Life seems to move at a pace that is slow right now.
The waiting and limbo thing becomes intolerable at moments, and I am working to come up with ways to fill my days.
Today I'm waiting for a ride, so I'm puttering around my space in Grandma's basement.
I feel like words are coming slowly, too, as I wrestle my way through big issues.
Stuff that isn't formed for sharing, but more for pondering.
I make daily 5 lists throughout the day in my iphone, and add them to the blog at night.
I read blogs, and emails. I write, though often not for public consumption.
And I move slowly, slowly, slowly forward.
Committed to that forward movement.
Maybe the slow days are okay right now, even when they're the brutally hard ones.
Maybe I can live, and even thrive in this place.
Most days I'm not all that sure. But today, on this particular slow day, I think it might be possible.
Showing posts with label choose life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label choose life. Show all posts
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Head Above Water
I read this article on Gretchen Rubin's blog the other day. I've been slowly reading her book, "The Happiness Project" and have been quite enjoying both the book and her blog.
This is the line, though, that caught me from the article:
"So, if someone’s stubborn, “fake” refusal to acknowledge the dark side of life is annoying you, consider whether he or she might be struggling to stay afloat, to resist being dragged down completely by someone or something. We think we know people, but really, we usually know very little."
I make a list here, every night, of the things in that day that have made me smile in those last 24 hours. If you talk to me these days, I'll be honest about the major challenges that I'm facing in life right now. About the mess that my life is. But I'm also probably going to try to laugh at them. I'm probably going to try to get you to laugh with me. To recognize the mess, but to laugh with me. I'd hardly be declared "fake" in my glee and cheerfulness. I'm not exactly known for that. But for the last year and a bit, I've been making an effort to choose joy, daily, amidst some pretty crazy circumstances.
It so happened that I read Rubin's blog post on a day where I was barely staying afloat. Where any ability to laugh at the current disastrous state of my life had deserted me. And that day, I found myself nodding my head in agreement. And knowing I wanted to share this thought with all of you. To remind myself to be less hasty in judging that super cheery person, and pause to remember all the times I've joked recently, in a last ditch effort to keep my head above water.
This is the line, though, that caught me from the article:
"So, if someone’s stubborn, “fake” refusal to acknowledge the dark side of life is annoying you, consider whether he or she might be struggling to stay afloat, to resist being dragged down completely by someone or something. We think we know people, but really, we usually know very little."
I make a list here, every night, of the things in that day that have made me smile in those last 24 hours. If you talk to me these days, I'll be honest about the major challenges that I'm facing in life right now. About the mess that my life is. But I'm also probably going to try to laugh at them. I'm probably going to try to get you to laugh with me. To recognize the mess, but to laugh with me. I'd hardly be declared "fake" in my glee and cheerfulness. I'm not exactly known for that. But for the last year and a bit, I've been making an effort to choose joy, daily, amidst some pretty crazy circumstances.
It so happened that I read Rubin's blog post on a day where I was barely staying afloat. Where any ability to laugh at the current disastrous state of my life had deserted me. And that day, I found myself nodding my head in agreement. And knowing I wanted to share this thought with all of you. To remind myself to be less hasty in judging that super cheery person, and pause to remember all the times I've joked recently, in a last ditch effort to keep my head above water.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Daily 5 - Year 2, Day 40
Today's Daily 5:
- spending the entire morning (including eating breakfast!) in bed
- watching lots and lots of Grey's Anatomy on dvd
- an afternoon of quiet and alone time
- taking a bath and revisiting my favorite former Friday evening pasttime (on a Friday afternoon) by watching Grey's while relaxing in the tub
- after six months of living half-way in and out of being settled in grandma's house because of various uncertainties, I decided tonight to set up a table and chairs in my space. I decided I needed a place to sit and work and pray and think, and started the process of doing that by moving my table and chairs into a space that will work for them. I don't have a couch anymore, or I'd have moved my coffee table and that in instead, but the table and chairs will work for now, and it's something - a place to settle and think and pray. A place to sit that is not my bed (though I think that will always remain my preferred spot!)
- I also used my dvd player for the first time tonight, and settled for the first time into the chair and sitting spot I set up when I moved in six months ago. To be fair, I did this partly because the dvd player in my laptop is slowly dieing and is scratching my dvds in the process, but sitting in a spot to watch a dvd on a normal screen feels good. Like a little bit of sanity in my very bizarre life at grandma's, don't even have a bedroom door world.
- I lit candles everywhere to combat the smell of musty basement (and other odd house smells that have been happening here at grandma's lately) and to warm up my cold space
- wearing a twirly skirt, and a scarf, even though it was a cooler day and that wouldn't be my normal impulse on cooler days
- finding out that the process of getting an American passport is going to take way less legwork than I thought, thanks to some work my parents did to get each of us a document certifying our American citizenship when we were born
- The simple process of applying myself to a task was helpful tonight in refocusing myself after a very hard day. So I cleaned, and I unpacked my suitcase from my trip and put things away, and I created a new space to sit and think.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
What makes you alive?
I am writing my last final exam today. The anatomy exam that I've been worrying about, (and trying not to worry about) for the last week or two. I have been reminding myself that I am doing this because I am moving towards a goal that makes me feel alive.
I came across this quote recently, and loved it.
"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive.
And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
- Howard Thurman
What makes you feel alive? Are you doing that?
I came across this quote recently, and loved it.
"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive.
And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
- Howard Thurman
What makes you feel alive? Are you doing that?
Friday, August 13, 2010
Perspective
I've found myself thinking about perspective quite a lot this last week or so.
My parents have had a missionary family coming and going from their house for the last couple weeks, and, since I spend the vast majority of my days at mom and dad's, I've gotten to enjoy their company as well.
I've met dozens of missionary kids and families over the years, and this family has rapidly become one of my favorites. Their children are articulate, well-adapted, and genuinely interested in the world around them and in finding fun everywhere they go.
I've been exposed to quite a number of missionary kids who seem quite adrift when they land in North America. Conversations with them usually entail a lengthy dissertation on how very different life in North America is from life in whatever country it is that their family serves in, and then a discussion of why it is that whatever the aspect of life under discussion is done better in that country than in North America.
When I began to travel, my dad gave me a piece of advice that I've found valuable. Don't compare, and don't make judgments about what is better or worse. The context is different. Choose to appreciate, to observe, to explore, to seek to understand. Sometimes as I'm talking with missionary kids, I wish they were given that same advice about approaching life back in North America - that in the same way it would be irritating and horrible for me to come to their home context and pass judgment about how things are done, it's equally irritating for them to come here and pass judgment.
In any case, I particularly appreciated the family that was staying with us. Rather than complain about what they missed, I heard over and over from their three children, "We can't do that in Ghana!" It was great fun to watch their youngest child's eyes grow large as she spotted one of the many herds of cows that spot the Alberta foothills. "Look at how big those cows are!!!" It was totally enjoyable to sit with them in a movie theatre and hear about how this was only the second or third time they'd ever been in a movie theatre. I loved hearing them detail their delight at the vast assortment of wildlife they saw as they toured the mountains for the first time (none of them, parents included, had ever seen mountains!) And I took joy in watching my dad teach the kids the basics of fly fishing - another "we can't do that in Ghana" experience for their collection.
There was something in watching all this that caught my attention. That made me think about differing perspectives. I live in a land where cattle are huge, and the biblical phrase about God "owning the cattle on a thousand hills" takes on a truly surreal meaning. I live in "Alberta beef" country, where cattle are the pride and joy of ranchers, and are raised by the thousands. Where cows are huge, plentiful, and where very high quality beef is easily obtained from just about any butcher or grocery store. These kids come from a world where the cattle are scrawny and where a single cow can make an immense difference in the life and living eked out by a family.
