I was deeply encouraged by one of the Scriptures from my Lenten readings, and a line from one of the readings books tonight. My heart needed the reminder of who Jesus came to call. I have been so aware of my own struggles, my own failings, my own sins in this last season. So much more so than ever before. I have felt dirty and corrupted and worthless.
The book read: "Jesus calls people for what God wants to make of them. When it comes to choosing and making disciples, no one can equal Jesus for sheer daring."
And the passage?
Jesus answered them, "Healthy people don't need a doctor - sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent." (Luke 6:31-32)
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
More on the Fire
Awhile back I was carefully following a story of a house fire here in Calgary that claimed several lives due at least in part to improperly installed security measures. I was stunned to see the story pop back up in the news today because the landlords had pled not guilty to the charges laid against them.
Not Guilty Plea Stuns Victim's Families
Not Guilty Plea Stuns Victim's Families
Quite the day...
To be fair, I had mostly a good day.
The first two thirds of it were productive. Things were flowing smoothly. I was settled in and happy, working hard on preparations for a conference our company is putting on this coming weekend.
I ran out to do an errand.
I came back, was handed some items to take care of, and asked what I thought was an innocent question. The response was less than ideal, and seemed to be indicative of a larger ongoing problem. It spiralled quickly from there.
A colleague and I handled the situation the way we've been instructed to. Let's just say that that we won't be doing that again. Because, you see, my boss flew off the handle at me, for bringing the situation to her attention (as per her previous instructions). She flew off the handle at the other person too.
There was shouting, and closed door conversations.
I'm not generally an angry person. I am often frustrated, but rarely do I descend into full on fury. Even when I feel hatred, it's usually a cold and distant thing, rather than a hot and wild thing.
But this was absolutely the last straw. I was so furious that my entire body was physically trembling with the adrenaline coursing through . I answered the phone and my voice shook. I sat for a few minutes in a colleague's office with the door shut and cried, waiting for my body to still.
Eventually things settled out.
Long conversations were had. Information was shared. There was crying on both parts.
And tomorrow I'm moving on.
There will not be a repeat of today. It is not healthy for me to have that much adrenaline coursing through my body when I already have issues with my health and energy levels. And, quite frankly, I will not be handling these sorts of situations that way ever again.
So, tomorrow is another day. I'll go back in, and work to forget the last third of today. And I'll keep doing the multitude of work necessary to get ready for the conference. And, quite likely, I'll keep to myself. Because that would seem to be the safer way to approach my office for a while.
The first two thirds of it were productive. Things were flowing smoothly. I was settled in and happy, working hard on preparations for a conference our company is putting on this coming weekend.
I ran out to do an errand.
I came back, was handed some items to take care of, and asked what I thought was an innocent question. The response was less than ideal, and seemed to be indicative of a larger ongoing problem. It spiralled quickly from there.
A colleague and I handled the situation the way we've been instructed to. Let's just say that that we won't be doing that again. Because, you see, my boss flew off the handle at me, for bringing the situation to her attention (as per her previous instructions). She flew off the handle at the other person too.
There was shouting, and closed door conversations.
I'm not generally an angry person. I am often frustrated, but rarely do I descend into full on fury. Even when I feel hatred, it's usually a cold and distant thing, rather than a hot and wild thing.
But this was absolutely the last straw. I was so furious that my entire body was physically trembling with the adrenaline coursing through . I answered the phone and my voice shook. I sat for a few minutes in a colleague's office with the door shut and cried, waiting for my body to still.
Eventually things settled out.
Long conversations were had. Information was shared. There was crying on both parts.
And tomorrow I'm moving on.
There will not be a repeat of today. It is not healthy for me to have that much adrenaline coursing through my body when I already have issues with my health and energy levels. And, quite frankly, I will not be handling these sorts of situations that way ever again.
So, tomorrow is another day. I'll go back in, and work to forget the last third of today. And I'll keep doing the multitude of work necessary to get ready for the conference. And, quite likely, I'll keep to myself. Because that would seem to be the safer way to approach my office for a while.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Beautiful...
Monday Night
I went to do a couple of errands after work tonight.
I picked up some pants that I'd had shortened (the trouble with being 5'2" is that pants always have to be shortened.)
I got dinner at Jugo Juice - a midnight mango smoothie (mango, blueberries, blackberries, cranberry & apple juice) and a smoked turkey wrap. I hadn't eaten much today because I'm still not feeling well, so I figured the more fresh fruit I could get into me, the better. And, with 1/3 pound of fruit in one smoothie, I think I'm in pretty good shape!
After that I headed for my parent's house. My mom is a massage and cranio sacral therapist, and she tends to be my first call when I have aching muscles or am generally sick. Since I crashed the sled on the weekend, and I've been fighting this cold, I'd scheduled a treatment for tonight (and possibly another one tomorrow night, depending how I'm feeling tomorrow.)
Then home, a quick shower, and I was in my pj's, propped up in bed by 8 pm.
I have about 20 minutes of reading to finish up for tonight, and then I'm planning to fall asleep. Likely with an episode of Grey's Anatomy playing on my darkened laptop screen... my current favorite accompaniment for drifting off to sleep.
Goodnight world!
I picked up some pants that I'd had shortened (the trouble with being 5'2" is that pants always have to be shortened.)
I got dinner at Jugo Juice - a midnight mango smoothie (mango, blueberries, blackberries, cranberry & apple juice) and a smoked turkey wrap. I hadn't eaten much today because I'm still not feeling well, so I figured the more fresh fruit I could get into me, the better. And, with 1/3 pound of fruit in one smoothie, I think I'm in pretty good shape!
After that I headed for my parent's house. My mom is a massage and cranio sacral therapist, and she tends to be my first call when I have aching muscles or am generally sick. Since I crashed the sled on the weekend, and I've been fighting this cold, I'd scheduled a treatment for tonight (and possibly another one tomorrow night, depending how I'm feeling tomorrow.)
Then home, a quick shower, and I was in my pj's, propped up in bed by 8 pm.
I have about 20 minutes of reading to finish up for tonight, and then I'm planning to fall asleep. Likely with an episode of Grey's Anatomy playing on my darkened laptop screen... my current favorite accompaniment for drifting off to sleep.
Goodnight world!
Frustrations
I'm asking the big questions again these days. Some of the same old, same old ones. The ones where each time I find some sort of answer, I'm convinced it will be enough, and I won't have to revisit the question. I always revisit the question.
I'm angry. I'll spare you the details. No one else should have to drown in some of the toxicity that I sometimes think is slowly killing me. I'm spending a lot of time lately pondering that line of scripture that talks about "in your anger, do not sin." I'm also spending a lot of time pondering where exactly the line is between anger that is sinful, and anger that is righteous, and if you can have some combination of both all tangled up inside of you.
I'm reaching the end of my patience with my health. Those of you who have walked out life closely with me this year will know that I have been sick a lot this last year and a bit. That I'm struggling to keep weight on, because it seems like every time I manage to start eating regularly again, I become ill for several days and am unable to eat hardly at all. (That, in combination with a year where Jesus has often asked me to fast, has not made for healthy weight management. I'm probably going to be the only woman you'll ever meet who is complaining that she's dropped three pant sizes in a year, but it's getting expensive to keep buying new clothes, and I don't think it can be all that healthy for my body either.)
You've already heard me say that this last week a bad cold has settled in for the first time in several years. Yesterday was perhaps the lowest energy day that I've had all year. I quite literally had the desire to be up and around, but no actual physical ability to do so. I'd get out of bed for a few minutes here and there (to get food, to chat with my roommate etc.) and then I'd immediately need to go and lay back down.
What's most frustrating about the current health struggles is that I've really been making an effort since the new year to get my health under control. To take vitamins consistently. To be taking a supplement to help me sleep. To eat healthfully and regularly. Last week I even made appointments to see my doctor and eye doctor to get checkups and chat with them about a few minor nagging concerns.
And here I am, sick again. In the midst of my busiest week of work of the year. The week where I will also have to work the forthcoming weekend.
So, I'm tired and frustrated and angry. And I'm wondering when some of those things descend into sin.
I'm angry. I'll spare you the details. No one else should have to drown in some of the toxicity that I sometimes think is slowly killing me. I'm spending a lot of time lately pondering that line of scripture that talks about "in your anger, do not sin." I'm also spending a lot of time pondering where exactly the line is between anger that is sinful, and anger that is righteous, and if you can have some combination of both all tangled up inside of you.
I'm reaching the end of my patience with my health. Those of you who have walked out life closely with me this year will know that I have been sick a lot this last year and a bit. That I'm struggling to keep weight on, because it seems like every time I manage to start eating regularly again, I become ill for several days and am unable to eat hardly at all. (That, in combination with a year where Jesus has often asked me to fast, has not made for healthy weight management. I'm probably going to be the only woman you'll ever meet who is complaining that she's dropped three pant sizes in a year, but it's getting expensive to keep buying new clothes, and I don't think it can be all that healthy for my body either.)
You've already heard me say that this last week a bad cold has settled in for the first time in several years. Yesterday was perhaps the lowest energy day that I've had all year. I quite literally had the desire to be up and around, but no actual physical ability to do so. I'd get out of bed for a few minutes here and there (to get food, to chat with my roommate etc.) and then I'd immediately need to go and lay back down.
What's most frustrating about the current health struggles is that I've really been making an effort since the new year to get my health under control. To take vitamins consistently. To be taking a supplement to help me sleep. To eat healthfully and regularly. Last week I even made appointments to see my doctor and eye doctor to get checkups and chat with them about a few minor nagging concerns.
And here I am, sick again. In the midst of my busiest week of work of the year. The week where I will also have to work the forthcoming weekend.
So, I'm tired and frustrated and angry. And I'm wondering when some of those things descend into sin.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Sometimes plodding...
There are days when life just flows smoothly. When I'm excited about God. When I can believe spring is coming. When I'm desiring so much more.
And there are days like the last few. Days where it seems to take everything I've got to just make the next step. Days that can only be described as plodding, and dutiful.
Where you sit down to read scripture because you know it's right to do so.
Where you work through the daily readings and prayers you've committed to doing - the regular devotional, and the added Lenten ones - just for the sake of maintaining a routine.
I have felt forgotten today. Aware of the ongoing changes around me, and wondering when the changes I've longed for - the healing I've longed for - will come.
I spent most of the day completely without the basic energy required to function in normal life. Flat on my back on my bed.
And yet, as I sat down to write this post, prepared to whine a bit, and feel sorry for myself. Prepared to talk about how Lent isn't worth it, and how I'm missing chocolate (though I have no appetite for anything today, least of all chocolate), and how crabby I am with God and people and life in general, I felt the prompting voice that I've come to recognize repeat a passage of scripture I memorized to win a contest as a child. Probably somewhere between 18 and 20 years ago, I committed much of the following passage to memory, though in a different version than what I'll share with you tonight. I've never regretted that. Because over and over, in difficult times, when I've felt so very alone in the midst of my struggles and sorrows, it has come back to me, and I've been encouraged in the understanding that we have a savior who understood sorrow and suffering more deeply than any other human being. I am coming to understand that truth about Jesus so much more deeply, so much differently, because of the way so much of my life has played out in this last season.
And it came to mind again tonight, speaking to my heart, giving encouragement and the tiniest bit of hope in the knowledge of not being alone. It came on the heels of a few unexpected and encouraging comments and emails from friends. And it reminded me of the sort of Savior who walks with me, reminded me that if he could walk such a painful journey, surely I too can walk out this difficult Lenten season. I won't quote all of it... just a few favorite bits, sans the verse number references. You can find the whole passage in Isaiah 53 (NLT).
He was despised and rejected -
a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised and we did not care.
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
It was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for his own sins!
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
He was oppressed and treated harshly,
yet he never said a word.
Unjustly condemned,
he was led away.
No one cared that he died without descendants,
that his life was cut short in midstream.
When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish,
he will be satisfied.
And because of his experience,
my righteous servant will make it possible
for many to be counted righteous,
for he will bear all their sins.
I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because he exposed himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.
And there are days like the last few. Days where it seems to take everything I've got to just make the next step. Days that can only be described as plodding, and dutiful.
Where you sit down to read scripture because you know it's right to do so.
Where you work through the daily readings and prayers you've committed to doing - the regular devotional, and the added Lenten ones - just for the sake of maintaining a routine.
I have felt forgotten today. Aware of the ongoing changes around me, and wondering when the changes I've longed for - the healing I've longed for - will come.
I spent most of the day completely without the basic energy required to function in normal life. Flat on my back on my bed.
And yet, as I sat down to write this post, prepared to whine a bit, and feel sorry for myself. Prepared to talk about how Lent isn't worth it, and how I'm missing chocolate (though I have no appetite for anything today, least of all chocolate), and how crabby I am with God and people and life in general, I felt the prompting voice that I've come to recognize repeat a passage of scripture I memorized to win a contest as a child. Probably somewhere between 18 and 20 years ago, I committed much of the following passage to memory, though in a different version than what I'll share with you tonight. I've never regretted that. Because over and over, in difficult times, when I've felt so very alone in the midst of my struggles and sorrows, it has come back to me, and I've been encouraged in the understanding that we have a savior who understood sorrow and suffering more deeply than any other human being. I am coming to understand that truth about Jesus so much more deeply, so much differently, because of the way so much of my life has played out in this last season.
And it came to mind again tonight, speaking to my heart, giving encouragement and the tiniest bit of hope in the knowledge of not being alone. It came on the heels of a few unexpected and encouraging comments and emails from friends. And it reminded me of the sort of Savior who walks with me, reminded me that if he could walk such a painful journey, surely I too can walk out this difficult Lenten season. I won't quote all of it... just a few favorite bits, sans the verse number references. You can find the whole passage in Isaiah 53 (NLT).
He was despised and rejected -
a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised and we did not care.
Yet it was our weaknesses he carried;
It was our sorrows that weighed him down.
And we thought his troubles were a punishment from God,
a punishment for his own sins!
He was beaten so we could be whole.
He was whipped so we could be healed.
He was oppressed and treated harshly,
yet he never said a word.
Unjustly condemned,
he was led away.
No one cared that he died without descendants,
that his life was cut short in midstream.
When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish,
he will be satisfied.
And because of his experience,
my righteous servant will make it possible
for many to be counted righteous,
for he will bear all their sins.
I will give him the honors of a victorious soldier,
because he exposed himself to death.
He was counted among the rebels.
He bore the sins of many and interceded for rebels.
