted to many things, if we think about it honestly), he still redeems us. still heals us. still picks us up off the ground and teaches us to keep walking.
there is no place more comfortable for me than in an aa meeting. its the environment i grew up in, the aa crowd, and i loved it so much. these people know brokenness, failure, destitution, the view from the bottom. but that much more, they know mercy, forgiveness, humility, grace. they are the realest group of people i know. i wish the church was more like them in seeing the deep brokenness we all carry around, admitting it as a reality openly and still getting up everyday and facing life with the belief that we can be redeemed.
what recovering addicts know is how to live out of their broken state. when we can truly learn to live out of our broken state, we can truly learn the meaning of humility. and in humility, grace.
addiction messes up your pleasure centers- once you have indulged in an addictive behavior enough, a chemical reaction (or something like that) happens in you and it begins to tell the pleasure center of your brain that you can only be happy if you are doing that behavior. and the desire in us to access the pleasure center that allows us happiness is an extremely powerful drive. so when its messed up and reprogrammed, things are not good. once those chemicals mess with your pleasure center, stopping your brain from thinking that drinking/having sex/shooting up/working/shopping/eating/(insert addiction here) is not the center of all your happiness is nearly impossible.
which makes sense.
god asks us to be extreme sometimes. and sometimes he asks us to walk the line between two extremes. sometimes he tells us its better to be in the middle than go too far one way. the fact that our brains are basically wired for moderation makes me feel like god is real. because he made our bodies and brains in line with his ways. he knows its not good for us to overindulge in certain things of this earth because he knows the only thing we can really overindulge in and never come away sick or addicted or broken from is pursuing him and his kingdom in a healthy way. he jealously wants our whole selves and has created our brains in a way that we must moderate what exactly we put inside of us and what we surround ourselves with. when we don't, something inside us becomes broken.
but what's even better about God is that when we often fail to keep ourselves from extremity and addiction (because we are all addicted to many things, if we think about it honestly), he still redeems us. still heals us. still picks us up off the ground and teaches us to keep walking.
there is no place more comfortable for me than in an aa meeting. its the environment i grew up in, the aa crowd, and i loved it so much. these people know brokenness, failure, destitution, the view from the bottom. but that much more, they know mercy, forgiveness, humility, grace. they are the realest group of people i know. i wish the church was more like them in seeing the deep brokenness we all carry around, admitting it as a reality openly and still getting up everyday and facing life with the belief that we can be redeemed.
what recovering addicts know is how to live out of their broken state. when we can truly learn to live out of our broken state, we can truly learn the meaning of humility. and in humility, grace.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
keeping up with the mrs. jones'
i had a dream last night that i was eaten alive by fruit flies. i was married and trying to help console a friend in the middle of the night. upon returning to my bed and my husband, i discovered a trail of ants in the sheets that suddenly turned into fruit flies and attacked me, biting and itching until there was no more of me left. it was those little tiny things that killed me. i woke up disturbed, the light outside still dark.
before sleep last night, i spent a glamorous night on the town with ten beautiful women for a birthday party. all fancied up with our high heels on, we were the epitome of youth and beauty and vibrance. well, they were. in comparison to so much womanhood, i felt like a little girl pretending. too skinny, too awkward, not the right outfit, the wrong hair and a bad sexy face (you will have to ask them about that), how did i fit in? one of them, newly married mrs jones, explained her engagement and marriage to me. she is just my age, i think, but seemed so much more in stature and confidence. as i looked around, i felt each woman, single, married or dating, held such beauty in who they were, unique and exuberant, all their outsides communicated an easy grace and a fitting in. i will feel this way from time to time, and more so as i get older... but last night, in comparison, i did not.
and its that little thing of comparison that's been killing me, i realize. in comparison to women who are married, i am alone. in comparison to people who have travelled extensively, i am static. in comparison to my college friends, i am a square. in comparison to the adventurous, i am mundane. in comparison to the brave, i am weak and fearful. in comparison to the on-the-town, i am at home. in comparison to the real missionaries, i am comfortable.
in these comparisons, life sometimes feels a race where i didnt realize we were supposed to leave the start line awhile ago.
but, in the grand narrative, the real reality, i am not responsible to be anyone other than what i am. in all this comparison, i am losing sight of this person, this girl, this woman my creator intended. in comparison, i have tried to acquire things and ways that i am not.
i am not eaten alive by small things, but they are itching at me.
before sleep last night, i spent a glamorous night on the town with ten beautiful women for a birthday party. all fancied up with our high heels on, we were the epitome of youth and beauty and vibrance. well, they were. in comparison to so much womanhood, i felt like a little girl pretending. too skinny, too awkward, not the right outfit, the wrong hair and a bad sexy face (you will have to ask them about that), how did i fit in? one of them, newly married mrs jones, explained her engagement and marriage to me. she is just my age, i think, but seemed so much more in stature and confidence. as i looked around, i felt each woman, single, married or dating, held such beauty in who they were, unique and exuberant, all their outsides communicated an easy grace and a fitting in. i will feel this way from time to time, and more so as i get older... but last night, in comparison, i did not.
and its that little thing of comparison that's been killing me, i realize. in comparison to women who are married, i am alone. in comparison to people who have travelled extensively, i am static. in comparison to my college friends, i am a square. in comparison to the adventurous, i am mundane. in comparison to the brave, i am weak and fearful. in comparison to the on-the-town, i am at home. in comparison to the real missionaries, i am comfortable.
in these comparisons, life sometimes feels a race where i didnt realize we were supposed to leave the start line awhile ago.
but, in the grand narrative, the real reality, i am not responsible to be anyone other than what i am. in all this comparison, i am losing sight of this person, this girl, this woman my creator intended. in comparison, i have tried to acquire things and ways that i am not.
i am not eaten alive by small things, but they are itching at me.
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