I feel like this has been an incredibly draining, but surprisingly okay day.
My Telus technician came this morning, and my Telus woes are now (I think!) over until September when I need to cancel my television service. (That should be fun...)
I spent a chunk of the morning writing, praying, doing emails, and crying. Pretty draining.
The panic last night hadn't dissipated, so I spent a large chunk of the day reminding that that it didn't get to hang out with me either. That always takes a lot of energy. Which isn't my strength on a good day right now, but is definitely a challenge when I've passed an almost sleepless night.
The driving tester was great. It was (almost) a fun process. The test was an hour long, and I passed! I'm now officially a fully licensed Alberta driver, with no conditions on my license. I have an interim license (basically a slip of paper) to prove it until my new license comes in the mail.
I bought myself roses - 2 dozen actually - because there was a good sale at the shop where I buy roses. I would have bought them whether or not I passed or failed, but it was rather sweet to celebrate with flowers.
I actually felt up to spending some time on my appearance, and for the first time in a while felt really pretty as I headed out to our family gathering. We were celebrating my Grandma's 80th birthday, and about 5 other birthdays as well. It was nice to feel that way again. My dad took a couple photos of me, and he'll email them to me, so that I can hopefully share them here.
The family gathering was less exhausting than usual too.
And there were some good laughs with my dad. He's on a kick right now where he's teasing me about being the only officially unattached sibling. He called me at work yesterday to update my contact information, and was teasing me about the blank for "spouse" in his contact database. I told him I was dating Jesus. He was teasing me again tonight about not securing a son-in-law for him, and I told him that other guys simply couldn't measure up. He laughed pretty hard and told me that my standards were too high. I asked him what father had ever told his daughter that her standards were too high? We laughed, and it was nice to just laugh with him. To not pay attention to all of the tensions in that relationship, and be able to laugh a bit...
And now, now I'm home, and absolutely exhausted, and needing to go to bed.
It was a good day. But very full, and very draining. And now I'm praying for sleep. And maybe some rain tomorrow, to cool the air in our apartment down a bit...
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Truth (Chopping or Pointing)
A few weeks back I quoted Anne Lamott here, saying, "You don't always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too."
That line has been doing a number of things in my heart these last few weeks.
I find myself thinking about a number of situations that I've been involved in over the last while.
About the moments when it seems that truth has been wielded only as a sword, meant to cut, to "do surgery", to separate flesh and bone. All worthy things in their own right, but only when done rightly, and with permission. I think particularly about the idea of surgery, and realize that a surgeon, no matter how right he is, no matter how much he knows that without surgery the patient will be unwell, cannot operate without the patient's permission. And I think about how I've encountered surgery as a spiritual metaphor, and wonder if perhaps we shouldn't pause as Christians to consider those on whom we're "operating" - to ask their permission before wielding sword or scalpel.
But I've found myself struck, too, by questions of my own.
I have a strong affinity for truth, and for justice. It's a part of who I am. It's something I learned from my dad. It's also something deeply ingrained within my being. And I've been known to speak with something less than caution and gentleness in the pursuit of truth or justice, especially when the place where they are lacking is something I feel deeply - something that creates brokenness, or causes anger to well up within me.
So I find myself asking if there are moments, in the midst of the same situations I was already thinking about, where I too, chopped instead of pointed. While it is never my heart to cause injury, have there been moments when I spoke with something other than a gentle love? Have there been moments, when, intentionally or not, my words caused injury? Were there moments when my words were heard as a striking blow, even if that was not the tone in which they were intended? Have I paused in the words I've spoken, written, emailed, or simply thought, to prayerfully let my words be tempered by grace and gentleness, so that they can point clearly and bring healing, rather than chopping and causing further wounds?
And, even if they were never spoken aloud, how many times has my heart wanted to chop at certain people or situations, certain that if truth could only be understood, all would be restored.
It's the spirit within me that matters, almost as much, if not more than the spirit without.
I tend to be fairly controlled in my speech. It's rare that I become angry enough these days to truly lash out. And yet, maybe it's the spirit in my heart that counts?
"You must have heard that our ancestors were told, 'You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment.' But I say, if you are even angry with someone, you are subject to judgment! If you call someone an idiot, you are in danger of being brought before the court. And if you curse someone , you are in danger of the fires of hell." (Matthew 5:21-22)
Jesus took it that one step further, and made it about my heart. And that's the hard bit.
I came across a lyric from U2's latest single this morning via a link on facebook. And I wanted nothing so badly as to quote a line from the lyrics in a chopping sort of way to someone I know. To throw it at the person in a "why can't you understand this" fashion. "How can you stand next to the truth and not see it?" Bono sings.
And in that moment, as I read those lyrics, and thought about another question I'd been pondering yesterday, another set of someone else's words that I wanted to lob back at them, my heart was drawn back to Lamott's words, "You don't always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too." And to Jesus' words in the sermon on the mount, which, in other versions suggest that anger or hatred hidden in your heart is equally sinful and damaging to committing murder. And to the words that follow the passage I quoted above, that talk about wherever it is possible being reconciled.
Just now, as I was pondering all of these thoughts, I was reading a different book by Anne Lamott, and was struck by another comment that rather deeply pertains to this pattern of thought. She writes, "I've known for years that resentments don't hurt the person we resent, but that they do hurt and even sometimes kill us. I'd been asking myself, Am I willing to try to give up a bit of this hatred?"
And so, I'm left with this. A confession that my heart is not always gentle, and that sometimes I want truth more than I want to be gentle and loving towards others. A desire for that heart to change. And a wondering how one goes forward when it has become clear that some things cannot be reconciled, but will end, and end painfully.
That line has been doing a number of things in my heart these last few weeks.
