Lessons Learned in Class

The last few days I've been in an immersion class surrounded by nothing but the French language.

By choice.

I am bilingual, but needed a bit of rust knocked off my parlez-vous.  So - I asked for the course: five hours a week for ten weeks and an extra week spent full-time in class.

Source: through Google Images:
http://www.gorbould.com/blog/index.php/
2007/07/cbc-signage-of-the-apocalypse-french-class/

The first day of full-time was exhausting, really hard on the old grey matter - nothing but French for seven hours straight per day.  As time went on, I got a bit better. We all did. Our prof noted that fact today, and we looked at each other in mixed surprise and pleasure.  We'd noticed a change - but we thought it was just our imagination.  

I've noticed some parallels between this process of immersion and the new lifestyle I have been learning.  Both are exhausting and take a great deal of effort and concentration at first.  Both, when worked at consistently, get consistently better and the desired result comes more easily than before.  And both require commitment to keep those skills sharp.  

Errors can happen.  And they do.  But (especially with a good mentor) we learn from them, make a mental note, and then move on.  Though going through it might be difficult, there's nothing inherently complicated about the process.  

And the results are their own reward.  

A Long and Winding Road

Learning to live a totally new lifestyle, extinguish old patterns of behavior, and establish new ways of relating to God, to the self, and to others is an arduous journey.  It takes a long time.  There are many unexpected turns, many twists which make the road much longer than one would expect ... or want.  

Sometimes it appears as though I am covering much the same ground over and over again.  I didn't understand why this should be so. And then I saw a photograph of a mountain pass in the Swiss Alps.  The road seemed to fold upon itself so many times, covering what was essentially the same terrain, zig-zagging slowly up the side of the mountain.  

Source via Google Images :
http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/gallery/
2010/sep/18/motorbike-road-trips-drives

I plotted a more direct route with my finger.  But that route would have been far too steep for anyone to be able to travel it either by car or by bike, much less on foot.  

Then it became clear to me. My chosen path (the one I traced with my finger) might have been shorter, but it would have been impossible. The roundabout path though, the one which seemed to take too long, was actually achievable.  

Little matter that it is a long and winding road.  If the goal is to arrive at destination, the length of the trip needn't matter as long as it can be sustained from start to finish.  

Going over the same terrain can cement lessons learned and make them a permanent part of my psyche.  That it takes so long can develop patience and give an opportunity to enjoy the journey rather than rail against how far away from the end I am. 

Does this lesson the frustration of the moment? 

Sometimes. Sometimes not.  

But it does more to give me an understanding of the road I am traveling, and it allows me to keep from beating myself up for not being as far up the mountain as I think I should be by now. 

Occasionally people misunderstand my reactions, and I fall prey to the old pattern of caring what they think instead of knowing where I am in my journey.  At such times an off-handed comment from a family member or someone close to me can really hurt.  It doesn't necessarily mean that I have not progressed.  What it means is that I'm feeling my feelings as I feel them, and not pushing them down - which is a good thing.  It also means that I've temporarily taken my eyes off my journey and have been defining myself by what others might think instead of what I know - which is not so good. Sometimes it takes such a jolt for me to realize that I've wandered off the path a bit.  Usually it's not that far off, so I can get back on track without too much trouble: an apology, a mental adjustment and re-commitment to letting go, prayer, and self-care.  

And then I can start to enjoy the scenery again. 

Strength in Numbers (SiN)

There's something I've noticed in society that has insidiously crept its way into the culture of faith.  It's even touted as honourable and desirable. People buy into it and play follow the leader, no matter how dangerous it is. 

It's a fallacy.  It's based on a complete lie. An age-old lie. 

Found this photo via
Google Images at:
http://www.picturethisgallery.com
/Artists/Terry_Gilecki.asp

It's the idea that human beings can change God's mind, can make Him do this or that or the other thing, just by joining forces, banding together, and overwhelming Him with requests by as many people as possible to do (or not allow) a certain thing.

It's based on the lie that we have been told since the very beginning: that we know better than He does and that we have a say in what happens to us and/or to our friends and family. 

We don't.  

You know, some folks think that's what prayer is about: getting God to do what you want Him to do.  Which spawns that other fallacy that more people getting on His case is going to get a faster and more acceptable answer.

But it isn't.  It isn't in either case.  

Prayer is about friendship with God.  It has nothing to do with getting Him to do something we want done.  Much as we might want it.  If He could be swayed by the number of people who ask for a particular thing, He would be no more than a glorified politician.  How unutterably disappointing that would be!  No, it's more about allowing Him inside of those lonely, parched places in our lives and letting Him take over and trusting His decisions.  It's not about us, it's about Him.  

Strength In Numbers (acronym: SIN - that tells me something right there) in what we call "prayer" is about making ourselves bigger, making God look smaller.  It's lobbying.  It's manipulating.  It's coercing.  It's imposing our will on His.  

It's ludicrous.  

It stems from a basic lack of belief that one person can matter to Him - that He would listen to one person and care about what matters to him or her.  It comes from a firm faith in the ogre-ness of God: that He's a killjoy, that He is a tyrant and needs to be appeased, placated, flattered, convinced to be good.  

Nothing could be further from the truth.  
He invites each of us into His heart .... and we break it by trying to twist His arm.

Practice makes perfect - sort of

When I was twelve, I got the rare opportunity to take some piano lessons.  I took about a year and a half of weekly lessons before my teacher became interested in me as a girl and not as a student.  

So... that was the end of the piano lessons.  :(

I did learn enough about the piano to make me able to enjoy playing it, even though I wasn't very good at it. But one of the things that taking music / piano lessons taught me was that everyone sucks at something the first time around and that it is important to practice any new skill, any new application of that skill. Practice makes perfect.  

Found this neat photo through Google Images
at http://www.pianolessons.net/lessons/
how-to-practice-piano.html

Well.  Sort of.  Mistakes can still happen but they usually aren't those glaring mistakes made by rank beginners.  

In the last three years, I have been learning a new skill - how to live life one day at a time and let people (including myself) be who they are.  

