No April Fool

 I'm not a great fan of April Fool's Day jokes. Most are pranks played at someone else's expense (a practice I consider cruel and spiteful), and so I weather the day hoping nobody does anything disrespectful. 

This year, nobody did. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

On the evening of the next day, I got a telephone call from a nursing home out of province telling me that my mother had died. I checked my watch for the date. Nope. Not April 1st. 

The next few days, I worked with the funeral home director and with loved ones to plan and arrange my mom's funeral. It turned out better than I expected, and although the occasion was sombre due to the reason for the gathering, it was good to see everyone again, and I was surprised at how many showed up for the service.

In the time during and since the initial rituals of grief and saying goodbye, folks have been kind and tender. And I have been okay. Probably more okay than I would have thought. 

Free photo by alexman89 at Pixabay

As we prepare for her burial in a few weeks, I've done a lot of pondering about how I've spent the last several years trying to be heard and believed about my lived experience as her daughter; even though I love her, it was not an ideal relationship for many reasons. And I've finally realized that people are going to believe what they want to believe about her (and about me) no matter what I say or don't say. With that realization, there comes a bit of ... peace, I guess. 

We all have that part of ourselves we only show to those closest to us. And I know that my mom did the same. Most people viewed her as a saint (in the sense that she should have been canonized...) but nobody knew what happened behind the four walls of our little house. Nor would they have believed it. 

Nor does it matter any more. She understands now more than ever how I feel, how I felt, and all the multi-faceted complex emotions that implies. And somehow, I am starting to understand the relief involved in the little saying, "April Fool!" when the joke is over - that the horrible thing that someone did or said wasn't what it appeared to be after all. That the truth is now revealed and the cruel joke is over.  

She can rest. And I can rest. And from now on, there is no more April Fool.

Only the truth. Just knowing that is enough for me. 

A Breath of Kindness

It's been a week of lasts. And it's been a week of firsts. 

This was the week that the last of the insurance money I was hoping for, came to me in the form of a check for the value of my youngest daughter's car before the crash.

This was the last week that I had to dread another car payment coming off my bank for that same car that I had co-bought with her (she in one province, I in another) ... a car in which she was killed a month and a day later. Every time that I had to record that amount in my check register, another piece of me died. Now, nearly 18 months after her death and some 35 payments later, the insurance company sent me a check to pay her loan in full. 

This was the last week that I had to pretend that it didn't happen, that she was somehow still with me, tied to me by that payment every two weeks. 

That is hard. And it's also a relief, which brings me to the firsts.

This week, for the first (and hopefully the last) time, and at the suggestion of my financial consultant at my bank, I ended up having an appointment with a bank employee from a different bank who specialized in estates. She heard me, expressed her condolences, and walked me through the process of paying out that loan. 

"I want to make this as painless as possible for you," she said. Her eyes said what her professionalism could not - "I know how I would feel if I lost my daughter." 

For the first time, I was grateful for this poky little Island with its rural mentality. It had always niggled at me a little bit that everyone has to know each other's business and heritage here. I'm a private person, and that kind of interest in family bloodlines seems ... almost incestuous somehow. But ... this woman across the desk from me remembered me from 30 years ago, remembered my name and remembered that we lived in the country, "down east" as she called it - referring to the east end of the Island and the part that (on the map) looks like it's on Island's underbelly. She was a bank employee back then too, working for a different bank, where we just happened to have our mortgage. And now I just happened to be sitting across from her, thirty years later. 

2009 Hyundai Accent

I don't believe in coincidences. I had prayed, before I left to go to my appointment, for God to go before me and to make the rough places smooth. I believe that He had been working ahead of time (even 30 years in advance!), knowing I would pray that exact prayer at that moment, so He did go before me, much more than I had even meant when I prayed. Thirty years more.

The bank employee even put a rush on the request and stopped payment on another auto-debit that was to come off next week, the day before the payment request was auto-initiated by their computer. (I just happened to mention to her that the next payment was due to come off next week so should I be concerned about it? A flurry of activity from her and it was taken care of. Just. Like. That.) 

She told me that the loan was thus-and-such amount of money, which meant that there would be some money left over after it was paid. And she made it possible for me to be paid the balance left over. In cash. WITHOUT filling out reams of paperwork and WITHIN the rules of the bank itself. I remember standing at the wicket, with her walking another bank employee - a teller - through the screens to process the transaction, watching as the teller counted out the money on the wicket counter and handed it to me - plus the loose change in my other hand. I had the sensation that this was happening to someone else and that I was just watching it unfold ... a curious sensation.