I was thinking about perspective in a different way this week too. Late on Monday night I sat in a car, catching up with a friend, hearing about her summer, and sharing some of the challenges that life has thrown my way this summer. In her typically sarcastic way, she asked "and how's that for you?" I laughed and began to respond in kind, "well, it's been just..." and I bit back the word I'd planned to use, threw something else in it's place and finished answering.
She caught my pause. "You were going to say it's been hell, weren't you?"
"yep."
"You know that you can say that right?"
And my response caught me off guard as well.
"I know, but I'm working to change how I see this. To be grateful for the healing that's coming, and not focus so much on how brutal the process is."
I'm thinking about perspective this week, and I want my perspective to be more like that of the kids I've so appreciated. To let them be my teachers. To see opportunity, and joy, and new things, instead of focusing on what has changed, what I miss, what aches. I want to see healing instead of wallowing in the muck of a very broken life. Even when everything is unfamiliar. I want to have an "I can't do that in Ghana" attitude and make the most of what I am being offered, rather than wishing for a different portion. And I want to continue to work on seeing a different perspective reflected not only in my thoughts, but in my outlook, my writing and my speech.
My parents have had a missionary family coming and going from their house for the last couple weeks, and, since I spend the vast majority of my days at mom and dad's, I've gotten to enjoy their company as well.
I've met dozens of missionary kids and families over the years, and this family has rapidly become one of my favorites. Their children are articulate, well-adapted, and genuinely interested in the world around them and in finding fun everywhere they go.
I've been exposed to quite a number of missionary kids who seem quite adrift when they land in North America. Conversations with them usually entail a lengthy dissertation on how very different life in North America is from life in whatever country it is that their family serves in, and then a discussion of why it is that whatever the aspect of life under discussion is done better in that country than in North America.
When I began to travel, my dad gave me a piece of advice that I've found valuable. Don't compare, and don't make judgments about what is better or worse. The context is different. Choose to appreciate, to observe, to explore, to seek to understand. Sometimes as I'm talking with missionary kids, I wish they were given that same advice about approaching life back in North America - that in the same way it would be irritating and horrible for me to come to their home context and pass judgment about how things are done, it's equally irritating for them to come here and pass judgment.
In any case, I particularly appreciated the family that was staying with us. Rather than complain about what they missed, I heard over and over from their three children, "We can't do that in Ghana!" It was great fun to watch their youngest child's eyes grow large as she spotted one of the many herds of cows that spot the Alberta foothills. "Look at how big those cows are!!!" It was totally enjoyable to sit with them in a movie theatre and hear about how this was only the second or third time they'd ever been in a movie theatre. I loved hearing them detail their delight at the vast assortment of wildlife they saw as they toured the mountains for the first time (none of them, parents included, had ever seen mountains!) And I took joy in watching my dad teach the kids the basics of fly fishing - another "we can't do that in Ghana" experience for their collection.
There was something in watching all this that caught my attention. That made me think about differing perspectives. I live in a land where cattle are huge, and the biblical phrase about God "owning the cattle on a thousand hills" takes on a truly surreal meaning. I live in "Alberta beef" country, where cattle are the pride and joy of ranchers, and are raised by the thousands. Where cows are huge, plentiful, and where very high quality beef is easily obtained from just about any butcher or grocery store. These kids come from a world where the cattle are scrawny and where a single cow can make an immense difference in the life and living eked out by a family.
I was thinking about perspective in a different way this week too. Late on Monday night I sat in a car, catching up with a friend, hearing about her summer, and sharing some of the challenges that life has thrown my way this summer. In her typically sarcastic way, she asked "and how's that for you?" I laughed and began to respond in kind, "well, it's been just..." and I bit back the word I'd planned to use, threw something else in it's place and finished answering.
She caught my pause. "You were going to say it's been hell, weren't you?"
"yep."
"You know that you can say that right?"
And my response caught me off guard as well.
"I know, but I'm working to change how I see this. To be grateful for the healing that's coming, and not focus so much on how brutal the process is."
I'm thinking about perspective this week, and I want my perspective to be more like that of the kids I've so appreciated. To let them be my teachers. To see opportunity, and joy, and new things, instead of focusing on what has changed, what I miss, what aches. I want to see healing instead of wallowing in the muck of a very broken life. Even when everything is unfamiliar. I want to have an "I can't do that in Ghana" attitude and make the most of what I am being offered, rather than wishing for a different portion. And I want to continue to work on seeing a different perspective reflected not only in my thoughts, but in my outlook, my writing and my speech.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
A Grown-Up Taste
It all started when I wrote a post about being well, and choosing to love anyway, even in the really hard moments. I scheduled it to go live, and forgot about it.
Until the day it went live, and I discovered my own words were being used by God to convict me.
That was new.
Until it happened again this week. I wrote a post on the weekend, just some quick thoughts, forgot what day it was scheduled for, and, on the day it went live, spent the day eating the words I'd written.
I even wrote a post about eating my own words, complaining about being a grown-up, and having to make choices.
And then, with my own post about eating my words ringing in my ears, I made the mistake of chatting with a dear friend, and whining a little about this newfound method of God's voice and conviction speaking to me. I sent her the post I'd written and her response was telling.
"Why do your words have to taste bad?"
umm... excuse me?
"If you write good words, and you eat them, why do they have to taste bad?"
I hate it when God borrows her voice.
I've been thinking a lot lately about "grown-up" tastes. I love to cook, and these days I'm far more brave about the recipes I'll try. I don't reject a recipe out of hand because it has one ingredient in it that I'm not necessarily fond of. I learned to broaden my tastes because of compromise, and I learned compromise sharing a grocery budget with my roommate. I can honestly tell you that these days I eat dishes with mushrooms, onions, and even cook regularly with ground beef because of her. They are foods (well, not ground beef, that was just over-exposure as a kid) that to me, are grown up tastes.
My friend's word's resonated.
Why do your words have to taste bad?
I was whining about conviction. She was pointing out that I pray regularly to hear God speak clearly, and I was now hearing him in my own writing, and complaining about it. "Not like that, God. You can't speak like that."
I talked in an earlier post about wrestling with the choices before me right now. Choose life, not death. Choose joy, not despair. Choose healing, not festering wounds. Choose forgiveness. Choose to love even when it costs something. About how those feel like really "grown-up" choices to have to deal with, and about how my default response is a favorite Meredith quote from Grey's Anatomy, in which in a rather stunned and panicked tone she cries out, "I'm an adult! When did that happen, and how do I make it stop?"
But even in those moments I heard the echoes of scripture reminding me of Paul's words in 1 Corinthians, "When I was a child, I spoke and thought as a child. But when I grew up, I put childish things away."
And I am struck, too, by these words from the author of Hebrews, "You have been believers so long now that you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things about God's word. You are like babies who need milk and cannot eat solid food. For someone who lives on milk is still an infant and doesn't know how to do what is right. Solid food is for those who are mature, who through training have the skill to recognize the difference between right and wrong."
Maybe it's time to develop a grown-up taste? Maybe the words God offers don't have to taste bad when I need to eat them. Maybe it's time to develop a taste for the word of God - his conviction, guidance and direction - in whatever form they come in. Even if it means eating my own words.
Until the day it went live, and I discovered my own words were being used by God to convict me.
That was new.
Until it happened again this week. I wrote a post on the weekend, just some quick thoughts, forgot what day it was scheduled for, and, on the day it went live, spent the day eating the words I'd written.
I even wrote a post about eating my own words, complaining about being a grown-up, and having to make choices.
And then, with my own post about eating my words ringing in my ears, I made the mistake of chatting with a dear friend, and whining a little about this newfound method of God's voice and conviction speaking to me. I sent her the post I'd written and her response was telling.
"Why do your words have to taste bad?"
umm... excuse me?
"If you write good words, and you eat them, why do they have to taste bad?"
I hate it when God borrows her voice.