At first I made a lot of mistakes.  Just like when practicing the piano.  It sure didn't sound like it should have - there were a lot of sour notes. Sometimes I made the same mistake over and over again until I got it right.  When I learned to do the most difficult things first, even if I had to do them in slow motion to get them right, I started making fewer errors.  And the strangest thing about practicing (whether piano, guitar, flute or voice) is this: I can get something polished up so I know it and perform flawlessly; I am confident with it.  But if it's been a while since I have practiced even something I know well - the next time it can be full of hesitations, I forget what chord to use, I hit a wrong note, or I get the timing off.  It's the same thing with living one day at a time and letting go of the need to control and fix everyone.  I forget and slip back into those same errors.  Or I hesitate - and a moment is lost.  

But it's not the end of the world. I've learned to admit my foul-ups, cut myself a break, accept the forgiveness God offers, and move on.  

The secret is to practice and KEEP practicing.  And my goal isn't perfection anymore, even though sometimes (when God's in charge and not me) it happens - and I am in awe whenever it does.  One of the sayings I have come to take as one motto of many in the last three year is: 'progress, not perfection.'  I believe there's a lot of wisdom in that.  It sure reduces my stress and makes things easier for everyone else in my life too.  

And there are endless opportunities presented to me to practice what I've learned.  I think I hear another one calling me even now.

:D 

Running on empty

Sometimes I forget to look after myself.  Sometimes I'm more concerned with what others are thinking and feeling than what I need.  

When that happens, my reserves run low and I need a reminder to slow down and take stock.  And fill up.

Google Imaged this at :
http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/
thumblarge_312/1222042616CzL76J.jpg

I am so grateful for good friends in a safe environment who will not judge and who feel free to share their experience, strength, and hope with others.  Sometimes, I forget that it is I who needs the help and encouragement.  I occasionally still believe that the responsibility of saving my corner of the world falls to me, when God might have other ideas and let someone else step up to the plate for a while.  

I used to get upset when that happened, as if someone else had usurped my calling in life - you know - as the great fixer of all that is wrong.

That's impossible. 

Not everyone will do things the same way I would.  It doesn't make them wrong - or me wrong.  It's just different. It takes a variety of people to be able to help people of endless variety. 

Duh. 

I'm slowly learning that I cannot give away what I don't have.  And if I'm running on empty instead of doing what I need to do to look after myself and my emotional / spiritual needs, I will have nothing to give to anyone who might need help in a crisis situation. So, my best bet is to keep on keeping on with the day-to-day business of self-care.  This way, I look after first things first - filling my cup so as to have something to give to others.  And not feeling embarrassed or slighted when someone else gets to help.  

Just gratitude. 

Learning to trust

For some reason at this time of year, I start thinking about simple trust... how it's learned... how it's unlearned... how it grows... how quickly it can be broken.  

Maybe it's all the focus on little children at this time of year : starry-eyed children hyped up on their unfettered belief in a magical elf who will make all their dreams come true - but only if they're good.  It almost makes that rotund, red-suited gnome sound like an adult's most effective tool of manipulation and control of the little people's behavior.  Something to make parents' lives easier, give them a bit of rest and relief from the inexhaustible need represented by their children, compounded by the shortened daylight hours and the ever-increasing cold weather which keeps them indoors for more hours per day.

Source (via Google Images) :
http://atrustingchild.blogspot.com/2011/01/
some-quotes-for-best-fathers.html

The question of Santa aside - for that is only one question among many trust or faith-based questions - when do we first learn to trust?  Some psychologists tell us that this happens before age two. To a certain extent, I would agree.  The foundation of trust (or mistrust!) is built then.  

After that, all the events that happen are erected on the foundation that was laid in the first two years, and they pass through the pre-set filter of whether the child trusts his parents, his siblings, his relatives ... and his world ... or not.  

Betrayed trust is the most devastating and difficult to restore.  Some never can learn to trust again once they have been lied to.  I've seen this happen over and over again.  

One lie.  That's all it takes.  

One lie perpetuated, nurtured, covered by other lies to protect its 'validity' - and then discovered (for it WILL be discovered eventually) - can destroy decades of trust built up.  Worst, it can cause the one so deceived, to mistrust everything that the liar says from that point onward - and backward in time.  In other words, lie to me and I not only don't trust anything you say from now on, I won't trust anything you have ever told me.  

Now multiply that sentiment by a factor of at least five - for a child who has been lied to.  Double it for every decade as that child grows up - mistrust multiplied by mistrust until everything that anyone says is suspect.

So what if you're that child?  How many times have you been lied to?  Is it possible to trust again?  

Learning to trust again is a slow process, but it is possible.  Whether a person can learn to trust the one who has lied ... depends in large part on whether the one who lied is willing to change.  If he or she isn't, it's time to walk away.  But learning to trust in general is possible with one basic element at the core.

Truth.  

Speaking truth to the inner person, refusing to believe the lies of the past that drummed their way into the psyche, replacing those false statements with true statements, this is the way - albeit slow and potentially torturous at times - to healing and faith.  No sugar-coating.  "Yes, this was wrong." (Not, "He/ she meant well.")  And so forth.  Acknowledging the wrongness gives us permission to be outraged, to admit the hurt.  

And it helps us - strange as it may seem - to gradually move on to a place of real forgiveness and compassion.

Guilt - in the wrong hands

Guilt is a divine tool which God uses very sparingly, and only in enough measure to bring the wanderer into His arms of love, into fellowship with Him.  Only He knows how.

In the wrong hands, it can be both a weapon and a highly addictive drug, for the use of guilt can turn someone's behavior to a desired result by the use of real or imagined punishment, and at the same time give the one who wields it such a heady sense of power that only one successful trip will plunge the user into guilt-trip addiction and leave the victims in emotional ruin again and again.  

The wrong hands, of course, are always human.   Humans were never meant to wield it.

Source (through Google Images):
http://eldercareabcblog.com/
guilty-feelings-come-with-caregiving/

It's just like humans to rip something out of the hands of the Maker that was designed for Him and Him alone to use - and wreak havoc and misery in others' lives by using it.  AND over-using it.  As a weapon.

