Getting by Letting

The other day the leash attached to our puppy Bullet's harness got wound around a table leg. In trying to free him, I let go of the handle of his leash and concentrated on untangling the knot at its source. Bullet grabbed the leash handle and hung on. Of course, this way, he was stuck and couldn't be released from his predicament. 

It was like he was in one of those tubular finger puzzle traps where the harder you pull against it, the tighter the tube grabs your finger. "If only you'd let go, you'd be instantly free!" I thought. But he was fixated on 'helping' to free himself. 

Image courtesy of pasja1000 at Pixabay.com

The lesson was not lost on me. Sometimes I get into predicaments and I figure I have to free myself (since I was the one who got into the mess in the first place). 

But all I really needed to do was let go.  Let it go, as in quit obsessing, stop trying to make it better, stop trying to explain the reasons why, release the grudge, forgive, accept things, places, and people the way they are, and I'll be free. 

Not free of the leash. Not free of the relationships and linkages in my life. But free of being bound by my own efforts to free myself, to MAKE things happen. 

Free to enJOY the relationships. Free to make mistakes. Free to admit I was wrong. Free to love more unconditionally. Free to let go of the past. Free to embrace the present. Free to look forward to the future without dread. 

Let go of the handle I think I have on things. Give the handling of the handle to the Handler. Quit striving (not in the sense of trying, but in the sense of hanging on to strife). Trust that things can work themselves out WITHOUT my input. That I can be helpless without being hopeless. That I can love without trying to change the opinions or the behaviors of others. That I can respect others' right to be who they are, and expect them to respect my right to be who I am.

Can I do that?

Yes. Yes I can. 

Restoration Work

I absolutely love reno shows. I love to see things go right down to the bare bones and then to see the new take shape. 

One of my new favorite shows is Rehab Addict with Nicole Curtis. She buys old homes and restores them to their "former glory." And she is not afraid of hard work. Often she stays up into the wee hours of the morning doing what would be considered thankless jobs - like cleaning old greasy kitchen backsplash tiles with baking soda, vinegar and a toothbrush to avoid tearing them out and replacing them - and the results are truly remarkable. 

Watching her work and listening to her talk with passion about her finds reminds me of a few things in my own "personal reno" process. These are lessons I've learned - and I see them repeated over and over again whenever I see shows like this. 

Often the problems that she fixes are ones that were created by former owners who didn't like the old décor. So, they just painted or papered or plastered (or stuccoed) over it without fixing the original problem. 

I hear a lot of people say a lot of things about how people need to deal with their own emotional fixer-uppers. Some of these ideas are that one needs to forget the past, live in the present, and so forth.  I'm not sold on the idea of forgetting the past ... and when I watch reno shows, I see parallel lessons on how to live life - and how to deal with the past - so that there are no nasty surprises down the road. 

Here are a few things I've learned in my journey:

Restoration is messy. Mistakes have been made, things have been allowed to slide, some things don't work anymore, and it takes a lot of work to get them working again. Or even to the place where you can figure OUT if they work. 

The past never stays in the past. Like rotten beams and ant-eaten wood, the past will keep on causing problems unless is excavated, exposed, and evaluated. If something needs to be fixed, it's easier to fix when it's sitting in front of you instead of buried beneath layers and layers of emotional veneer.  If it needs to be eliminated, or replaced, it's best to do that while the walls are down, rather than cover over it and then wonder why your support structure keeps sagging. 

Sometimes you need help.  Asking someone who is trained in dealing with certain kinds of emotional problems that seem overwhelming to you is not a sign of weakness; it is a sign of strength. Often it takes "another pair of eyes" to detect any issues and help to deal with them systematically and objectively, but with empathy and kindness. For some people, that might mean talking to a counsellor. Or a pastor. Or some other kind of spiritual advisor. 

It takes time. There are almost NO "quick fixes." Sometimes spiritual breakthroughs happen, but for the most part, it's dealing with one or two issues at a time, and this is a process. It's easy to get discouraged, but keep in mind that things that are worth doing take time to do. And the goal of being free, strong, and beautiful inside is worth the time it takes. 

Sometimes you have to do hard things by yourself. Depending on another human being is great, but there are times when there is an unsavory job to be done (like cleaning a toilet, for example) and it's really a one-person task. The part of my journey that was like this was after I had gone through my memories and ferreted out all the resentments I had harbored inside against people who had hurt me. One by one, I had to get to the root of these and figure out whether it was because the person had harmed me on purpose or whether it was something over which the person had no control. I had to experience emotions I had suppressed for a long time, emotions that sat there and festered the longer I denied they were there. This was hard, slogging work and nobody could do it for me. 

It's okay to take a break. Sometimes the process of restoration is overwhelming, and it can wear you down. The hard work will be waiting for you when you get back to it. Do something you like to do for a while. Take some "me" time. That too, is part of the restoration process - one that is way too easily overlooked - self-care.

There will be setbacks. Old patterns of fear-based thinking, habitual controlling or self-defeating ways of relating to people, will happen. Guaranteed. The trick is in recognizing them when they happen. The work that has preceded  will help you to catch yourself falling into those mind-traps and allow you to get out of them sooner. "Do-over" is a great concept; give yourself a break and try not to beat up on yourself when you go back to your old ways of thinking. Just let it go, and rethink, and move on. The setbacks are learning experiences. They will get fewer and fewer. 

Morning at the beautifully restored great room at
Charlottetown's The Inns On Great George

Celebrate little victories. These happen, and sometimes it's hard to acknowledge them because it makes you sound like you're tooting your own horn. Be your own cheerleader. Spend time reviewing - and being grateful for - the changes that you see happening over time. You may not see a change from yesterday; that's okay. You will be able to see a change happening over the long term. Compare your reaction to events to what it was like six months or a year or two ago. You may surprise yourself. You might find something that you thought you'd lost for good - happiness - as the changes become more and more a part of your life.

Live in the new part - work in the old. it can be extremely discouraging to live your life in the constant disarray of a "work in progress." Learn to live in the new reality - the present and restored reality - and enjoy the benefits of that portion of your life, that area where you are no longer "less than" or "more than" someone else, but an equal. 