I've been thinking a lot lately about "grown-up" tastes. I love to cook, and these days I'm far more brave about the recipes I'll try. I don't reject a recipe out of hand because it has one ingredient in it that I'm not necessarily fond of. I learned to broaden my tastes because of compromise, and I learned compromise sharing a grocery budget with my roommate. I can honestly tell you that these days I eat dishes with mushrooms, onions, and even cook regularly with ground beef because of her. They are foods (well, not ground beef, that was just over-exposure as a kid) that to me, are grown up tastes.
My friend's word's resonated.
Why do your words have to taste bad?
I was whining about conviction. She was pointing out that I pray regularly to hear God speak clearly, and I was now hearing him in my own writing, and complaining about it. "Not like that, God. You can't speak like that."
I talked in an earlier post about wrestling with the choices before me right now. Choose life, not death. Choose joy, not despair. Choose healing, not festering wounds. Choose forgiveness. Choose to love even when it costs something. About how those feel like really "grown-up" choices to have to deal with, and about how my default response is a favorite Meredith quote from Grey's Anatomy, in which in a rather stunned and panicked tone she cries out, "I'm an adult! When did that happen, and how do I make it stop?"
But even in those moments I heard the echoes of scripture reminding me of Paul's words in 1 Corinthians, "When I was a child, I spoke and thought as a child. But when I grew up, I put childish things away."
And I am struck, too, by these words from the author of Hebrews, "You have been believers so long now that you ought to be teaching others. Instead, you need someone to teach you again the basic things about God's word. You are like babies who need milk and cannot eat solid food. For someone who lives on milk is still an infant and doesn't know how to do what is right. Solid food is for those who are mature, who through training have the skill to recognize the difference between right and wrong."
Maybe it's time to develop a grown-up taste? Maybe the words God offers don't have to taste bad when I need to eat them. Maybe it's time to develop a taste for the word of God - his conviction, guidance and direction - in whatever form they come in. Even if it means eating my own words.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Shake the Dust
I was watching and listening to this video again from Anis Mojgani.
Shake the Dust.
For me (yes, in spite of the rougher language at moments) this is a powerful image.
Shake the dust.
From life.
Brush off the cobwebs.
These last few weeks have been full of deep aches and brokenness.
In my own heart, and in those around me.
Carrying deep burdens of prayer.
Choosing to love when I'd really rather not.
They've been hard weeks, and I've been feeling down.
Some of that is just physical. A change in medications that my body is having trouble adapting to. The wear on one's body and mind from the kind of intense weeks I've been having.
Some is emotional and some spiritual.
I feel cobwebby. Trapped in this crazy circle of feeling miserable and overwhelmed.
And I came across one of my own old posts, and was reminded that I've been here before.
Shake the dust.
Choose to celebrate hope.
Choose joy and life and peace.
Choose to be grateful for the healing that comes and is coming.
Choose to focus on all of those things instead of the brokenness.
And choose to trust Jesus with the brokenness.
In me, and in all whom I love.
Shake the Dust.
And really, really live.
Shake the Dust.
For me (yes, in spite of the rougher language at moments) this is a powerful image.
Shake the dust.
From life.
Brush off the cobwebs.
These last few weeks have been full of deep aches and brokenness.
In my own heart, and in those around me.
Carrying deep burdens of prayer.
Choosing to love when I'd really rather not.
They've been hard weeks, and I've been feeling down.
Some of that is just physical. A change in medications that my body is having trouble adapting to. The wear on one's body and mind from the kind of intense weeks I've been having.
Some is emotional and some spiritual.
I feel cobwebby. Trapped in this crazy circle of feeling miserable and overwhelmed.
And I came across one of my own old posts, and was reminded that I've been here before.
Shake the dust.
Choose to celebrate hope.
Choose joy and life and peace.
Choose to be grateful for the healing that comes and is coming.
Choose to focus on all of those things instead of the brokenness.
And choose to trust Jesus with the brokenness.
In me, and in all whom I love.
Shake the Dust.
And really, really live.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Between the Eyes
Clearly, choosing to love (whether I want to or not) is going to be the theme today.
I kind of knew that, based on the dreams I'd had, and the actions that seem likely and necessary stemming from them, before I ever opened my eyes this morning, but, just in case I needed some convincing, there were several things waiting for me in my email inbox.
Things like this quote from a daily email written by Richard Rohr:
"...love is not a feeling, but a decision, yet a decision that increases our inner freedom each time we do it. You will know this only after you act on love. Jesus didn't say when you get healed, love; when you grow up, love; when you get it together and have dealt with all your wounds, then love. No, the commandment for all of us is quite simply, “Love!” Once we know it is not a feeling, but a grace empowered decision, we can all do it. And each time it is a growth in freedom—and flow."
And this quote from here that my friend Jenny posted on her blog this morning. The first thing I read, after opening my eyes and noticing the email that she had a new post:
"You climb from winding sheets into the opening day. Gently, Love asks to occupy the throne of your heart—the very seat of motivation. The request is so familiar that you risk contempt, forgetting how your world grows rich when Love reigns supreme. As if on cue, Fear counters the offer. Spilling worry like filth from a foul pail, this usurper exchanges timidity for hope and urgency for peace. These bitter enemies meet daily to see whom you place upon your seat of motivation. For this seat fashions the essence of every thought and every action. You decide between Love and Fear when choosing who will rest upon your seat of motivation. Tomorrow will be decided early—as you climb from winding sheets."
And then I realized that my own words were bound to convict me, too. I'd forgotten what post I'd scheduled to go live today. Clearly God has a sense of humor. I can just see Him giggling, knowing what would come within this week, as I wrote that post on Monday night.
I really do want to be well. It's a sentence I say with an ever growing conviction.
It's also a sentence I'm saying this morning with the following add on. I want to be well. Even when it means loving by choice, when it's hard, when fear must be battled, knowing that it will likely hurt.
The theme is hitting me between the eyes today.
Love is a choice. One with a cost. And one so necessary to make today.
I kind of knew that, based on the dreams I'd had, and the actions that seem likely and necessary stemming from them, before I ever opened my eyes this morning, but, just in case I needed some convincing, there were several things waiting for me in my email inbox.
Things like this quote from a daily email written by Richard Rohr:
"...love is not a feeling, but a decision, yet a decision that increases our inner freedom each time we do it. You will know this only after you act on love. Jesus didn't say when you get healed, love; when you grow up, love; when you get it together and have dealt with all your wounds, then love. No, the commandment for all of us is quite simply, “Love!” Once we know it is not a feeling, but a grace empowered decision, we can all do it. And each time it is a growth in freedom—and flow."
And this quote from here that my friend Jenny posted on her blog this morning. The first thing I read, after opening my eyes and noticing the email that she had a new post:
"You climb from winding sheets into the opening day. Gently, Love asks to occupy the throne of your heart—the very seat of motivation. The request is so familiar that you risk contempt, forgetting how your world grows rich when Love reigns supreme. As if on cue, Fear counters the offer. Spilling worry like filth from a foul pail, this usurper exchanges timidity for hope and urgency for peace. These bitter enemies meet daily to see whom you place upon your seat of motivation. For this seat fashions the essence of every thought and every action. You decide between Love and Fear when choosing who will rest upon your seat of motivation. Tomorrow will be decided early—as you climb from winding sheets."
And then I realized that my own words were bound to convict me, too. I'd forgotten what post I'd scheduled to go live today. Clearly God has a sense of humor. I can just see Him giggling, knowing what would come within this week, as I wrote that post on Monday night.
I really do want to be well. It's a sentence I say with an ever growing conviction.
It's also a sentence I'm saying this morning with the following add on. I want to be well. Even when it means loving by choice, when it's hard, when fear must be battled, knowing that it will likely hurt.
The theme is hitting me between the eyes today.
Love is a choice. One with a cost. And one so necessary to make today.
Be Well
I read this post that Allie, Dearest wrote the other day. Her thoughts on being broken struck me, and drew to mind an ongoing conversation I've had the last few years with a dear friend.
We've been talking for a couple of years now about the passage where Jesus heals the lame man lying beside the pool.
Jesus asks a question of this man that is rather confusing and even haunting, "Do you want to be well?"