Praying along with this
One of the Lenten devotionals that I am working my way through had the following prayer as it's closing lines tonight:
Lord, help us greet the new, the replacement for the things to which we cling. Let us enjoy the banquet of your presence. Amen.
My heart is trying to echo that prayer tonight. It is crying out for the new things, and the banquet of his presence.
Lord, help us greet the new, the replacement for the things to which we cling. Let us enjoy the banquet of your presence. Amen.
My heart is trying to echo that prayer tonight. It is crying out for the new things, and the banquet of his presence.
Later Sunday
So, this cold that I've had all week is still kicking my butt.
I have absolutely no energy.
No appetite.
And I'm sore from crashing on the sled yesterday.
All of this adds up to the fact that I've spent all of today doing as little as humanly possible.
And I'm still tired. So I'm going to spend all of tonight moving as little as humanly possible as well.
I have absolutely no energy.
No appetite.
And I'm sore from crashing on the sled yesterday.
All of this adds up to the fact that I've spent all of today doing as little as humanly possible.
And I'm still tired. So I'm going to spend all of tonight moving as little as humanly possible as well.
Sunday Morning
I've been laying in bed for the last three hours or so, awake off and on.
My right shoulder, my neck, and the right side of my back are pretty stiff and sore from yesterday. Actually, basically the whole right side of my body. But, no black eye. Tender spots on my face, a few marks that I can hide with makeup when I have to go back to work tomorrow, but thankfully no black eye.
It did, however, snow several inches again overnight. So, it'll be a day spent at home most likely.
Which means that I either need to find some particularly fabulous ways to avoid. Or that I need to spend some time reading and writing and dealing.
My right shoulder, my neck, and the right side of my back are pretty stiff and sore from yesterday. Actually, basically the whole right side of my body. But, no black eye. Tender spots on my face, a few marks that I can hide with makeup when I have to go back to work tomorrow, but thankfully no black eye.
It did, however, snow several inches again overnight. So, it'll be a day spent at home most likely.
Which means that I either need to find some particularly fabulous ways to avoid. Or that I need to spend some time reading and writing and dealing.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Snowfall Warning
So, we have a snowfall warning in effect again. They're saying we're going to get at least 10cm of snow overnight again. That definitely means that I will be at home, doing little or nothing tomorrow.
One crashing incident involving snow (thankfully involving me this time, instead of my car) in a weekend is enough.
I'm beginning to wonder if winter is ever going to end.
One crashing incident involving snow (thankfully involving me this time, instead of my car) in a weekend is enough.
I'm beginning to wonder if winter is ever going to end.
Hopefully not a black eye...
I went sledding with one of my roommates today.
And on the run that I'd already declared my last one for the day, I caught an edge in a funny sort of way, and flipped. I bashed up the right side of my head and cheek pretty good, bent my glasses badly, and have a pretty sore shoulder neck and back on the right side.
I got the glasses fixed, but I'm waiting to see what the damage to my face will end up being. They pushed into my cheek and eye pretty hard when I crashed.
There are some definite marks on the bridge of my nose, around my eye, and on my cheek. The big question is whether or not they will bruise further as the day goes on, or settle down... Wait and see I guess!
And on the run that I'd already declared my last one for the day, I caught an edge in a funny sort of way, and flipped. I bashed up the right side of my head and cheek pretty good, bent my glasses badly, and have a pretty sore shoulder neck and back on the right side.
I got the glasses fixed, but I'm waiting to see what the damage to my face will end up being. They pushed into my cheek and eye pretty hard when I crashed.
There are some definite marks on the bridge of my nose, around my eye, and on my cheek. The big question is whether or not they will bruise further as the day goes on, or settle down... Wait and see I guess!
Friday, March 27, 2009
Catching my attention today...
A few articles that caught my attention this morning:
Where is the church-led economic recovery?
The End of Excess: Is This Crisis Good for America?
Medics Can "Mend a Broken Heart"
And this one, because Joel Stein is really quite funny. Paul Rudd: Everbody's Buddy
Where is the church-led economic recovery?
The End of Excess: Is This Crisis Good for America?
Medics Can "Mend a Broken Heart"
And this one, because Joel Stein is really quite funny. Paul Rudd: Everbody's Buddy
Things I feel compelled to tell you...
These are the things I feel compelled to say "out loud" this morning:
- I am wearing a very cute t-shirt today. You probably won't see it, because it's underneath a hoody, and unless the weather suddenly spikes into the 20 degree range, I won't likely be removing the hoody, but the t-shirt is making me feel good.
- It's Friday! Which means I only have to make it through 8 more hours of work (and one of those is my lunch hour!) before I get a break for the weekend. It also means that I'm wearing jeans at work, and am therefore generally a much happier human being.
- I was listening to a Misty Edwards song this morning as I was driving that had the line, "I believe you are listening," and was deeply struck by the fact that for the first time in a while I do actually believe he's listening and cares.
- But I'm still mostly only able to form the word "Abba," when I attempt to pray.
- I do however, like the Friday mornings like today when I arrive at the office before anyone else. I take the time to walk several ciruits of our floor, praying for the people I work with, and for our company. I'm still thinking a lot about the verse in Jeremiah, where Jeremiah tells the people in exile in Babylon to "pray for the welfare of the city, because your welfare depends on it's welfare." I've been constantly reminded that however much my employment feels like exile right now, my welfare (and ability to pay bills and eat and do the things I love) depends on the welfare of my company. So it was nice to have this morning be one of those mornings when I could physically walk through our office and pray.
- I'm loving hot crossed buns right now. (And yes, I really do like that sort of fake tasting, multi-colored candied fruit that comes in various Easter breads.)
- I'm still fighting this cold, and it's kicking my butt. I haven't actually had a cold settle in for probably three years now, and I'd forgotten just how low energy they make me. I've been in bed really early (for me anyway) almost every night this week. I have no real appetite. And I just feel a bit listless. Plus, it's like my lungs have been wrapped up tightly with tensor bandages or something so that breathing is a bit challenging. I'm looking forward to a low key Friday evening and weekend to rest up and get ready for what promises to be a crazy work week next week.
- I really love my brother T's girlfriend. I was at my parent's house for a bit last night, and she was there, just finishing up helping T conduct a church easter choir practice. She came up to give me a big hug, and we ended up chatting for an hour in the kitchen, with promises for a tea date and prayer time coming soon.
- And that, I believe is all that I'm feeling absolutely, completely, totally compelled to share with you at this moment in time!
Happy Friday!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Abba.
For much of the afternoon, and on into the evening, my heart was deeply unsettled.
I tried to pray. But words just wouldn't (and aren't) forming.
I've been praying a rosary book - a book of prayers and scriptures designed for the Anglican rosary - nightly since the new year began. Each and every night, just before sleep, the scriptures and prayers, and the prayer Jesus taught us to pray.
Our Father. Sometimes I can barely make it past that line. My lips move and repeat the rest of the prayer. But my heart is stuck there. In that space. Calling out for a Father.
And all afternoon, as I tried to find words, my heart simply cried out, over and over, "Abba." "Abba".
I need a God who is Abba - Daddy - right now. A God who draws near. A God who waits with me. A God who holds me, and wipes my many tears.
And so, as my heart remains unsettled, the only words that will form on my lips are "Abba."
And sometimes, "Abba, help."
I tried to pray. But words just wouldn't (and aren't) forming.
I've been praying a rosary book - a book of prayers and scriptures designed for the Anglican rosary - nightly since the new year began. Each and every night, just before sleep, the scriptures and prayers, and the prayer Jesus taught us to pray.
Our Father. Sometimes I can barely make it past that line. My lips move and repeat the rest of the prayer. But my heart is stuck there. In that space. Calling out for a Father.
And all afternoon, as I tried to find words, my heart simply cried out, over and over, "Abba." "Abba".
I need a God who is Abba - Daddy - right now. A God who draws near. A God who waits with me. A God who holds me, and wipes my many tears.
And so, as my heart remains unsettled, the only words that will form on my lips are "Abba."
And sometimes, "Abba, help."
Wow.
I linked last night to a Lenten post on Ragamuffin Diva.
And then I went back this morning and read her next two posts.
And oh boy have I had similar conversations with Jesus at times. (Even really rather recently.)
I love Claudia Mair Burney's novel's, and I'm loving the way she's chosen to share her Lenten journey this year. Because I've been there, and am there, and find walking the way of Lent both incredibly painful, and (hopefully) deeply moving and healing.
you can find the posts here:
On the Rock
Wilderness Training
And then I went back this morning and read her next two posts.
And oh boy have I had similar conversations with Jesus at times. (Even really rather recently.)
I love Claudia Mair Burney's novel's, and I'm loving the way she's chosen to share her Lenten journey this year. Because I've been there, and am there, and find walking the way of Lent both incredibly painful, and (hopefully) deeply moving and healing.
you can find the posts here:
On the Rock
Wilderness Training
The Healing Touch
This thought from Henri Nouwen struck me yesterday.
These days, almost all of the people who offer this sort of healing touch live far away. But in the moments when we get to be together, I soak it in.
I used to be one of those people who hated hugs or touch. Somewhere along the way, I realized that a hug is one of the most healing and encouraging things in my world, and that, when I haven't had one for a long time, I am the worse for it.
I'm grateful to have people in my life who offer very healing hugs and touch, even when I can't collect on them very often.
The Healing Touch
Touch, yes, touch, speaks the wordless words of love. We receive so much touch when we are babies and so little when we are adults. Still, in friendship touch often gives more life than words. A friend's hand stroking our back, a friend's arms resting on our shoulder, a friend's fingers wiping our tears away, a friend's lips kissing our forehead --- these are true consolation. These moments of touch are truly sacred. They restore, they reconcile, they reassure, they forgive, they heal.
Everyone who touched Jesus and everyone whom Jesus touched were healed. God's love and power went out from him (see Luke 6:19). When a friend touches us with free, nonpossessive love, it is God's incarnate love that touches us and God's power that heals us.
These days, almost all of the people who offer this sort of healing touch live far away. But in the moments when we get to be together, I soak it in.
I used to be one of those people who hated hugs or touch. Somewhere along the way, I realized that a hug is one of the most healing and encouraging things in my world, and that, when I haven't had one for a long time, I am the worse for it.
I'm grateful to have people in my life who offer very healing hugs and touch, even when I can't collect on them very often.
The Healing Touch
Touch, yes, touch, speaks the wordless words of love. We receive so much touch when we are babies and so little when we are adults. Still, in friendship touch often gives more life than words. A friend's hand stroking our back, a friend's arms resting on our shoulder, a friend's fingers wiping our tears away, a friend's lips kissing our forehead --- these are true consolation. These moments of touch are truly sacred. They restore, they reconcile, they reassure, they forgive, they heal.
Everyone who touched Jesus and everyone whom Jesus touched were healed. God's love and power went out from him (see Luke 6:19). When a friend touches us with free, nonpossessive love, it is God's incarnate love that touches us and God's power that heals us.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Good Article on Lent
I liked this article on Lent at Relevant Magazine.com today.
I also LOVED this post at Ragamuffin Diva tonight. Because boy do I know what it is to avoid Jesus when he asks if maybe we should stop and deal with my wounds and heal a while.
I also LOVED this post at Ragamuffin Diva tonight. Because boy do I know what it is to avoid Jesus when he asks if maybe we should stop and deal with my wounds and heal a while.
Awkward Encounter
I had an amusingly awkward (on my part anyway) encounter last night.
I'd gone to Kensington (one of my favorite parts of the city) after work to meet a friend for tea and some dinner, and arrived significantly earlier than expected. After talking to her by phone and confirming that she hadn't yet arrived, and that we would have dinner instead of just tea, I decided to shop a little.
I visited several shops, ultimately deciding to check out the shop that the Canadian Bible Society recently relocated to the middle of Kensington. Our major local Christian bookstore closed last summer, and I'd never been to the Bible Society's new location, and was wondering if they'd increased their stock of books other than Bible's in response to that. So, I popped in, was greeted by the lady working in the shop, and began to browse.
A short time later, I'd selected a book that had recently been recommended to me as "one of the most helpful things I've ever read on prayer and hearing God's voice". I'd never seen this book in bookstores, and had planned to eventually purchase it online, and was delighted to find it in this shop.
The lady at the counter asked for my phone number, to look me up in their computer. I gave it, and my name popped up. She did a double take. "Lisa?" "Lisa P.?"
"yes."
"You've grown up!"
(Now, let me just say that as the daughter of a pastor who's been in full time professional ministry in our city for around 30 years, I'm used to having someone recognize my name. It happens all over the place. The Christian community in Calgary is not all that large when it comes right down to it. Once, when I emailed a university chaplain I'd never met, inquiring about a Bible study and worship time he coordinated, he wrote back with the information I was asking for and a question "Are you related to Doug P?" All that to say that in a shop like the "Canadian Bible Society", it was not an entirely unexpected thing for my name to create recognition.)
The lady carried on, "I'm S.W. Do you remember me?"
Cue awkward music.
Because now I'm in a bind. She's given me her name, and I do remember her. Quite well in fact. From some events that happened 16 years ago. At that time my dad was pastoring a large denominational church, that was going through a rather messy split. Because, heaven forbid the church be active in the community, and help single moms, or sing a few modern worship songs along with the beautiful hymns. My dad chose to resign rather than prolong the messy conflict, and was eventually approached by a group of people who expressed that they believed deeply in his ministry, and would still like him to be their pastor. They planted a church, and 16 years later many of those people who initially approached him still attend, and it's growing in ways that are great fun to watch, and having an impact in areas that are entirely unexpected.
But here's the thing. This woman, who wants to know if I remember her, is married to one of the people who 16 years ago led the charge against the small changes that Dad and his staff had implemented.
I settled for a vague "Sort of." response to her question (her response "you were pretty little"), and politely listened to her litany of how good it was to see me "grown up." How she just remembered me as a child and was excited to see me as an adult. (All I could think was "I was ten. I wasn't that little. I remember far more than you know. and, Sixteen years will tend to bring some aging to a child!") I nicely answered her questions about what I'm doing now (and she of course has heard of the Mennonite company that I work for) and managed to extract myself from the shop, and the awkward conversation.
I had to laugh. Of all the people I could have run into in Kensington, that was entirely unexpected.
And really, 16 years later, what am I supposed to say?
I've spent a lot of time working through some deep hurts from that time period. Working to forgive and move on with life. I saw clearly for the first time at the age of 10 the hypocrisy and brokenness that exists within the church. I've encountered it in various forms many times since. Each time it breaks my heart, and challenges my ability to love and forgive.