Because of that mindset, new relationships will have formed with people who believe in you; nurture them. Old and dysfunctional relationships - at least some of them - will have changed for the better; maintain that and keep working toward equality. You will feel less and less of a need to define yourself by what others think of you, and more and more by what you think of yourself. Keep working on your unfinished business, yes, but pace yourself and live more in the new reality than in the old. This will get easier as you continue to work on restoring more areas of your life to their intended purpose. 

It truly is worth it.

Going Back to Go Forward

Our daughter had her knee surgery yesterday afternoon. (See my previous posts). 

Leading up to the surgery, she was starting to be able to get around the house without her crutches, but she was still limping, and the knee was quite fragile. Yet - she managed. She convinced herself that she was fine, even though the doctor had put her off work for the duration. She was only "getting by."

Yesterday, she went from "getting by" back to being what she calls "a cripple." The feeling of helplessness is hard to escape - and for her, it is embarrassing to have to ask for help to do the simplest things. 

Yet, the damage to the knee was something that would not have healed correctly on its own. It needed that operation, even if it feels like a major set-back. 

And now, she deals with post-op pain and (what is worse) that feeling of needing to depend on others. She is housebound for almost the next two weeks. The loss of control over where she goes and what she does is quite real. Even the most simple and taken-for-granted movements are things for which she has to ask for help: getting up from lying down, keeping that leg free of encumbrances that would pull on the stitches - even under the splint! - so keeping it elevated slightly so it doesn't get caught in blankets or between sofa cushions!

The surgery - in the final analysis and if all goes as planned - will have made the difference between just "getting by" and "moving forward." 

This was a few months ago, shortly after the
initial injury. The current splint looks
similar, but is totally rigid.

However, it doesn't seem like that right now. 

In her more reasonable and lucid moments, she agrees that it will be good to walk without wincing, to be able to not only function but to thrive. 

But now - now is hard.

Her dilemma resonates with me on an emotional and spiritual level. I can relate quite a bit.

Her struggle reminds me that it is pretty easy to get used to living life with a limp - when I don't have to. 

Getting better, though, sometimes involves going back to the place where I was injured, submitting to what can be painful emotional surgery, and then, paying attention to my most simple actions and reactions.  Even if it means feeling some of those same feelings again: helplessness, anger, sadness, pain - relearning lessons I thought I'd learned before. It's embarrassing. It's unsettling. It's necessary.

It's necessary, if I want to heal in the right way, because even though it feels very awkward at first, those new behaviors are the pattern on which a whole new lifestyle is built. 

I don't want to just limp along for the rest of my life. 

It's awkward for me to ask for help - but I need help because I can't do this alone. It's awkward for me to say to someone with a problem, "No, I can't fix that." It's awkward for me to say how I feel when I am feeling it, to confront someone with something he or she might not want to hear. It's awkward for me to go back to where something has gone awry and correct it - set a boundary, enforce one, respect one, look after myself, and/or pray. Yet, it's so crucial. 

It's the only way for healing to do me any lasting good.

Force Fields

Some time ago, I was talking to an acquaintance of mine and telling her some things about her that I appreciated. I told her that she was a sweet person, or something to that effect. She stopped me right there. "Oh, I dunno about that Judy," she drawled. "I don't think you know me well enough to say that about me." 

When I looked puzzled, she continued. "I think that if you knew what I was really like, you wouldn't say such great things about me." 

Really? 

Does everyone do this? Does everyone put up a force field of behaviors they think are socially acceptable and hide the fears, the failings, the vulnerabilities they think they have, just to "fit in" to what they think is considered 'nice'? 

Huh. I thought I was the only one. The last few years for me has all been about bringing down those force fields and being real so that people knew who I was and not the image I would like them to see. 

I know it's hard - letting down that kind of guard puts a person into a position where he or she might get hurt, attacked, betrayed or (what's worse) deliberately ignored. But when I had all those force fields up and running, I always wondered if people hung around with me (IF they did) because of my facades, what I wanted them to see, or because of who I really was ... if I even knew what that was (let alone them!) 

Sometimes letting down those force fields has resulted in confrontations I would have rather avoided. Sometimes it's even led to enforcing boundaries ... to the point of saying goodbye. And sometimes, friends, it has resulted in ever-deepening relationships with people who are trustworthy, who treat me as an equal rather than an idol or a slave, who deserve the same treatment from me and (usually) get it! 

My definitions of family, friendship, loyalty, forgiveness, trust, and caring have all undergone radical transformations in the last few years. Those who know me best tell me that they hardly recognize me compared to the person I used to be. All I can tell them is that this is an ongoing process, that I do whatever is put in front of me to do, and that I strive to be as real as I can be and trust those who have demonstrated that they are trustworthy. And, strange as it may seem, I like this new me - the one with far fewer force fields - much better than the one who had put up so many of them that she was trapped inside with (it seemed) no way out. 

There is a way out - one force field at a time. 

The magnet

Everyone has one, I suspect. Everyone has a magnet hard-wired into them.

They might not have been born with it.  But it came - over time and at different ages in different people.  Some people had it implanted all at once; in others it was iron filing by iron filing over years and years.

What I'm talking about is that wounded place in each person - the place where there is great hurt, where the spirit has been badly injured. Perhaps it was a violent assault.  Perhaps it was systematic abuse.  Perhaps it came from years upon years of being criticized, made to feel stupid, or unwanted, or bad.  

Once there, this is the problem: the magnet attracts more of the same.  The very behavior that resulted in the spirit's being deeply hurt generates a desire in other people to injure that person in that exact same place.  It's uncanny. It's spiritual in nature - and I've seen it happen over and over again in myself and in people that I know, people that I love.  Even Christian pastors have remarked about this idea when talking about some counseling situations - an overwhelming desire to say something to the person that will injure him or her.  The ones who recognize it for what it is, immediately pray for that magnet to lose its power.  Of course they don't say those exact words... they might talk about an evil spirit - which is as accurate an explanation as anything else to describe the phenomenon.  