It wasn't the paying off of the loan or the payback of the remaining money that touched my heart, though. It was this lady's willingness to go the extra mile to prevent what could have easily been the beginning of an ordeal for me. 

But it wasn't. It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life instead. 

I kept remembering what my daughter had said to me the day I arranged the loan with the car dealership, and her sitting across from the dealer almost all the way across the country from me. She'd been homeless for a couple of days and she was highly motivated to get a job and "make something of herself" - (she was ALREADY "something", but she had to prove it to herself, I guess.) Anyway, she was on the phone with me and she said to me, "I'll pay you back someday, Mom. I swear." And she meant it.

Well. I guess, for the first time honey, you paid me back. I just wish it wasn't this way.

And besides ... you gave me so very much just by being you, taught me so much about life by the way you lived yours. And that can't be measured in dollars and cents. 

It just can't.

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.

Equilibrium

It's amazing how quickly something can command your attention and take over your life.

When I first joined Facebook over three years ago, little did I realize how much time it would take out of my routine. Not that it did at first. I would spend an evening catching up with friends. Then I'd turn on the computer right after getting home from work and before long, all my spare time was devoted to not just "lurking" but also posting things, playing games and liking or commenting on others' pictures or posts. That along with blogging, became my go-to place when I was home, especially if I was "bored."

Photo "Golden Brass Scales Of Justice" courtesy of Vichaya Kiatying-Angsulee at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

A few days ago, someone challenged me to take a look at what I spend the most of my time doing so as to determine what was most important to me. When I realized how unbalanced my life had become by spending so much time on social media (Facebook, Google Plus, twitter) and watching television, it was quite a shock. "If you could only spend 90 minutes a week watching your favorite TV series, or 'liking' and 'commenting' on Facebook," this person said, "would you feel out of touch somehow?" 

I had to admit that I would. 

Don't worry, I'm not going to sign off my accounts or anything. But the challenge made me think. 

Balance. Equilibrium. It's like my world had become top-heavy. Keeping in touch is great; enjoying yourself is great too. However, the routine of get-home-and-turn-on-the-computer-and-TV was close to becoming an obsession with me. Other things started to slide. Priorities re-arranged behind my back. Suddenly things were out of whack, and I wondered why I was feeling so out of sorts, like there was never enough time to do what needed to be done at the end of the day. 

When I started getting my priorities back into line, the balance I was seeking started to fall into place. Things that weren't necessary fell by the wayside. Stress levels reduced. I had more time to do what needed doing, to do what was most important. I started to enjoy the little pleasures again: the company of a good friend, the time to write, a good cup of tea, and the comfortable quiet of quality family time.

I'd missed that. 
I'm glad to have it back again.

Respect - Right and Reward

Respect. 

Everyone wants it. Not everyone gets it. And ... sad to say, not everyone knows how to give it. 

"Find out what it means to me," go the lyrics of R-E-S-P-E-C-T sung by Aretha Franklin. 

Find out indeed. 

There have been some frank discussions in our household over the years about respect. Some believe it's their right; others believe it must be earned. Who is right? Who is wrong? 

Both beliefs, I'd venture to say, have a little truth to them.

Respect - the Right
Every human being has the right to be treated with respect. This is a basic, "do no harm" respect that recognizes that no matter who the person is, how much money they make or don't make, where they live or don't live, what their skin color, race, religion, or sexual orientation, regardless of how others feel about any of those things, this individual has the right to have an opinion, be heard, and not be mistreated. 

It's easy to treat someone with respect when he or she agrees with you. However, let that person espouse a belief (be it religious, political, sports-related, lifestyle-related or whatever) that is diametrically opposed to yours, and what happens? That's a gauge of how much fundamental respect is there. 

This kind of respect comes into play in everything from the way you treat your boss to the way you treat the person in front of you in the grocery store checkout line, from the way you treat your employees to the way you treat the person who serves you coffee at your favorite coffee shop. Courtesy, respect, and acceptance are some of the foundational rules of engagement for any relationship - no matter how superficial ... or how close ... it happens to be. 

This kind of respect can best be understood by thinking of property lines in the suburbs. Everyone in the suburbs lives on a certain parcel of land - usually 80 x 100 or 100 x 150 feet. People's property lines abut against each other. If you are respectful of property lines, you wouldn't (at least I HOPE you wouldn't!!) dream of walking your dog and cutting across my property as a short-cut to get where you want to go ... not unless you'd cleared it with me in advance and agreed to pick up your dog's mess along the way. That's showing respect. 