But those things don't get communicated in a two minute conversation over a purchase, with someone who is convinced you were too young to remember or be impacted.
So, as the evening passed, and my morning drive took place, and the memories from that time came back, I chose to talk with Jesus again about forgiveness. To remember the quote I posted last week about unforgiveness being a bit like a lead bullet left in a soldiers body - the wound disappears from the surface, but the bullet continues to leach poison. I chose again to conciously say "I forgive the hurt they caused me. I forgive the way they tainted my perception of Christ and his people. I forgive them for the maliciousness of their attacks against my dad."
And I smiled to myself at the timing of it all.
I'd gone to Kensington (one of my favorite parts of the city) after work to meet a friend for tea and some dinner, and arrived significantly earlier than expected. After talking to her by phone and confirming that she hadn't yet arrived, and that we would have dinner instead of just tea, I decided to shop a little.
I visited several shops, ultimately deciding to check out the shop that the Canadian Bible Society recently relocated to the middle of Kensington. Our major local Christian bookstore closed last summer, and I'd never been to the Bible Society's new location, and was wondering if they'd increased their stock of books other than Bible's in response to that. So, I popped in, was greeted by the lady working in the shop, and began to browse.
A short time later, I'd selected a book that had recently been recommended to me as "one of the most helpful things I've ever read on prayer and hearing God's voice". I'd never seen this book in bookstores, and had planned to eventually purchase it online, and was delighted to find it in this shop.
The lady at the counter asked for my phone number, to look me up in their computer. I gave it, and my name popped up. She did a double take. "Lisa?" "Lisa P.?"
"yes."
"You've grown up!"
(Now, let me just say that as the daughter of a pastor who's been in full time professional ministry in our city for around 30 years, I'm used to having someone recognize my name. It happens all over the place. The Christian community in Calgary is not all that large when it comes right down to it. Once, when I emailed a university chaplain I'd never met, inquiring about a Bible study and worship time he coordinated, he wrote back with the information I was asking for and a question "Are you related to Doug P?" All that to say that in a shop like the "Canadian Bible Society", it was not an entirely unexpected thing for my name to create recognition.)
The lady carried on, "I'm S.W. Do you remember me?"
Cue awkward music.
Because now I'm in a bind. She's given me her name, and I do remember her. Quite well in fact. From some events that happened 16 years ago. At that time my dad was pastoring a large denominational church, that was going through a rather messy split. Because, heaven forbid the church be active in the community, and help single moms, or sing a few modern worship songs along with the beautiful hymns. My dad chose to resign rather than prolong the messy conflict, and was eventually approached by a group of people who expressed that they believed deeply in his ministry, and would still like him to be their pastor. They planted a church, and 16 years later many of those people who initially approached him still attend, and it's growing in ways that are great fun to watch, and having an impact in areas that are entirely unexpected.
But here's the thing. This woman, who wants to know if I remember her, is married to one of the people who 16 years ago led the charge against the small changes that Dad and his staff had implemented.
I settled for a vague "Sort of." response to her question (her response "you were pretty little"), and politely listened to her litany of how good it was to see me "grown up." How she just remembered me as a child and was excited to see me as an adult. (All I could think was "I was ten. I wasn't that little. I remember far more than you know. and, Sixteen years will tend to bring some aging to a child!") I nicely answered her questions about what I'm doing now (and she of course has heard of the Mennonite company that I work for) and managed to extract myself from the shop, and the awkward conversation.
I had to laugh. Of all the people I could have run into in Kensington, that was entirely unexpected.
And really, 16 years later, what am I supposed to say?
I've spent a lot of time working through some deep hurts from that time period. Working to forgive and move on with life. I saw clearly for the first time at the age of 10 the hypocrisy and brokenness that exists within the church. I've encountered it in various forms many times since. Each time it breaks my heart, and challenges my ability to love and forgive.
But those things don't get communicated in a two minute conversation over a purchase, with someone who is convinced you were too young to remember or be impacted.
So, as the evening passed, and my morning drive took place, and the memories from that time came back, I chose to talk with Jesus again about forgiveness. To remember the quote I posted last week about unforgiveness being a bit like a lead bullet left in a soldiers body - the wound disappears from the surface, but the bullet continues to leach poison. I chose again to conciously say "I forgive the hurt they caused me. I forgive the way they tainted my perception of Christ and his people. I forgive them for the maliciousness of their attacks against my dad."
And I smiled to myself at the timing of it all.
Searching for Deeper Water
I loved this quote I came across on Ali Edwards blog today:
I used to sit on the banks with a raft and watch the water roll lazily by. One day I pushed my raft into the shallows of the water and found the water moved swifter than I thought. My raft was actually a boat. Then, after some time, I rowed my little boat into deeper water. There were great storms, mighty winds, tremendous waves, and sometimes I felt so alone. But I have noticed my little rowboat is now a mighty ship manned by my friends and loved ones; and beautiful calm seas, warm sunny days, and nights filled with comfortable dreams always double after a storm. Now, I could never go back and sit on the bank. In fact, I search for deeper water. Such is life when lived. (B. D. Gulledge)
I used to sit on the banks with a raft and watch the water roll lazily by. One day I pushed my raft into the shallows of the water and found the water moved swifter than I thought. My raft was actually a boat. Then, after some time, I rowed my little boat into deeper water. There were great storms, mighty winds, tremendous waves, and sometimes I felt so alone. But I have noticed my little rowboat is now a mighty ship manned by my friends and loved ones; and beautiful calm seas, warm sunny days, and nights filled with comfortable dreams always double after a storm. Now, I could never go back and sit on the bank. In fact, I search for deeper water. Such is life when lived. (B. D. Gulledge)
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Not a good sick person
I am not a good sick person. One of those gracious people who never mentions how ill they're feeling, and still manages to work miracles. One of those people who will never let anything keep them down, or from doing something on their schedule.
I'd rather stay in bed.
I subscribe to the idea that if you're sick, don't come to the office, so that I don't get sick.
(I'm ignoring that idea today.)
I've been fighting an oncoming cold with massive doses of vitamins and the attempt to get more rest for the last couple of weeks. There've been people at work sick, and one of my roommates has been sick, and I've just generally been surrounded by the sorts of germ-laden people that the long winters here tend to produce. I thought I had this one held well at bay. I was wrong.
I woke up this morning to find that the cold has settled in with a vengeance. I'm achy and have chills. I have a headache. My throat is sore, and my nose is stuffed up. It's hard to draw breath, and my ribcage hurts from the dry, hacking cough that has also settled in.
And all in all, I'm wishing I was in bed.
Just before I finish whining, did I mention that I'm not a good sick person?
I'd rather stay in bed.
I subscribe to the idea that if you're sick, don't come to the office, so that I don't get sick.
(I'm ignoring that idea today.)
I've been fighting an oncoming cold with massive doses of vitamins and the attempt to get more rest for the last couple of weeks. There've been people at work sick, and one of my roommates has been sick, and I've just generally been surrounded by the sorts of germ-laden people that the long winters here tend to produce. I thought I had this one held well at bay. I was wrong.
I woke up this morning to find that the cold has settled in with a vengeance. I'm achy and have chills. I have a headache. My throat is sore, and my nose is stuffed up. It's hard to draw breath, and my ribcage hurts from the dry, hacking cough that has also settled in.
And all in all, I'm wishing I was in bed.
Just before I finish whining, did I mention that I'm not a good sick person?
More on Friendship from Henri
another thought from Henri Nouwen.
Friendship in the Twilight Zones of Our Heart
There is a twilight zone in our own hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves - our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and drives - large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness.
This is a very good thing. We always will remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility but also to a deep trust in those who love us. It is in the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.
Friendship in the Twilight Zones of Our Heart
There is a twilight zone in our own hearts that we ourselves cannot see. Even when we know quite a lot about ourselves - our gifts and weaknesses, our ambitions and aspirations, our motives and drives - large parts of ourselves remain in the shadow of consciousness.
This is a very good thing. We always will remain partially hidden to ourselves. Other people, especially those who love us, can often see our twilight zones better than we ourselves can. The way we are seen and understood by others is different from the way we see and understand ourselves. We will never fully know the significance of our presence in the lives of our friends. That's a grace, a grace that calls us not only to humility but also to a deep trust in those who love us. It is in the twilight zones of our hearts where true friendships are born.
Like a sponge?
I was wondering this morning, as I drove to work, and tried to pray, to talk with Jesus about a number of concerns of my own heart, and a number of concerns for friends and family who are struggling, if other people have the same problem I have, or if the way my heart cares is something unique to me.
My heart tends to be like a sponge - I absorb all the pain and toxins of my own life, and all of that from those I love. I'm getting better all the time at not carrying those things within myself, but I wondered, as my heart broke again today, if this is something unique to me?
I actually pick and choose social engagements depending on who will be there, and how susceptible my heart is to them.
Don't get me wrong, I don't avoid people whom my heart loves. I just find myself incredibly concious of what I absorb, and what that has done to my energy levels in a year where I've struggled with health.
I guess I'm just feeling a bit toxic this morning. Lots of my own pain, and recent and forthcoming encounters with those I care about.
And I wondered if others struggle with this as well...
My heart tends to be like a sponge - I absorb all the pain and toxins of my own life, and all of that from those I love. I'm getting better all the time at not carrying those things within myself, but I wondered, as my heart broke again today, if this is something unique to me?
I actually pick and choose social engagements depending on who will be there, and how susceptible my heart is to them.
Don't get me wrong, I don't avoid people whom my heart loves. I just find myself incredibly concious of what I absorb, and what that has done to my energy levels in a year where I've struggled with health.
I guess I'm just feeling a bit toxic this morning. Lots of my own pain, and recent and forthcoming encounters with those I care about.
And I wondered if others struggle with this as well...
Baggage.
I liked this cartoon at The Naked Pastor today. But I have this question: what happens when you're aware of at least some of your baggage (or a lot in my case) but seem to be powerless to get rid of it?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Monday Musings
I took advantage of the sunshine at lunch to take a bit of a walk. Through several inches of snow and muck. But there was sun, and I felt the need to move around a bit. (I won't talk too loudly about the health benefits of the walk, since I decide to walk to the hamburger joint on the corner to pick up lunch!)
I've decided to try to escape the office when I can on my lunchhour this week. I find, sometimes, that I cope better with the stresses of this environment if I can take a short break from it. And, since this week promises to be one of the more stressful ones in a while, I've decided to make space for those breaks this week.
I'm planning to attend a local church service tonight. I can't quite explain why I want to go, but I feel the need to go. A friend of mine called me this morning, just as the workday began, and he may join me. But if not, I'm still planning to go. At least for now. I suppose that that could change if God says something different, but for the moment he seems to be directing me towards church, and that's my plan for the evening. Dinner at home with my roommate, L., and church.
(and then hopefully an early bedtime!)
I've decided to try to escape the office when I can on my lunchhour this week. I find, sometimes, that I cope better with the stresses of this environment if I can take a short break from it. And, since this week promises to be one of the more stressful ones in a while, I've decided to make space for those breaks this week.
I'm planning to attend a local church service tonight. I can't quite explain why I want to go, but I feel the need to go. A friend of mine called me this morning, just as the workday began, and he may join me. But if not, I'm still planning to go. At least for now. I suppose that that could change if God says something different, but for the moment he seems to be directing me towards church, and that's my plan for the evening. Dinner at home with my roommate, L., and church.
(and then hopefully an early bedtime!)
More from Henri
Two more thoughts from Henri Nouwen...
The Ways to Self-knowledge
"Know yourself" is good advice. But to know ourselves doesn't mean to analyse ourselves. Sometimes we want to know ourselves as if we were machines that could be taken apart and put back together at will. At certain critical times in our lives it might be helpful to explore in some detail the events that led us to our crises, but we make a mistake when we think that we can ever completely understand ourselves and explain the full meaning of our lives to others.
Solitude, silence, and prayer are often the best ways to self-knowledge. Not because they offer solutions for the complexity of our lives but because they bring us in touch with our sacred center, where God dwells. That sacred center may not be analysed. It is the place of adoration, thanksgiving, and praise.
Sharing Our Solitude
A friend is more than a therapist or a confessor, even though a friend can sometimes heal us and offer us God's forgiveness.
A friend is that other person with whom we can share our solitude, our silence, and our prayer. A friend is that other person with whom we can look at a tree and say, "Isn't that beautiful," or sit on the beach and silently watch the sun disappear under the horizon. With a friend we don't have to say or do something special. With a friend we can be still and know that God is there with both of us.
The Ways to Self-knowledge
"Know yourself" is good advice. But to know ourselves doesn't mean to analyse ourselves. Sometimes we want to know ourselves as if we were machines that could be taken apart and put back together at will. At certain critical times in our lives it might be helpful to explore in some detail the events that led us to our crises, but we make a mistake when we think that we can ever completely understand ourselves and explain the full meaning of our lives to others.
Solitude, silence, and prayer are often the best ways to self-knowledge. Not because they offer solutions for the complexity of our lives but because they bring us in touch with our sacred center, where God dwells. That sacred center may not be analysed. It is the place of adoration, thanksgiving, and praise.
Sharing Our Solitude
A friend is more than a therapist or a confessor, even though a friend can sometimes heal us and offer us God's forgiveness.
A friend is that other person with whom we can share our solitude, our silence, and our prayer. A friend is that other person with whom we can look at a tree and say, "Isn't that beautiful," or sit on the beach and silently watch the sun disappear under the horizon. With a friend we don't have to say or do something special. With a friend we can be still and know that God is there with both of us.
Befriending Ourselves
A great thought from Henri Nouwen...
Claiming the Sacredness of Our Being
Are we friends with ourselves? Do we love who we are? These are important questions because we cannot develop good friendships with others unless we have befriended ourselves.
How then do we befriend ourselves? We have to start by acknowledging the truth of ourselves. We are beautiful but also limited, rich but also poor, generous but also worried about our security. Yet beyond all that we are people with souls, sparks of the divine. To acknowledge the truth of ourselves is to claim the sacredness of our being, without fully understanding it. Our deepest being escapes our own mental or emotional grasp. But when we trust that our souls are embraced by a loving God, we can befriend ourselves and reach out to others in loving relationships.
Claiming the Sacredness of Our Being
Are we friends with ourselves? Do we love who we are? These are important questions because we cannot develop good friendships with others unless we have befriended ourselves.