Just because they can.  

A friend reminded me the other day that just because someone who wields power over another has the right to do a thing, doesn't mean that he or she should do that thing.  Applied to guilt, this becomes especially true.  

Yet millions of people do it.  

Parents use guilt on children; sometimes even children on parents.  It's all too common. Teachers use this dangerous tool when dealing with children; children with each other; supervisors with employees.  Ministers with parishoners - and vice versa - through thousands of years of church history.  Husbands and wives.  It happens all of the time.  

The tantalizing deception is that we use guilt because we care about people.  The truth is that at the heart of it, we only care about bending them to our will because it will make us feel better about who we are and the way we see the world.  We have taken on the role of God in that other person's life.  That is a burden that is so hard to bear that it can exhaust and crush the one who takes it upon him or herself.  And it has an eventual boomerang effect that will cause the people on whom we have used that weapon to resent us and harbour unforgiveness in their hearts toward us  ...  just as we resent and nurse grudges against those who have consistently taken us on guilt trips.  

The solution?  If guilt does not belong in human hands, it's time to let go of it and let it reside in the hands of the only One who is qualified to use it...for only He can use it with love and will not overdo it. It is high time that some of us Christians stopped trying to be the Holy Spirit.  We aren't.

Letting go of guilt is a two-edged sword.  We let go of the guilt others have placed upon us first; we grow in our confidence to know what we believe about ourselves - and from that place of strength, we can let go of our need to use guilt on other people.  It really is freeing to let go of it.  

And I can't begin to describe the miracles that can take place when we stop playing God with people and just let them be who they are so that God can be who He is.

Dreams - wishes and fears

Guilt is a horrible thing, especially unearned guilt.  

I remember clearly believing at one time  -  in the not-too-distant past  -  that I didn't have the right to have a life, to have interests outside of my family, work and church, and I felt guilty for dreaming of a better life.  

When I began to heal from the hurts of my childhood and from my dysfunctional beliefs and relationships, I started to dream again, to envision possibilities, to hope for more than what I had known.  

I found this weird house through Google Images at:
http://affordablehousinginstitute.org/blogs/us/
2009/06/i-hope-youre-not-what-you-live-in.html

I'd studied all about dreams at college - you know - the kind that happen while you're asleep.  I knew what the elements of a dream meant, how to interpret a dream so as to find out what a person's preoccupations were, what they were hiding from themselves, how they really saw themselves.  

But waking dreams - nobody talked about those - seemed beyond my grasp.  Hopes, aspirations, "what-if" plans.  It had all seemed so selfish, so beyond what I felt I deserved.  

Since I have been in this healing process, I see that those kinds of dreams are a sign of a healthy individual.  I have started to have those dreams again.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I had always had ambition, hopes of getting ahead, making more money, etc., - but these dreams are different.  They're of being a better person, seeing miracles happen, playing a part (however small) in making a difference in people's lives.  

And they intrude upon my night-time dreams, which had always been filled with dread and fear of losing whatever blessing I had been given.  I still have those too... occasionally.  Not nearly as often, though.  My night-time dreams are more about building, climbing, and accomplishing now.  Occasionally I will have a really rip-snorting nightmare filled with disturbing images of death, dying, violence, decay and the like, but even these are triggers for me to examine why these things are coming to me now.  Usually it's because I have heard, read, or seen something that is disturbing and didn't deal with it when it happened, shoved my feelings down inside - either out of embarrassment or out of feeling that it was inappropriate in the situation.  

But what occupies my mind most these days is the waking kind of dream.  Being about 2/3 of the way through my life expectancy, I am realizing more and more that life is way too short to be wasting it on wondering what might have been "if only."  And the last couple of years, as I have slowly gotten unwrapped from those old rags of the past, I have actually been starting to live my dreams in reality.  I believe I am a better person than I used to be.  I've seen miracles happen in my life and in the lives of those I care about.  And sometimes I've been the agent of those miracles.  

Life is more and more rewarding the more I really "live" it.  Dreams do come true.

Old Friends

Last night I was in a store where I don't usually go.  Normally, when the family goes to this place, I stay out in the car or I do something else, because it's full of temptations - rows upon rows of tasty treats, candies, chocolates, nuts, and so many more things that I find so irresistible.  But when my daughter suggested that I go with her to this place last night, I agreed; it had been a while since I had been in there, and besides, I needed a distraction.

We'd gotten to the checkout when I saw the person in line ahead of us, just paying for his items.  He looked kind of familiar to me, and I looked again.  It was someone I had not seen in almost 3 years!  I spoke his name and he turned - and his face brightened up with surprise and delight when he saw me.  

These hugging salt and pepper-shakers I found
through Google Images at:
http://www.theorientalmagpie.com/display.php?
c=35&pId=196&t=Necklaces

He headed in my direction and we hugged warmly!  Immediately we began to catch up on each others' news.  

It was like the absence of 3 years hadn't happened and we picked up right where we left off.  What a great chat we had in those five minutes or so.  We cleared up a miscommunication almost immediately that had prevented us being in contact on a more regular basis, and once that was addressed, we talked like magpies - so much so that my daughter went back to the car to wait for me! 

The whole experience gave me an emotional lift; it had been - well, not exactly a hard day but a challenging one.  Seeing my friend after so long - and seeing his reaction to seeing me again - was like correctly putting on a jar cover that had been threaded on wrong. 

Old friends can do that, especially the kind that don't so much need the other person as they just enjoy being around each other.  I'm glad that I have friends like that.  And I'm glad to BE a friend like that.  Old or otherwise.

No Worries!

"No worries, mate!"  This saying is common in Australia, where the lifestyle is way more laid back than it is in Canada and the United States.  Sometimes, when I hear 'Aussies' say, "No worries," I think to myself, "If only!"

Once in a while, a vivid image from my childhood intrudes upon my thoughts.  It could be an experience from start to finish, or just a snippet of a memory, or an action I saw someone do often - any number of things.  