It's the same with personal boundaries. Everyone (within the bounds of legality) has the right to his or her own choices, opinions, and actions - as long as those do not infringe on the right of others to have their own choices, opinions and actions. 

And that means that those same people have the right to bear the consequences of those choices, opinions, and actions: not those of others, but those that they themselves choose, think, and do. 

That's basic respect. Everyone needs it and everyone has the right to expect it.

Respect - the reward
One thing and one thing only can erode and destroy respect. 

It is a lack of trust.

If someone has proven - through consistent action - that he or she cannot be trusted, then trust must be earned back before those people (who were lied to or deceived in some way by this person) will be able to respect and accept what he or she says. 

Honesty is oxygen for trust and for respect. If it is lacking in someone, trust and respect for that person will become weak - and eventually die. 

For many years, while my husband was in active alcoholism, lies were a way of life for him. Over the years, my trust in him, in what he said to me, wore away, got weak, and died. It got so I mistrusted everything he said to me, not just about "not drinking" but also about so many other things. I was suspicious of everything - literally everything - that he said to me. Especially when he told me he loved me. It was a horrible time for me ... AND for him. 

I often thought about leaving the relationship, it was so unlivable. It didn't mean that I didn't love him; I did. It was just that I couldn't stand the constant lying. The lying - to me - was way worse than the alcoholism itself (even though that was awful enough!) 

When he first got into recovery, (as did I - from trying to control and manipulate people or let them walk all over me - never a happy medium!) he embraced a new way of living which demanded rigorous honesty.

Although I really hoped that he would be able to stop lying, I was skeptical. I didn't know if he could. I was never sure that he was telling me the truth. For months, he patiently went about proving to me that what he was saying to me was true... even to the point of showing me receipts for items he'd purchased, allowing me access to see his bank account and credit card usage, and keeping a breathalyzer in the car. He kept on keeping on, in spite of my disbelief. He gave me permission to "call" him on areas where I knew he wasn't being completely honest ... which I did at times. When I did, he was fairly quick to recognize the error, or explain in more detail what he meant, so as to clear up any misunderstanding.  And during that whole time (and ever since) he did what he had to do in his own private recovery journey, so as 0to develop and maintain his spiritual condition. 

"Serpentine Pathway Stones On A Park Lawn" courtesy of arturo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The process took months - about 15 months to be more precise. As he proved himself in one instance, it was like a paving stone in a walkway of trust. Every paving stone increased the strength of that trust. Respect was the reward for all those little stones - my respect for him. 

I'm  happy to say that - although it took many months of consistent honesty on his part - I did indeed learn to trust him again, and with that trust came the respect I had lost. I am so glad to have it back - and so is he!

Occasionally someone in my life will destroy the trust and respect I've come to have for him or her. Though the relationship might be a different one, and have different rules, the process of rebuilding that trust and respect is the same. And, the key to building that back - the lesson I learned vicariously through my husband's experience - is that it takes a lifestyle change and consistency in behavior and in intention before such a precious commodity can be restored. 

Basically put, it takes more than words. It takes attitudes and actions over time. Sometimes a long time. 

When I have broken someone's trust, and I have on occasion, it takes a lot of time and effort to gain a hearing with that person. Often, it's frustrating to know you are telling the truth and you still are not believed.

I keep the following things in mind when I know my motives to be pure.

• Gaining the respect of others is absolutely impossible without self-respect.
• Seeking the respect or approval of others can be a trap because it can lead to chameleon-like behaviors, changing who I am to fit in, and therefore a loss of identity. 
• The more comfortable I am inside my own skin, the less it matters what someone else thinks of me. 

One thing is certain: it takes far less time to destroy trust-based respect than it does to rebuild it.  This one fact is one of the reasons why, in my own life, I seek to be scrupulously honest and trustworthy. 

I can't afford not to be. 

Learning about living - from the dying

Thanks to a facebook friend, I read an article this morning from a British newspaper entitled "Top five regrets of the dying" which talks about a book written by an Australian palliative care nurse, Bronnie Ware:  The Top Five Regrets of the Dying.  (if the link doesn't work for you, it's because you're not on facebook... so my apologies in advance!)