Seems like a crazy question, doesn't it? The man has been laying by the pool for decades, never quite able to make it to the waters when they are stirred and miracles are possible. Clearly he's after healing if he's spent so much time there, isn't he?
I think about that question sometimes when I consider my own life. I think about how much time I spend hovering around the edges of "being well." I think about how sometimes, even though it's miserable, broken seems a like better option. It's familiar. Safe even. How I can talk about wanting healing, but I'm sure not making any steps towards it. Even when it's an open door in front of me.
I have a friend who was with me the night I was healed from depression. He'd been around through some of the worst of it, and was patient. I'm thankful that he was there that night. For probably two years I'd been griping about my misery and fear and depression as he drove me home from various church events. For two years he'd been quietly asking if he could pray for and with me, inviting me to come before God with him. For two years I let fear rule the day. "You can pray, but I'm not going to. You can pray, but I'm going into the house now. No, we're not praying tonight." The night I was healed the desperation caught up to me, and even though I was scared of God, I was more afraid of continuing the miserable, hopeless and meaningless existence that I'd been inhabiting. My friend was with me when I went from saying "I want to be well" to really and truly meaning it deep within me, and God met us in that place and healed my heart in ways that still leave me speechless, nearly five years later.
I've thought of that question of Jesus quite a lot again lately, as the ongoing conversation around that question has continued. As I have had to be in the place of lifting my aching heart towards Jesus and really considering, "do I want to be well?" Will I trust Jesus again with the process of healing, however it looks this time, whatever the results? Do I trust Jesus with all of the others around me who are also broken, who I also want to be well? Do I trust that he's big enough for all of that?
I've come over and over again to the conclusion that I really do want to be well. And that I want that - physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, for so many others as well. And that this is a question I will most likely be pondering and finding new depths to for the rest of my life.
"Do you want to be well?"
We've been talking for a couple of years now about the passage where Jesus heals the lame man lying beside the pool.
Jesus asks a question of this man that is rather confusing and even haunting, "Do you want to be well?"
Seems like a crazy question, doesn't it? The man has been laying by the pool for decades, never quite able to make it to the waters when they are stirred and miracles are possible. Clearly he's after healing if he's spent so much time there, isn't he?
I think about that question sometimes when I consider my own life. I think about how much time I spend hovering around the edges of "being well." I think about how sometimes, even though it's miserable, broken seems a like better option. It's familiar. Safe even. How I can talk about wanting healing, but I'm sure not making any steps towards it. Even when it's an open door in front of me.
I have a friend who was with me the night I was healed from depression. He'd been around through some of the worst of it, and was patient. I'm thankful that he was there that night. For probably two years I'd been griping about my misery and fear and depression as he drove me home from various church events. For two years he'd been quietly asking if he could pray for and with me, inviting me to come before God with him. For two years I let fear rule the day. "You can pray, but I'm not going to. You can pray, but I'm going into the house now. No, we're not praying tonight." The night I was healed the desperation caught up to me, and even though I was scared of God, I was more afraid of continuing the miserable, hopeless and meaningless existence that I'd been inhabiting. My friend was with me when I went from saying "I want to be well" to really and truly meaning it deep within me, and God met us in that place and healed my heart in ways that still leave me speechless, nearly five years later.
I've thought of that question of Jesus quite a lot again lately, as the ongoing conversation around that question has continued. As I have had to be in the place of lifting my aching heart towards Jesus and really considering, "do I want to be well?" Will I trust Jesus again with the process of healing, however it looks this time, whatever the results? Do I trust Jesus with all of the others around me who are also broken, who I also want to be well? Do I trust that he's big enough for all of that?
I've come over and over again to the conclusion that I really do want to be well. And that I want that - physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, for so many others as well. And that this is a question I will most likely be pondering and finding new depths to for the rest of my life.
"Do you want to be well?"
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
How am I Choosing Joy?
These thoughts from Richard Rohr appeared in my inbox the other day. If you've hung around this blog long, you'll see why they made me laugh, and reel, and take a few days to absorb them. Choosing joy has been sort of a theme for me. A major theme and goal, really. Someday I'll write about just how impacting it was to me to discover that there was something of a choice in that...
But for now, I thought I'd share Richard Rohr's thoughts with you, and invite you to join me in "collapsing into joy."
But for now, I thought I'd share Richard Rohr's thoughts with you, and invite you to join me in "collapsing into joy."
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Friday, June 04, 2010
3100
3100 blog posts seems like a milestone.
I feel like I should have something profound to say.
(I never seem to have anything that feels profound to say when the milestone posts roll around.)
Instead I'm just going to acknowledge that I've written 3100 posts. That I've been showing up here consistently for over 5 years now, and writing about whatever happens to be on my mind at the time. And I'm going to talk a little about my day.
Today is just one of those days.
I sent out a pile of resumes, and I have a pile more to send.
I heard back from one place I applied yesterday, telling me that I was not going to be a candidate.
I did an errand or two with my mom.
I'm discovering the weird balance of being an introvert and needing human interaction. Apparently my previous job, however I felt about it, was meeting a need for some human interaction.
I'm finding myself tired of myself the last few days. Tired of being alone with my thoughts, and the battleground they can tend to be.
Tired, I think, of the ongoing neccessity to choose joy.
Tired of the deep internal wrestles I was walking through with God even before I lost my job and that tension was added to the mix.
And tired of too much time alone.
It's partly why I've been hanging out at my parents' house during the day. That, and their internet access is better for job hunting than the access at the place I'm house-sitting. Because they both work from home, I get a bit of human interaction as they come and go from their respective home offices.
Tomorrow I'm hanging out with a friend and her daughter for a while. I think the plan is for us to go to the farmer's market together. I'm flexible. I'll just enjoy time with a friend.
I've been hesitating to set up times to see various friends during the day, always wondering if I'll get a call for an interview, or be starting a job and have to cancel. I think I'm going to change that.
Since the majority of my job-hunting is online, I can be flexible in which hours of the day I apply myself to that (and I'm determined to apply myself to it for at least an hour or two a day or more.)
That means I can make time for friends.
Yes, I'll maybe have to cancel if a job or an interview comes up. But I'd rather have those things to look forward to, than stare at empty days. I'd rather feed my soul and be with people I love.
Because feeding my soul in that way seems wise. And it makes the choice for joy just that much easier. And it seems smart, somehow, to try to make what can be such a hard choice easier.
I feel like I should have something profound to say.
(I never seem to have anything that feels profound to say when the milestone posts roll around.)
Instead I'm just going to acknowledge that I've written 3100 posts. That I've been showing up here consistently for over 5 years now, and writing about whatever happens to be on my mind at the time. And I'm going to talk a little about my day.
Today is just one of those days.
I sent out a pile of resumes, and I have a pile more to send.
I heard back from one place I applied yesterday, telling me that I was not going to be a candidate.
I did an errand or two with my mom.
I'm discovering the weird balance of being an introvert and needing human interaction. Apparently my previous job, however I felt about it, was meeting a need for some human interaction.
I'm finding myself tired of myself the last few days. Tired of being alone with my thoughts, and the battleground they can tend to be.
Tired, I think, of the ongoing neccessity to choose joy.
Tired of the deep internal wrestles I was walking through with God even before I lost my job and that tension was added to the mix.
And tired of too much time alone.
It's partly why I've been hanging out at my parents' house during the day. That, and their internet access is better for job hunting than the access at the place I'm house-sitting. Because they both work from home, I get a bit of human interaction as they come and go from their respective home offices.
Tomorrow I'm hanging out with a friend and her daughter for a while. I think the plan is for us to go to the farmer's market together. I'm flexible. I'll just enjoy time with a friend.
I've been hesitating to set up times to see various friends during the day, always wondering if I'll get a call for an interview, or be starting a job and have to cancel. I think I'm going to change that.
