Daily 5 - Day 84

A while ago now, I wrote an introduction to the daily 5. I'm feeling these days like I need to work even a little bit harder to find things in my day to really be grateful for, to really find joy in, and so you can expect the daily 5 to be more like a daily 10 on a semi-regular basis for a while. But just consider the extras bonus items, because, well, I like the name daily 5, and am feeling slightly phobic about committing to a daily 10!

So, today's daily "5":

1. A quiet evening, with candles lit all around my bedroom
2. Managing three days in a row of yoga without my body protesting too loudly (one more day for this week to do)
3. Having unexpected time to finish reading a book that I'd been hoping to finish this week, and being profoundly moved and challenged by the book as I finished reading it.
   
4. Feeling the stirring of my heart, and being able to write about some of that
5. Tiny little steps towards forgiveness and release, or at least giving voice to the fact that I want those things, even on a day when I also made bad decisions that moved me in the opposite direction from them as well.
6. Re-listening to the sermon by Mahesh Chavda that I linked to in yesterday's daily 5
7. Laughing with co-workers and celebrating with one over the purchase of a new vehicle for her family
8. A coworker voluntarily taking answering the phones off my hands (our receptionist is out sick) so that I could accomplish some things that needed to be done
9. Feeling grateful, after writing this morning about the struggle to balance rest and the need for some lifestyle changes to improve my health, that this was an evening where I was unexpectedly freed to simply rest when plans to connect with a friend didn't happen
10. Having a night off from being in charge of cooking dinner, and still getting to eat a great meal of frittata prepared by my roommate.
    

The story I want to write

I'm sitting here, and the quiet is surrounding me, and heightening my awareness.

The occasional burble of water in my oil burner and the soft scents drifting from it to fill the room I'm sitting in.

The softness of the blanket I'm wrapped in against my bare feet.

Sirens on the street swirl loudly on the street outside my window, catching my attention, and then they fade into the distance.

I've just finished reading a book about story. And about telling a better story with our lives.

Good stories have memorable scenes. Scenes that define and shape.

And I pause as I think of some friends and a memorable scene.

Of two friends living out their passions, making music, singing and strumming, and filling in rhythms, and another friend as he danced in front of the stage, totally unencumbered by who was watching... lost in the music...

I received an email from the friend who danced tonight. His sister is also a good friend of mine, and their mother is very ill. I told him, when they found out, and he emailed many of us to let us know, that I'd be praying for her. And I have been.

And tonight I read her update, words she'd written that he forwarded, and I prayed again.

And I thought of another family I know. All three of their children have a rare disease - one that is not genetically linked - they are the only siblings in North America to all have this disease. Their youngest is also profoundly deaf. And a little while back the mom to these three kids was diagnosed with a very serious cancer.

A number of people I know are grieving this week - a friend of theirs - young, only 25 or so, died late last week from complications of the H1N1 virus.

I pause for a moment to contemplate the things I said and did today, and the thoughts that were left unsaid, and I know that some of them didn't contribute to writing a good story.

I'm thinking about the experiences I have sometimes, about the one I had last night, and how that, too, shapes my story.

I want to write a better story.

The kind of story where less of the things I'm thinking need to be filtered out before they reach my tongue. Where there is more love and forgiveness, and less need to filter out anger and cruelty.

The kind of story that lets me see another person honestly, bumps and flaws and all, and love them anyway, even when they hurt me.

The kind of story where I live as a deeply loved daughter. Where I really know that as truth within me, and I let it permeate everything I do.

The kind of story with more memorable scenes. Swimming in a lake, and playing on the swings, and writing while propped on a hillside, or twirling in a park, and laughing. I want to write the kind of story that is filled with joy. The joy that somehow exists in the midst of ugly realities - of cancer and heartache and grief. Because sometimes the ugly realities are also memorable scenes.

I want to write a better story with my life.

Huh...

Yoga done for another night.

And the post yoga shower.

And the post shower dinner. (Which I was very grateful to not have to cook.)