How then do we befriend ourselves? We have to start by acknowledging the truth of ourselves. We are beautiful but also limited, rich but also poor, generous but also worried about our security. Yet beyond all that we are people with souls, sparks of the divine. To acknowledge the truth of ourselves is to claim the sacredness of our being, without fully understanding it. Our deepest being escapes our own mental or emotional grasp. But when we trust that our souls are embraced by a loving God, we can befriend ourselves and reach out to others in loving relationships.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
He Waited With Me for a Long Time
I spent some time on the floor tonight. Lying there in the dark, in a room lit only with a few candles, and waiting, hoping, praying, to meet with Jesus and let the things inside me be stilled, even just for a few minutes.
As I lay there, a line from one of the most powerful books I've ever read came to mind. It's a line from one of my favorite stories in the book, a story I've read and felt touch my heart so many times that as I was laying on the floor, waiting for hope and quiet and peace to come, the refrain of the last line not only played, but I heard the whole story, playing softly. I've spoken often, here, about the ways that Renee Altson's "Stumbling Toward Faith" has touched my heart deeply in just the right moments, (and let me just say that if you haven't read this book, you absolutely must rush out and get it. it's not an easy read, but is quite easily one of the most beautifully profound things I've ever read.) Tonight was one of those nights that it touched me deeply. It was the following story, and particularly the closing line that spoke to my heart:
As part of our connection with God, we read the following passage over and over:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the 99 in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who do not need to repent.”
At one point the facilitator asked us to think and journal about what we felt, about what would happen, if we were the sheep waiting for the shepherd, and we saw him coming: what would he say? Where were we? How would we react?
I sat in that church, sprawled on the floor, leaning against a sturdy pillar with my eyes closed, trying to imagine that moment, trying to be that sheep.
My mind showed me a dusty, dark place. I was alone, it was quiet. There was only the occasional moaning of the wind. There were no birds, there was no shade.
I heard the shepherd coming a long way off. He was whistling.
“Hey,” he said to me. “I have missed you. I am so glad I found you.”
He extended a hand to wipe my tear-stained, dusty cheeks.
“Come back with me,” he said. “Come back to the others.”
I shook my head and pulled away.
“No,” I said.
“He looked surprised, but it did not change the immense compassion on his face.
“No,” I said again. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to. I don’t trust the other 99. I don’t want to be hurt again. Please don’t make me be hurt again.”
The shepherd sat down on the ground next to me.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll just say here with you then…”
The shepherd waited with me for a long time.
(Stumbling Toward Faith, Renee Altson, pg. 142-45)
I needed to hear tonight that he would wait with me until my heart is restored and able again to return to the land of the living. And, as I sat there in the semi-dark of my candle-lit bedroom, curled up on the floor, I too felt him settle down beside me, let me lean into him, and simply wait.
As I lay there, a line from one of the most powerful books I've ever read came to mind. It's a line from one of my favorite stories in the book, a story I've read and felt touch my heart so many times that as I was laying on the floor, waiting for hope and quiet and peace to come, the refrain of the last line not only played, but I heard the whole story, playing softly. I've spoken often, here, about the ways that Renee Altson's "Stumbling Toward Faith" has touched my heart deeply in just the right moments, (and let me just say that if you haven't read this book, you absolutely must rush out and get it. it's not an easy read, but is quite easily one of the most beautifully profound things I've ever read.) Tonight was one of those nights that it touched me deeply. It was the following story, and particularly the closing line that spoke to my heart:
As part of our connection with God, we read the following passage over and over:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the 99 in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who do not need to repent.”
At one point the facilitator asked us to think and journal about what we felt, about what would happen, if we were the sheep waiting for the shepherd, and we saw him coming: what would he say? Where were we? How would we react?
I sat in that church, sprawled on the floor, leaning against a sturdy pillar with my eyes closed, trying to imagine that moment, trying to be that sheep.
My mind showed me a dusty, dark place. I was alone, it was quiet. There was only the occasional moaning of the wind. There were no birds, there was no shade.
I heard the shepherd coming a long way off. He was whistling.
“Hey,” he said to me. “I have missed you. I am so glad I found you.”
He extended a hand to wipe my tear-stained, dusty cheeks.
“Come back with me,” he said. “Come back to the others.”
I shook my head and pulled away.
“No,” I said.
“He looked surprised, but it did not change the immense compassion on his face.
“No,” I said again. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to. I don’t trust the other 99. I don’t want to be hurt again. Please don’t make me be hurt again.”
The shepherd sat down on the ground next to me.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll just say here with you then…”
The shepherd waited with me for a long time.
(Stumbling Toward Faith, Renee Altson, pg. 142-45)
I needed to hear tonight that he would wait with me until my heart is restored and able again to return to the land of the living. And, as I sat there in the semi-dark of my candle-lit bedroom, curled up on the floor, I too felt him settle down beside me, let me lean into him, and simply wait.
Trapped
Of all the things that stand out, as I look back over this crazy last week or so, here's the one thing that stands out the most.
My credit card was canceled this week.
Someone got my credit card number somehow, tried to charge some items that were over my limit, and mastercard security called me and canceled my card. I'll get a new card, sometime in the next week or so, but in the meantime, it's the temporary loss of the credit card that stands out to me.
Because I feel a bit trapped without it.
That little bit of space until my credit limit? That was my escape plan.
That was my "if things get really bad I'll just buy an airline ticket and run" plan.
Not that I would have run.
I tried the running from the things that weigh you down thing multiple times during the depression years. It never worked. You usually just end up alone, and scared, and without the support system that was making life somewhat liveable before you ran.
But not having an escape plan? That is making me feel trapped. Housebound. Stir-crazy.
It's making me feel like this space in life will never come to an end. It's terrifying me in some ways.
I feel trapped.
The rational part of my brain reminds me that credit is money that doesn't exist anyway. And that there is (a little) money in my bank account if I really needed to escape. And that really, in a few more days, I'll have a new credit card.
But in the meantime, I feel trapped in this spot. And wishing for an escape. (Even the non-running sort.)
My credit card was canceled this week.
Someone got my credit card number somehow, tried to charge some items that were over my limit, and mastercard security called me and canceled my card. I'll get a new card, sometime in the next week or so, but in the meantime, it's the temporary loss of the credit card that stands out to me.
Because I feel a bit trapped without it.
That little bit of space until my credit limit? That was my escape plan.
That was my "if things get really bad I'll just buy an airline ticket and run" plan.
Not that I would have run.
I tried the running from the things that weigh you down thing multiple times during the depression years. It never worked. You usually just end up alone, and scared, and without the support system that was making life somewhat liveable before you ran.
But not having an escape plan? That is making me feel trapped. Housebound. Stir-crazy.
It's making me feel like this space in life will never come to an end. It's terrifying me in some ways.
I feel trapped.
The rational part of my brain reminds me that credit is money that doesn't exist anyway. And that there is (a little) money in my bank account if I really needed to escape. And that really, in a few more days, I'll have a new credit card.
But in the meantime, I feel trapped in this spot. And wishing for an escape. (Even the non-running sort.)
Spring???
A few weeks ago, I wrote that I was feeling like my heart was caught in the sort of "Narnian" situation that Lucy first encountered when she stumbled through the wardrobe. "Always winter, but never Christmas." Lots of cold and ice and never the anticipation of celebration and spring and new life.
The first day of spring came and went on Friday, and for a rare change, the weather here seemed to cooperate. It offered out a teasing hope that perhaps, even in my cold and tired heart, spring might come.
Turns out the weather is a bit of a tease. Most of the snow was melted yesterday, and there was dry brown grass, waiting for sunshine to perk it up and turn it into the green of spring.
This is the view that greeted me when I looked out the front door this morning:
That, my friends, is about a foot of snow, which fell sometime between midnight or so last night and 8:30 this morning when I looked outside. Or at least 8 inches anyway. And it's still falling. It was over the top of my boots. It took me half an hour to brush George off, and I'd only driven about 10 minutes when I hit an icy patch, slid into a guard rail, mashed up the front driver's side of my bumper (though thankfully without damaging anything essential) and decided to turn around and come home.
So. Always winter...
And I am praying and waiting again for spring. I am clinging to the fact that even in the deep, still falling snow the sparrows and chickadees were singing, trying to announce a change of season to the heavens. I'm finding the tiniest bit of hope in that.
And now, I'm off to lay in a bath. I haven't quite recovered from the new onslaught of winter. And I haven't quite recovered from the onslaught of adrenaline from another car accident of sorts this morning. I'm cold, and feeling shaky again. So, I'm going to try and treat myself a bit gently, and just relax for a while.
More thoughts to come... there are blog posts brewing...
The first day of spring came and went on Friday, and for a rare change, the weather here seemed to cooperate. It offered out a teasing hope that perhaps, even in my cold and tired heart, spring might come.
Turns out the weather is a bit of a tease. Most of the snow was melted yesterday, and there was dry brown grass, waiting for sunshine to perk it up and turn it into the green of spring.
This is the view that greeted me when I looked out the front door this morning:
That, my friends, is about a foot of snow, which fell sometime between midnight or so last night and 8:30 this morning when I looked outside. Or at least 8 inches anyway. And it's still falling. It was over the top of my boots. It took me half an hour to brush George off, and I'd only driven about 10 minutes when I hit an icy patch, slid into a guard rail, mashed up the front driver's side of my bumper (though thankfully without damaging anything essential) and decided to turn around and come home.
So. Always winter...
And I am praying and waiting again for spring. I am clinging to the fact that even in the deep, still falling snow the sparrows and chickadees were singing, trying to announce a change of season to the heavens. I'm finding the tiniest bit of hope in that.
And now, I'm off to lay in a bath. I haven't quite recovered from the new onslaught of winter. And I haven't quite recovered from the onslaught of adrenaline from another car accident of sorts this morning. I'm cold, and feeling shaky again. So, I'm going to try and treat myself a bit gently, and just relax for a while.
More thoughts to come... there are blog posts brewing...
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Saturday...
It's been a full day.
sort of.
I haven't had much energy these days, so being out for several hours feels like a full day to me!
My roommate L. and I went to the farmer's market this morning, and then to a local mall. We followed that up with a quick trip to a craft shop, and a stop at two grocery stores. We're not good at doing errands quickly. We get distracted because we window shop for the same things. What should have been a couple of hours of errands took close to five!
But we did have fun.
Then we came home, and had lunch at 3:00 or so.
Following which I went back to bed. A couple hours of napping, and I was ready for dinner.
We'd picked up a roasted chicken earlier, and L. was generous enough to make roasted potatoes, yam and carrots, and we settled in for dinner.
A bit later we're going out to see a dance performance that a friend of mine is part of at the university tonight.
I need to write a proper post later. There are things I'm thinking about. But for the moment, I'm tired, and I need to get dressed nicely to watch a dance show!
sort of.
I haven't had much energy these days, so being out for several hours feels like a full day to me!
My roommate L. and I went to the farmer's market this morning, and then to a local mall. We followed that up with a quick trip to a craft shop, and a stop at two grocery stores. We're not good at doing errands quickly. We get distracted because we window shop for the same things. What should have been a couple of hours of errands took close to five!
But we did have fun.
Then we came home, and had lunch at 3:00 or so.
Following which I went back to bed. A couple hours of napping, and I was ready for dinner.
We'd picked up a roasted chicken earlier, and L. was generous enough to make roasted potatoes, yam and carrots, and we settled in for dinner.
A bit later we're going out to see a dance performance that a friend of mine is part of at the university tonight.
I need to write a proper post later. There are things I'm thinking about. But for the moment, I'm tired, and I need to get dressed nicely to watch a dance show!
I Am Yours - Misty Edwards
Misty Edwards' music has been with me fairly constantly, speaking to and encouraging and challenging my heart through this year.
The lyrics, seen below, of this song, speak deeply to my heart right now.
They reflect the prayer of my heart:
And when you feel so far away, still I'm hear to say I am yours. I'm weary, and hungry, and longing and waiting, but I'm yours. No turning around. You called my name, and I'm yours. I vowed myself to You and I can't go back. So I'm waiting here again, for you to come, to bring freedom and healing.
I Am Yours (Misty Edwards)
Though I sleep, my heart is awake
Though It's night, on You I wait
It's been a long night, and I am weary
It's been a long time, and I am hungry
So I'll wait in the stillness again
I'll wait in the quiet again
For when I heard Your voice
When You said my name
When I heard Your voice
My heart it yearned
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
In the middle of the night
My heart it yearns
Though You're far away, still I'm here to say
I am Yours, I am Yours
And when You feel so far away, still I am here to say
I am Yours, I am Yours
And I've made my vows, no turning around
I burn the bridges that can't be found
For when I heard Your voice
And You said my name
When I heard Your voice
My heart it yearned
For You.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Spring
It's the first official day of spring today, and just for a change, the weather here has decided to give us a temporary reprieve and reflect that a bit.
I'm praying still for the coming of spring in my life, and in the lives of so many I care about.
I'm praying still for the coming of spring in my life, and in the lives of so many I care about.
Lent: Thoughts on Forgiveness
I continue plodding (because most days it definitely feels like plodding) through Lent, and the variety of readings I've committed to doing in hopes of creating soil in my heart that is ready for the coming of spring and resurrection and new growth.
My dear friend, Shelley, mailed me a little book of Lenten readings just at the end of Lent last year, and it sat on my shelf through this past rather difficult year, waiting for Lent to once again come in force (because, for me, in many ways, that period of Lent from last year feels as if it never ended, as if I'm still waiting for that arrival of Easter and Resurrection and new life.). On Ash Wednesday, I picked the book up (it's titled "Journeying Through Lent with Luke" by Nancy Koester) and began to read, and the words have often touched raw spots in my heart as the season has moved on.
Each week of readings is built around a theme, drawing scriptures from Luke's Gospel, and reflecting on that theme over the course of the week. This week's theme is "Forgiveness". Not an easy topic by any stretch. Certainly one I've had many conversations about in this last year (and really all through this journey of following Christ). But I'm not sure any words on forgiveness have hit me as deeply as the ones from last night.
The reading for the night was Luke 17:3-5, where Jesus speaks on forgiving others over and over again. The author begins by telling the story of an unusual gift a friend had once given her - a collection of bullets from the American civil war, gathered at various battlefields around the country. She talks for a few minutes about the bullets and the thousands who died, and I will pick up near the end of those thoughts:
Still other men lived out their years with lead bullets in their bodies, the lead spreading its slow poison long after the war was over.