Since the majority of my job-hunting is online, I can be flexible in which hours of the day I apply myself to that (and I'm determined to apply myself to it for at least an hour or two a day or more.)
That means I can make time for friends.
Yes, I'll maybe have to cancel if a job or an interview comes up. But I'd rather have those things to look forward to, than stare at empty days. I'd rather feed my soul and be with people I love.
Because feeding my soul in that way seems wise. And it makes the choice for joy just that much easier. And it seems smart, somehow, to try to make what can be such a hard choice easier.
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Some Days are Just Easier
Some days are just easier than others.
Yesterday was one of those days.
A day where things flowed. It was sunny, I had an amazing coffee appointment with a new friend. I sent out resumes and felt hopeful about them. I knew deep joy and peace. I felt like myself. I laughed via email with a dear friend, and discovered a dream about the future deep within me. I talked about twirling and tattoos and the fact that the word hope in Spanish is nearly the same as Italian, and a friend had encountered that translated word in a place she'd recently revisited in Malta. I was laughing at the idea of ducks totally out of line, or missing entirely.
Today is a harder day.
A day where I kind of want to cry. It's raining and cold. I've been wrapped in a blanket since arriving at my parent's house this morning, eaten soup and a toasted cheese bun, and have my feet propped on the warm power adapter for my laptop, and I still can't get warm. I'm having a flair up of some health problems. I'm kind of lonely. I'm thinking about routines and revamping life, and kind of want to scrap everything and run away, even though I know deep within me that that won't fix anything. The dreams deep within have begun to be researched and I'm resigning myself to the knowledge that they likely won't be as instantly acted upon as I would like. Where I'm sending out resumes but having a hard time not being fatalistic about the job hunt, even though I've really only been actually putting my resume out there for a couple of days.
And I'm having to remind myself that this is how life works. That some days are just easier, but I'm responsible for choosing how I respond whether the day is easy or hard. That I have to choose joy and life on the cold, rainy, lonely days just as much as on the sunny, warm, flowing days. That just because it's harder and the circumstances seem huge doesn't mean that it's not still my choice. That sometimes routines are important, and perhaps I should re-engage them. But also that some need to go. That discipline, a word I've hated for years, a word that has been used as a weapon against me, describing all of my failings, maybe isn't a bad thing in every situation. That it might be a good thing here.
I'm having to remind myself that there are little things to celebrate even on the cold and lonely days. That I'm inside and warm. That I'm wrapped in a blanket. That I am loved - by God and by friends. That tonight I will get to join my house church for the first time in several weeks, and we'll talk and pray and enjoy each other's company, and meet with God. That there can be hugs in this day - spontaneous ones, but that there are people around who I can ask for a hug as well. That I'm housesitting, and thereby having a break from the challenges of life at Grandma's. That yesterday was beautiful and that beautiful days will come again. And that in between those truly beautiful moments, I can choose to find beauty, too. To find joy and hope and life.
Some days are just easier, and today isn't one of them. And that's okay too. Because I'm choosing to celebrate God anyway.
Yesterday was one of those days.
A day where things flowed. It was sunny, I had an amazing coffee appointment with a new friend. I sent out resumes and felt hopeful about them. I knew deep joy and peace. I felt like myself. I laughed via email with a dear friend, and discovered a dream about the future deep within me. I talked about twirling and tattoos and the fact that the word hope in Spanish is nearly the same as Italian, and a friend had encountered that translated word in a place she'd recently revisited in Malta. I was laughing at the idea of ducks totally out of line, or missing entirely.
Today is a harder day.
A day where I kind of want to cry. It's raining and cold. I've been wrapped in a blanket since arriving at my parent's house this morning, eaten soup and a toasted cheese bun, and have my feet propped on the warm power adapter for my laptop, and I still can't get warm. I'm having a flair up of some health problems. I'm kind of lonely. I'm thinking about routines and revamping life, and kind of want to scrap everything and run away, even though I know deep within me that that won't fix anything. The dreams deep within have begun to be researched and I'm resigning myself to the knowledge that they likely won't be as instantly acted upon as I would like. Where I'm sending out resumes but having a hard time not being fatalistic about the job hunt, even though I've really only been actually putting my resume out there for a couple of days.
And I'm having to remind myself that this is how life works. That some days are just easier, but I'm responsible for choosing how I respond whether the day is easy or hard. That I have to choose joy and life on the cold, rainy, lonely days just as much as on the sunny, warm, flowing days. That just because it's harder and the circumstances seem huge doesn't mean that it's not still my choice. That sometimes routines are important, and perhaps I should re-engage them. But also that some need to go. That discipline, a word I've hated for years, a word that has been used as a weapon against me, describing all of my failings, maybe isn't a bad thing in every situation. That it might be a good thing here.
I'm having to remind myself that there are little things to celebrate even on the cold and lonely days. That I'm inside and warm. That I'm wrapped in a blanket. That I am loved - by God and by friends. That tonight I will get to join my house church for the first time in several weeks, and we'll talk and pray and enjoy each other's company, and meet with God. That there can be hugs in this day - spontaneous ones, but that there are people around who I can ask for a hug as well. That I'm housesitting, and thereby having a break from the challenges of life at Grandma's. That yesterday was beautiful and that beautiful days will come again. And that in between those truly beautiful moments, I can choose to find beauty, too. To find joy and hope and life.
Some days are just easier, and today isn't one of them. And that's okay too. Because I'm choosing to celebrate God anyway.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Tired
Overnight a minor flare-up of "I'm tired of all the crap-itis" turned into a full blown case.
I'm tired of the many, many curve balls that life has thrown my way this last while.
I'm tired of the the politics and the maneuvering and the bending of morals and standards in my place of employment. There hasn't even been a recent influx of those things. Just a build-up of long term exhaustion.
I'm tired of relationships that have to be carefully managed.
I'm tired of living (well, it feels like hiding sometimes) in the basement at Grandma's.
I'm tired of trying to come up with ways to smile and laugh at all the ridiculous things that life has thrown at me in the last few months.
I'm tired of feeling like I have to pretend.
I'm tired of being around people (my grandma especially) where I have to carefully watch every word I say.
To be honest, I'm not sure I'll post this, or, if I do, that I'll leave it up.
It's not the choosing differently attitude that I'm trying to embrace these days.
It's more of a wallowing.
And I'll be honest in saying that life circumstances are definitely making this choosing joy and choosing life thing a lot more challenging at the moment.
I'm weary.
I'm even tired of myself.
I'm tired of the many, many curve balls that life has thrown my way this last while.
I'm tired of the the politics and the maneuvering and the bending of morals and standards in my place of employment. There hasn't even been a recent influx of those things. Just a build-up of long term exhaustion.
I'm tired of relationships that have to be carefully managed.
I'm tired of living (well, it feels like hiding sometimes) in the basement at Grandma's.
I'm tired of trying to come up with ways to smile and laugh at all the ridiculous things that life has thrown at me in the last few months.
I'm tired of feeling like I have to pretend.
I'm tired of being around people (my grandma especially) where I have to carefully watch every word I say.
To be honest, I'm not sure I'll post this, or, if I do, that I'll leave it up.
It's not the choosing differently attitude that I'm trying to embrace these days.
It's more of a wallowing.
And I'll be honest in saying that life circumstances are definitely making this choosing joy and choosing life thing a lot more challenging at the moment.
I'm weary.
I'm even tired of myself.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Really Good Stuff
It seemed like there was a plethora of good stuff out there in the blogging world today, as I made my morning rounds.
Stuff I liked included:
Seth Godin's post on consumer debt. Amen and amen. I did some calculating on the weekend, and, given my soon to be carless state, and assuming (a big assumption right now) that there aren't some sudden changes to my living arrangements, I will be out of debt (except for my student loans) within a year. That, even despite how crappy the situation is that is bringing it about, brought a huge smile to my face.
