Okay, so this may be the most trivial post ever, but you have to head for your local grocery store and see if you can find these:
Two-bit Trail-Mix Soft Baked Cookies.
Cranberries, walnuts, sunflower seeds, coconut, rolled oats, with yogurt drizzle.
So good.
Seriously. RUN out and buy these. Don't walk. Run. You'll love them.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Hiding
I've been trying for days to come up with words for what I've been thinking and feeling lately. I can't yet. I'm completely exhausted - physically, emotionally, spiritually. Most of the time I feel like I'm just barely clinging to my sanity. Just talking about some of the stuff going on in my life in casual conversation is enough to bring me to tears. My whole body is tense and achy, and I'm wondering about the merits of many, many decisions I've made in recent moments. My stomach has rebelled, and I'm eating in tiny amounts, maybe once or twice a day (with some snacks thrown in to keep my blood sugar up.) The last two times I've spoken with my mom, (once on the phone, once in person) I've burst out sobbing and taken several minutes to stop. Fear is running rampant, and I'm not even sure how to fight it anymore.
I should probably take an evening off, but I may have to go somewhere to do that in a relaxing fashion, as sitting in my new house just makes me look at all the boxes that still need to be unpacked, the organizing that still needs to be done, and I can't sit with it all staring me in the face.
I'm clinging desperately to Jesus. He feels distant, and my peace seems long gone.
I'm working to find the positive and beautiful things in this, but right now I'm having a hard time seeing them.
At least I've talked to a couple people in the last few days who experienced similar things the first time they were out on their own. One friend admitted to me that she rang up a $100 plus dollar long distance bill the first week after she moved away to university.
So, eventually, I'll write everything down, it'll be cathartic, and I'll be free. For the moment, I'm hiding a little bit, even from myself.
I should probably take an evening off, but I may have to go somewhere to do that in a relaxing fashion, as sitting in my new house just makes me look at all the boxes that still need to be unpacked, the organizing that still needs to be done, and I can't sit with it all staring me in the face.
I'm clinging desperately to Jesus. He feels distant, and my peace seems long gone.
I'm working to find the positive and beautiful things in this, but right now I'm having a hard time seeing them.
At least I've talked to a couple people in the last few days who experienced similar things the first time they were out on their own. One friend admitted to me that she rang up a $100 plus dollar long distance bill the first week after she moved away to university.
So, eventually, I'll write everything down, it'll be cathartic, and I'll be free. For the moment, I'm hiding a little bit, even from myself.
Listening With Our Wounds
To continue yesterday's thoughts from Henri Nouwen, this arrived in my inbox this morning.
Listening With Our Wounds
To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing.
Listening With Our Wounds
To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Henri Nouwen on Woundedness and Healing
These were rather timely, given some of the stuff I've been going through lately. (more on that later today, or tomorrow.) Three bits from Henri Nouwen that arrived in my inbox over the weekend:
How Time Heals
"Time heals," people often say. This is not true when it means that we will eventually forget the wounds inflicted on us and be able to live on as if nothing happened. That is not really healing; it is simply ignoring reality. But when the expression "time heals" means that faithfulness in a difficult relationship can lead us to a deeper understanding of the ways we have hurt each other, then there is much truth in it. "Time heals" implies not passively waiting but actively working with our pain and trusting in the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation.
The Wounded Healer
Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not "How can we hide our wounds?" so we don't have to be embarrassed, but "How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?" When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.
Jesus is God's wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus' suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others.
Tending Our Own Wounds First
Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.
When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters.
How Time Heals
"Time heals," people often say. This is not true when it means that we will eventually forget the wounds inflicted on us and be able to live on as if nothing happened. That is not really healing; it is simply ignoring reality. But when the expression "time heals" means that faithfulness in a difficult relationship can lead us to a deeper understanding of the ways we have hurt each other, then there is much truth in it. "Time heals" implies not passively waiting but actively working with our pain and trusting in the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation.
The Wounded Healer
Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not "How can we hide our wounds?" so we don't have to be embarrassed, but "How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?" When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.
Jesus is God's wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus' suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others.
Tending Our Own Wounds First
Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others.
When we experience the healing presence of another person, we can discover our own gifts of healing. Then our wounds allow us to enter into a deep solidarity with our wounded brothers and sisters.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Getting Closer
My dad came with my new roommate and I to our new house for an hour tonight.
We had a couch stuck in our stairwell since Monday, propped against a wall, because we couldn't get it down the stairs when we moved a lot of the furniture on Monday. With Dad's help, we now have a couch in our basement.
He helped Jo - my roommate - assemble her dresser, while I puttered around doing a few little organizational type things.
Our kitchen is basically set up, and on Sunday we're going to move my bed, and I'll officially be living there. Crazy!
It's getting closer. Things are coming together. We have a few more purchases to make - things like spices, a couple organizational items, that sort of thing, but then we're down to simply arranging things the way we want and setting up housekeeping. Just at this moment, the fears have mostly taken a hike and I'm feeling very excited. (Not to mention relieved that this process has a foreseeable end!)
With that done, I'm going to take a shower. Jo and I are tagging along with my brother T. and some of his friends to a comedy club tonight, and have plans to take in the Stampede tomorrow for a few hours before the rodeo.
I also need to run a couple quick errands in the morning, so I'm signing off!
We had a couch stuck in our stairwell since Monday, propped against a wall, because we couldn't get it down the stairs when we moved a lot of the furniture on Monday. With Dad's help, we now have a couch in our basement.
He helped Jo - my roommate - assemble her dresser, while I puttered around doing a few little organizational type things.
Our kitchen is basically set up, and on Sunday we're going to move my bed, and I'll officially be living there. Crazy!
It's getting closer. Things are coming together. We have a few more purchases to make - things like spices, a couple organizational items, that sort of thing, but then we're down to simply arranging things the way we want and setting up housekeeping. Just at this moment, the fears have mostly taken a hike and I'm feeling very excited. (Not to mention relieved that this process has a foreseeable end!)
With that done, I'm going to take a shower. Jo and I are tagging along with my brother T. and some of his friends to a comedy club tonight, and have plans to take in the Stampede tomorrow for a few hours before the rodeo.
I also need to run a couple quick errands in the morning, so I'm signing off!
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