Something like this happens when people carry with them the injuries they have suffered at the hands of others. The "bullet" continues to do harm long after the injury is inflicted. Forgiveness does not overlook what has happened, nor does it trivialize the injury by saying, "It's OKAY; it's nothing, really." Forgiveness simply means that we no longer house "the bullet" and allow its poison to spread, in other words, we let God remove "the bullet." Of course, such "surgery" can be painful, but it is the first step toward healing.
This was, perhaps, the most striking and vivid image I have ever encountered of the dangers of unforgiveness, and it is one that I will need to spend some time prayerfully pondering, asking the Lord to reveal those "bullets" that are leaching poison in my life.
I have often struggled with the idea that forgiveness is something that must be passively offered, without the offending person being held accountable. In that, I liked the following thought that the author also drew out of the scripture for the day:
...First, Jesus says, "If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender" (17:3). Rebuke, strong reprimand, is the opposite of wimpy imitations of forgiveness in which people gloss over the hurt, murmuring that it's okay when it's not and never will be. Without a rebuke of some kind, the problem will not be named and offenses will continue to pile up. So Jesus tells us that we must speak plainly, not just suffer in silence. The rebuke gives the offender a moment of truth, a chance to change...
She goes on to talk about the need to continually offer forgiveness as Jesus commanded, and this too, I struggle with. My rather human need for "justice" says that at some point there must be a moment when the offense has been repeated so many times that it finally becomes unforgiveable. And then, then I am reminded of the fact that it is Lent, and we are moving towards the remembrance of a savior who hung on a cross undeservingly, to offer forgiveness for my own many sins, and I pray again that he will help me to offer that same forgiveness to others.
My dear friend, Shelley, mailed me a little book of Lenten readings just at the end of Lent last year, and it sat on my shelf through this past rather difficult year, waiting for Lent to once again come in force (because, for me, in many ways, that period of Lent from last year feels as if it never ended, as if I'm still waiting for that arrival of Easter and Resurrection and new life.). On Ash Wednesday, I picked the book up (it's titled "Journeying Through Lent with Luke" by Nancy Koester) and began to read, and the words have often touched raw spots in my heart as the season has moved on.
Each week of readings is built around a theme, drawing scriptures from Luke's Gospel, and reflecting on that theme over the course of the week. This week's theme is "Forgiveness". Not an easy topic by any stretch. Certainly one I've had many conversations about in this last year (and really all through this journey of following Christ). But I'm not sure any words on forgiveness have hit me as deeply as the ones from last night.
The reading for the night was Luke 17:3-5, where Jesus speaks on forgiving others over and over again. The author begins by telling the story of an unusual gift a friend had once given her - a collection of bullets from the American civil war, gathered at various battlefields around the country. She talks for a few minutes about the bullets and the thousands who died, and I will pick up near the end of those thoughts:
Still other men lived out their years with lead bullets in their bodies, the lead spreading its slow poison long after the war was over.
Something like this happens when people carry with them the injuries they have suffered at the hands of others. The "bullet" continues to do harm long after the injury is inflicted. Forgiveness does not overlook what has happened, nor does it trivialize the injury by saying, "It's OKAY; it's nothing, really." Forgiveness simply means that we no longer house "the bullet" and allow its poison to spread, in other words, we let God remove "the bullet." Of course, such "surgery" can be painful, but it is the first step toward healing.
This was, perhaps, the most striking and vivid image I have ever encountered of the dangers of unforgiveness, and it is one that I will need to spend some time prayerfully pondering, asking the Lord to reveal those "bullets" that are leaching poison in my life.
I have often struggled with the idea that forgiveness is something that must be passively offered, without the offending person being held accountable. In that, I liked the following thought that the author also drew out of the scripture for the day:
...First, Jesus says, "If another disciple sins, you must rebuke the offender" (17:3). Rebuke, strong reprimand, is the opposite of wimpy imitations of forgiveness in which people gloss over the hurt, murmuring that it's okay when it's not and never will be. Without a rebuke of some kind, the problem will not be named and offenses will continue to pile up. So Jesus tells us that we must speak plainly, not just suffer in silence. The rebuke gives the offender a moment of truth, a chance to change...
She goes on to talk about the need to continually offer forgiveness as Jesus commanded, and this too, I struggle with. My rather human need for "justice" says that at some point there must be a moment when the offense has been repeated so many times that it finally becomes unforgiveable. And then, then I am reminded of the fact that it is Lent, and we are moving towards the remembrance of a savior who hung on a cross undeservingly, to offer forgiveness for my own many sins, and I pray again that he will help me to offer that same forgiveness to others.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Childhood choices... and my heart like a stable...
This post on Hope's blog caught at me the other day. Lots of "childhood choices" on that list that I'm going to need to think through in the coming days.
Annie closed a post with this quote the other day, that also struck me deeply, mostly because I understand the feeling of a soul very much like a stable these days:
“I myself am very glad that the divine child was born in a stable, because my soul is very much like a stable, filled with strange unsatisfied longings, with guilt and animal-like impulses, tormented by anxiety, inadequacy and pain. If the holy One could be born in such a place, the One can be born in me also. I am not excluded.”
-Morton Kelsey
Annie closed a post with this quote the other day, that also struck me deeply, mostly because I understand the feeling of a soul very much like a stable these days:
“I myself am very glad that the divine child was born in a stable, because my soul is very much like a stable, filled with strange unsatisfied longings, with guilt and animal-like impulses, tormented by anxiety, inadequacy and pain. If the holy One could be born in such a place, the One can be born in me also. I am not excluded.”
-Morton Kelsey
Last Night and This Morning
I spent last night moving slowly.
This week has taken a toll that I find hard to understand for myself, never mind explain here, and I was quite spent by the time I arrived home from work last night.
I traded a few emails with a friend, and listened to some music she suggested, and smiled at some shared "double-take" moments.
I showered, and painted my toenails and fingernails.
I ate dinner.
When we got in the car yesterday morning, my roommate and I realized that we'd failed to take meat out of the freezer for our dinner. Knowing how exhausted I was, she generously offered to make soup that evening if I would take the meat out of the freezer to start thawing when I got home from work (since I almost always get home first). She makes this soup with ground beef and orzo, with lots of vegetables and a tomato base that I actually really like. We laughed as we ate it with toasted fresh Italian bread from a local grocery store, that I like this one so much. Because generally, I don't like anything with ground beef (too many years of eating a wide variety of "we can't afford real meat" casseroles growing up), tomato is definitely not one of my favorite flavors (though it's better cooked than raw!), and as a rule I'm not a big fan of soup!
And, I took the time to watch "America's Next Top Model". Yes, I know, not exactly intelligent fare. And, to be honest, I feel a bit guilty for finding amusement in the cattiness and failure of others. But it's also just a little bit fun to mock the ridiculous nature of it all. And, since I'm interested in photography, I do genuinely enjoy seeing the results of the various photo shoots.
All that, and I managed to make it through my nightly Lenten readings (a challenge these days due to a lot of internal factors) and still be in bed before 11 pm. Plus, thanks to the "miracle drugs" (and by drugs I mean a natural supplement that is working surprisingly well for me) I've been taking for a while now, I actually got some sleep.
Sleep is a very good thing in my world. Especially when it's sleep that is mostly dreamless. At the very least, sleeping a bit more means that I don't wake up with the nausea that sometimes dogs my days. Which means it is a far easier thing for me to focus at work, and to at least reach for a relatively positive outlook on the day. To find the moments of joy in the midst of the hard times, instead of being overwhelmed completely by the hard times.
This week has taken a toll that I find hard to understand for myself, never mind explain here, and I was quite spent by the time I arrived home from work last night.
I traded a few emails with a friend, and listened to some music she suggested, and smiled at some shared "double-take" moments.
I showered, and painted my toenails and fingernails.
I ate dinner.
When we got in the car yesterday morning, my roommate and I realized that we'd failed to take meat out of the freezer for our dinner. Knowing how exhausted I was, she generously offered to make soup that evening if I would take the meat out of the freezer to start thawing when I got home from work (since I almost always get home first). She makes this soup with ground beef and orzo, with lots of vegetables and a tomato base that I actually really like. We laughed as we ate it with toasted fresh Italian bread from a local grocery store, that I like this one so much. Because generally, I don't like anything with ground beef (too many years of eating a wide variety of "we can't afford real meat" casseroles growing up), tomato is definitely not one of my favorite flavors (though it's better cooked than raw!), and as a rule I'm not a big fan of soup!
And, I took the time to watch "America's Next Top Model". Yes, I know, not exactly intelligent fare. And, to be honest, I feel a bit guilty for finding amusement in the cattiness and failure of others. But it's also just a little bit fun to mock the ridiculous nature of it all. And, since I'm interested in photography, I do genuinely enjoy seeing the results of the various photo shoots.
All that, and I managed to make it through my nightly Lenten readings (a challenge these days due to a lot of internal factors) and still be in bed before 11 pm. Plus, thanks to the "miracle drugs" (and by drugs I mean a natural supplement that is working surprisingly well for me) I've been taking for a while now, I actually got some sleep.
Sleep is a very good thing in my world. Especially when it's sleep that is mostly dreamless. At the very least, sleeping a bit more means that I don't wake up with the nausea that sometimes dogs my days. Which means it is a far easier thing for me to focus at work, and to at least reach for a relatively positive outlook on the day. To find the moments of joy in the midst of the hard times, instead of being overwhelmed completely by the hard times.
Coming together in Poverty (On Community)
A couple sentences in yesterday's email from the Henri Nouwen society struck me, and I thought I'd share. Actually, on second thought, after re-reading, I'll share the whole thing, because it's all good stuff, and just put the sentences that really struck me in italics.
Coming Together in Poverty
There are many forms of poverty: economic poverty, physical poverty, emotional poverty, mental poverty, and spiritual poverty. As long as we relate primarily to each other's wealth, health, stability, intelligence, and soul strength, we cannot develop true community. Community is not a talent show in which we dazzle the world with our combined gifts. Community is the place where our poverty is acknowledged and accepted, not as something we have to learn to cope with as best as we can but as a true source of new life.
Living community in whatever form - family, parish, twelve-step program, or intentional community - challenges us to come together at the place of our poverty, believing that there we can reveal our richness.
Coming Together in Poverty
There are many forms of poverty: economic poverty, physical poverty, emotional poverty, mental poverty, and spiritual poverty. As long as we relate primarily to each other's wealth, health, stability, intelligence, and soul strength, we cannot develop true community. Community is not a talent show in which we dazzle the world with our combined gifts. Community is the place where our poverty is acknowledged and accepted, not as something we have to learn to cope with as best as we can but as a true source of new life.
Living community in whatever form - family, parish, twelve-step program, or intentional community - challenges us to come together at the place of our poverty, believing that there we can reveal our richness.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
St. Patrick re-visited (my heart cries out in unison)
I quoted the Breastplate prayer of St. Patrick at some length yesterday, but am struck by it again this morning in the midst of some deep struggle with darkness. I've put in italics the parts that my heart is especially crying out. In the midst of struggling with feeling oh so bound by darkness, my heart is clinging to the idea of biding myself to Jesus.
I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.
Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.
Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.
I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.
Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.
Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Is it really only Tuesday?
It seems like the last several days have been full, and I find myself asking if it's possible that it's really only Tuesday evening, that there is still a lot of week left to go.
The week has included the following:
The week has included the following:
- news that a routine surgery for someone I know has turned out to be significantly more complicated, and that instead of the expected day surgery and quick recovery that was planned when he went in last week, he will be hospitalized for at least 10 days or so still.
- the news that someone (who I knew thought this way, but didn't think would be brazen enough to actually come out and say it) considers themselves to be a "better Christian" than a number of us who work with them.
- a prayer time at the office, which was surprising in it's sincerity, and surprising in who chose to attend
- a long list of "to do's"
- some complications that mean that next week at the office will likely be a bit hairy
- the usual list of things that are on my mind and heart, and generally causing hurt
- a much felt cry for freedom
- learning that my credit card had been compromised, and needed to be canceled and replaced
- some cleaning
- watching a conversation develop between two connections from long ago
- and so much more.
The Breastplate Prayer
I've loved St. Patrick's Breastplate prayer for years, and it seems appropriate to share it here on St. Patrick's Day!
I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
I bind this day to me for ever,
By power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan River;
His death on cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;
I bind unto myself today.
I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the Cherubim;
The sweet 'Well done' in judgment hour;
The service of the Seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.
I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.
I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.
Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.
Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
I bind unto myself the name,
The strong name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
salvation is of Christ the Lord.
I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.
I bind this day to me for ever,
By power of faith, Christ's Incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan River;
His death on cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;
I bind unto myself today.
I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the Cherubim;
The sweet 'Well done' in judgment hour;
The service of the Seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.
I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.
I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, his shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.
Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.
Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death-wound and the burning
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till thy returning.
Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
I bind unto myself the name,
The strong name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
salvation is of Christ the Lord.
Not Breaking the Bruised Reeds
I was deeply struck by this thought from Henri Nouwen that arrived in my inbox today. Partly because I've talked often with a dear friend about the passage in scripture that says "A bruised reed he will not break" but also because, through years of depression, and again through this last year when life has been painful and messy, I've often been dismissed out of hand.
I know what it is to be "the depressed one" or the "broken one" whom everyone assumes has nothing to contribute to the world. The one whom God has forgotten, who needs to be made whole before she can be part of community again.
It reminded me too, to be grateful for those people who have seen beyond the woundedness and modelled the compassionate life and true community for me. People like James, and Shelley, my brother T and his girlfriend, and my roommates. So, today, I'm thanking them, and reminding myself to continue to see beyond the brokenness and look for the beauty in others.
Not Breaking the Bruised Reeds
Some of us tend to do away with things that are slightly damaged. Instead of repairing them we say: "Well, I don't have time to fix it, I might as well throw it in the garbage can and buy a new one." Often we also treat people this way. We say: "Well, he has a problem with drinking; well, she is quite depressed; well, they have mismanaged their business...we'd better not take the risk of working with them." When we dismiss people out of hand because of their apparent woundedness, we stunt their lives by ignoring their gifts, which are often buried in their wounds.
We all are bruised reeds, whether our bruises are visible or not. The compassionate life is the life in which we believe that strength is hidden in weakness and that true community is a fellowship of the weak.
I know what it is to be "the depressed one" or the "broken one" whom everyone assumes has nothing to contribute to the world. The one whom God has forgotten, who needs to be made whole before she can be part of community again.