The post at Homestead Revival on the family budget. Let me just be clear - I have no intention whatsoever of raising chickens or goats to save money. (These would actually likely cost me money, since I rarely eat eggs and I don't drink milk.) I probably wouldn't use a lot of her listed tips. But, I like the idea of living more naturally and saving money while doing so.
The "Equal Weight" post at Gitzen Girl. I've only been reading Sara's blog for a little while, but I've come to appreciate her words, and I look forward to the moment when my blog reader lets me know that there's a new post up and ready to be enjoyed. And not just because I'm absolutely in love (given my daily 5 lists and ongoing goals for the year) with her tagline of "Choose Joy." I particularly liked this post today because of the message it spoke to. Yes, take risks, but consider them, too. I feel like that's a concept I've been weighing this last week as I've navigated the loss of a car that is coming within the next few days. What are the things that are positive in this? And am I letting myself properly grieve the losses too?
Today's "Serious Wednesday" post at Stuff Christians Like. Because I'm definitely guilty of resisting rest. I talked about that yesterday while reflecting on my friend's reminder to be gentle with myself. And because I'm in the process of figuring out a way to really set aside a much needed day or two to just rest sometime this month.
Stuff I liked included:
Seth Godin's post on consumer debt. Amen and amen. I did some calculating on the weekend, and, given my soon to be carless state, and assuming (a big assumption right now) that there aren't some sudden changes to my living arrangements, I will be out of debt (except for my student loans) within a year. That, even despite how crappy the situation is that is bringing it about, brought a huge smile to my face.
The post at Homestead Revival on the family budget. Let me just be clear - I have no intention whatsoever of raising chickens or goats to save money. (These would actually likely cost me money, since I rarely eat eggs and I don't drink milk.) I probably wouldn't use a lot of her listed tips. But, I like the idea of living more naturally and saving money while doing so.
The "Equal Weight" post at Gitzen Girl. I've only been reading Sara's blog for a little while, but I've come to appreciate her words, and I look forward to the moment when my blog reader lets me know that there's a new post up and ready to be enjoyed. And not just because I'm absolutely in love (given my daily 5 lists and ongoing goals for the year) with her tagline of "Choose Joy." I particularly liked this post today because of the message it spoke to. Yes, take risks, but consider them, too. I feel like that's a concept I've been weighing this last week as I've navigated the loss of a car that is coming within the next few days. What are the things that are positive in this? And am I letting myself properly grieve the losses too?
Today's "Serious Wednesday" post at Stuff Christians Like. Because I'm definitely guilty of resisting rest. I talked about that yesterday while reflecting on my friend's reminder to be gentle with myself. And because I'm in the process of figuring out a way to really set aside a much needed day or two to just rest sometime this month.
I Like Lemons, what else you got?
For the last week or so, I've been thinking about a quote that I read in the first of the "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" novels a number of years ago. Each chapter in that book started with a quote of some sort or other, and one chapter started with the following quote:
"If life hands you lemons, say, 'I like lemons. What else you got?'" (Henry Rollins)
Along the same lines, the following quote appeared in my email this morning:
"If life gives you limes, make margaritas." (Jimmy Buffett)
I've definitely had my share of lemons (or limes!) this last week. Like I wrote yesterday, it has seemed at times that the world has been conspiring against me. I was thinking about that supposed conspiracy again this morning as I trekked through the inch or so of snow that fell overnight again.
And yet, that quote has come to mind over and over.
"I like lemons. What else you got?"
Let's ignore for a moment that I actually don't really like lemon (or limes, or margaritas for that matter!), and focus on the sentiment.
Even in this, find joy.
Even in this, give thanks.
In my saner moments, I can do that.
I had been contemplating reducing my driving as much as possible anyway, because driving stresses me out, and because city transit really is better for the environment.
For the first time in my life, I'd been enjoying taking the train and bus. Finding transit a good place to think and rest and read.
The day before I got the call about my insurance, I bought an iphone, to make transit an even better experience.
I've felt cushioned at moments, from this latest blow.
Sort of at peace. In a moment when being at peace doesn't make sense.
That being said, my mom is back in town, and tonight, (if last night with my baby brother is any indication), I'll likely cry my eyes out in disappointment and exhaustion. Probably as soon as I hear her voice and collect a hug.
And then, then I'm going to pull myself back together, and try again to adopt the "I like lemons, what else you got?" attitude that I feel like Jesus has been placing before me for the last week and a bit.
I'll remind myself that every day is a day closer to feeling physically better as my medication has time to readjust my hormone levels to a manageable state. I'll remind myself that I'm only a couple days from a weekend, and I can do some sleeping and resting. I'll choose again to celebrate the happy things. And I'll probably pull my iphone out of my pocket and check my email or facebook. Because doing that on the go, anywhere I am, is still bringing a guaranteed smile to my face.
"If life hands you lemons, say, 'I like lemons. What else you got?'" (Henry Rollins)
Along the same lines, the following quote appeared in my email this morning:
"If life gives you limes, make margaritas." (Jimmy Buffett)
I've definitely had my share of lemons (or limes!) this last week. Like I wrote yesterday, it has seemed at times that the world has been conspiring against me. I was thinking about that supposed conspiracy again this morning as I trekked through the inch or so of snow that fell overnight again.
And yet, that quote has come to mind over and over.
"I like lemons. What else you got?"
Let's ignore for a moment that I actually don't really like lemon (or limes, or margaritas for that matter!), and focus on the sentiment.
Even in this, find joy.
Even in this, give thanks.
In my saner moments, I can do that.
I had been contemplating reducing my driving as much as possible anyway, because driving stresses me out, and because city transit really is better for the environment.
For the first time in my life, I'd been enjoying taking the train and bus. Finding transit a good place to think and rest and read.
The day before I got the call about my insurance, I bought an iphone, to make transit an even better experience.
I've felt cushioned at moments, from this latest blow.
Sort of at peace. In a moment when being at peace doesn't make sense.
That being said, my mom is back in town, and tonight, (if last night with my baby brother is any indication), I'll likely cry my eyes out in disappointment and exhaustion. Probably as soon as I hear her voice and collect a hug.
And then, then I'm going to pull myself back together, and try again to adopt the "I like lemons, what else you got?" attitude that I feel like Jesus has been placing before me for the last week and a bit.
I'll remind myself that every day is a day closer to feeling physically better as my medication has time to readjust my hormone levels to a manageable state. I'll remind myself that I'm only a couple days from a weekend, and I can do some sleeping and resting. I'll choose again to celebrate the happy things. And I'll probably pull my iphone out of my pocket and check my email or facebook. Because doing that on the go, anywhere I am, is still bringing a guaranteed smile to my face.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Daily 5 - Day 258
So, pretty much the last thing I feel like doing tonight is writing a list of any length at all of things that made me smile, or things I'm grateful for. As days goes, this one really stunk. Basically none of the things I would have liked to have happen did. And I got some bad news concerning my car that likely means that I'll be back to having no car within the next week or two, probably semi-permanently (like for the next couple years). More on that tomorrow, I'm busy trying not to think about it tonight.
So, anyway, these are the good things from today, however many I can scrape up, and actually, a day like this is probably the day it's most important for me to do this exercise anyway:
So, anyway, these are the good things from today, however many I can scrape up, and actually, a day like this is probably the day it's most important for me to do this exercise anyway:
- The antacid I took for whatever was going on with my stomach again this morning seemed to work. I didn't feel good, but I could at least function for the day.
- It was "pass out paystubs" day at work. This is one of the best 10 minutes of every two week cycle of work for me. Everyone is glad to see me on this day. And I get such jovial thank you's from everyone when I drop off a piece of paper that says there will be money appearing in their bank account the following day.
- The one thing that worked as planned tonight was I did make it to my hair appointment. And I have these fabulous new highlights in a couple shades of blond and a coppery red. And styled hair, which means, whatever tomorrow holds, I'm going to look nice for it. I'll try and take a picture, or have someone take one for me tomorrow.
- I got a hug from L. while I sobbed my eyes out in overwhelmed exhaustion after work.