When someone smacks me in my own wounded place, my reaction is far more severe than it would be if they hit me in a place that was stronger.  And so it is with everyone - some call it a "sensitive area" or a "soft spot".  The end result is that people will jump on top of it like a hen on a June bug, like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Sometimes without even being aware of it.  It has happened so many times in my life that I have lost count.

My natural reaction to something like that is to avoid situations that will place me in danger of that happening.  (Which is why I avoid certain social situations like the plague.  But I digress.) 

What is harder, but better in the long run, is dealing with the hurt and rendering it powerless.  

HERE is where I found this photo of
acousto-magnetic strips used in many stores' anti-shoplifting systems

Like what happens at the store when you're buying some articles of clothing... they have a magnetized strip somewhere in the garment that will activate the security warning in the store if not "demagnetized" by the checkout clerk. But run a demagnetizing device right over that spot, and it changes the properties of the strip so that it doesn't react when the magnetic beam in the automatic doors hits it. If a clerk forgets, it's usually a simple matter to go back and get it done. Usually.

Sometimes, though, one of these strips doesn't get demagnetized at the checkout ... because it's buried so deep and doesn't respond to the demagnetizing device - and then it sets off Every. Single. Alarm. 

That happened with a winter coat I had once. It was poly-fiber-filled (the technical term, I believe, is "poofy") and the store at which I bought the coat didn't succeed in demagnetizing the strip; it was buried too deeply.  So ... the magnet was still active in it.  Every time I walked into a store (any store with a similar security system) wearing that coat, I couldn't get out of the store without setting off the alarm.  Try as I might, I couldn't find the strip; it was lost in the poly-fibers.  It frustrated not only me, but store security personnel too. They knew me, they knew my situation and that I was not a shoplifter - and they had even tried to demagnetize the coat for me, a couple of times.  Nothing worked.  Finally ... I stopped wearing the coat!!  A couple of years later, when I was taking it out of the closet to make room for something else, I grabbed it in an odd spot - and felt the short, thin strip through the material - it had slipped down into a spot that was unusual. Nobody would have thought to find it there.  

The process of demagnetizing those hurt places inside ... takes time.  It's not like Someone waves a big demagnetizing wand over the spot and it's all better.  Layers upon layers of "poof" builds up over it - in an effort to protect that soft spot - and makes it inaccessible.  The key is finding that spot and bringing it into the open. It might take a while. It might even take opening up the facade and ripping out the protective layers. 

It does not happen without pain, sometimes a lot of pain.  But once a move is made to put God at the helm of the process, it WILL eventually happen as long as He stays at the controls. Healing WILL happen, from the inside out.  And the alarms will eventually stop going off.  Life will become normal.  Happiness will not be so rare anymore.  

I know because it's happened in some areas of my life and it continues to happen in others.  Like I said, it's a process.  And in spite of the sometimes messy beginning, in the vast majority of cases, it is worth the mess, even before the journey is halfway through.

Open Season

Since September 2011, when I e-published my book, (see my "About Me" page), I've been exposed to a lot of unexpected criticism.  I happened to mention in my book a couple of times some of the history that led me to the place of living life all bound up in grave-clothes: raised from the dead like Lazarus, and thinking I was free but unable to enjoy anything, unable to make any progress, wondering if this was all there was to life.  Part of that history is the fact that I was abused as a child: physically, sexually, verbally, emotionally and (worst of all) spiritually. 

The book isn't about the abuse, though.  It's about the hopeless state of mind I was in as an adult and how I found a way out, a way which I had never been shown or told about, and into a place of real relationship with God, with myself, and eventually with others, including coming to a place of forgiving my abusers!

Anyway, with only ONE exception, the reaction from the people I mentioned (never once did I give a name or an address; I'm not after revenge) and the response from people who think they know them, has been nothing short of vitriolic.  I'm reminded of the Pharisees who were present at the stoning of Stephen, who, when they heard the truth that they were responsible for the greatest atrocity in history, were so incensed that they plugged their ears, ground their teeth and started throwing stones at him to shut him up.  It was "Open Season" on Christians -- and Stephen was the first to be targeted. Nothing mattered to the Pharisees except their own image. The truth did not set them free... they didn't want to have anything to do with the truth.

Of course, I'm not equating myself with Stephen.  Or my birth family with the Pharisees.  But their reaction has been far over the top of anything that I would have expected, especially since I had given them the opportunity of reading the book before I published, and they said nothing to me about it at the time.  Only after I was published did I hear the rumblings of second-hand stories regarding the reaction of "the family." As it was when I was growing up, they seem to be more concerned with how they appear to others, than they are about how many people (possibly even themselves) could be helped out of the same hopeless state of mind through reading about my experience of inner healing, and applying the principles for "living life" that I learned along the way.  

Their reaction has helped me redefine some boundaries.  I spent my whole life, almost into my 50s, feeling ashamed if I told the truth about myself: hiding so much behind respectability and "what people might think" that I avoided becoming vulnerable and open.  As a result, I not only wasn't able to come to a place of healing from the hurts of my past, I wasn't able to help anyone else either.  When God finally brought me to the place where I was forced to ask for help, I discovered that what was required to begin to heal inside was absolute, rigorous honesty and openness at all times - first and foremost with myself.  

Since that time, it's been "open season" on Judy - all bets are off.  I have given (and continue to give) my will and my life over to the care of God, and nothing in my life is off-limits to Him.  And the road has been quite bumpy; at times it's been nearly overwhelming.  He's brought some pretty difficult things to the surface over the last while, things that I couldn't possibly face by myself - and has stood with me, strengthening me to face those things with honesty and trust in Him. 

The reaction of those people has only served to refine the lessons I have learned (and which I continue to learn!) while healing.  Forgiveness is a process that starts with a decision to want to forgive - and continues as you learn to let go.  Forgiveness doesn't mean you let people walk all over you again and again.  Some relationships can be salvaged and restored.  And some ... can't.  It takes willingness on both sides.  If the other side isn't willing, and wants to go back to the way things were (dysfunctional, manipulative, controlling, etc.) then it's time to walk away.  It's sad, but sometimes it has to be that way.  I can't expect them to be in the same place to which God has brought me by His grace, much as I might want that.  They need to come to that place themselves, and NOTHING I can do will make that happen. 