It reminded me too, to be grateful for those people who have seen beyond the woundedness and modelled the compassionate life and true community for me. People like James, and Shelley, my brother T and his girlfriend, and my roommates. So, today, I'm thanking them, and reminding myself to continue to see beyond the brokenness and look for the beauty in others.
Not Breaking the Bruised Reeds
Some of us tend to do away with things that are slightly damaged. Instead of repairing them we say: "Well, I don't have time to fix it, I might as well throw it in the garbage can and buy a new one." Often we also treat people this way. We say: "Well, he has a problem with drinking; well, she is quite depressed; well, they have mismanaged their business...we'd better not take the risk of working with them." When we dismiss people out of hand because of their apparent woundedness, we stunt their lives by ignoring their gifts, which are often buried in their wounds.
We all are bruised reeds, whether our bruises are visible or not. The compassionate life is the life in which we believe that strength is hidden in weakness and that true community is a fellowship of the weak.
The Virtue of Flexibility
and again from Henri Nouwen...
The Virtue of Flexibility
Trees look strong compared with the wild reeds in the field. But when the storm comes the trees are uprooted, whereas the wild reeds, while moved back and forth by the wind, remain rooted and are standing up again when the storm has calmed down.
Flexibility is a great virtue. When we cling to our own positions and are not willing to let our hearts be moved back and forth a little by the ideas or actions of others, we may easily be broken. Being like wild reeds does not mean being wishy-washy. It means moving a little with the winds of the time while remaining solidly anchored in the ground. A humorless, intense, opinionated rigidity about current issues might cause these issues to break our spirits and make us bitter people. Let's be flexible while being deeply rooted.
The Virtue of Flexibility
Trees look strong compared with the wild reeds in the field. But when the storm comes the trees are uprooted, whereas the wild reeds, while moved back and forth by the wind, remain rooted and are standing up again when the storm has calmed down.
Flexibility is a great virtue. When we cling to our own positions and are not willing to let our hearts be moved back and forth a little by the ideas or actions of others, we may easily be broken. Being like wild reeds does not mean being wishy-washy. It means moving a little with the winds of the time while remaining solidly anchored in the ground. A humorless, intense, opinionated rigidity about current issues might cause these issues to break our spirits and make us bitter people. Let's be flexible while being deeply rooted.
An Honest Being-With
another challenging thought from Henri Nouwen. I particularly like the last paragraph.
An Honest Being-With
Being with a friend in great pain is not easy. It makes us uncomfortable. We do not know what to do or what to say, and we worry about how to respond to what we hear. Our temptation is to say things that come more out of our own fear than out of our care for the person in pain. Sometimes we say things like "Well, you're doing a lot better than yesterday," or "You will soon be your old self again," or "I'm sure you will get over this." But often we know that what we're saying is not true, and our friends know it too.
We do not have to play games with each other. We can simply say: "I am your friend, I am happy to be with you." We can say that in words or with touch or with loving silence. Sometimes it is good to say: "You don't have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you."
An Honest Being-With
Being with a friend in great pain is not easy. It makes us uncomfortable. We do not know what to do or what to say, and we worry about how to respond to what we hear. Our temptation is to say things that come more out of our own fear than out of our care for the person in pain. Sometimes we say things like "Well, you're doing a lot better than yesterday," or "You will soon be your old self again," or "I'm sure you will get over this." But often we know that what we're saying is not true, and our friends know it too.
We do not have to play games with each other. We can simply say: "I am your friend, I am happy to be with you." We can say that in words or with touch or with loving silence. Sometimes it is good to say: "You don't have to talk. Just close your eyes. I am here with you, thinking of you, praying for you, loving you."
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sunday in the Mountains
I spent yesterday with my roommate L., in the rocky mountains, in and around the tiny town of Banff.
The week and weekend were hard, and I badly needed a break from all that marks my current daily reality.
And yet, I'd wondered if the mountains would really be a better plan.
I fell in love with the mountains as a child. My dad taught me that God is deeply present in his creation. It's the lesson from him that I'm most grateful for. The mountains near my hometown have long been the place I've gone for freedom, for rest, for escape.
But this last year that's vanished a little, in the face of some challenging situations. The mountains have been very much a hard place to be, a place marked and defined by the struggles of the year. Sometimes still home to deep moments and healing, but very much bittersweet.
And so I set out to remind myself that this was the place I go to meet with God, to be restored. To be free, even if only for a few moments. I set out to take back some of the promises that have been mine since I was a child.
As I drove, we listened to worship music. We talked some, but mostly we listened and sang along. Church of sorts while sitting in George.
And Jesus spoke a little, in whispers, through the lyrics of some of the songs.
We'd borrowed my dad's very nice camera, and stopped at a number of spots along the way to take photos of creation, and of each other.
We laughed a lot.
We visited my favorite lake.
We shopped the main street of Banff, laughing and talking and looking at artwork.
We took photos everywhere we went. Just over 300 over the course of the day.
We visited the old and regal Banff Springs Hotel, had lunch in The Rundle Room, curled up in the antique furniture, near windows overlooking the terrace and Mount Rundle. We played more with the camera, and took cookbook quality photos of our lunch.
And then we went to the Hot Springs, and soaked tired bodies, while sitting in the pool with bits of snow still falling.
It was a good day. The much needed easing into freedom that I'd longed for. You can view some more of the pictures from the day here.
It was a good day, but re-entry into the reality of life proved far rougher than expected.
Within hours of arriving home, the realities that mark my life right now had come crashing in. The pain and the exhaustion and the tears. The longing for things that were, and things that are no longer. The realities of brokenness on so many levels.
It was an odd sort of dichotomy. A much needed day away, but a disconnect in returning. A surreal feeling. Like living two separate existences within the span of 24 hours
What was, and what is, and what will be?
It was quite the weekend.
Full of so many things that aren't quite right for public consumption. But I can give you the higlights (or lowlights) and you can ask for details over a shared cup of tea sometime if you like.
Last week was rough. And Friday, leading into the weekend, topped the charts on rough in many ways.
I spent Friday night after work crashed on the couch, catching up on favorite television shows online. I sort of refused to do anything "spiritual". So I laid there, and ate, and rested, and let my mind wander. I even engaged a little bit in my new favorite "decadent" past time. Since I haven't been reading novels in this last season, and it's hard to read non-fiction (which I need to read with a pen in hand if I'm going to concentrate and retain what I'm reading) in the bath-tub, I've been having a bit harder time figuring out how to really enjoy those long baths that I love. I don't find it all that relaxing to just lay there in the quiet, I just kinda find it boring. Reading a novel was the perfect way in the past to combat that... a nice escape into another world for an hour or so. So, thanks to the beauty of wireless internet, my new favorite decadent bath-time pastime is to put a nice clay mask on my face, prop my laptop on the toilet, and watch a TV show or movie while I'm laying in a bubble bath!
Saturday morning was one of those days when the impact of the week came crashing in. The harder things were deeply present, and I was immediately restless on waking. When my roommate emerged from the shower, I greeted her, and we decided to go out for breakfast. We'd already been planning to go grocery shopping, so we just tagged breakfast on the front end, and several other errands on the back end of the grocery shopping. We also decided as we were getting ready to head out for breakfast that we would spend Sunday in the mountains.
When we got home from several hours of breakfasting and shopping, we both settled in on the couch. I needed to sew some buttons on a jacket I'd just purchased, and there was a movie I'd felt prompted all last week to rent that I needed to start watching. Those of you who know me well know how sensitive I am to movies, how much the images can imprint themselves on my mind and heart, and how that can affect my already messed up sleep and dream life. This movie was one I knew would be difficult, and it hasn't failed. I made it through probably the first hour and a bit, and there are images seared on my heart. Things that make me aske the question, "how can we let humans do these things to other humans? how did we as a human race let this happen?" I'll go back over the course of the evenings this week and finish watching.
Saturday night was taken up with church. My brother and his girlfriend attend a local bible school, that is supported by the largest church in our city. Each year, for one weekend, the school takes over the services at the church. The president of the college preaches, the school's touring worship band leads, and the choir sings. I'd attended this weekend last year, and the Lord used it deeply in my heart in the midst of a difficult season, and I was more than willing to attend again this year. T. and L. (his girlfriend) are both part of the worship band and the choir and I would have attended if for no other reason than to support them. By special request of T. (who is not a big fan of the mega-church thing and has trouble enjoying leading worship there) I sat a few rows from the front (I'm usually a near the back of the church kind of girl!) so that he would see me and smile! (Choir etc. has been a bit of a challenge for he and L. this year because of a new director, and the teasing we've shared about that always shows on my face when I attend one of their concerts, and this makes him smile. Plus, when he's concentrating on the music, he sometimes forgets the smile, so having someone who he knows well smiling back at him can help a bit.)
I should have known, when my heart began to melt into tears in that "oh my, Jesus is close to me right now" way as the president of the college took the stage to give the message that I was in for it. But it's been a while since I've felt that in a church setting, and the first few minutes of his message, while interesting, weren't anything that caught at me. I'd stuffed the emotions back into place within me, when he began to read his text for the evening. My sharp intake of breath, and the shock on my face had my roommate, sitting next to me, and used to the fact that church can "mess me up," turning to check if I was okay. The text was one that had been playing incessantly in my head for the whole week, in the midst of a number of really challenging things. It was one that had been shared at a concert I attended, and had grabbed at me. I'm not yet ready to share what it was, or the things it is doing in my heart, but it was quite a shock to attend a large church on a Sunday night and hear that same text preached.
As for yesterday, I think I'll save that for another post. This one is getting lengthy, and I need to turn my attention to other things for a while. Suffice it to say that the day away in the mountains was lovely, but that re-entry to the city and the realities of my life right now was extraordinarily rough. I have some lovely pictures from the time in the mountains, and some thoughts on both the time away and on re-entry to share a bit later.
Full of so many things that aren't quite right for public consumption. But I can give you the higlights (or lowlights) and you can ask for details over a shared cup of tea sometime if you like.
Last week was rough. And Friday, leading into the weekend, topped the charts on rough in many ways.
I spent Friday night after work crashed on the couch, catching up on favorite television shows online. I sort of refused to do anything "spiritual". So I laid there, and ate, and rested, and let my mind wander. I even engaged a little bit in my new favorite "decadent" past time. Since I haven't been reading novels in this last season, and it's hard to read non-fiction (which I need to read with a pen in hand if I'm going to concentrate and retain what I'm reading) in the bath-tub, I've been having a bit harder time figuring out how to really enjoy those long baths that I love. I don't find it all that relaxing to just lay there in the quiet, I just kinda find it boring. Reading a novel was the perfect way in the past to combat that... a nice escape into another world for an hour or so. So, thanks to the beauty of wireless internet, my new favorite decadent bath-time pastime is to put a nice clay mask on my face, prop my laptop on the toilet, and watch a TV show or movie while I'm laying in a bubble bath!
Saturday morning was one of those days when the impact of the week came crashing in. The harder things were deeply present, and I was immediately restless on waking. When my roommate emerged from the shower, I greeted her, and we decided to go out for breakfast. We'd already been planning to go grocery shopping, so we just tagged breakfast on the front end, and several other errands on the back end of the grocery shopping. We also decided as we were getting ready to head out for breakfast that we would spend Sunday in the mountains.
When we got home from several hours of breakfasting and shopping, we both settled in on the couch. I needed to sew some buttons on a jacket I'd just purchased, and there was a movie I'd felt prompted all last week to rent that I needed to start watching. Those of you who know me well know how sensitive I am to movies, how much the images can imprint themselves on my mind and heart, and how that can affect my already messed up sleep and dream life. This movie was one I knew would be difficult, and it hasn't failed. I made it through probably the first hour and a bit, and there are images seared on my heart. Things that make me aske the question, "how can we let humans do these things to other humans? how did we as a human race let this happen?" I'll go back over the course of the evenings this week and finish watching.
Saturday night was taken up with church. My brother and his girlfriend attend a local bible school, that is supported by the largest church in our city. Each year, for one weekend, the school takes over the services at the church. The president of the college preaches, the school's touring worship band leads, and the choir sings. I'd attended this weekend last year, and the Lord used it deeply in my heart in the midst of a difficult season, and I was more than willing to attend again this year. T. and L. (his girlfriend) are both part of the worship band and the choir and I would have attended if for no other reason than to support them. By special request of T. (who is not a big fan of the mega-church thing and has trouble enjoying leading worship there) I sat a few rows from the front (I'm usually a near the back of the church kind of girl!) so that he would see me and smile! (Choir etc. has been a bit of a challenge for he and L. this year because of a new director, and the teasing we've shared about that always shows on my face when I attend one of their concerts, and this makes him smile. Plus, when he's concentrating on the music, he sometimes forgets the smile, so having someone who he knows well smiling back at him can help a bit.)
I should have known, when my heart began to melt into tears in that "oh my, Jesus is close to me right now" way as the president of the college took the stage to give the message that I was in for it. But it's been a while since I've felt that in a church setting, and the first few minutes of his message, while interesting, weren't anything that caught at me. I'd stuffed the emotions back into place within me, when he began to read his text for the evening. My sharp intake of breath, and the shock on my face had my roommate, sitting next to me, and used to the fact that church can "mess me up," turning to check if I was okay. The text was one that had been playing incessantly in my head for the whole week, in the midst of a number of really challenging things. It was one that had been shared at a concert I attended, and had grabbed at me. I'm not yet ready to share what it was, or the things it is doing in my heart, but it was quite a shock to attend a large church on a Sunday night and hear that same text preached.
As for yesterday, I think I'll save that for another post. This one is getting lengthy, and I need to turn my attention to other things for a while. Suffice it to say that the day away in the mountains was lovely, but that re-entry to the city and the realities of my life right now was extraordinarily rough. I have some lovely pictures from the time in the mountains, and some thoughts on both the time away and on re-entry to share a bit later.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Kidnapped Aid Workers Freed
A follow up on the story I've been following this week about Aid workers kidnapped in Darfur:
Seized Darfur Aid Workers Freed
Seized Darfur Aid Workers Freed
Saturday, March 14, 2009
This Jesus is present with me.
I've heard this sermon of sorts before, ages ago, but I came across it tonight while reading through the archive of a friend's blog.
I needed this reminder of who Jesus is tonight.
Today has been immeasurably hard, and I need this Jesus to be present with me. I needed to be reminded that it is this Jesus that is present with me.
Waiting for spring
Today has been a hard day emotionally. Caught in the midst of some difficult things. Waiting desperately for spring.