Anyway, at the risk of 'spoiling' it for those who would have read the book, here are the top five, in order of importance, of things people wish they had done in their lives:

1.   I wish I'd lived a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2.   I wish I hadn't worked so hard (in other words, I wish I hadn't spent so much time at work, furthering my career, and not enough time with my spouse and family).
3.   I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings.
4.   I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.
5.   I wish I had let myself be happier.

This print is for sale at INMAGINE

Wow.  Truly the dying can teach us about how to live.  

I'd rather not wait until my death-bed to look back and regret what I could have done NOW.  So my response to the top five regrets of the dying is that it's high time I started living the way they wished they had!

In the last three years or so, I've learned more about how to live life unfettered, unwrapped from the grave-clothes of the past, and unashamed of my feelings, than at any other time in my life.  I really feel as though I am finally - after decades of being steeped in tradition, bound by rules and regulations, and hobbled by hypocrisy - learning how to really LIVE.  It's a heady, scary, delirious, amazing ride with lots of unexpected twists, climbs, and drops.  But it's living instead of just "making do" or "managing." It's living intentionally, not just reacting to circumstances.  

Things no longer "happen" to me. That's "victim-thinking." They just happen.  Period.  Living life in the moment, trusting God for the strength for today ... keeping it real, keeping first things first, expressing my feelings - these are the pillars of the lifestyle I'm learning to live. 

And I'm LIVING. What a trip!

In spite of the circumstances, when I look at my own happiness quotient (in other words, how happy I am) as compared to my life before this new day-by-day kind of living - I'm happier now than ever I was before, even on the bad days.  

And the happiness is spreading.  As I'm learning to be comfortable in my own skin-suit, I treat people around me differently... and now THEY are happier too. 

It's win-win.  For everyone.

And when someday I am facing the Grinning Reaper... I hope that I'll be able to grin right back.

Being Human

"It is what it is."

I've taken to saying that lately.  It covers a whole host of situations and it's my way to remind myself that there are some things that just are, and there's nothing I can do to change them, much as I might want to.  I usually say it about circumstances I can't change.  I'm getting better at accepting those things, thanks in part to that little saying.

But I'm starting to learn that it goes deeper than that. "It is what it is" also applies to character traits or behaviors in people that might be difficult to swallow.  And it also applies to feelings.  All feelings: mine, yours, theirs. "Good" and "bad" feelings.  (See my post, "Emotions. Are. Bad.") 

It's all part of being human.  I think that a large part of a dysfunctional lifestyle is living in denial of the fact that we are human: we have made mistakes, we are making mistakes, and we will continue to make mistakes. We need to give ourselves permission to be wrong, and not beat ourselves up for it.  Admit it, yes, honestly, ... but not continue to punish ourselves for messing up, and give ourselves the freedom to err.

I know I need to. 

Too long I have spent time wasted in sitting around "being right" when it would have been more appropriate to "be human" - even if it meant being wrong.  (Most often, it means exactly that!)  

I've often been heard to say that I prefer writing to talking because with writing, there's always the backspace key.  But that whole mentality (in my own psyche) comes from a fear of getting it wrong.  

So I didn't try.  I withdrew; that way I COULDN'T get it wrong.  Slowly, I'm learning to try.  Try, and IF there's an error, deal with that honestly and openly.  Try to do better.  But don't disengage from living life.  One thing about being human is that we can learn from mistakes.  We don't have to keep repeating the same error over and over again; we can rise above it if we are Honest, Open, and Willing (that's HOW to live) to keep trying.  Life is messy. To paraphrase one of my favorite novelists (James Herriot), life hands us unending opportunities every day to make chumps of ourselves.  

But it doesn't mean we stop trying.  We embrace our humanity when we go ahead and attempt to do good, even if we are scared, even if we get it wrong, even if we have tried before and failed.  Even if we have to let go of the way we've always done something. Or set some boundaries - for ourselves and/or others - which we've never set before.  Sometimes, by making mistakes and admitting them, we can give others the permission they need to try - even if THEY don't do whatever it is perfectly.  There is no telling how greatly the world could be impacted by someone - and we never know who it might be - risking making a mistake by taking that leap of faith into action.  

If we are honest, open, and willing, God will let us know (in no uncertain terms!) if we've erred.  But "He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust." (Psalm 103:14, NASB)

We trust God, and then we 'do the next right thing.'  It sounds so simple, but in practice it requires a great deal of effort, especially at first, because part of learning to be human (not superhuman, not divine, not perfect) is realizing how frequently we try to be those impossible things, and letting go of that obsession with being correct - in every action, every thought, every decision. 

