You Ask, I Answer, Take 12

Before I dive in for the day, I’m putting out a plea for more questions. We’ve got about two weeks of twice weekly questions and answers left, and after that we’ll either have to end this feature, or I’ll have to scour the web and books for interesting questions to answer. I’ve been loving having questions and prompts to work from and I’d love to see this continue. So, ask me anything! There is very little that is off limits!

Today’s You Ask, I Answer question comes from Christianne again. She asked:

What do you like most about yourself?

To be honest, I cringed when I saw this question for the first time, and I’ve studiously ignored it on my list of questions until now!

I cringed because finding anything to like about myself has not been something that has come easily. I would venture that you wouldn’t know that I’ve struggled deeply with self-confidence and self-love if you simply met me on the street. You would have to know me well to see through the façade that I’ve spent years constructing. There have been times where I’ve actually found myself wishing that I could see in myself the things that others seemed to see – that I could believe them instead of believing that they were part of my carefully constructed façade.

Over the last number of years, as Jesus has worked in my life, that has begun to change, and I’ve begun to recognize that some of what others were seeing was truly me, and that many of the beliefs that I had about myself were in fact lies. That said, since my initial reaction to the question that Christianne posed was that there is not anything about me that I love, there is clearly still work to do, and healing to be accomplished.
So, what do I like most about myself?

Well, I would have to say my eyes, but in saying that, I want to clarify that I mean more than simply the physical feature of my eyes. I mean the idea of vision, and of seeing.

My physical eyes are on the green side of hazel, with lots of gold thrown in, and I inherited them from my father. I was the only one of the three of us siblings who inherited dad’s eyes. My brothers are blue-eyed like our mom. My eyes really are one of my favorite physical features, simply because I love their color. Green has always been a favorite color of mine, and I feel like my eyes are quite pretty.

When we’re talking about vision, my physical vision is unique. I’m nearsighted in one eye, and far-sighted in the other. It’s a prescription that makes the people who fit my glasses every few years scratch their heads in confusion, and double-check with me to confirm that those numbers ARE really what my eye doctor meant to jot down! It’s the result of astigmatism in both eyes and of a lazy left eye. You can use the left lens on my glasses as a magnifying glass! The lazy eye essentially means that my brain doesn’t properly process the signals it receives from that eye, meaning that I rely on my right eye as the primary source of vision. If we’re ever having a conversation, and you’re sitting to the left of me, you’ll probably notice that I’ll turn my head so that you’re included in the field of vision from my right eye, allowing me to see you more clearly. Because I primarily rely on one eye for my vision, the other major consequence is that I struggle with depth perception. I’ve learned to compensate quite well over the years, but it does mean that I’m perhaps a bit more clumsy than you would expect, and that I often misjudge and bump into the corner of a desk or the edge of a doorframe. It also meant that as a not very athletically inclined child in a family of athletes, I was hit in the face by many, many flying objects. Soccer ball, nerf dart, basketball, volleyball, floor hockey puck, ping-pong ball – all of these have hit me in the head or neck!  Sometime, you should ask me to tell you my unfortunate junior high ping-pong story!

The physical aspect of eyes and vision aside, I think what I love (and conversely probably hate at times) most is the way that Jesus has shaped my ability to see.  I've shared in this space before that I am deeply sensitive to the spiritual realm, often aware of atmosphere and things that other people never notice.  Among other things, I think because of my own experiences, I tend to be particularly sensitive to those who struggle with various mental illness and fear issues, and I often know that they are struggling with these things long before they share that with me in words.  It has taken a good deal of time, but I've come to see these sensitivities as a particular gift from Jesus to me, a way to be invited into prayer, and into coming alongside of others.  Learning to walk with this vision is something that remains an ongoing challenge for me, but, as I said, it is something I've come to see as a special gift from Jesus to me, something that allows me to see and experience a greater part of his heart.

Whew!  That was a long answer to a short question!  Thanks for asking it, Christianne.  I'm glad I finally sat down to answer it.  If any of you have any sort of follow up questions, as always, leave them in the comments!