I spent the morning with my roommate, doing errands. We went for breakfast, then got groceries and did some shopping. It was a good time.
Then home.
I'm settled on the couch, watching a movie I've felt prompted and compelled to watch all week. "The Pianist" the story of a Polish composer and pianist, who was a Jew. I've only been watching for a few short minutes, but there are images that have already implanted themselves within me.
In a little while, I'm going to church. my brother is leading worship, and his choir is singing at a large local church tonight.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow my roommate and I are headed for the mountains. For a day of much needed rest.
I spent the morning with my roommate, doing errands. We went for breakfast, then got groceries and did some shopping. It was a good time.
Then home.
I'm settled on the couch, watching a movie I've felt prompted and compelled to watch all week. "The Pianist" the story of a Polish composer and pianist, who was a Jew. I've only been watching for a few short minutes, but there are images that have already implanted themselves within me.
In a little while, I'm going to church. my brother is leading worship, and his choir is singing at a large local church tonight.
And tomorrow? Tomorrow my roommate and I are headed for the mountains. For a day of much needed rest.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Kidnapped Aid workers
This story about 3 aid workers kidnapped in Darfur has caught my attention, since one of them is a nurse and artist from Canada. These three articles all touch on the same information, and obviously share a common source, but the different parts of each of them were quite interesting to me.
Location of Kidnapped Aid Workers Known
Montreal Nurse Kidnapped in Sudan
Africa Removed My Rose Colored Glasses
Location of Kidnapped Aid Workers Known
Montreal Nurse Kidnapped in Sudan
Africa Removed My Rose Colored Glasses
Learning to Fly
I liked this post on Just Sally this morning. It was a challenging thought about trust for someone who's been struggling to learn to trust this year.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
News, and a Word I'll Use
Two articles that caught my attention this morning:
Canadian Among 3 Aid Workers Kidnapped in Sudan
17 Oil Workers Missing off NL Coast
And, the Dictionary.Com Word of the day:
Tetchy: peevish, testy, irritable.
This is a word that I'll be able to put to use :)
Canadian Among 3 Aid Workers Kidnapped in Sudan
17 Oil Workers Missing off NL Coast
And, the Dictionary.Com Word of the day:
Tetchy: peevish, testy, irritable.
This is a word that I'll be able to put to use :)
The Spirit Listening in Us (Henri Again)
another thought from Henri Nouwen that challenged me as I considered some happenings of the year, and the deep desire of my heart to both be healed and carry healing with me to others.
The Spirit of Jesus Listening in us
Listening in the spiritual life is much more than a psychological strategy to help others discover themselves. In the spiritual life the listener is not the ego, which would like to speak but is trained to restrain itself, but the Spirit of God within us. When we are baptised in the Spirit - that is, when we have received the Spirit of Jesus as the breath of God breathing within us - that Spirit creates in us a sacred space where the other can be received and listened to. The Spirit of Jesus prays in us and listens in us to all who come to us with their sufferings and pains.
When we dare to fully trust in the power of God's Spirit listening in us, we will see true healing occur.
The Spirit of Jesus Listening in us
Listening in the spiritual life is much more than a psychological strategy to help others discover themselves. In the spiritual life the listener is not the ego, which would like to speak but is trained to restrain itself, but the Spirit of God within us. When we are baptised in the Spirit - that is, when we have received the Spirit of Jesus as the breath of God breathing within us - that Spirit creates in us a sacred space where the other can be received and listened to. The Spirit of Jesus prays in us and listens in us to all who come to us with their sufferings and pains.
When we dare to fully trust in the power of God's Spirit listening in us, we will see true healing occur.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Listening as Spiritual Hospitality
Another good thought from Henri Nouwen...
Listening as Spiritual Hospitality
To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept.
Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond. Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings. The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.
Listening as Spiritual Hospitality
To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept.
Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond. Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings. The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.
Comfort
When I got home from work last night I decided to wash the sheets on my bed.
And, at the end of the evening as I crawled into warm, sweet smelling sheets, I was reflecting on how wonderful the first night in freshly washed sheets always is.
I love the way the sheets are still tucked and taut, and you just get cocooned inside of them.
I want to be warm, but find that I'm not truly warm unless there's lots of weight in the blankets on top of me. I like that feeling of being buried in comfort and warmth.
I'm a fan of bedroom comfort, can you tell?
For me that means pillows. Mounds of them.
A long body pillow against the wall. It provides both insulation from the cold of the outside wall, and comfort options for leaning or sleeping against.
A pillow between my knees (or under my knees when I'm sitting propped up in bed). Mostly just because my back and hips are less sore if I do this.
Three pillows that go behind me when I'm sitting propped up. Two of these get sort of jumbled under my head while I sleep.
Last night pillows and clean sheets were high on the list of things that make me smile.
And, at the end of the evening as I crawled into warm, sweet smelling sheets, I was reflecting on how wonderful the first night in freshly washed sheets always is.
I love the way the sheets are still tucked and taut, and you just get cocooned inside of them.
I want to be warm, but find that I'm not truly warm unless there's lots of weight in the blankets on top of me. I like that feeling of being buried in comfort and warmth.
I'm a fan of bedroom comfort, can you tell?
For me that means pillows. Mounds of them.
A long body pillow against the wall. It provides both insulation from the cold of the outside wall, and comfort options for leaning or sleeping against.
A pillow between my knees (or under my knees when I'm sitting propped up in bed). Mostly just because my back and hips are less sore if I do this.
Three pillows that go behind me when I'm sitting propped up. Two of these get sort of jumbled under my head while I sleep.
Last night pillows and clean sheets were high on the list of things that make me smile.
News today...
These are the headlines catching my attention this morning:
16 Dead after German School Shooting
10 Die in Alabama Shooting Spree
Tanzania "Witch Naming" Underway
16 Dead after German School Shooting
10 Die in Alabama Shooting Spree
Tanzania "Witch Naming" Underway
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
More or Less Stressful?
I found this article on the current economic state's effects on mental health to be quite interesting.
Is it More Stressful to Get Laid Off or to Stay On?
Is it More Stressful to Get Laid Off or to Stay On?
Perpetual Winter (will spring come?)
Sometimes I feel like the season my heart has been existing in this last while is the season that Lucy found when she stumbled through the wardrobe into Narnia. Always winter, but never Christmas. Just the frozen deadness, without the celebration of new life.
The climate in Calgary and the Lenten season aren't helping with that. March is a teasing sort of month here, where we can easily have snow storms well into May. But in March, the temperature will begin to rise. We'll have a few days above zero, and then we'll be plunged back into the depths of the frozen climate that comes with our somewhat Northern location on the planet. It was -25 below zero this morning when my roommate and I left our house, without the windchill factored in. (I was so not made to live in this climate!) And Lent is a season that moves steadily towards suffering and death. A season that culminates in Easter, but must first traverse the pathway to the cross. A season that the early Christians marked as a way of preparation for baptism, a death of a more symbolic sort I suppose.
And so I find myself existing in a sort of perpetual season of winter, and I alternate between moments of calm acceptance and waiting for the restoration of spring and life, and moments of railing against it. Kicking and screaming as if my own discontent could somehow speed the healing work of God and match it and the changing of the seasons to my own preferred timetable.
I heard someone say the other night that "fasting teaches us that if we don't immediately get what we want, the world won't end." How's that for a challenge in a culture where instant gratification is king? And how much does my instant gratification need for "stuff" also extend to a demand that Jesus work and gratify on my instantaneous timetable as well?
I have watched these last few weeks as it has seemed that spring has begun to arrive in the lives of a few different dear friends. People who I know have walked long paths of winter and suffering. And I'm truly happy for them. But struggling at moments, too, with jealousy of them and anger at God. Wondering when my own spring will arrive.
On the other hand, as I mentioned to my roommate last night, I feel like these last few weeks, though it may not show on the outside of my life yet, I'm beginning to find my footing again. To find myself walking with Jesus, in the midst of the storm.
So maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of spring, far off in the distance. And that is just enough of a tiny hope to rest in.
The climate in Calgary and the Lenten season aren't helping with that. March is a teasing sort of month here, where we can easily have snow storms well into May. But in March, the temperature will begin to rise. We'll have a few days above zero, and then we'll be plunged back into the depths of the frozen climate that comes with our somewhat Northern location on the planet. It was -25 below zero this morning when my roommate and I left our house, without the windchill factored in. (I was so not made to live in this climate!) And Lent is a season that moves steadily towards suffering and death. A season that culminates in Easter, but must first traverse the pathway to the cross. A season that the early Christians marked as a way of preparation for baptism, a death of a more symbolic sort I suppose.
And so I find myself existing in a sort of perpetual season of winter, and I alternate between moments of calm acceptance and waiting for the restoration of spring and life, and moments of railing against it. Kicking and screaming as if my own discontent could somehow speed the healing work of God and match it and the changing of the seasons to my own preferred timetable.
I heard someone say the other night that "fasting teaches us that if we don't immediately get what we want, the world won't end." How's that for a challenge in a culture where instant gratification is king? And how much does my instant gratification need for "stuff" also extend to a demand that Jesus work and gratify on my instantaneous timetable as well?
I have watched these last few weeks as it has seemed that spring has begun to arrive in the lives of a few different dear friends. People who I know have walked long paths of winter and suffering. And I'm truly happy for them. But struggling at moments, too, with jealousy of them and anger at God. Wondering when my own spring will arrive.
On the other hand, as I mentioned to my roommate last night, I feel like these last few weeks, though it may not show on the outside of my life yet, I'm beginning to find my footing again. To find myself walking with Jesus, in the midst of the storm.
So maybe, just maybe, there is a hint of spring, far off in the distance. And that is just enough of a tiny hope to rest in.
Our Unique Call - Henri Nouwen
another thought from Henri...
Our Unique Call
So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.
Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.
Our Unique Call
So many terrible things happen every day that we start wondering whether the few things we do ourselves make any sense. When people are starving only a few thousand miles away, when wars are raging close to our borders, when countless people in our own cities have no homes to live in, our own activities look futile. Such considerations, however, can paralyse us and depress us.
Here the word call becomes important. We are not called to save the world, solve all problems, and help all people. But we each have our own unique call, in our families, in our work, in our world. We have to keep asking God to help us see clearly what our call is and to give us the strength to live out that call with trust. Then we will discover that our faithfulness to a small task is the most healing response to the illnesses of our time.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Coming Soon
I promise more words are coming soon. I just wanted to stop in today and say "Hi!"
It was a busy weekend, and stayed busy right up through tonight, but the rest of the week should be calmer. And I'm hoping to catch up on some things. There were some things from the weekend that I want to write about.
So that was it "Hi" and a promise of more coming soon!
See ya tomorrow!
It was a busy weekend, and stayed busy right up through tonight, but the rest of the week should be calmer. And I'm hoping to catch up on some things. There were some things from the weekend that I want to write about.
So that was it "Hi" and a promise of more coming soon!
See ya tomorrow!
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Taking it Gently
I find myself more worn out than usual today.
So I'm taking it slowly and gently.
I took myself grocery shopping this morning. Bought things like bread and cheese and fruit. Simple food. Staples.
I was joyful in the fact that the health food store had the item I was looking for. It means that I'll get some sleep for a few more months.
I got gas for George.
And discovered that something I'd thought my brother had broken has decided to work again. A sort of minor miracle that will save me some money unexpectedly. A little thing I'm thankful for.
Home and cleaning. Baking. Laundry. Resting. These are the things that have taken up the rest of the afternoon.
In a little while I'll shower, and dress up a bit. Put on make-up and feel beautiful. I'm working at a concert tonight. Spending some time with my brother and his girlfriend.
And then home and sleep. Work starts again tomorrow. Another long day. Other things on the agenda.
I'm trying to stay firm in a commitment to treat myself gently. To treat myself like I am worthy of care and being loved.
So I'm taking it slowly and gently.
I took myself grocery shopping this morning. Bought things like bread and cheese and fruit. Simple food. Staples.
I was joyful in the fact that the health food store had the item I was looking for. It means that I'll get some sleep for a few more months.
I got gas for George.
And discovered that something I'd thought my brother had broken has decided to work again. A sort of minor miracle that will save me some money unexpectedly. A little thing I'm thankful for.
Home and cleaning. Baking. Laundry. Resting. These are the things that have taken up the rest of the afternoon.
In a little while I'll shower, and dress up a bit. Put on make-up and feel beautiful. I'm working at a concert tonight. Spending some time with my brother and his girlfriend.
And then home and sleep. Work starts again tomorrow. Another long day. Other things on the agenda.
I'm trying to stay firm in a commitment to treat myself gently. To treat myself like I am worthy of care and being loved.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Lose an Hour
24 hours (almost exactly.)
1000 + kilometers of highway through very flat prairies on both sides of the border.
1 night in a cold hotel room.
1 visit to the "Great Falls" in Great Falls.
3 breakfast meals of varying quality at a fast food joint.
An attempt prior for a much nicer breakfast, but the restaurant had burnt down sometime previously.
1 visit to Target.
1 bright green long-sleeved t-shirt, on sale for 4 dollars, a St. Patrick's day special, adorned with the words "Kiss Me" and lots of shamrocks that will go straight to the PJ wear. (I love green, but I'm neither Irish, nor looking for people to kiss me just presently.)
2 border crossings.
1 surrendered, slightly mushy avocado.
A crowd of Mexican Mennonites.
Potato Chips.
Carrot sticks.
1 stop at Starbucks. 1 at Tim Horton's.
A long conversation about consistent ethics.
1 roommate with a visa and work permit for another year.
It was a long, somewhat tiring, but successful trip. Lots of laughter.
But now it's daylight savings' time, and I lose an hour of sleep. So, goodnight!
1000 + kilometers of highway through very flat prairies on both sides of the border.
1 night in a cold hotel room.
1 visit to the "Great Falls" in Great Falls.
3 breakfast meals of varying quality at a fast food joint.
An attempt prior for a much nicer breakfast, but the restaurant had burnt down sometime previously.
1 visit to Target.
1 bright green long-sleeved t-shirt, on sale for 4 dollars, a St. Patrick's day special, adorned with the words "Kiss Me" and lots of shamrocks that will go straight to the PJ wear. (I love green, but I'm neither Irish, nor looking for people to kiss me just presently.)
2 border crossings.
1 surrendered, slightly mushy avocado.
A crowd of Mexican Mennonites.
Potato Chips.
Carrot sticks.
1 stop at Starbucks. 1 at Tim Horton's.