What I CAN do is continue to be open and honest with myself, with God, and with others - especially with those who might be getting to the place of desperation, the same place I was at 48 years old when I looked at my life and knew I needed help, knew enough to ask for it.  

And I got help, and hope, and healing.  And so can you.

Level, Square and True

My husband is building a small shed to house the lawn tractor and a few other, smaller tools.  He's designed it himself, taken his time and carefully laid out the foundation, and invested a lot of energy especially in those first stages of making sure that everything was level and square.  He tested and retested those concrete blocks and the beams he placed on them with his level (okay, can't resist a joke: you know a guy's on the level if his bubble's in the middle), and made minor adjustments in the depth the concrete went into the earth, before ever he screwed in the first screw to the wood. 

It might seem like a lot of trouble to go to, but that extra time and effort is going to be well worth it.  The building will be more sturdy, more reliable, and more long-lasting.  It will withstand everything that the north wind and the snow and ice will throw at it in the winter, and it will protect its contents from the rain during the rest of the year. 

Here's the link where I got this photo

Starting from a level foundation and making sure that all the parts are square - that is, perpendicular to each other and fitting the way they're supposed to fit - will only enhance the function of the shed and turn it into an asset rather than a liability.  

The process is a visual reminder of how to build a life.  Make sure the foundation is level, spend extra time, as much as you need to.  Use tools to measure and be certain that the foundation is square because you'll be building on it - if the foundation is wrong, the whole thing will be crooked.  Think about how it's going to be, plan your escape route (the door) and a way to see out (the window). Frame it out and make sure THAT is square and true. 

"True" is hard to explain - carpenters understand the term. It means that the integrity of the structure is right, that the corners are not just square (that is, coming to a 90 degree angle) but that the framing is in a straight line all the way along, and that both the framing and fitted corners, put together, will support the roof and the walls as a result. 

Plainly put, the building process is a metaphor of life and the foundation in particular, is one of relationship with God - it's the foundation for living life as it really is.  Life needs to be grounded on something that is going to stand the test of time... and relationship with God is that something.  The floor and the framing are relationship with the self.  Nothing external can hang on those for very long unless the framing is True.  Self-care, setting boundaries, letting go of the need to control or look after others to the exclusion of the self - these are good structure for what will eventually be what everyone else sees: relationships with others (the walls).  Top that off with healthy boundaries between self and others (the roof).  That keeps the floor and the framing from getting soggy and rotten (grin) and keeps the tools from rusting.

The analogy is rather loose; I only just thought of this one tonight as I heard my hubby talk about his project.   But I believe that it has merit.  

Happy building. 

Hope for a New Day

Tonight I was reminded once again of just how desperate I was when I first started my journey of healing a little over three years ago.  Fear was a way of life for me; and fear (when it was cornered) became anger and rage.  I wasn't living life; I was surviving it - and quite badly.  I was more and more alone, and didn't know how to get free.

As I listened to someone telling her story tonight, and could relate so very much to all those feelings of bewilderment and terror, once again I marveled at just how far God has brought me by following a simple 12-step program of spiritual recovery from what I have called control-freakism and doormat-itis.  Today I do have a brand new freedom, and I can have normal and healthy relationships with people ... as equals. The power trips I went on, the power trips I allowed others to take me on - they are relegated to the past. This is such an amazing trip for me.  I can hardly believe it's actually me living this. 

Part of a reading I turn to quite often goes like this: "No matter how traumatic your past or despairing your present may seem, there is hope for a new day in the twelve steps of Codependents Anonymous. No longer do you need to rely on others as a power greater than yourself.  May you instead find here a new strength within to be that which God intended: Precious and Free."

From the site:
http://quesoyvinoconmigo.blogspot.ca/2010/03/out-of-darkness-into-light.html

The journey is daunting when seen in its entirety.  But thank God, I didn't have to travel that road all at once.  I traveled it - and am still traveling it - one step at a time.  Every step toward the light takes me one more step farther away from the darkness of panic and being without an anchor.  And every step is empowered by the One in charge of this process.  He allows me to stop and remember how far He's brought me - to be grateful.  And I am.

I don't know what is ahead; I don't need to know.  All I need to know is that He cares.  And He does.

Distance - not speed

I was talking to a buddy of mine just in the last couple of days about his desire to do a bit more walking.  He was berating himself - because he has arthritis - for not being able to hoof along like he used to.  That's when I imparted some of the knowledge I have learned on the subject:  "In walking, it's not how fast you go, it's how far you go."  True.  (Hm, maybe that's the reason people start jogging, to go farther in less time.  But it's hard on the knees!  I think my friend is better off walking...)  

Source: (from Google Images) is
http://www.southwaterfront.com/health_and_wellness/winter-healthy-talk-walk/

For those of us who are unable to jog (heck, I am lucky if I can waddle!) the trick to walking is making the time to go as far as you can comfortably go.  Every step is about three feet (well, for shorter people like me, that's two feet).  So walking a mile, whether it takes ten minutes or thirty, still uses up the same amount of calories.  And as long as the heart gets elevated up to a certain percent above normal (which can be accomplished by swinging the arms when you walk instead of walking faster) then it will do just as much good.  

It's the same with developing and maintaining a relationship with God and with oneself (and eventually with others, as the first two get more healthy).  The magic wand, the divine Zap ... very rarely happens.  Usually it's slow and steady - and if you look at today compared to yesterday, it would be easy to get discouraged simply by virtue of the fact that you haven't covered that much distance since yesterday.  Compare it to a year ago, or two, or three years - and there you have your measuring stick.  

It's a journey of millimeters, day by day, hour by hour, sometimes even minute by minute.  You hardly know a change is happening - but it happens nonetheless. One step at a time.  Sometimes the last thing you want to do is take another step.  But it's the next right thing - and somehow the strength is there because felt or not, God is right there empowering you.  And when you get to a place where you can rest a bit - and THEN look back - the distance from the starting point is absolutely amazing.  

And it leads to the next step, this time with a smidge more confidence. And then the next.  

God is very near.

Wilt thou?