Today the image was of something I saw someone do often when I was a child - and thought it was normal until I was much older.  

There was this one woman I knew who, every time her husband was more than a few minutes late coming home on a Friday night from work, would imagine all kinds of horrible things that could have happened to him to make him late - never anything innocuous, you understand - only the worst case scenarios.  

She'd walk the floor literally wringing her hands, saying to herself (out loud, no less), "Oh, he probably went to the tavern and then got in that car half-drunk - he's probably in a ditch somewhere bleeding ..." and so forth until she was in such a tizzy that she got everyone in her family either as worried as she was, or trying to calm her down.  

The message I got from all of that was that if you loved someone, you'd fret and stew about them until you made yourself sick.  "I was worried sick about you" became a badge of honour, a proof of the degree of love someone had for someone else.  What it really was ... was fear.  Fear of losing her husband, fear that he would do something stupid and leave her a widow with no means of financial or domestic support ... and no transportation because of course in those days very few stay-at-home housewives in our community had a driver's license.  

Even though it was absurd, the worry-lifestyle carried over into my adult life and I found myself obsessing about my husband and my children that way.  Not to the point of wringing my hands, but I wasn't able to rest until they were safe at home.  When I realized that my worry was from fear, that it showed a lack of trust that God would take care of them and could run things far better than I could - I knew that this was a problem in my life.  But I couldn't make it better, try as I might.  

When I started my healing process and turned my life over to God's care, I learned that I had boundaries, and other people had them too, learned that I was responsible for me and they were responsible for them, and learned how to let go of my need to control them and their situations.  Letting go quite literally set me free - and I found that as I learned to let go of other people and their "stuff", that I was better able to let go of the stuff in my own life over which I had absolutely no control.  It's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.  But my stress level went from somewhere in the 90th percentile down to about ... realistically ... 40 percent.  

I'd call that improvement.  And I look forward to the day when I can say (with the Aussies) "No worries!"

Let No be NO

"Make no oath at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by earth, for it is His footstool, ... nor shall you make an oath by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black ... but let your yes be yes and your no be no. Anything more than that comes from evil."  - Matthew 5:34 - 37

I've always concentrated on the first part of the above passage, where we're told not to swear an oath to back up the truth of what we say.  But that last part jumped out at me today. Especially the NO part.  I'm allowed to say no.

No is allowed.  Such a thought - three years ago - would have been unthinkable for me. 

Yes is good.  I like yes.  Yes makes people like me.  I have no trouble saying it, especially if it involves pleasing someone else.  I used to say yes to people so often that I spread myself too thinly and lost a sense of who I was in the process.  Then I started to resent the very people to whom I said yes, just because they started to expect the behavior from me that I had agreed to do out of generosity ... and I ended up feeling overworked and underappreciated.  

It happens a LOT.  To a lot of us, I would suspect.

Found through Google Images at:
http://allwomenstalk.com/7-ways-to-stop-being
-a-people-pleaser/

I don't like saying no.  I never used to say it unless I was at my wit's end and then it came out as a red-faced shout. So I got the reputation of having a temper problem ... when in fact my problem wasn't my temper.  It was that I held it too long and allowed it to build up, afraid to say no, because it risked the person not liking me.  I remember - several years ago - failing a job interview because of a role-play where I had to say something that someone in front of me (who was playing the role of an angry person who didn't win a contract)  wasn't going to like.  I folded.  And I knew that it was a role play.  It was all an act.  The person wasn't really mad.  And yet I waffled and tried to appease the person.  How pathetic is that?...

When I started to get a sense of my own identity in this process of healing, I started to understand the necessity of saying No.  And sticking with it!!  

At first, it was in fear and trembling.  The first time that I stood up for what I wanted, it was at work - and people didn't stop liking me!  What a revelation that was for me... that I could say No and the world wasn't going to end.  

No can be good.  No has come to my rescue and allowed me to set boundaries with people who are trying to take advantage or to manipulate or control me.  No can also save me from becoming over-extended.  It gives me time to look after myself.  

And No - best of all - helps my Yes to come from a place - not of burnout, but - of fulness.

This is Why

Today, at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in what is the 11th year of this millenium, I stood for a minute of silence to honour those around the world who are sacrificing or who have sacrificed so much to save so many from tyranny and terror.  

War is hell.  

I have very little idea of how horribly wrenching, how diabolical war is.  Only by reading and hearing the stories of those who were (and are) there can I even begin to understand the depth of sacrifice made by those who served and still serve.  How they paid, how they still pay for that sacrifice every day - with visible AND invisible scars. 

This image of a soldier and a Haitian child holding hands
I found through Google Images at :
http://www.acclaimimages.com/_gallery/
_image_pages/0420-1002-2714-0442.html

Being a pacifist at heart, I wonder sometimes why anybody would voluntarily choose to put his or her life at risk, to enter the very jaws of death.  And then I see the images - soldiers making a difference in people's lives, the incredible gratitude expressed by those whose lives have been impacted - and I read or watch the stories of those who have served ... and would do it again in a heartbeat.  

I remember vividly that one of the pictures that held a prominent place on the wall when I was growing up was a photo of my favourite uncle, who served as a very young man in the Korean War.  It was framed in gold-tone, and had an inscription under it with a silver banner-background, which said, "PER ARDVA AD ASTRA" (per ardua ad astra) - Latin for "Through Adversity to the Stars" - motto of the Royal Canadian Air Force.  When Uncle returned from overseas, he developed severe psoriasis - which the doctors said was a nervous reaction to all he had seen over there.  To this day he has never once spoken freely of his experiences.  Yet all he must have endured still speaks for him.

So the answer to my question about why - though it is hard to accept - starts to emerge. 

When I look at my children and try to imagine some despot trying to take over and steal their lives, their freedom from them, I start to understand why.  

When I see photographs of soldiers helping children in war-torn countries to get medical help or carrying them to safety, I start to understand why.  

When I hear stories of those who looked beside them in the trench after an explosion threw them several feet - only to see a crater where a friend had once been - yet who picked up their gun to try to survive and still save those who were left, I start to understand why.  