That takes practice - and time.  In some cases, it takes a lifetime.  Certain things are easier than others.  But we celebrate the successes and we are grateful for those, while we continue to trust God and do the next right thing in all areas, even if we happen to do it the wrong way and have to learn from it.  It's all part of being human.  

It's who we are.

When we are wrong

Frequently, when driving, I remind myself to check my mirrors - and I use my rear view mirror twice as much (at least) as I do the side mirrors.  Looking back once in a while lets me know where I am on the road in relation to the other drivers, and alerts me to potential problems of which I might not be aware otherwise.  Knowing where I am helps me make adjustments to compensate for errors - either my own or others' errors - that happen because of inattention or unexpected events. 

It's important to know where we are, if there's anything wrong, or that could go wrong.  And it's important to correct mistakes as soon as possible in order to avoid perpetuating them or making them continue and get worse. 

So it is in life.  

I lived most of my life trying to avoid admitting that I was in the wrong about anything.  I spent a lot of my time trying to protect myself instead of facing my fears and admitting my mistakes.  I never truly apologized for anything, because I'd been taught through example that forgiveness was making excuses for the other person, so I firmly believed that apologizing was giving other people the excuses they would need in order to make what I did "not wrong." 

Likewise, I never truly forgave anyone because either I denied that what they did was wrong ("they had their reasons" and all that) or I refused to forgive, believing that by "forgiving" them, it would be like saying that what they did wasn't hurtful...when it was.

But the last three and a half years has been a learning experience for me.  I discovered that what I had been taught about forgiveness was not correct; in fact, it was the opposite of the truth.  And I learned - by trial and error - how to take responsibility for my own actions.  This was huge for me.  One of the tenets of my new lifestyle since that time is to occasionally check my rear view mirror - and when I am wrong, to promptly admit it.  No excuses, no justifications.  No trying to put a positive spin on it.  Just admit, "Yeah.  I messed up.  I am sorry.  I'll try not to do that again."  

Notice I said "when" I am wrong.  Not "if."  I mess up.  A LOT.  Admitting it does a few things.  First, it forces me to take responsibility for my own actions, and opens me to the possibility of changing how I interact with this or that person. Second, it acknowledges that the other person is hurt.  Sometimes all anyone needs is to know that he or she has been heard, understood, validated.  Third, it paves the way for me to be able more easily to forgive myself (often the hardest one to forgive!) and to move on.  (It could be argued that nobody deserves a second chance, but everybody needs one. Including the person who has erred.)

Also notice another application of the word "when."  What I mean is "as soon as."  When we are in the wrong, even if there is fault on both sides, as soon as we realize that someone else has been injured, that's the time to make it right.  Even if they don't take it well. Even if they don't forgive right away. 

Source of this image

Leaving it alone for a short while might possibly allow someone to stop being angry and be more receptive to an apology.  But leaving it too long (that is, longer than a couple of days) will definitely cause the resentment to fester and make it even harder to reconcile with the person ... perhaps even impossible.  Promptly admitting my error - not only to myself but to the person or people I have wronged - is hard, but it is necessary.  

There is rarely an argument in which only one person is at fault.  But admitting my mistake is not the time to be bringing up the other person's mistake. It's a time to clean up my side of the street, to pick up the mess I made.  It's not about me and my pain; it's about the other person and his or her pain.  "If you are about to make your offering to God," Jesus said, "and you remember that your brother (friend) has something against YOU, leave your gift at the altar. YOU go to him first and be reconciled to him, and THEN come and present your gift."  (Matthew 5:23, 24 - emphasis mine)  That not only clears my conscience, but it just makes good sense in relationships.

It's possible to learn to accept responsibility without wriggling out of it.  It takes guts of course - but it is possible. And truth be told, it's absolutely essential.

Bouncing back

The past while, I've been struggling with a few physical symptoms (sore throat, coughing, sniffles) that have sapped my physical strength and left me running on empty, especially near the middle of the afternoon and the end of the day. 

I'm not really sure if it's just overuse of the vocal cords (lots more singing last Sunday than I've been used to) or if there was a bacterial thing going on, or if it was a virus.  But I've been fighting it for almost a week.  Hm. Sounds viral.  Anyway, I've been looking after myself as much as possible and the symptoms seem to be improving (more or less). In the meantime I wait. Get enough sleep. Take vitamins.  Drink liquids.  Eat soup.  Sighhhh.