"Wilt thou be healed?" (Jesus, in John 5:6) 

Billy Graham used to tell the funniest little story about the day he got married.  The wedding vows in those days were in Elizabethan English, so at the moment of truth, the minister would say, "Wilt thou take this woman to be thy wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, so long as ye both shall live?"

Billy was talking about that moment, when he quipped: "The preacher said, 'Wilt thou?' .... and I wilted."  

Jesus asked a very important question to a man who had been sick for a very long time, who saw miracles happen all around him on a regular basis, but who never had anyone who cared about him enough to make sure he got HIS miracle.  He said, "Wilt thou be healed?"  

In other words, "Do you want to get better?"

Source:
http://boysofdisney.tumblr.com/post/4292283521

Now, one would think the most natural response in the world would be the same as Emperor Kuzco's response when Pacha asks him if he's tired of being a llama. 

Yeah-hessss!

But this guy - the first thing out of his mouth is excuses.  

He doesn't even answer yes or no.  

But before judging him, let's think about this. Thirty-eight years he's lain by the side of this pool.  Every so often the water bubbles up - they said an angel stirred it, and whoever was the first one into the pool after that, would be healed.  And they were.  Every time.  So 38 years goes by and this guy is still by the side of the pool, begging for food in his spare time (and there'd be a LOT of spare time.) Lots of time to think about how alone he was, how nobody cared enough to roll him over there.  People came - ill - they left - better.  Not him.  People passed by there every day, saw him there.  Perhaps they asked him why he was still there after all this time.  Perhaps just their expression asked him that same question.  Could anyone imagine just how the victim mentality grew all over him like a fungus?  

So when Jesus asks him, "Do you want to be healed?" what do you suppose he hears in his heart?  "How come you're not healed? you must not want it badly enough."  

So his first words are, "Sir, I have nobody..."  Such a lonely existence being ill and being judged for it ... it's true!  Yet - the One asking this question wasn't judging.  He was asking if the man wanted to be healed.  And now that I listen a bit more closely  ...  I think I can hear his heart.  "Yeah-hessss!" 

Immediately Jesus tells him to pick up his pallet, the one on which he had been living for almost 40 years, and walk.  No fanfare, no stirring up the water and pushing people out of the way to get this guy in the pool first - no vindication in front of people who had passed him by and dismissed him.  Just pick up your mat and walk.  Don't worry about the muscles that are atrophied after years of disuse.  Just start using them - you've been given the ability by God to move around.  

At that point the man has a choice: to do as he is told, or to disbelieve and stay on his sleeping pad.  But no, he does - he gets up.  

And he can walk.  Unsteadily perhaps at first - but he does get up.  And - if you will use your imagination with me for a moment - from that day forward, his whole way of life progressively changes.  He has to strengthen his legs, learn balance, re-learn some table manners, perhaps.  He's also expected to work for a living instead of beg.  All those things which were withheld from him as an invalid, begin to unfold in his life.  Everything not only changes in a moment of time, but it continues to change as he walks through every day.

So with us (yes, even - and perhaps especially - Christians!) when we are bound for years and years by some unseen affliction that keeps us living in a victim-state.  We are powerless to help ourselves ... others seem to get healed and move on and leave us in the dust, wondering why, what's wrong with us.  And then the Master comes to us and asks us if we want to be healed.  

Do we?  do we really?  or are we used to the attention we're getting? are we fond of the pity and the emotional stroking we get because we have this great circumstance in our lives that colours every other aspect of our being?  Some of us feel that way, if we were to be brutally honest with ourselves.  I know I did - for many years.  But there comes a point when we must face that question, having come to the end of ourselves, when we are supremely tired of living life that way, and tell the Creator that we want to get better - and that there's nothing that we can do to GET better; we've tried everything on our own with abysmal results.  So we ask for Him to take over.  We tell Him - in response to His ever-present question - that we want to be healed.  

I did.  And when I did, He gave me the ability to get up and walk.  
But that was only the beginning of a whole new lifestyle - one that's ongoing.

Centering

I've been reading a book I got for Christmas - "Hungry for God" by Margaret Feinberg. I started reading in fear and trembling because so many books on getting to know God are so incredibly NOT about getting to know Him but getting to know more ABOUT Him.  Knowledge I have.  What I lack is experience.  

Anyway, this book didn't turn out to be as I feared.  It talks about the mundane things of our lives and how God uses them to reveal Himself to us through them.  If we listen.  

One analogy she uses in her book - one which is not original to her of course - is the one about the clay and the potter.  But she happens to mention the part that is so easily overlooked about creating a piece of pottery.  It's the first part - the part a potter calls 'centering'.  

Source (via Google Images):
http://pottery.about.com/od/centeringonthewheel/
ss/centering_2.htm

The potter doesn't just plunk down the clay and start to make a pot or a vase right away.  The first part after smacking it down on the wheel, is holding the clay in a lump as the wheel turns beneath it, squeezing it toward the middle of the wheel, making sure it is perfectly in the inner circle of the wheel, even before the clay has an inside part. The potter keeps adding water, squeezes some more, and shifts the clay on the wheel until it seems to be standing still even though the wheel is still spinning.  This is to make the clay pliable and to prevent disaster later on from the creation being off-center.  

And yet the pot cannot hold anything yet because it doesn't have an opening.  Any water poured onto it would just slide off.  The potter wants to make sure that the clay is where it needs to be, first and foremost. He tests it by squishing it down with the heel of his hand. Then squeezing it toward the middle so that it's tall. Then down again. Then up.  The clay - if it could think - might wonder what in the world was becoming of it.  Yet all this time it is being shaped, and its goodness is being slimed all over the potter's fingers, sinking into his pores, under his nails.  The potter is inexorably connected to and involved in his creation. 

Only then, only after the clay is perfectly centered and pliable, is it ready to be "opened" - the potter squishes the lump again, the clay's outside becomes the general shape that was intended, and then the thumb starts pressing down in the very center of the lump - "opening" the clay and creating an inside that will make the piece usable. 

