Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Just cause it made me chuckle...

Apparently, swearing actually does alleviate pain.

(I'm not much for swearing, but have been known to use somewhat colorful language in a few more challenging or painful moments...)

New Dreams?

Unpacking has in some ways been a bit of a challenge with this move, thanks in large part to the need I've felt to sort, simplify and purge.

But sorting, simplifying, and purging isn't easy for someone who has memories attached to most possessions, and dreams and hopes attached to many of those memories.

I stood in the shower tonight thinking about a next step in the unpacking process. About three large file containers full of paperwork I need to go through, largely full of notes from the years I spent in university, studying history, particularly European church history, and encountering Jesus in the midst of that.

As I stood there, I remembered a sermon I heard preached quite a number of years ago. The speaker shared a news item he'd read on the internet, about a woman who'd carried a baby in her womb for many years. There had been complications in the birthing process, the baby had died, and somehow, her body had never pushed the child from the womb (in a few cases I found on the internet tonight, the foetus had grown outside the womb). Eventually the pains of labor simply subsided, and over the course of years (46 in one case I read) the foetus fossilized. The women were never able to have other children. Usually many years later, the labor pains returned, and the women required surgery to "give birth" to this fossilized child they'd lost many years before.

The speaker used this story as an illustration of what happens when we cling to dreams that should die. They become hardened within us, fossilized, and we hold tightly to them, protecting them, and trying to nurture something within us that should already be dead.

It was a rather macabre illustration, but I've never forgotten that sermon, and tonight, as I stood in the shower contemplating the forthcoming need to sort through some things, I realized I needed to open my hands again. To hold things loosely.

Those history notes symbolize dreams. Dreams of teaching, of sharing my passion for the church - the bride of Christ - and mark it made on history. Teaching didn't turn out to be my career (I'd be terrible at doing it full time, quite frankly) but the passion to share the way I encountered Christ in history hasn't ever truly been something I've been able to let go of.

I felt again the need tonight to be willing to release that. I don't know if that means saying goodbye to it entirely. In this case it definitely means being willing to take the physical notes, convert them to an electronic and scaled down format for the sake of downsizing and storage space, and be willing to admit that maybe those moments of passionate encounter with Christ and his church were for me, and don't need to be shared.

And, as I stood there with the water running over me, I thought of other dreams, more deeply personal. Of relationships shattered. Of literal dreams, that came in the night. Of thoughts and prayers and longings. And I realized again the need to stand with open hands. To not cling. To let God not only give, but also take away. To be willing to allow him to purge the old and dead things (even if I can't see myself that they're dead) to create space for new things.

Come Lord, and create space within me...

White Scarf Day

The fact that I'm wearing a particular white scarf today isn't going to mean much to most of you.

Some of you will know that this scarf has a variety of meanings and reminders for me.

Meanings like:
  • I'm praying
  • I'm exhausted and in need of covering and shielding
  • Surrender (or just plain "giving up" depending on your perspective)

I'm having a white scarf sort of day. For all of those reasons.

I'm on my third night of minimal sleep. Last night the frustrations from day had apparently not dissipated before I slept, and I either dreamt about them, or woke to them all through the night.

I'm definitely running on a low tolerance level for stupidity. Which is not a good thing when you consider what I'm about to tell you next!

My ability to filter my thoughts for appropriate content before they come right on out of my mouth in audible form is low. Which I've demonstrated by having at least one conversation (and probably more) where, as I heard the words come out of my mouth, my brain then chimed in with "I can't believe you just said that, and why are you still talking??!!" It chimed in too late... I definitely made comments that I normally would not have made out loud - at least not to that particular person!

My dad and I had a conversation last night about horizontal spaces in people's lives. He defined horizontal spaces quite literally - any space that is horizontal and used for storage etc. (tables, desks, etc.) and commented that if the horizontal spaces that belong to a person were in disarray, it was probably a good indicator of how their day, week, month, or year was going. (He was making the comment because he's having some horizontal space issues this week!) I just chuckled as I imagined the horizontal space issues that would be awaiting me when I returned to my desk at the office this morning. And, they've multiplied. In fact, I'm fairly certain that paper has become sentient and discovered a way to procreate/recreate itself on my desk. There is crap everywhere awaiting my attention.

At least I've got someone to cover my lunch hour today, so I'll get at least a bit of a break from the madness. A few minutes to play a game online, or read the book I brought with me.

Then a couple quick errands on the way home, cooking dinner, and I'm settling in for a quiet evening. Although there remains much packing and sorting to be done in our house, I may ignore it for one more evening. I need to allow myself some down time, I think. I also need to make the yoga workout that I was just to exhausted to force myself to do last night a priority tonight. And maybe, just maybe, I'll do some sorting while I watch a movie or a dvd. It's a possibility, but I think I'm also needing to give myself permission for that not to happen as well. It feels like pressure, since most of what is left to be sorted is mine to deal with, and I'm aware that I may not be in town this weekend to tackle it in big or small chunks (I also need to make a fairly important decision surrounding that tonight). I feel guilty, because my roommate has to also live with the remaining disorder. But at the same time, I'm needing to recognize that the last month and a half has taxed my energy limits and that if I don't create time and space to rest, I'll be in even bigger trouble in the days and weeks to come.