- I bought a new purse that I'm pretty excited about.
- I really love my new iphone. It was so cool to be able to check emails and facebook on the train, and at the mall tonight.
- Even amidst all the sucky stuff, once I stopped sobbing I was able to just sit and let myself find some perspective, and even some things to be thankful for as life throws me yet another loop.
- Because I'm having my hair put up for the wedding, my hairdresser just thinned it, and didn't cut it tonight after she colored it. She recommended leaving it long for the girl who's putting it up. That means that I have another hair appointment booked for in about three weeks time. Sweet. Next to massages, appointments with my hairdresser (and maybe pedicures) are my absolute favorite form of relaxation and pampering.
- Because I have a medical appointment tomorrow morning, I have the morning off work and can sleep in by about an extra hour and a half.
- I figured out how to connect my new phone to the free wi-fi in the mall.
- I realized today that it's only about 2 more months until the U2 concert that I have tickets to!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
22 Years (and 1 Year)
When we were kids, once a year, we celebrated what our parents referred to as our "special birthday". Essentially, they kept track of the day that we committed our lives to Christ, and honored that day once a year, reminding us of that moment.
It was 22 years ago today for me. I was four. To be honest, I think what I remember most is kneeling on the ugly, dark brown shag carpet that marked our living room in those days, next to the scratchy couch I'd been sitting on only moments before. I know my mom was near me. I've been told that there was a change in personality, that I'd wake joyfully in the coming days.
But I was four, and a lot of life has come between that moment and now.
A lot of questions. A lot of recommitments.
And yet, every year April 20th arrives, and I can't help but think, "It's been such and such a number of years since I met Jesus."
Because in spite of all the years of questions. The mental illness. The depression and anxiety. The bitterness. The resentments and desire to wander. The years of really challenging, faith-shaking moments. In spite of all those things, Jesus just never left. I didn't always see or sense him as I journeyed, but looking back I see him clearly. And he just never left. Even in the moments I wanted Him too, begged Him too. He just never left. 22 years ago today I invited Him to spend my life with me, and yes, I was four, and couldn't grasp the full ramifications of that invitation, couldn't know the many things to come, but He began to walk so closely with me, and He's never left. And 22 years of that is sort of worth remembering, I think.
~~~
One year ago today I'd just returned from a trip east to spend a few days with a very dear friend. I'd been in very dark places for the year or so preceding that trip, and she knew it, and told me to come anyway. I don't think I'll ever forget the conversations and moments we shared that weekend.
I returned with a renewed committment to somehow find life again. To ruthlessly, viciously choose life and joy instead of their alternatives. I returned with her words, quoting Deuteronomy and God, ringing in my ears, "I have set before you death and life, blessings and curses, now choose life..."
One year ago today I ate three meals for the first time in years. I started the process of combatting what was essentially an eating disorder that I'd developed as I walked through some dark and intense stresses emotionally, relationally and professionally. My world had fallen apart and I'd stopped eating because I felt ill all the time. I'd lost nearly 25 pounds after months of nausea from the stress, and I rarely ate more than 1 meal and a few snacks a day. And during that season, I'd often felt, too, the call to fast. From chocolate for weeks at a time. From all food for a day or two here and there. Between fasting and nausea, food wasn't exactly a high priority.
Tonight, at supper, I'll celebrated 365 days of eating three times a day. Of taking vitamins and supplements that I believe have drastically helped balance out my body and begin restoring the reserves that the preceding years of intense stress had so depleted.
This has been a year's journey with Jesus too. Of praying without the physical reminders of fasting that I'd sometimes come to rely on. Of trusting him to heal and restore my exhausted and depleted body. Of hoping and believing for the redemption of the many, many broken things that surrounded me. Of conciously choosing, in different ways, life and joy. Of counting progress day by day. Marking meals with stickers in a little calendar in my purse. Celebrating when I hit 10 days and 30 days and 90 days.
When I was out East a year ago, my friend gave me a calendar full of quotations from female saints. I chuckled as I returned home and opened it. I remember distinctly reading the quote that appears for yesterday, partly because of it's deep relevance to my journey at the time, and partly because it was the words of St. Clare of Assisi, a favorite saint of mine, one whose medal I wear most days on a little silver chain around my neck as a reminder of some deep moments with God. I smiled again as I glanced at the calendar this morning. I haven't yet turned today, but the quote seems somehow appropriate to round out this celebration of 22 years and 1 year, somehow appropriate as I look forward at the coming year, and desire to continue to choose life and joy. Clare writes, "Melancholy is the poison of devotion. When one is in tribulation, it is necessary to be more happy and more joyful because one is nearer to God."
It was 22 years ago today for me. I was four. To be honest, I think what I remember most is kneeling on the ugly, dark brown shag carpet that marked our living room in those days, next to the scratchy couch I'd been sitting on only moments before. I know my mom was near me. I've been told that there was a change in personality, that I'd wake joyfully in the coming days.
But I was four, and a lot of life has come between that moment and now.
A lot of questions. A lot of recommitments.
And yet, every year April 20th arrives, and I can't help but think, "It's been such and such a number of years since I met Jesus."
Because in spite of all the years of questions. The mental illness. The depression and anxiety. The bitterness. The resentments and desire to wander. The years of really challenging, faith-shaking moments. In spite of all those things, Jesus just never left. I didn't always see or sense him as I journeyed, but looking back I see him clearly. And he just never left. Even in the moments I wanted Him too, begged Him too. He just never left. 22 years ago today I invited Him to spend my life with me, and yes, I was four, and couldn't grasp the full ramifications of that invitation, couldn't know the many things to come, but He began to walk so closely with me, and He's never left. And 22 years of that is sort of worth remembering, I think.
~~~
One year ago today I'd just returned from a trip east to spend a few days with a very dear friend. I'd been in very dark places for the year or so preceding that trip, and she knew it, and told me to come anyway. I don't think I'll ever forget the conversations and moments we shared that weekend.
I returned with a renewed committment to somehow find life again. To ruthlessly, viciously choose life and joy instead of their alternatives. I returned with her words, quoting Deuteronomy and God, ringing in my ears, "I have set before you death and life, blessings and curses, now choose life..."
One year ago today I ate three meals for the first time in years. I started the process of combatting what was essentially an eating disorder that I'd developed as I walked through some dark and intense stresses emotionally, relationally and professionally. My world had fallen apart and I'd stopped eating because I felt ill all the time. I'd lost nearly 25 pounds after months of nausea from the stress, and I rarely ate more than 1 meal and a few snacks a day. And during that season, I'd often felt, too, the call to fast. From chocolate for weeks at a time. From all food for a day or two here and there. Between fasting and nausea, food wasn't exactly a high priority.
Tonight, at supper, I'll celebrated 365 days of eating three times a day. Of taking vitamins and supplements that I believe have drastically helped balance out my body and begin restoring the reserves that the preceding years of intense stress had so depleted.
This has been a year's journey with Jesus too. Of praying without the physical reminders of fasting that I'd sometimes come to rely on. Of trusting him to heal and restore my exhausted and depleted body. Of hoping and believing for the redemption of the many, many broken things that surrounded me. Of conciously choosing, in different ways, life and joy. Of counting progress day by day. Marking meals with stickers in a little calendar in my purse. Celebrating when I hit 10 days and 30 days and 90 days.
When I was out East a year ago, my friend gave me a calendar full of quotations from female saints. I chuckled as I returned home and opened it. I remember distinctly reading the quote that appears for yesterday, partly because of it's deep relevance to my journey at the time, and partly because it was the words of St. Clare of Assisi, a favorite saint of mine, one whose medal I wear most days on a little silver chain around my neck as a reminder of some deep moments with God. I smiled again as I glanced at the calendar this morning. I haven't yet turned today, but the quote seems somehow appropriate to round out this celebration of 22 years and 1 year, somehow appropriate as I look forward at the coming year, and desire to continue to choose life and joy. Clare writes, "Melancholy is the poison of devotion. When one is in tribulation, it is necessary to be more happy and more joyful because one is nearer to God."