There are quite a few steps involved in pottery, but the one that stood out for me is the centering.  Again I stress that as the clay in this analogy, we cannot be 'opened' until we are 'centered.'  And it's all God's work including adding water (which symbolizes His divine presence being infused into us); He is the one who does it, we are only available to Him.  He works a work on the wheel of our lives (which HE set in motion) and it is HIS choice how long that takes or what shape will eventually be produced.  

It's messy. It's uncomfortable sometimes. There's a lot of pressure.  It takes a long time.  And it's necessary.  

Totally.

Enough

How much is enough?

Good question.  I was chatting with someone in a store tonight and we were mentioning how it's really difficult to fit our petite frames when there's a belly involved.  We commiserated about that, and were quick to be grateful for certain lines of clothing that cater to our specific body type needs.  It made me think about wanting to lose weight - a topic that occasionally rears its ugly head.  

One of the first things a person learns when dieting living a new lifestyle is how much is enough.  So accustomed to ignoring the body's signals that it's full - the person keeps on eating and over-fills the stomach.  I can't count the number of times I've gone to bed in agony because I didn't know when to say when - and ended up overeating to the point of pain.  Then promising myself I'll never do it again.  But I do.  I forget the pain and focus on the short-term pleasure of making the other kind of hurting go away: the emotional kind.  It's true that people like me (there are so many of us out there!) really are "FEEDING their feelings."  This is to avoid FEELING them.  

People can be like that about anything.  Some are like that about housekeeping.  Others about fitness.  Still others about social activity - never able to get enough interaction. Some people can't seem to stop trying to rescue other people. I have to constantly guard against that one and if I can't with this or that individual, if I am constantly compelled to try to fix someone ... I need to walk away. 

People can be irresistibly drawn to shopping - to television - to sports - to motor vehicles of any description - to ... anything you can name.  These things provide an escape - a pleasurable escape - to the person that is trapped inside of them.  But even though they're pleasurable prisons, they are still prisons.  Any doubt about that ....?  just try to get out of one.  See how difficult it is.  

In relationship with God, escape from the endless trap of pleasurable diversions ... is possible.  With His help on a moment-by-moment basis, it is possible to get out of those prisons, those chains, those wrappings.  And the route isn't by attacking the wrappings - it's by tackling what's inside.  

Remember what I said about feeling our feelings instead of feeding them?  That's the ticket.  Emotional healing is the way to heal - focusing on relationships with God, the self, and THEN with others will allow all those other escape mechanisms to just drop off like unwanted baggage.  

And then someday, we'll be able to be in a situation and just know that this is "it" - that this is as far as we will go - and have the grace and courage to say, "ENOUGH!"

Real healing happens from the inside out.  If it doesn't, it will only be temporary.  And only God can heal the heart.

When Repetition isn't Vain

In the New Testament we are warned about using "vain (useless) repetitions." Jesus was referring to people who say the same thing to God over and over again, so much that it becomes just words and is done to impress others (or even God!). But there is a kind of repetition that isn't vain. In fact, it's essential.

I was in a co-worker's office today when I mentioned a concern I was having about some changes that are heading our way at work, uncertainty about what it will all mean, and so forth.  She reminded me that the changes of which I spoke were out of my control, that they had not yet been decided, and that there would be plenty of time to discuss them and deal with them when and if they finally did happen.

It reminded me again of words I often repeat in prayer:  "God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference."  

Pendant shown at :
http://www.artfire.com/ext/shop/studio/lemonberrystudios

Good words. Important words.  And words I forget all too quickly.  

Mentoring and teaching people lately has brought home to me again the benefits of repetition in learning a new skill or a new way of living.  

It's not a sign of low intelligence or of poor moral character when we forget how to do something a new way or when we're unsure how to act in a situation which used to send us to bed with the covers pulled up over our heads. It's a sign we're learning, and we need repetition of the things and principles that matter in order to cement our new skill - or lifestyle - into our minds and/or hearts, as the case may be.  

And whether it's a skill or a lifestyle, one mistake doesn't mean we've failed.  It just means we need more practice, more repetition, in lots of various situations and circumstances, until finally it's the "new normal."  And that is FAR from useless. 

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. 

Unwinding

"Mona, take a break."  

This is my favorite line from an old Caramilk TV ad from 1973, where Leonardo da Vinci tells Mona Lisa (as he is painting her portrait) to take a break because he can't get her to smile just right. So she takes a bite of the Caramilk and the rest - "Mona! hold it!" - is history.  

Back before I started my process of healing, I would come home from work and hit the ground running.  Hang up my coat, put supper on the stove immediately.  Go, go, go.  Gotta, sposta, woulda-coulda-shoulda, as the events of the day whirled around in my head.  (Whew!)  

And when I was healing, one of the things I decided to do in order to look after myself and support my healing process was to take about twenty minutes or so when I got home and do whatever it is that I wanted to do. I still do it.  I call it "unwinding."  It's pretty incredible what just that 20 minutes does - it allows me to shed the stresses of the day and gear up for the events of the evening, whatever that holds in store.  I can check my emails, start a blog post, read something from a book, or even have a conversation with someone via Skype or one of the social media.  It doesn't take long, but it is time well-spent.  

What it does for me is freshen and sharpen my perspective, bring me into the moment, boost my gratitude factor, and underline for me the relatively new fact of life that I am a person too, and that I have the right to be cared for.  Even if I'm the one doing the caring. That it's okay - that I'm worth looking after.

When I feel that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, when I sense the slime of that slippery slope of becoming too personally involved in things that are none of my business, I know that there is an area of my life which needs work.  I have allowed myself to slip back into the insanity of trying to fix or rescue people, or otherwise influence the behavior of a person or the outcome of someone else's situation or plan. 

That is the time I need to pull aside and look after me.  Unwinding, taking a break, looking after myself reminds me of the existence of boundaries that other people have, because it reminds me of my own boundaries. Since the concept of boundaries is a new one, it is helpful for me to keep it front and centre so that I won't forget and cross one - or allow one to be crossed.  This makes for better relationships with God, with myself and with others.  

It's funny how that works.  But it works.  Every time.

Winding up

I've been doing a fair bit of thinking about the process of inner healing which I describe in detail in my book (see the link right under the archives).  