When I watch the people standing at the cenotaph every November 11, rain, snow, sleet or cold, wearing uniform, poppy, and hearing aid from being too close to the big guns on board ship, considering themselves to be the lucky ones because they made it back, and their fallen comrades to be the heroes because they didn't - I start to understand why.  

Some things are worth fighting for.

Recommitting

Over five years ago, my hubby and I stood before a minister in his office with a few witnesses and renewed our vows to each other shortly after our 25th wedding anniversary ... quietly, the way we had wanted to do with our first ceremony but were prevented by our families.  

It was very meaningful to both of us. 

It didn't mean we were never married or that we wanted to somehow recapture something we'd lost.  We hadn't.  We just wanted to remind ourselves how deeply committed we were to each other, to refocus our attention on what was important to us both and not allow other things to crowd out our time with each other.  

Image through Google Images at :
http://thespiritualcoach.com/2010/09/5-ways
-to-accept-and-love-yourself/young-woman/

I think this journey of healing has its times of commitment and of recommitment.  Sometimes we tend to allow other things to crowd out the simple things we did to become free, and the stuff of life (that kept us bound up in unhealthy patterns of behavior) just creeps into our lives again, as if trying to go unnoticed. 

We eventually spend more time trying to fix other people's problems than trying to look after ourselves...to our own detriment.  And we fall prey to the vicious cycle of living our lives solely for others, spreading ourselves too thinly, getting frustrated that people aren't "coming around" to our way of thinking, resenting the people we are trying to help, becoming more and more unhappy, and questioning the validity of how far we've come in our journey.  

It is not that we haven't changed; it is that we've forgotten that what we have (as the Big Book says) is a daily reprieve contingent on the maintenance of our spiritual condition.  If our focus is on the outflow of that spiritual condition (i.e., the result of being able to help others) it's like trying to draw a perfect circle with the compass from a geometry set, and then keeping on moving the point of that compass to the edge of the circle in the process.  We end up with something that doesn't look anything like what we intended.  And we blame the pencil, when in reality, the fault lies in the fact that we didn't keep the point of the circle at the centre.  The anchor is in the centre. That's the whole point.

It might seem paradoxical that in order to be better able to help others, we need to focus on our own relationships with ourselves and with God.  But that is exactly what must happen.  Relationships with others will be clouded otherwise, and we'll shoot ourselves in the foot every time we try to help another with the attitude that we have to be the one who fixes that person's problem.  

I had this pointed out to me today after I had told someone I trust about a situation that is developing in a few of my relationships.  When confronted with the truth that I was allowing other people's dysfunction to pull me back into a state of trying to fix, control, influence, and/or comfort them, I realized that I needed to renew my commitment to my own journey and let go of my need to control the outcome of their journeys.  

Even that realization gave me such relief that I could feel the tension physically leave me, as I let go of my need to rescue people from themselves and I  concentrated on the needs of ... the one in the mirror.  Hypocrisy fled; humility and peace took over.  Something shifted: my perspective was restored just by recommitting to what's essential to my own healing.

To thine own self be true

This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
                      -- Polonius, in Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act I Scene III

Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being,
   And in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.
                      -- King David, Psalm 51:6 (NASB)

One of the things I've been learning in the last couple of years has been the concept of honesty.  In the past, I've been accused of being "too honest" with people, to my own detriment, so I never thought that I had a problem with being honest.  But the honesty that I mean is not the kind that makes you not cheat on a test or not tell someone a falsehood.  No, this is the kind of honesty that is brave enough to look where few dare: inside.  

When I started my own healing process, one of the first things with which I was confronted was this concept of honesty with the self. I was very much afraid to delve too far into this idea, but more and more I became convinced that as far back as I could remember, I had been lied to, I had lied to myself, and I continued to lie to myself and sell myself short on so many things, based on lies I had been told ... and believed ... all my life.  These things were told to me by my family members, the members of my church, my classmates, even radio and TV. 

The lies were insidious and they sunk down past what I did into who I was.  The statement, "That was a dumb thing to do" became quickly translated by my psyche into, "I'm dumb."  When I heard, "That's the wrong way to do that," my belief system incorporated the message, "I can never do anything right" into its framework.  And on and on the list went.  Everyday occurrences, little off-handed statements, were the bricks and mortar of my wall of self-told lies.  

When I started to expose these lies, they squirmed; they hated the light. Then when I turned up the light by telling the truth - over and over again - they protested loudly.  At first.  After several weeks and months of drumming messages of encouragement and life into those dark places, the accusing voices weren't quite as loud.  The wounded child that was inside of me started to think that the things she believed and was told were not true and that there was a better way to live, that she was worth something just the way she was.  There were setbacks of course, but overall, things started to turn around on the inside.

That was the beginning of miracles, the sunrise on a new day.  I can't explain how it started to change things for me, but I do know that it did.  I slowly grew in self-confidence, and over time realized my opinion mattered, that I could say what I thought and felt without fear of reprisals.  It's still a work in progress, but it's happening in increasing measure and frequency, the more honest I am with myself.

Power to Choose

In the last couple of days I have been thinking about the bad rep that God gets. What I mean is that He gets blamed for a whole lot of stuff that people choose to do, whether done by the ones who say they believe in Him ... or not.  

Found through Google Images at
http://indianajones.wikia.com/wiki/False_Grail

I am a self-admitted Indiana Jones fan.  Especially the first and third movies.  There are so many images in those films that are supremely symbolic - they remind me of important lessons that often get either overlooked or pooh-poohed. There is such a thing as right and wrong. There are things that are beyond our understanding.  Actions have consequences.    And people are responsible for their own actions. 

One poignant scene is the one in "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" where Donovan, the bad guy, gets dibs on choosing a cup from which to drink the water from the fountain of youth.  The knight warns both Indy and Donovan to choose wisely, for only when the water is in the Holy Grail does it bring life to the drinker. The same water in a false Grail will bring death.  With the help of an expert, he chooses a beautiful chalice which he deems "befitting the King of kings" - and drinks.  The results are not pretty (click here to see this classic clip and I hope you've turned up the volume; the video will open in a new window).  Some call this scene funny or corny.  For me, it's a reminder.