I find myself thinking about a number of situations that I've been involved in over the last while.
About the moments when it seems that truth has been wielded only as a sword, meant to cut, to "do surgery", to separate flesh and bone. All worthy things in their own right, but only when done rightly, and with permission. I think particularly about the idea of surgery, and realize that a surgeon, no matter how right he is, no matter how much he knows that without surgery the patient will be unwell, cannot operate without the patient's permission. And I think about how I've encountered surgery as a spiritual metaphor, and wonder if perhaps we shouldn't pause as Christians to consider those on whom we're "operating" - to ask their permission before wielding sword or scalpel.
But I've found myself struck, too, by questions of my own.
I have a strong affinity for truth, and for justice. It's a part of who I am. It's something I learned from my dad. It's also something deeply ingrained within my being. And I've been known to speak with something less than caution and gentleness in the pursuit of truth or justice, especially when the place where they are lacking is something I feel deeply - something that creates brokenness, or causes anger to well up within me.
So I find myself asking if there are moments, in the midst of the same situations I was already thinking about, where I too, chopped instead of pointed. While it is never my heart to cause injury, have there been moments when I spoke with something other than a gentle love? Have there been moments, when, intentionally or not, my words caused injury? Were there moments when my words were heard as a striking blow, even if that was not the tone in which they were intended? Have I paused in the words I've spoken, written, emailed, or simply thought, to prayerfully let my words be tempered by grace and gentleness, so that they can point clearly and bring healing, rather than chopping and causing further wounds?
And, even if they were never spoken aloud, how many times has my heart wanted to chop at certain people or situations, certain that if truth could only be understood, all would be restored.
It's the spirit within me that matters, almost as much, if not more than the spirit without.
I tend to be fairly controlled in my speech. It's rare that I become angry enough these days to truly lash out. And yet, maybe it's the spirit in my heart that counts?
"You must have heard that our ancestors were told, 'You must not murder. If you commit murder, you are subject to judgment.' But I say, if you are even angry with someone, you are subject to judgment! If you call someone an idiot, you are in danger of being brought before the court. And if you curse someone , you are in danger of the fires of hell." (Matthew 5:21-22)
Jesus took it that one step further, and made it about my heart. And that's the hard bit.
I came across a lyric from U2's latest single this morning via a link on facebook. And I wanted nothing so badly as to quote a line from the lyrics in a chopping sort of way to someone I know. To throw it at the person in a "why can't you understand this" fashion. "How can you stand next to the truth and not see it?" Bono sings.
And in that moment, as I read those lyrics, and thought about another question I'd been pondering yesterday, another set of someone else's words that I wanted to lob back at them, my heart was drawn back to Lamott's words, "You don't always have to chop with the sword of truth. You can point with it too." And to Jesus' words in the sermon on the mount, which, in other versions suggest that anger or hatred hidden in your heart is equally sinful and damaging to committing murder. And to the words that follow the passage I quoted above, that talk about wherever it is possible being reconciled.
Just now, as I was pondering all of these thoughts, I was reading a different book by Anne Lamott, and was struck by another comment that rather deeply pertains to this pattern of thought. She writes, "I've known for years that resentments don't hurt the person we resent, but that they do hurt and even sometimes kill us. I'd been asking myself, Am I willing to try to give up a bit of this hatred?"
And so, I'm left with this. A confession that my heart is not always gentle, and that sometimes I want truth more than I want to be gentle and loving towards others. A desire for that heart to change. And a wondering how one goes forward when it has become clear that some things cannot be reconciled, but will end, and end painfully.
Panicking Again
I had a rough night again.
It would seem that I'm a bit more nervous about this driving test than I realized, and that the panic I struggle with at times took advantage of that fact.
It's such a spiritual thing, an entity of sorts, this panic that comes on me, and for me, it tends these days to come when I'm not fully conscious. So, while I most certainly wasn't sleeping, I wasn't really awake either, and that's when the panic set in.
I spent the whole night worrying about something with a really simple solution. I was conscious enough to even be aware of the solution, but it wasn't until around 5 am that I was awake enough to realize what was going on around me and simply begin to take a little bit of authority and tell the panic it couldn't hang out with me. After that I got about 2 hours of disturbed sleep (it's been really hot here this week, and our apartment is brutally hot).
It frustrates me that this remains an issue, and that it can prey on me when I'm only semi-conscious and seem unable to combat it.
I'm thrilled that the ability to combat it has gotten much stronger when I'm awake, but finding the other incredibly disheartening at moments.
In the meantime, I spent the entire night panicked over something that can be sorted out with one (or two, depending on the results of the first one) phone call. So annoying.
It would seem that I'm a bit more nervous about this driving test than I realized, and that the panic I struggle with at times took advantage of that fact.
It's such a spiritual thing, an entity of sorts, this panic that comes on me, and for me, it tends these days to come when I'm not fully conscious. So, while I most certainly wasn't sleeping, I wasn't really awake either, and that's when the panic set in.
I spent the whole night worrying about something with a really simple solution. I was conscious enough to even be aware of the solution, but it wasn't until around 5 am that I was awake enough to realize what was going on around me and simply begin to take a little bit of authority and tell the panic it couldn't hang out with me. After that I got about 2 hours of disturbed sleep (it's been really hot here this week, and our apartment is brutally hot).
It frustrates me that this remains an issue, and that it can prey on me when I'm only semi-conscious and seem unable to combat it.
I'm thrilled that the ability to combat it has gotten much stronger when I'm awake, but finding the other incredibly disheartening at moments.
In the meantime, I spent the entire night panicked over something that can be sorted out with one (or two, depending on the results of the first one) phone call. So annoying.
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