Seeing Myself

This was today's Garfield cartoon.  It made me smile, and then pause to reflect just a little.  Because I haven't always been a big fan of myself.  In fact, it's something I still struggle with.  Just before I turned 25, a dear friend and I were talking about self care, and self image, and seeing oneself as the creation of God, and she assigned a task to me.  She asked me to make a list of 25 Things I Love About Myself.  Not things that connected to other people, but things that were actually about me.  The very idea made me cringe.  I finally sat down one Sunday afternoon a few months before my 26th birthday to complete the task she'd been strategically reminding me of all year.  If I'm being totally honest, I completed it partly because she told me I owed her an extra item for each birthday that passed before I completed the list, and the idea of needing even one more item when 25 was so hard was daunting.

I won't share the list here, as it's rather personal, but the excercise forced me to look at myself just a little bit differently.  To celebrate little things that are unique to the way God created me.  It's an ongoing process, and I was reminded of that process, of the progress that's been made, and the distance left to come as I read this cartoon this morning.  I think I'm going to print the cartoon out and stick it up on my wall at work, and at home, as an ongoing reminder that the quest to see differently includes seeing myself differently.

Daily 5 - Day 252

Today's Daily 5:

1. Coffee with a new friend today.  I love telling Jesus stories and this was a coffee (albeit one that was too short) full of them.
2. Back at house church tonight for the first time in about three weeks.  It was so good to be back.
3. laughing, eating, talking, sharing, and praying for and with each other
4. cuddling a baby
5. wearing my twirling skirt today
6. clean bill of health at the eye doctor (and I get to shop for new glasses!)
7. Having the freedom of a car to get myself to and from my appointment and house church and coffee date today
8. feeling like I am a welcome part of a community of believers again
9. Rob Bell teaching.  Really any Rob Bell teaching.
10. Filtered water.  I know I write this a lot, but I find myself incredibly thankful to have pure, healthy water readily available for drinking.

Eyes

I only arrived at the office about 40 minutes ago.

Today began a stream of yearly medical appointments that will occur off and on for the next week or two.

This morning was for my eyes.  It's time for new glasses again.  And, apparently, as I get older, when I'm not wearing my glasses, I have less control over my lazy eye.  This explains why it is now much more difficult to read when for one reason or other, I'm not wearing my glasses.

And so I'm here, with eyes rather sensitive to light, and an hour and a half of work time to make up over the next week or so.

But other than the fact that it is indeed time for a new pair of glasses, my eyes are apparently in good shape.

Which is good news - I'm rather attached to them.

I'm actually more cognizant of vision than ever.  Especially now.  I've spent parts of a few days this week searching for information on Alberta labor laws and the required adaptations necessary to accomodate disabled people.  Specifically blind people.  One of our staff members was told quite recently that they are most likely going blind.  And it's my job to find out what accomodations we're responsible to make for that, and how we can help her with that process.

So I'm grateful today, for another year's clean bill of eye health.  And I'm grateful to see... in so many ways.

He still sees a person

I mentioned yesterday that one of my brothers, J, currently works for a local social services agency, as an aide of sorts in a home for teenagers with severe emotional and behavioural issues.

On Tuesday, he was forced to restrain a teenage girl, to prevent her from harming herself or others.  In the process of restraining her (it took three grown men), she spat in J's eye, and bit him on his shoulder.

He's seen a doctor, who wasn't too concerned about the bite, and is getting bloodwork done, just to make sure she didn't transmit any diseases when she spat in his eye and bit him.  He's okay.

But his response is what struck me.

We traded text messages about the incident for a little while yesterday, and, after assuring me that he was fine, his response was this, "I understand the need to restrain her, but it still sucks, to have to hold her down, and to get spat at and bitten."

What struck me was this - he still sees a person.  Not someone evil who broke a lot of rules and is a danger to herself and others.  But a girl, who needs help.  A girl, who, while he'll restrain her to prevent injury to herself and others, is still a girl, and one who he regretted having to restrain.  He sees the person behind the issues in these teenagers, and that challenges me.

Because with that many issues, and after being bitten and spat at, I'd have a hard time seeing anything but a person who bit me and spat at me.

J. and I didn't get along for a lot of years, and it's only within the last year that we've begun patching together a tentatively functional friendship.  We are about as opposite as two siblings can be.

And yet, yesterday, with one line in a text message, Jesus borrowed his voice, and he taught me something.

He sees a person.