When Indy chooses the correct Grail, things are not suddenly sunshine and roses for him either.  Yes, he doesn't die - and yes, he's able to save his dad's life as well.  But his struggles are not over either.  Neither are his temptations to choose poorly.

We were created with the ability to choose, something upon which God places a great deal of value.  We could have been automatons, but what would have been the point? He wanted us to WANT Him. 

Sometimes bad stuff happens to us and there seems to be no reason for it.  Bad things - and good things, for that matter - do happen to ALL people.  But much of the bad stuff that happens to us is of our own making.  Many of us make bad choices and the consequences are ... let's say they're unpleasant. The irrevocable law of the harvest, "You reap what you sow," kicks in.  The tendency we have at those times is to question God, to question His goodness or His love, when in fact it is our own choices that have led to the outcomes and ... God is just a handy scapegoat we use to avoid taking responsibility for "choosing poorly." I've heard people do it all the time: blame God for for famines and poverty, for wars, for religious persecution. But in most cases whatever horrible thing for which folks blame God arises out of a poor choice, or a series of poor choices, made by people who have the power to choose.

That 1989 movie reminds me that choosing wisely MIGHT bring consequences I might not like.  Yet it is still preferable to choosing poorly. 

Splitting Headache

We've all heard the stories, we've tut-tutted and shaken our heads.  We deplore it, and we wish it would not happen.  But it does.  

A friend and I were discussing the history of a particular church; I remembered how it formed back in the early 1980s, and I told the story, warts and all.  Without going into a lot of details, someone decided what constituted holiness, and said that not only must the people who held an office in the church (from secretary to deacon) be holy according to this definition, but all the members of their families had to be as well.  The organist's husband smoked. This was not deemed as holy.  Need I say more?

Churches have split over such deep doctrinal issues as the color of the hymnbooks, whether Sunday or Saturday is the day on which we should worship, even whether Adam had a belly button or not. How ridiculous!! 

This cartoon found through Google Images at
http://ponderingpastor.blogspot.com/
2010_05_01_archive.html

The problem with a church split (and let's face it, they are bound to happen because they contain the one thing that causes them - people!) is that it doesn't actually split.  A split implies that half the people stay in the original church and half go to form a new one.  What really happens is that about 30 percent of the people stay in the old church, 15 to 20 percent form the new one - and half or more don't go to church anymore at all.  This last group is composed of people who are so disillusioned by the pettiness of people who are supposed to be loving and self-sacrificing.  

Moreover, at least three times the population of the church - who hear about the split (usually from the disillusioned ones) and have never gone to church (any church) - are people we will never see inside the doors, for they are all the more convinced than ever that Christianity is for weaklings, bigots, and losers.  The problem is that people who are more prone to be involved in a church split still call themselves Christians - except that they have a different interpretation of what that is.  

If the folks in a church have gotten to the place where there is an imminent split, their faith bears about as much resemblance to Christianity as a dodo does to an eagle.  Both birds - but the former is pretty much useless ... and extinct.  And so what was once an organism has been subject to the normal vivisection that happens when it gets "organized."  It loses all traces of life.  

Fear takes over - fear of losing the purity, the passion, or the fire (which is an interesting concept - for if you fear losing the fire, it's probably already gone out. Otherwise you're too busy being on fire!)  I know people who are absolutely convinced that they have the RIGHT to sit in judgment on others with whose lifestyles or practices they do not agree, simply because they are 'seated with Christ in heavenly places.'  This is a gross distortion of all that Christ came to accomplish.  It was never His intention to have His message of love twisted into a message of paranoia and bigotry.  

Fear of people slipping and straying from the tenets of ancient Judaism led to the formation of the group known as the Pharisees.  Their one mission in life was to uphold the laws and traditions they were taught and make people follow them. And when someone (one of their own countrymen) came along who threatened that by talking about love and a personal relationship with God, they went against their own laws: paying someone to betray him, holding his trial after sunset and on the holiest day of the year when nobody was to be conducting any business at all, consorting with people they considered heathen, and bribing witnesses, to have this threat put to death.  

Religious people within the church have done the same thing ... to the same person.  I say religious people because religion is all about maintaining the status quo, dressing it up, making it pretty, doing it right to the point of shunning those who don't, keeping people in line, making the right impression, trying to twist God's arm to make Him do what you want Him to do, and doing what you've always done just because you've always done it that way.  

Christianity, on the other hand, is iconoclastic - always has been ever since oh, let's see, its founder was here!  "Iconoclastic" means it tears down the idols - idols of complacency, of hypocrisy, of spiritual correctness (if Christians were all one race, then this term "spiritual correctness" might even be called racial purity!)  It focuses on an individual relationship with God, and it celebrates the uniqueness of every individual rather than building an empire of people who all agree with each other, look the same, and act the same through what can only be described as bullying. Strange that so many religious leaders can get away with that, and so much more: shoving their fingers in someone's face and calling him or her to the lowest (in front of fellow church-members, no less) because of a perceived "difference" in either focus, approach, interpretation, or belief. They have no qualms about using guilt, shame, and intimidation to keep people all believing a certain way and they try to eliminate all who don't.  One of the last times a political leader tried to do that, the world plunged into war; it was 1939.  

But unfortunately, nobody in the church stands up to stop it; those few voices who do object are ostracized or drowned out in the zeal of the polarized groups that emerge.  So those who get in a huff about the far-reaching implications of choosing blue hymn books over red (yes, this actually happened, several years ago in a different country) will "up and leave" over such things, start another church, and leave hundreds of casualties, Christian and non-Christian alike, in its wake.  

It's enough to give the Head of the church (that is, the one preparing a place for us in Heaven) a splitting headache.

Thanks - for ties that bind

I was hoping for something really super with which to finish my 14 days of gratitude.  Nothing seemed to be popping out to me ... until I got a text from a family member and we set up a time to talk on the phone.  I spent over an hour with this person and we had an amazing chat, ranging from past experiences to present concerns and future plans.  