I'm hoping to connect with a good friend on skype tonight and have some time to catch up with each other.

If not, well, I guess I'll be glad for an evening to myself, a quiet evening to myself.

I'm still pondering the experience I had last night. It is in some ways very clear, and in some ways very hazy. Clearly there are steps that need to be made, but how or what they are, I'm just not sure yet.

Tomorrow will be full.

Work has been a bit unique this week. We have quite a few people out with varying strains of flu (including H1N1). Some of the office politics tensions are running high. And we have major deadlines to meet. I'll be assembling 250 training manuals for most of tomorrow, with several other people.

I'm having a lunch meeting with someone I've never met as well. A discussion about steps moving forward. About life and church. Kind of nervous about that actually. While God seems to be making it clear that it's time to be connected to a body of believers again, the relational challenges of the last few years have definitely left me hesitant to risk my heart again. So, we'll see how tomorrow's discussion goes, and slowly take it from there.

And then tomorrow night our former roommate is joining us for dinner and a chance to catch up. I've hardly seen her since her wedding in the summer, so it'll be fun to connect.

But all those things will make for a very full day - a fact somewhat intimidating for someone who is struggling to balance a very definite need for rest.

So, I'll take it as it comes. And I'll pray for sleep or at least deep rest tonight.

As you love yourself

"Love your neighbor as you love yourself."

It's not exactly an unknown passage of scripture. In fact, in the circles I grew up in, it's probably one of the most quoted passages I know, along with "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."

It is, however, a passage I'm pondering in new ways after several conversations recently with a dear friend about the current state of being (physical, emotional and spiritual) that I find myself existing in.

It's that second bit that gets me. I'm pretty good (oh dear that sounds proud...) at loving others. I've not only been taught for nearly my whole life that others come first, but my heart genuinely leaps into caring deeply, often, much to my chagrin, without consulting me first! I'm not so good at the "as you love yourself part", and, I suppose that that makes me less than adequate at the loving others part. Because if the love I have for myself is anemic, and that is what I offer to others, then the love I'm giving is less than whole and life-giving either.

My friend's point was relatively simple. I need to rest, and I need to care for myself. Years of depression, followed by years not marked by depression, but by other challenges, followed by these last two years of incredible exhaustion, stress, grief, and relational challenges, have left me physically depleted (not to mention emotionally and spiritually). To some extent I knew this already, but the point was perhaps hammered home in a new way after our multiple conversations around the topic.

My argument was this - planning my schedule around me feels selfish. Time spent solely on me, resting, though necessary, is driving me crazy. I feel like I spend all of my time considering myself, and that clashes with my upbringing that others come first. I don't like feeling selfish or so self-involved. When I couldn't immediately produce scripture to support my position that others were more important, my friend broke in quietly with "Love your neighbor as you love yourself."

And those words have been ringing in my ear since she quoted them to me.

I found myself thinking about balance as I drove to work this morning.

After two very rough weeks that underscored oh so many areas of my life that need some attention right now, and a severe emotional crash on Friday, I entered this week with a new resolve to make changes. To heal. The same friend sent me a note that contained the reminder to "let your brain and heart heal... and fight for it... every day..." Good advice, really.

But after only a couple of days, I find myself struggling with balance. I've fit in some of the prescribed lifestyle changes, and I'm making the attempt to make some dietary changes as well. But two days in I feel like my spiritual life is suffering. Like some of the lifestyle changes are eating into the time and energy I'd previously spent on time reading scripture and prayer. Because by the time I fit the extra things in, I'm finding myself so exhausted that it is easy to give in to the temptation to scrap my scheduled time with God and just go to bed.

I was thinking about all of this as I drove because it was another night that can only be described as full of intense spiritual encounters. Because if I don't somehow manage to find that time with Jesus, I'm not going to manage to survive those kinds of nights.

And yet, I feel like pushing too much when I need to be resting is a challenge too.

As you love yourself, it turns out is a rather unique problem to have to address.