I think Jesus probably did too - when he was beaten and spat at and hanging on a cross.  He cried out "Father, forgive them, they don't know what they do."

I read a powerful post at Donald Miller's blog this morning about what kind of story you're telling, and what happens if you don't tell a good story.  And this morning I'm grateful for my brother, who told a story of love and acceptance.  Who saw a human being, and loved her, even when she bit him and spat on him.

Eyes to See...

I liked this quote on Hope's blog today:

"When we can see the image of God where we don't want to see the image of God, then we see with eyes not our own." (Richard Rohr, "Everything Belongs")

Being Seen

I have a friend who often challenges me to allow myself to be "seen". To let those close, and those not so close see who I truly am, to live from the deep places of my life. It is never an easy request when she asks it of me.


Sometimes I allow myself to be seen, and it backfires. I remember then why it is a challenge, and why it is so easy to wear masks. I remember why self-protection has become an artform.



This photo is of an impossibly deep moment that happened a few weeks back. My roommate unexpectedly captured it on film. I'm not going to put words around this moment for you. I'm not going to tell you why there are many important things unspoken in this photo. The photo both makes me cringe, and makes me smile from a very deep place. It exposes the deep places in me, and lets me be seen.


I'm thankful for the friend who continues to encourage me to allow myself to be seen.

I'm reminding myself of the need to continue to do that.


And I'm reminding myself that it is okay to let Jesus see me too. (He does anyway.) But from Him there won't be judgement, and my bruised heart needs that today.

New Eyes

I've been talking a lot with a friend about having "new eyes to see" lately. There's a post on that topic coming sometime in the near future. In the meantime, I thought you might like to see my actual "new eyes". My new glasses arrived this week. This first picture is me, with the old glasses - the one's I've worn for the last five years.



These are my new purple and orange eyes. I'm in love with them. But, they do clash a little with certain clothing. So, I also bought a pair of more "conservative" eyes.

These are my new "conservative" eyes. They're black. What you can't see in the picture is the hint of green in the frames, that catches the green in my eyes.

Breaking hearts and Wednesday Transit Adventures

This is one of those mornings. It is, indeed, a Wednesday!

I slept poorly again last night, waking often (though this has become the norm lately and I think I am once again adapting to functioning with less sleep).

I woke dry-heaving, and feeling ill, but knowing I needed to head for the office.

I managed to make it out the door and to the train on time, but no sooner had I climbed on the train then there was a passenger medical emergency that delayed us at the stop for an extra ten minutes, officially putting me on track to be late.

While the train was delayed at the station, a rough looking older man pushed his way on. Transit delays generally make the entire over-crowded train population grumpy, and this gentleman was no exception. He began to loudly expound upon his views on everything from the coming plans for expansion of the c-train line, and how ridiculous he finds them. As we finally got underway, he simply continued talking, holding a conversation with another woman who chose to agree with him at each turn. His comments became rapidly more ignorant and offensive, as he complained about the province of Alberta providing disaster relief a few years back to another province, “that’s money we paid in for our own. They’re not our own.” He then moved on to complain about money Stephen Harper has recently committed of African aid projects for much the same reason – it’s not caring for our own. Another woman on the train made eye contact with me at that point, saw her thoughts reflected on my face, and smiled. I made a comment to her about the necessity of providing aid to starving nations. As I glanced away, a beautiful black muslim lady found my eyes with her own, and smiled at me.

The gentleman, however, charged on with his diatribe. Content that he’d covered his political bases, he complained at the high cost of living in Calgary, regaled us with his adventures of living on or nearly on the street (he’d had a run in with the police yesterday), and flashed his Canada Pension check, boasting at the large amount he received. Not satisfied with that, he and the woman he was talking with began to discuss the cost of living in other Canadian cities in comparison to Calgary. Vancouver came up, and of course, this man had lived in Surrey a number of years back. His next comments became increasingly racist – horribly rude things, directed mostly at Muslims.

By this point, the anger in me was building. All I could think was how desperately I wanted to get off of that train and away from this man. (I also wanted to punch him in the nose!) There were two beautiful Muslim women on the train in close enough proximity to hear this gentleman’s comments this morning, and I found my heart breaking at his rudeness.