There is a certain mental or spiritual preparation that takes place prior to doing the "hard work" of healing - the day-to-day slogging leg work that (without help) is virtually impossible to maintain.  It's a very slow-motion version of a pitcher "winding up" to pitch a ball - gathering up all the energy that's available and aligning the body and the vision in such a way that when the energy is released, it's extremely focused and will achieve the desired result.  

Care must be taken not to overdo or overextend, and I must say that the process does not come naturally, so coaching and training are essential.  It really helps to have someone beside you at first who has done it before, who can walk you through the necessary steps.  

That "winding up" period is the mental or spiritual determination to do whatever is necessary to be free.  Even if it means admitting (after years of trying and failing) that you can't do it all by yourself.  Even if it means that you have to ask God for help and trust Him to give you the strength to do the next right thing.  Once He is consulted, He is tireless in His commitment to completing the masterpiece He has been given the permission to start.  

It's essential to gather those mental and emotional resources to enter the process of "getting unwrapped."  God's involvement is what gives the healing process its power to transform.  Without that, (and believe me, I've tried and I know others who have tried - and we all bear witness to this) the process will fail.  Every time.  

This is not a one-time thing, either.  It's ongoing.  Drawing strength from God to keep on becoming free ... is essential.  The grave-clothes of the past do tend to get stuck on us sometimes - some things just don't want to loosen their grip on us, and some things we aren't ready to give up.   

Yet, that is. God doesn't give up that easily.

Learning curve

After a couple of years away from the classroom, I'm back to taking a semi-intensive refresher in my second language, French.  I could feel my skills getting pretty rusty in my daily job, and my test results have recently expired, so I thought it best to give myself a boost.  

We meet twice a week for two and a half hours each time, and will do so until mid-December. Then we'll do a full week, seven hours a day, Monday to Friday, before finally culminating with "the test."  (Also known as "the dreaded test.")  

After so long away from that kind of atmosphere, I find that I need to really focus and pay attention to what is going on around me at all times.  Such vigilance is demanding not only on the brain, but also on the body - after such a session, I have a tension headache, and my neck and shoulders are stiff and sore from leaning forward to catch every word.  However, I know that it will get easier as I get more used to the new reality, as I learn to think in French.  Or re-learn how.  

Learning a different way of thinking is always hard at first.  It takes a great deal of concentration - and often, error - and trying again to get it right.  

I remember that, in the process of inner healing that is so often the topic of this blog, my habit of wanting to (and trying to) influence the outcome of a situation always ended badly, yet when I began to take my hands off the situations I so wanted to manipulate, it was very hard to let go.  At one point early in my healing process, in order to remind myself to mentally unhook, I actually had to physically step back and put my hands up in surrender, as if someone behind me said, "Stick'em up."  It was so much easier to do what I had always done, but I was acutely aware that this would only lead to more frustration for me and for my loved ones.  So at first, I had to be intentional - even obvious - about my need to let go of the need to control, to help, to fix, to make it all better.  It was very tiring.  It took a LOT of effort.  

During that time, I had to be good to myself, to do things "for me" that I had not previously allowed myself to enjoy.  Even something as simple as listening to good music was an effort for me, because I had been living my life so completely for other people and for their needs and wants that I was burning out.  So I got myself a pocket-sized device with some earphones - at first to shut out the chatter at work, but then to feed my spirit - and from time to time I would listen to music that built me up, that recharged my batteries, if you will.  It helped me; it gave me the reserves I needed to draw upon when the sheer effort of participating in my own healing weighed too heavily on me.  

As I started to shed some of the baggage from my growing-up years, a process which required a lot of energy, it helped to take those breaks from the grueling work of recovery and speak softly to my inner child, affirm her worth.  

Throughout the process, God was there to help me mount the learning curve, climb out of the chasm of habitual self-abasement, guilt trips, and manipulation and up the mountainside of confidence, self-respect and peace.  Even when sometimes I wondered if He was even there, He'd find some way to let me feel that tug of the guide rope, and pull me upward one more step until I could find a foothold and another goal to attain. 

It's never been easy. It still isn't.  But the view is getting pretty amazing.

Too Late?

I'll call him J.  He lives across the street from us.  

When we first moved into our neighborhood about 22 years ago, he was the most feared man in the subdivision.  All the neighbors kept their distance.  The people going door to door, whether religious groups or charities asking for money, were met with cold indifference at best, and if they pushed their luck, open hostility.  He was a crusty, volatile, profane curmudgeon and people avoided having any dealings with him. Occasionally he and his wife would fight and half our street knew it.  

We stayed away too.  For three years, we avoided him like the plague.  

Then one day our daughter, three years old and playing outside, ventured into our unlocked car, and managed to close the door.  Inside the vehicle, she happily pushed buttons and turned dials on the console.  Unknown to her, her movements loosened the standard stick shift and put the car in Neutral.  It started to roll back, picking up speed as it went toward the street.  

Thankfully, no cars were coming.  Our car rolled across the road with her inside, and tipped backwards into the ditch, coming to rest with a rather jolting thud in J's lawn, front wheels pointed toward the jet trails in the summer sky, the car at a 45 degree angle. 

Our daughter was physically fine, if frightened.  We had seen the car going and couldn't catch up with it - so checked her immediately.  Once we had assured ourselves of her safety, the next sound we heard was something that sounded like a "harumph."  Uh-oh.  J was striding toward us, clenching and unclenching his fists.  This wasn't going to be pretty.  

He must have ranted for about two minutes.  It was the most bizarre scene - a man about 38 years old, bowing his head meekly while a man ten years his senior and ten inches shorter than he was reamed him out on the front lawn with a car beside them pointed like a rocket launcher.  

"... and you'll *&*# put that grass back the way it was!" he finished.

"Yes sir, I will," my hubby told him, and apologized for the damage.  

The tow truck came and removed the car from the ditch, and we pulled a plug of sod from the tailpipe.  There was a large dent in J's lawn; the grass had been rolled back like parchment.  Over the next two days, hubby brought in topsoil, replaced as much sod as he could, and seeded around it with grass seed.  In the end, it looked better and smoother than it did before the car struck it.  