Friday, April 16, 2010
Weighty Headspace
I'm in a weird headspace this morning. A good one, but weird, in that it is rare and unusual.
I haven't felt like this since a particular lovely day last fall in Stratford, filled with a crazy church service, twirling beside the river, swans, and dear friends. It's a funny, weight of God's presence very near, sort of headspace. I hope it doesn't go away for a while, even if it does have me giggling at random moments as I sit here in my office.
I have blog posts brewing and bubbling inside me at the moment, too. I'm not totally sure when in the next few days I'll get a chance to write them, but there are posts about things like a humorous potential new tagline for the blog, and moving into Grandma's house, and one with the title "You Want Me to What???"
In the meantime, I'm going to sit here and enjoy this weighty, joyful, peaceful headspace. This presence of God near. And I'm going to laugh at some of the crazy, ironic, "god has a bizarre sense of humor" events that have shaped my week, and wonder what else this week will hold. And I'm going to make myself a cup of tea. Because it seems like passion tea will go well with this headspace.
I haven't felt like this since a particular lovely day last fall in Stratford, filled with a crazy church service, twirling beside the river, swans, and dear friends. It's a funny, weight of God's presence very near, sort of headspace. I hope it doesn't go away for a while, even if it does have me giggling at random moments as I sit here in my office.
I have blog posts brewing and bubbling inside me at the moment, too. I'm not totally sure when in the next few days I'll get a chance to write them, but there are posts about things like a humorous potential new tagline for the blog, and moving into Grandma's house, and one with the title "You Want Me to What???"
In the meantime, I'm going to sit here and enjoy this weighty, joyful, peaceful headspace. This presence of God near. And I'm going to laugh at some of the crazy, ironic, "god has a bizarre sense of humor" events that have shaped my week, and wonder what else this week will hold. And I'm going to make myself a cup of tea. Because it seems like passion tea will go well with this headspace.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Stuff I'm Thinking About
I have a whole mish-mash of thoughts running through my head today, on a wide variety of issues, ideas and plans.
I'm definitely going to buy the stuff and try my hand at making one of these - how pretty is that?
I live in a dark basement where no plants can survive, but I've become a houseplant evangelist overnight, and as soon as I move to someplace that has light again, I'm going to buy a whole bunch. In fact, I'm going to start by getting several for my office. Why, you ask? I read this article last night, that informed me that sometimes the air inside of the building is more toxic than the air outside, and that houseplants, and in particular certain plants, do an incredible job of removing those toxins from the air. Very cool.
And, since I've been all about finding ways to live simply and "green" lately, as soon as I have a place of my own again, I'm going to give making my own household cleaners a try too. I have some friends who have started doing that lately, and had good results, so I think I'll give it a shot. I was always doubtful that you could properly clean something without chemicals, but it seems like investing in having less toxins in the air is probably good, not only for the environment in general, but for me, since I tend to be a bit chemically sensitive. I found an article here with recipes for a bunch of basic homemade cleaning products, and I'm going to give it a shot.
I'm amazed by this story about how a volcanic erruption in Iceland is wreaking havoc on European air travel, and I'm thinking about a friend who flew through Heathrow the other day, and will be coming back through next week.
I'm scheming about ways to save money on groceries for a little while, and still eat healthy and I think I'm going to attempt to buy minimally and really use up the stuff I've collected in the pantry and freezer. As best I can figure, I should really only have to buy some fresh veggies and fruit, and maybe some bread and chicken (just to break up the monotony of beef and pork that's in my freezer) for a while. Maybe even a month or two. Sweet.
I'm pondering how much harder it has been to keep up the habits of eating healthy since moving into Grandma's house because of the poorly equipped kitchen and the general lack of motivation to cook while being closely watched by my rather nosy Grandmother, and I'm trying to come up with ways around that, since I've definitely noticed the difference in how well I feel as my healthier habits have taken a nosedive. I'm remembering how well it worked to cook two meals at once earlier this week and just stash them in the fridge for the remainder of the week, and I'm considering the merits of batch cooking and freezing a whole bunch of individual meals for myself. If any of you are in Calgary and are interested in getting together some Saturday to cook several meals for freezing and easy access later, let me know, I'd love to cook with you!
Living in what has been an extremely challenging, and often toxic environment for the last nearly two months has left me thinking a lot again about what I want when I finally manage to have a home of my own. Simple, and as enviromentally friendly as possible are what I'm leaning towards.
Also, I want to garden. I want to grow herbs, and maybe some of my own vegetables, or check into Community Supported Agriculture, or at least patronize the Farmer's Market more regularly again. That last one should be easier to do soon. I'm within a week of having a car that is driveable again.
And with that, I'd better dive back into the many things demanding my attention.
I'm definitely going to buy the stuff and try my hand at making one of these - how pretty is that?
I live in a dark basement where no plants can survive, but I've become a houseplant evangelist overnight, and as soon as I move to someplace that has light again, I'm going to buy a whole bunch. In fact, I'm going to start by getting several for my office. Why, you ask? I read this article last night, that informed me that sometimes the air inside of the building is more toxic than the air outside, and that houseplants, and in particular certain plants, do an incredible job of removing those toxins from the air. Very cool.
And, since I've been all about finding ways to live simply and "green" lately, as soon as I have a place of my own again, I'm going to give making my own household cleaners a try too. I have some friends who have started doing that lately, and had good results, so I think I'll give it a shot. I was always doubtful that you could properly clean something without chemicals, but it seems like investing in having less toxins in the air is probably good, not only for the environment in general, but for me, since I tend to be a bit chemically sensitive. I found an article here with recipes for a bunch of basic homemade cleaning products, and I'm going to give it a shot.
I'm amazed by this story about how a volcanic erruption in Iceland is wreaking havoc on European air travel, and I'm thinking about a friend who flew through Heathrow the other day, and will be coming back through next week.
I'm scheming about ways to save money on groceries for a little while, and still eat healthy and I think I'm going to attempt to buy minimally and really use up the stuff I've collected in the pantry and freezer. As best I can figure, I should really only have to buy some fresh veggies and fruit, and maybe some bread and chicken (just to break up the monotony of beef and pork that's in my freezer) for a while. Maybe even a month or two. Sweet.
I'm pondering how much harder it has been to keep up the habits of eating healthy since moving into Grandma's house because of the poorly equipped kitchen and the general lack of motivation to cook while being closely watched by my rather nosy Grandmother, and I'm trying to come up with ways around that, since I've definitely noticed the difference in how well I feel as my healthier habits have taken a nosedive. I'm remembering how well it worked to cook two meals at once earlier this week and just stash them in the fridge for the remainder of the week, and I'm considering the merits of batch cooking and freezing a whole bunch of individual meals for myself. If any of you are in Calgary and are interested in getting together some Saturday to cook several meals for freezing and easy access later, let me know, I'd love to cook with you!
Living in what has been an extremely challenging, and often toxic environment for the last nearly two months has left me thinking a lot again about what I want when I finally manage to have a home of my own. Simple, and as enviromentally friendly as possible are what I'm leaning towards.
Also, I want to garden. I want to grow herbs, and maybe some of my own vegetables, or check into Community Supported Agriculture, or at least patronize the Farmer's Market more regularly again. That last one should be easier to do soon. I'm within a week of having a car that is driveable again.
And with that, I'd better dive back into the many things demanding my attention.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Daily 5 - Day 242
Today's Daily 5:
- So glad that I subscribe to the services at Bethel - so refreshing to be able to load their worship or sermons anytime.
- The crazy juxtaposition of life and death, joy and sorrow this afternoon, and allowing myself to be present with friends in each.
- Still had the rental car, so it was easy to do errands.
- My dad replaced the seatbelt in the car I bought last week, now I just need to get an inspection, insurance, and registration, and then I can start driving it.
- Shared hugs with a few different friends today.
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