As I got off at my stop, and walked to the platform where I transfer trains, I was reminded again of the Sunday school lesson I taught a few weeks back. Of the question we posed, “What would make Jesus angry today? What would break his heart?” I paused as I began to see Jesus, standing between this man and the two women on the train. I saw him wincing as the words hit him like whips, tearing into him. And I understood, just a little bit more, the power of words. More than that, I understood, again, just a little bit more, the way the heart of the father breaks at things done and said without love. And my heart broke too.

Invisible - Thoughts on Seeing and Being Seen

I woke this morning out of an intense dream. I was in a room, with a few other people, and I was focusing on one person in particular – a friend who’s just returned from a mission trip to Asia. I wanted to hear about his trip. But what was really important to me in the moment was that he know that he was being heard and seen – that I wanted to hear not just the stories, but his heart. And everything about my response to him was working to communicate that. I sat patiently. I made eye contact. I asked questions, and listened, and waited for him to find the words to respond. I wanted him to know that he was being seen.

And then I woke, slightly confused. The friend I dreamt about is not one I would likely ever have that conversation with. He lives in another province, and we are friends in the sense that we attended the same church for several years (until he and his wife moved, and I left), and had conversations – but not in the deep heart sharing sense of the word friends.

And as I lay in bed, talking with Jesus and letting the dream simply wash over me (so much nicer when the dreams come on weekends, and I can take a few minutes to process them, instead of carrying their weight with me as I rush into my day) I realized how deeply I feel about this idea of seeing and being seen.

I have spent many years perfecting the art of invisibility – particularly in settings that involve large groups of Christians. I was always so different from those I was with, that I worked to not be noticed – to blend into the background. I hid my intelligence, my passions, my giftings – sometimes even from myself. And, to be honest, I think I even started to believe that I really was invisible – I was not seen, and therefore I had no worth.

As I thought about that concept, another friend came to mind. A dear friend. Perhaps what I appreciate most about her is that long before we became friends, she “saw” me. She went out of her way to greet me at church. If we were doing a group activity (I remember one particularly goofy one where we were supposed to find someone we’d not talked with very much and tell what our favorite childhood games were) she would occasionally seek me out. She made a point of letting me know that she saw me. When we finally found ourselves sitting next to each other in a pub after church one Sunday night, and beginning to share stories it was incredible. There, in that smoky, dimly lit pub, we bonded over stories of redemption. Later, we both admitted that we’d wanted to get to know the other for quite some time – I think she told me that I “seemed like someone who would have deep and beautiful things going on under the surface.”

And here’s something to admit – when someone begins to “see” me, I can quickly become selfish with their attention. I can demand it, and fail to “see” them, in return. This tends to mellow, as the relationship grows, but is a tendency I work to curb. I love to talk about myself – I notice this particularly in contexts where I am teaching. I am more and more conscious of the fact that instead of really listening to the students and young adults in the Sunday school class or Bible study that I teach, I am planning my next statement, telling my own story. I thought about that as I sat and taught this morning – a lesson on Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night “you must be born again.” I wanted to answer some of the questions I was posing to my students – to jump in with a fantastic story or point. Today, I somehow managed to successfully fight the urge, and I’m so glad I did. The answers grew deeper and more revealing as I looked at each girl as she shared. They let me into their lives in ways they probably wouldn’t have if I’d jumped in told a story or made a point.

These last months I have begun to “see” things more deeply again. Often I “see” things that are not immediately obvious on the surface. It’s a bit of a weird space to occupy. And yet, as I’ve begun to see more deeply, I’ve also struggled far more deeply with feeling invisible than I have in quite some time – ironic, because for maybe the first time in my life I am walking closely in relationship with several dear friends, and know on a deep heart level that I am not alone – that I am seen and that I am loved.

Here’s what I took from my crazy morning dream. I want to work on being a person who really “sees” others. I want to listen more and talk less. I want to hear the things that are being said, as well as the things that aren’t (which are sometimes far more revealing of the person, wouldn’t you agree?). I want to be a person who sees and listens and talks to Jesus about the things she sees and hears.

And yes, I want to be seen – to know that others see and hear the deep places within me, and that in spite of the flaws (like self-centeredness at times) they love and value me.

But truth – I think that it is more important to be a person who sees, than a person who is seen. Because a person who sees invariably invites others to see as well.