From that point onward, J's opinion of us did an abrupt 180º turn; he became our best advocate.  He'd wave to us - even chat when shoveling show or during breaks when mowing the lawn.  He'd come over if we were doing lawn work.  A couple of times we looked out to see him mowing part of our lawn and never once did he ask for repayment.  Once in a while, after a fight with his wife, he'd come chat for a while - the smell of whiskey on him.  He loved hard; he fought hard; he smoked hard; he drank hard.  Yet there was something special about him.  Beneath that crusty exterior there was a man who knew what he wanted and usually wasn't afraid to face issues - and people - head on.  But he was fiercely loyal and respectful to his friends.

One time - probably about 10 years ago - he and my husband were having another of their chats.  I'm not exactly sure how the topic came up, but hubby told J that he was a Christian.  His eyes narrowed.  "Ohh.  You're one of THEM."  That is all he ever said about it.  

A few weeks ago, after having sold his car, J revealed in one of his visits (much to our surprise and dismay) that he had cancer of the throat.  It had taken a while for his doctors to diagnose it, and by the time they did, he was given a one in four chance of survival.  "Ach," he blustered.  "We all gotta die sometime." 

We felt like someone had kicked the wind right out of us at his news. We feared that it was too late for him - or for us - to talk about the really important stuff, stuff that people don't usually talk about until faced with the very real possibility of death.  We secretly wondered if it was too late to talk about those things now.

They talked for a while longer when J finally said, right out of the blue, "You play checkers?"  Hubby nodded.  "Then don't be surprised if I set up the board sometime and come getcha."  

Well, well.  Maybe it's not too late to show him some love and appreciation.

The White Knight Syndrome

A dear friend was offended by something I did the other day and let me know.  Without going into a whole lot of detail, I crossed a boundary - one I should have known better than to cross - and it hurt my friend.  Within a short time all was forgiven, but I started thinking how easily it is for me to slip back into old patterns of behavior without knowing it, sometimes in the guise of "helping."  

As I thought about an image, a mental picture, that might help me remember to do this less and less, I wondered what would best describe it.  

Google Images are great! I found this at:
http://www.picturesofknights.net/Knight-on-Horse.html

And then a white knight rode across my mind, his horse snorting, his sword drawn to do battle.  

That was it.  It fit perfectly! 

The white knight syndrome.  I've had it for years - and although in recovery from it, sometimes it still does manage to sneak into my psyche.  A syndrome is a set of symptoms that go together and which can't actually be called a disease, yet the symptoms cause distress to the person (and to others), sometimes without the person realizing it's even there.  And the white knight is pretty self-explanatory... 

This is the "Oh my goodness, someone's in distress!  I must SAVE that person!" mentality.  The one that will ignore boundaries and focus solely on the "mission" at hand.  

There are a few things about being a white knight that aren't all that great.  First, you become fixated.  It's hard to see anything except what's directly in front of you and there tends to be only one viewpoint.  Second, your ability to hear well is impaired by the helmet and visor.  So even when your real commander (whom you've likely left in your own dust to rush on ahead) gives you direction or cautions you, you can't hear that still small voice.  Third, while the armour provides protection, it also prevents loved ones from getting close.  There is an "I'm right and everyone else is wrong" that drives people you love in the opposite direction.  Believe me - I know from experience - you end up abandoned and misunderstood by the very people you try to help ... and judged by those observing.  Fourth, it is exhausting, wearing all that armour.  It's an extra weight and extra energy is required to maintain it, to polish it, and to move while wearing it. (Yet the white knight refuses to take it off. It becomes his identity.) The crazy thing about it is that none of it is necessary, which brings me to my final reason.  Lastly, and probably most important, it's not your job to save the world.  It's not your job to rescue the damsels in distress, or the family member or close friend who's throwing his life away.  That is a matter between that person and his or her own conscience - and God.  

Wow.  With the picture of that white knight in my mind ... perhaps I can put away my armour - one day at a time. 

As well as can be expected

I was talking to someone today on the phone and asked her how she was.  And I got the answer I usually get.  "Oh, I'm as well as can be expected, under the circumstances."  Said with a sigh and a "Martha martyr" tone.  

It made me think after I was finished with the conversation.  

Do I do that?  Do I let people believe that my life is a vale of tears when in actual fact it's quite good, I have my health, restored relationships, and so much more than I deserve?  

What's my GQ?  What's my gratitude quotient?  When people talk to me, do they wish I'd finish what I'm saying and feel relieved when I walk away? or do they smile and say to themselves that it was encouraging to have spoken with me?  Do they feel appreciated or used?  do they look back on the conversation with a chuckle or a grimace?  

It's hard to believe but (Canadian) Thanksgiving is only 2 weeks away.  

It's a little odd to me that we would have to be reminded once a year to be grateful for the bounty around us.  Yet here we are.  We are so wrapped up (pun intended) in all our limitations and circumstances we wished were better, that we forget to be grateful for what we have.  

It is my opinion (take it or leave it) that Thanksgiving doesn't happen often enough - not the holiday, just thanksgiving.  Not just thankfulness to God for things but ... thankfulness to each other.  Someone does something we ask him or her to do: "Thank you!" Someone is really nice and goes above and beyond what was expected.  "Thank you!"  It's not - - - I was going to say it's not hard.  But for some of us, it's not easy!!  The mindset is so entrenched that the first thing we look for is what's wrong with this picture, how can it be improved, that we don't see the 99% that IS right with it.  And I guess that's where the statement comes from, "I'm as well as can be expected under the circumstances," with that little martyr tone - the one that says, "Pity me, make me feel good about myself.  Please."  

I used to do that.  I desperately wanted other people to make me feel good about myself.  Because? I didn't feel good about myself, plain and simple.  When I got into recovery and started deepening my relationship with God and establishing a relationship with myself - when I realized that I do have boundaries and so does everyone else - when I started taking inventory and ridding myself of excess baggage... these cravings to be fixed, to be healed, to  be comforted - gradually fell off me.  The things I say now that make people wish I left ten minutes ago... these are mostly habits of decades from which I am slowly weaning myself.  

How's that going?  Some days, it's great.  Other days - well, about as well as can be expected.  (Wink).