So here's to the ties that bind.  

I've heard it said that friends are God's way of apologizing to you for your family.  In a lot of cases, friendship trumps family relationships because there's so much baggage attached to the latter.  Occasionally, though, a friendship emerges unexpectedly from family ties and that makes the bond even more strong.  And sometimes a friendship is so strong that it feels like what we think that family SHOULD be (but often isn't).  For both types and more, I am grateful.  

For the brother who stood by me when I was hurting, and was ready to risk jail to defend my honour (I had to physically restrain him!) I say thank you.  For the opportunity to hold that same brother up when he was at the breaking point - at our father's graveside - I am grateful and do not regret one tear that I (or he) shed.  For the easy rapport we have developed over the years and in spite of many obstacles, because we each understand the other's history and share the same upbringing, and because we give each other the affirmation that we are worth more than what others thought we were then or think we are now, I am thankful.  

For the friends who came into my life when I was a teen, who loved me in spite of what I was then, who stuck with me through all the hell I went through trying to find my way in the world, who became as dear as family to me, I am grateful.  Those same people - though the rest of the community did not understand - earned the right to sit with us as family mourners when our dad passed away.  As we sat with them when they had to bury a daughter, stolen from them too soon. For the countless hours spent making music together, for the family vacations spent with each other, for the titles of sister and aunt that were conferred upon me, of brother and uncle that were also given to my husband, I am grateful.  

For those who have come into my life during my journey of healing, who have accepted me as I am and who have cheered me on, rooted for me in my journey, I am so grateful.  These are people who are not on pedestals towering over my head to be worshipped, nor are they subordinates who look up to me for approval. They treat me as equals and I them.  I value their presence and their friendship on my journey.  They have encouraged and challenged me, and I have been there for them when they needed me as well.  For these people, I am grateful.

Found through Google Images at:  
http://frankleeannoyed.blogspot.com/2010/01/
i-know-how-you-feel.html

For my husband: my best friend, my completion, my advocate, my lover, my confidant, my soul-mate - and more - I cannot be thankful enough.  This man has seen me at my best; he has also seen me at my worst.  And he has loved me through all of it.  Rarely in this society does one get to marry his or her best friend.  I know that I am so fortunate to have married mine.  What a wonderful gift - in all its facets: to be chosen for such a person as this.  I am in awe.  

For the person who mentored me through my transformation, who kept me focused and never once allowed me to make my recovery about anyone else except myself - I am grateful.  This person accepted me for the me I really was - the one who was hidden beneath layer after layer of pain and self-doubt.  Having been where I was at one time, my mentor guided me in a path that would result in healing from those past hurts and liberation from the invisible chains that, just like in the story of the elephant tied to a post whose chains were removed and he stayed by the post, kept me bound to my old patterns of believing, thinking and behaving for many years.  I am so grateful that someone cared enough and had the required skill to be able to do that when I was ready.  

I am thankful for my pastor.  Surprisingly few would be able to say that about a spiritual leader; some would mistrust theirs (and with good reason in some cases).  However, my pastor has made no pretense of being better than anyone, more holy than anyone, and has loved me through thick and thin, supported me and prayed for me, and for this and for so much more, I am truly grateful.  He has not once shamed me into anything, but has encouraged me and shared his enthusiasm without shoving it down my throat.  Rarely have I ever found a person who exemplifies the God he serves.  This man is one.  For him, for his love, for his tireless compassion, I am so very thankful. 

And for (and to) God - who made all of this (and more) possible - I can never be grateful enough.

That makes way more than ten people.  There are so many more.  
I am indeed blessed.

Thanks - for outer space

One of my interests is astronomy.  I have always been fascinated by the intricacy and beauty of outer space, by the interrelationships of the sun, moon, stars and other amazing phenomena out there, and their impact on our little speck in the universe (and us much smaller specks on that bigger speck.)

Instead of writing a whole bunch, this time I thought I would let the pictures speak for themselves about the marvelous and breath-taking sights that have existed for millennia with no humans at all able to fully appreciate their beauty - and in some cases, not even to be aware they existed until only recently. 

and finally, Home Sweet Home ....

 

Thanks - for inner space

I woke up this morning and felt a tickle in my throat.  I spent some time coughing - to the point where my daughter asked me if I was all right - and after a while all seemed to be well.  I got to thinking later, how miraculous the human body is - the design so intricate, the parts so inter-related.  The immune system in itself is full of miraculous, amazingly designed components.  For the world inside the skin, then, I am grateful for these specific gifts.  

Erythrocytes - or red blood cells.  These amazing concave cells "load up" with oxygen and other important nutrients and chemicals, and the oxygen is squeezed out of them when they pass through our capillaries, and pick up some of the carbon dioxide (waste product of muscular energy) to carry to the lungs for release.  The body makes 2.4 million of these amazing cells per SECOND.  Wow.

Leukocytes - also known as white blood cells.  These are the disease-fighters. The number of them varies depending on the presence of a virus in the body - somewhere between four and eleven million leukocytes in a milliliter of blood. They only live three or four days.  Yet without them, we would be susceptible to disease.  

Thrombocytes - or platelets.  These are cell fragments which are formed in the marrow, where red blood cells form, and that live about 9 to 15 days and are responsible for blood's clotting capacity.  Too many of them and a person can have a thrombosis - an inner blood clot which can be fatal - and too few of them and clotting can't occur, which (if you cut yourself) can also be fatal.  The blood therefore exists in a delicate balance EVERY DAY that keeps us alive and healthy.  What a tremendous and complex gift.  

I could go on and on about each internal organ.  Suffice to say that they make the insides function, push or carry fuel around the body in conjunction with the blood cells, and extrude the leftovers.  The digestive system alone is a marvel of biological machinery, of efficient and masterful design. 