A long conversation about consistent ethics.
1 roommate with a visa and work permit for another year.
It was a long, somewhat tiring, but successful trip. Lots of laughter.
But now it's daylight savings' time, and I lose an hour of sleep. So, goodnight!
Friday, March 06, 2009
Being Heard
I was reminded again this morning of the importance of being heard.
Work yesterday was enough to put me in a murderous raging kind of mood.
The first thing I did upon getting home (other than get dinner into the oven and started cooking) was to take a shower. I just felt slimy from the day I'd had and wanted nothing so much as to clean up and feel refreshed.
I think my roommates ask each night how my day has gone just because they know that there will always be a story that makes them laugh, and almost always a story that makes them grateful for their much "saner" jobs and coworkers.
After I commented on a particularly trying coworkers constant, just loud enough for me to have to hear, "ouches" and "ows" that have been filling my days this week, my roommate made a suggestion that made me laugh long and hard. She suggested that I start up a conversation at my desk with another coworker who is a good friend about how I've been reading in scripture lately about how I've been reading the book of Job recently, and I've been quite impressed with the way he suffered in silence! Or that we talk about how Jesus also suffered in silence! The memory of that comment has been buoying me and adding secret laughter all day.
Anyway, I arrived at the office this morning to discover that things had gotten worse, rather than better overnight.
Instant bad mood ensued, coming on the heels of a night where I'd slept even less than usual, and had dealt with several restless, emotional, and frightening dreams.
It's worse this week because I've been praying and trying harder than usual to be patient with this particular person and situation, but the last two days I hit my breaking point. My facebook status last night briefly read "Lisa mostly has the patience to deal with it, but sometimes contemplates justifiable homicide."
And then I was reminded of how nice it was to be heard. One long and very necessary conversation with my boss later, and I'm feeling better about the situation. Not entirely optimistic, because I've been down this road at least once a month for the last year, but encouraged that my boss at least is aware of what has been going on, and is nearly as frustrated with the lack of movement in the situation as I am.
So, here's hoping for better things in the coming weeks.
As for me, I'm celebrating that it's Friday and that means I'm wearing jeans at the office, and, that because of my quick overnight trip to Montana, I'm leaving the office an hour earlier than usual today (time I made up by coming in early two mornings this week, but still a fantastic thought after a trying week.) It's the weekend, and that's almost always worth smiling about!
Work yesterday was enough to put me in a murderous raging kind of mood.
The first thing I did upon getting home (other than get dinner into the oven and started cooking) was to take a shower. I just felt slimy from the day I'd had and wanted nothing so much as to clean up and feel refreshed.
I think my roommates ask each night how my day has gone just because they know that there will always be a story that makes them laugh, and almost always a story that makes them grateful for their much "saner" jobs and coworkers.
After I commented on a particularly trying coworkers constant, just loud enough for me to have to hear, "ouches" and "ows" that have been filling my days this week, my roommate made a suggestion that made me laugh long and hard. She suggested that I start up a conversation at my desk with another coworker who is a good friend about how I've been reading in scripture lately about how I've been reading the book of Job recently, and I've been quite impressed with the way he suffered in silence! Or that we talk about how Jesus also suffered in silence! The memory of that comment has been buoying me and adding secret laughter all day.
Anyway, I arrived at the office this morning to discover that things had gotten worse, rather than better overnight.
Instant bad mood ensued, coming on the heels of a night where I'd slept even less than usual, and had dealt with several restless, emotional, and frightening dreams.
It's worse this week because I've been praying and trying harder than usual to be patient with this particular person and situation, but the last two days I hit my breaking point. My facebook status last night briefly read "Lisa mostly has the patience to deal with it, but sometimes contemplates justifiable homicide."
And then I was reminded of how nice it was to be heard. One long and very necessary conversation with my boss later, and I'm feeling better about the situation. Not entirely optimistic, because I've been down this road at least once a month for the last year, but encouraged that my boss at least is aware of what has been going on, and is nearly as frustrated with the lack of movement in the situation as I am.
So, here's hoping for better things in the coming weeks.
As for me, I'm celebrating that it's Friday and that means I'm wearing jeans at the office, and, that because of my quick overnight trip to Montana, I'm leaving the office an hour earlier than usual today (time I made up by coming in early two mornings this week, but still a fantastic thought after a trying week.) It's the weekend, and that's almost always worth smiling about!
Henri on Hospitality
I was quite struck by this thought from Henri Nouwen today.
True Hospitality
Every good relationship between two or more people, whether it is friendship, marriage, or community, creates space where strangers can enter and become friends. Good relationships are hospitable. When we enter into a home and feel warmly welcomed, we will soon realise that the love among those who live in that home is what makes that welcome possible.
When there is conflict in the home, the guest is soon forced to choose sides. "Are you for him or for her?" "Do you agree with them or with us?" "Do you like him more than you do me?" These questions prevent true hospitality - that is, an opportunity for the stranger to feel safe and discover his or her own gifts. Hospitality is more than an expression of love for the guest. It is also and foremost an expression of love between the hosts.
True Hospitality
Every good relationship between two or more people, whether it is friendship, marriage, or community, creates space where strangers can enter and become friends. Good relationships are hospitable. When we enter into a home and feel warmly welcomed, we will soon realise that the love among those who live in that home is what makes that welcome possible.
When there is conflict in the home, the guest is soon forced to choose sides. "Are you for him or for her?" "Do you agree with them or with us?" "Do you like him more than you do me?" These questions prevent true hospitality - that is, an opportunity for the stranger to feel safe and discover his or her own gifts. Hospitality is more than an expression of love for the guest. It is also and foremost an expression of love between the hosts.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Heading Out....
The blog will be quiet for the next couple of days.
Right after work tomorrow I'm heading out for a fast 24 hour trip to Montana. One of my roommates needs to cross an international border to activate the extension on her work visa, and my dad and I are driving with her.
I'm both totally ecstatic that my dad decided to join us, and nervous as well. Our relationship hasn't always been the best (though I know with certainty that he loves me), and extended time together is always a bit of a challenge for my heart. On the other hand, I love that he's coming because I don't love driving, and ten hours of driving within the span of 24 hours would be a bit much. He loves to drive. And we're taking his vehicle, which is definitely more up to a long trip than George.
So, I'll be home sometime Saturday, depending on things like road conditions and length of time at the various border crossings. But I probably won't be back to blogging until Sunday or Monday. The hotel we're staying at has free wireless, but I've decided to leave my computer at home. I'll catch up with all of you on the other side!
Right after work tomorrow I'm heading out for a fast 24 hour trip to Montana. One of my roommates needs to cross an international border to activate the extension on her work visa, and my dad and I are driving with her.
I'm both totally ecstatic that my dad decided to join us, and nervous as well. Our relationship hasn't always been the best (though I know with certainty that he loves me), and extended time together is always a bit of a challenge for my heart. On the other hand, I love that he's coming because I don't love driving, and ten hours of driving within the span of 24 hours would be a bit much. He loves to drive. And we're taking his vehicle, which is definitely more up to a long trip than George.
So, I'll be home sometime Saturday, depending on things like road conditions and length of time at the various border crossings. But I probably won't be back to blogging until Sunday or Monday. The hotel we're staying at has free wireless, but I've decided to leave my computer at home. I'll catch up with all of you on the other side!
Everything has influence
I’m struck this morning by how inter-connected life is. How likes and dislikes are influenced by those around you, and shift, based on time and relationships. How something can take on a totally different set of connotations depending on time and space and those around you.
Take for example (because this is what made me start thinking about this) the new U2 album. I downloaded it from itunes the other night and have been listening to it off and on ever since. I was thinking about how I was first introduced to the music of U2 in high school, while attending a young life event, when a speaker used the song “Peace on Earth” to illustrate his point. I was captured by the lyrics, and went out and bought the album the song appeared on, and I’ve been hooked on U2’s music ever since. (That, for those of you who are counting, gives me about a 10 year or so history of loving the music they put out.)
I’ve felt weird about listening to the newest album the last while though. Partly because some people who I know have also been listening, and stuff that they engage in has not always been the healthiest thing for me. Partly because some of the people who I know are listening are people with whom there is relational strain, and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to identify with them in any way.
And so I find myself having this ridiculous self-conversation to justify enjoying a new music purchase. Defending myself to myself. Saying things like, “I’ve liked U2 since long before I even knew so and so.” Berating myself for feeling at times so petty that I will turn away from something that could be beautiful simply because someone with whom I’ve struggled also thinks it could be beautiful.
It’s funny how it spreads, the connotations that things have. I’ve been accused off and on of using specific phrases in my day to day speech that are associated with various people I know (and again, people with whom there are tensions). And I’m quick to jump to my own defense, to deny association. “No, I was saying that long before I met so and so. I picked it up from my brothers.”
And I wonder at the way we’re interconnected. How we borrow words from each other, and how those we’re close to shape our language. And, when there is tension with someone, how quick we are to deny the shaping influence of that person, though if we’re honest, the tension, too, is shaping us.
So, I’m going to listen to the new U2 album. And I’m going to let my heart wrestle a bit with the memories and thoughts it raises. The reminders of relationships in which I long for restoration. The tensions it raises within my heart about these things. I’m going to let it expose the pettiness, and I’m going to work to have a heart that is less that way. And I’m going to refuse to let those tensions (which have stolen much from me this year in many ways) steal my enjoyment of one more thing I’ve loved.
Take for example (because this is what made me start thinking about this) the new U2 album. I downloaded it from itunes the other night and have been listening to it off and on ever since. I was thinking about how I was first introduced to the music of U2 in high school, while attending a young life event, when a speaker used the song “Peace on Earth” to illustrate his point. I was captured by the lyrics, and went out and bought the album the song appeared on, and I’ve been hooked on U2’s music ever since. (That, for those of you who are counting, gives me about a 10 year or so history of loving the music they put out.)
I’ve felt weird about listening to the newest album the last while though. Partly because some people who I know have also been listening, and stuff that they engage in has not always been the healthiest thing for me. Partly because some of the people who I know are listening are people with whom there is relational strain, and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to identify with them in any way.
And so I find myself having this ridiculous self-conversation to justify enjoying a new music purchase. Defending myself to myself. Saying things like, “I’ve liked U2 since long before I even knew so and so.” Berating myself for feeling at times so petty that I will turn away from something that could be beautiful simply because someone with whom I’ve struggled also thinks it could be beautiful.
It’s funny how it spreads, the connotations that things have. I’ve been accused off and on of using specific phrases in my day to day speech that are associated with various people I know (and again, people with whom there are tensions). And I’m quick to jump to my own defense, to deny association. “No, I was saying that long before I met so and so. I picked it up from my brothers.”
And I wonder at the way we’re interconnected. How we borrow words from each other, and how those we’re close to shape our language. And, when there is tension with someone, how quick we are to deny the shaping influence of that person, though if we’re honest, the tension, too, is shaping us.
So, I’m going to listen to the new U2 album. And I’m going to let my heart wrestle a bit with the memories and thoughts it raises. The reminders of relationships in which I long for restoration. The tensions it raises within my heart about these things. I’m going to let it expose the pettiness, and I’m going to work to have a heart that is less that way. And I’m going to refuse to let those tensions (which have stolen much from me this year in many ways) steal my enjoyment of one more thing I’ve loved.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
More on the car crash
there was another article on the car crash I mentioned here yesterday in today's newspaper. I am connected to the victims and families and their community via my place of work, and my heart goes out to this community
Crash Haunts Victim's Mother
Crash Haunts Victim's Mother
Sometimes you can't make it on your own
(yes, that is a shameless U2 reference in the title. I've loved their music for a long time, and downloaded the new album from Itunes last night. I forgot to update my ipod however, so now I'm looking forward to going home tonight and letting it play while I cook dinner.)
The world crashed in a little last night. You already know that if you read my previous post. I was angry and grieving. There have been some difficult things this week - anniversaries of sorts - that have underscored some deep losses of relationship, and the tenuous nature of others.
I was lonely and very, very angry. With God, and with a number of people. I think for the most part, it was a healthy sort of grief and anger. Better for it to find a bit of expression and release through writing and tears, than for that to remain within me, eating me from the inside out.
Some little things helped. An email from a new friend who saw the blog (I'll respond to you later today I hope). A conversation with my roommate. Reminding myself that it is okay to feel things (it still feels wrong at moments, to experience emotion, after all those years of depression so void of emotion. the negative emotions, in particular scare me, and I tend to bottle them instead of letting them exist, in fear of a return of the onslaught of depression.)
I can't make it on my own. And things animate and inanimate are helping this morning.
The world crashed in a little last night. You already know that if you read my previous post. I was angry and grieving. There have been some difficult things this week - anniversaries of sorts - that have underscored some deep losses of relationship, and the tenuous nature of others.
I was lonely and very, very angry. With God, and with a number of people. I think for the most part, it was a healthy sort of grief and anger. Better for it to find a bit of expression and release through writing and tears, than for that to remain within me, eating me from the inside out.
Some little things helped. An email from a new friend who saw the blog (I'll respond to you later today I hope). A conversation with my roommate. Reminding myself that it is okay to feel things (it still feels wrong at moments, to experience emotion, after all those years of depression so void of emotion. the negative emotions, in particular scare me, and I tend to bottle them instead of letting them exist, in fear of a return of the onslaught of depression.)
I can't make it on my own. And things animate and inanimate are helping this morning.
- the aforementioned email
- a genuine inquiry from my roommate (who has now seen me in some of the worst moments) as to my well-being tonight, and the offer of a listening ear as I drove her to the train
- a clarifying conversation with a dear friend
- a cup of tea
- smoked gouda cheese for breakfast (I know - that sounds weird, but I'm trying to eat protein in the mornings because it seems to helping with the mid-afternoon sugar crash and headache I often experience. Plus, I really like smoked gouda!)
- a beautiful, colorful fresh fruit salad that speaks of the promise of spring returning
- Amber Body Butter from the body shop
- Hemp lip protector also from the body shop. (And this one - I could rave about the brilliance of it. I get badly chapped lips - partly a side effect of our cold, dry climate at this time of year. I've only been using it for a couple days, but it works fantastically!)
- the promise of a nice dinner and a new U2 album to listen to tonight.
- a new top, purchased on the weekend, covered in an abstract design of black and purple roses against a white background.
- warm magic bags helping me with my seeming inability to regulate my own body heat.
Sometimes I can't make it on my own. And I'm thankful for the things that help me smile in the midst of that.
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