The epiglottis.  This little flap of cartilage, normally pointing upward for breathing, slides into a horizontal position and guards the windpipe from getting food or liquid into the lungs when we swallow.  It forms part of the gag reflex.  We use this little thing hundreds of times a day - and we don't even think about it.  If we didn't have it, we'd either starve, choke or drown.  Hello.

The liver.  This is probably the least-thought-of and most amazing piece of inside technology invented.  Not only does it purify the blood and send toxins to the kidneys and bladder to be eliminated, and produce chemicals necessary for digestion, but if part of it is damaged, even removed, it has the capacity to regenerate.  That in itself has to make it thank-worthy.
One nearly-forgotten and highly underappreciated area is the thyroid gland.  This is the largest gland in the body and is located in the neck, just below the Adam's apple.  It is responsible for regulating the entire body's metabolism through the release of hormones in conjunction with the pituitary gland in the brain.  Too many hormones and the metabolism is too high - it burns fuel too quickly and weight melts off the body; one can't eat enough to maintain weight, it seems.  Too little, and the body is sluggish, gains weight, and is tired and logey all the time.  

I've come to appreciate the simple yet multi-faceted function of the joints lately, whether shoulder, back, hip, or knee.  Bone covered with cartilage, cushioned by discs or bursa (self-contained pouches of fluid), held together by ligaments and/or tendons to protect the bones from grating on each other and causing pain. Designed for mobility and aiding in transportation, the true worth of these body parts can be appreciated most - unfortunately - by those who have lost the full function of their joints.

Pain itself is a gift, a signal to alert the mind to the existence of a problem that requires attention and/or rest.  In spite of the unpleasant nature of pain, the ability of the body to protect and heal itself is a real marvel to me.   

The body's capacity for pain is equaled (possibly even surpassed) only by its capacity for pleasure.  Those nerve endings are able to distinguish nuances of warmth, cold, and intensity of touch, multiplying how good something can feel. Pleasure applied to the site of pain can intensify the pleasure - strangely enough. Case in point - my heating / vibrating chair pad.  I have blessed that little invention so many times of late!  

Thanks - for absences

The last few days, I've had occasion to think about many things I take for granted. I'd like to take a few moments today to be thankful for the absence of things that could (and when/if they are present, do) make my life so much more difficult.  

The absence of pain.  I don't even notice when it's not there.  Pain - I keep telling people - is a gift. It alerts people to the fact that there is something wrong.  But when there is nothing wrong anymore, and the pain subsides, the pain-free state becomes the new normal and I think very little, if at all, about it.  So I am purposefully thankful this morning - in the midst of pain - for the absence of it.  Whether it is because of prescribed medication, or it just comes about through the body healing itself, it is one of those things for which I can thank my Creator.  

The absence of war.  Millions of people today woke up keenly aware that they did not know if they would live through the day.  Wars are going on, people are being murdered, starved, and tortured right now.  Personal safety - especially where I live - is pretty much a fact of life, and the rule of law is usually trustworthy.  The kind of political and/or religious corruption that exists in war-torn countries doesn't exist here.  I am so fortunate to live in a place where I don't wonder whether some uniformed person will come up to me and end my life.  

The absence of sickness.  As much as folks gripe about the health care system in this country, we don't succumb to the illnesses that kill so many people world-wide every day (thanks to vaccinations and other measures like clean water): dysentery, malaria, cholera, whooping cough - just to name a few.  

The absence of strife.  Even in this country, there are those who live in a constant state of strife with family members, with communities that are rife with violence and crime.  There, but for God's grace, I would be. Had I stayed where I was when I was a teen, I might have gotten involved in some of that.  I am so grateful that that atmosphere is no longer a reality in my life.  I am so thankful for renewed relationships with family members based on mutual love and respect.  What a gift! 

Photo (through Google Images) is at
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/sf/at-on/
at-on-being-at-home-with-a-broken-leg-073127

The absence of bugs, strange as it sounds.  Yes, there are times when I sit inside my house and thank God that whatever type of bug is outside (be it June bug, mosquito or carpenter ant) stays outside.  The child sponsorship scene which drives me nuts when I see it on television is the typical one of the little African kid with a tear-streaked face and a fly crawling on its face - not even bothering to shoo it away.  (shudder)  When insects (or arachnids) come inside the house, that's when you see me getting snaky.  It's probably one of only two things I like about winter: the bugs either die or they hibernate.  

The absence of a high crime rate.  This is the other thing I like about our six-month-long Maritime winters (I love it that they call it a "temperate climate" - NOT!) and living on an island in particular.  The crime rate is so low - I believe, at least in part - because smart criminals don't like the cold either, and especially on the Island.  Who wants to risk going outside in 40 below weather to break into a house and then have to get chased through howling winds and poor road conditions only to get caught at or before being able to leave the island?  

The absence of fear.  On a more personal level, I'm so grateful that because of this healing process and being rid of the wrappings of the past, that cold blanket of nameless fear and dread is being evaporated like so much frost on a sunny fall morning.  I could sit and psychoanalyze it, but instead I think I'll just be thankful that it's leaving.  One of my favorite scenes in the Lord of the Rings trilogy is in the 2nd film, when Smeagol tells Gollum to "go away and never come back."  And Gollum leaves ... and Smeagol is free! he scampers like a carefree puppy in joy that his real oppressor is gone.  I know the feeling of freedom when that spiteful thing leaves.  It's tremendous! 

The absence of the Superman cape.  This is huge for me.  I used to think it was my job to save the world - or at least the people in my world - from the things in their lives which were destroying them (of course, I also decided what was destroying them).  Learning that I have boundaries - and so do they - is freeing me from the obsession to do a job I was never designed to do: God's.  It's allowing me to accept people the way they are and not try to change them.  It's giving me a measure of contentment I never knew before.  As I learn to let go, I can focus more on my own side of the boundary - and I am finding that if I do, then God is better able to do in me (and in them - who knew?) what He wanted to do in the first place, but couldn't because I had to have a hand in it. In essence, I was hindering His work by trying to help Him out!!  Today, I am able to sit back, take my hands off things over which I have no control anyway, and watch Him work - and I am often in awe of the miracles I see.