It probably shouldn't surprise me that it takes as long as it does to "bounce back" from something as small as a virus.  I've been "bouncing back" from all kinds of things (big and small) in the last few years and every time, it amazes me that the simplest things can sometimes be the hardest to experience.  Real emotions for example.  It took me a long while to admit to myself that I even had them. Then even longer to experience them and not hold back just to be "nice."  I'd been "nicing" myself to an early grave, clamping down on them and not letting them out when they so desperately needed to be let out!!

When my life gets out of balance, when I am letting people walk over me or I am trying to run their lives, that's when I get worn out, super-tired, and extremely irritable.  It's very stressful to be on either end of that spectrum.  If I'm letting people walk all over me, the stress is from resenting the fact that they don't even take me seriously, they don't care how I feel, like that.  If I'm trying to manipulate the situation and control the outcome, then I have assumed a burden that is not mine to bear: that of the controller of all things (hm, I guess that would be God!!) This is extremely stressful, and it's how I lived my life before He taught me how to let go.  

Letting go allows me to bounce back sooner.  It gives me more stretchability. It helps me to grow, to learn, to develop.  

I could learn to live with that.

God-whispers

Those unspoken prayers - the ones we don't dare pray but which our hearts cannot help but feel - are the most potent. 

This past weekend, my heart was praying such a prayer.  I was tired.  Bone-tired. Weary. Fed up.  I felt unappreciated, attacked, undervalued, and like I needed to be constantly on my guard.  I'd even taken over a day off last week with symptoms that mimicked a cold - stress-related fatigue was all it was, apparently.  All weekend long I "vegged" and slept when I needed to.  Even with the extra sleep, I was not looking forward to being with people and avoided it until the last possible minute.

So ... I dragged myself to work this morning, dreading another week - yes, I saw the whole week stretching interminably in front of me instead of one day - another week of doing my best only to have it questioned, of pouring my heart and soul into my work only to have someone criticize it.  

As I usually do after an absence, I checked my plants to see if they needed watering.

And I saw a flash of a color I didn't expect - white - nestled among the leaves of my peace lily.  One tiny blossom was starting to emerge from the depths of the plant - a peace lily's quiet way of saying, "I like it here." 

From :
http://www.mybestcanvas.com/detalii_produs/Peace-Lilly-Bud/1323034280

Now, this plant was one with which I had a special affinity.  Once a large and luxurious plant with plenty of foliage and lots of beautiful white blooms, it had slowly become pot-bound and I had to perform surgery on it last summer.  I divided it into four plants and gave three of them away; I kept only one.  It looked so small and alone - in my own mind, a shadow of its former self.

Like I have been feeling of late.  Insignificant, lonely.  Plain.  Overlooked.  Stunted. I wondered if it would ever recover.  Or if my own inner transformation would become visible, if it was only a figment of my imagination.

And then, today.  

I hadn't been expecting the still, small whisper of the Divine.  But as I peered into the depths of the leaves where this small tip of a bud was forming, I heard it.  

"You are not alone.  There is hope." 

Buzz

It's been an interesting five weeks.

After a flare-up of a lower back condition at work, I went to the doctor and got a referral to physiotherapy.  The treatments have been helping, as have the exercises. 

Photo through Google Images at:
http://www.lakecharleschiropractor.com/subPage.aspx?
pageName=Electrotherapy&masterPage=treatment

I go to my treatments two to three times a week.  My physiotherapist lays out a moist heating pad covered by towels and I lie down on that.  Then she puts large electrodes on my lower back, hooked up to a device on a cart, which appears to be a super-sized TENS machine... and turns it up and up, until I can feel the vibrations penetrating into the deep muscles in my lower back.

The bed is adjustable, so I have my knees up, and am laying on my back on a slight incline.  I spend forty minutes in that position, soaking up that glorious deep heat and feeling the "buzz" - as she calls it.  The electricity activates and relaxes the muscles, as well as works with the heat to draw the blood to the area to promote healing of the irritated muscles.  The combined effect is quite physically potent.  

That's not the only way it is powerful.  Spending regular time looking after myself, in a peaceful place, forcing myself to be still, to do absolutely nothing, quieting my mind ... has paid spiritual dividends.  It's the perfect opportunity to spend some time praying, for one - and it also helps me to wind down and get off the hamster wheel of my mind from the stresses of the day. It reminds me to prioritize, to seek peace, to pursue balance in my life, to let the non-essentials drop away.  The spiritual contact gives me a spiritual "buzz" - it activates and relaxes my spirit at the same time, it promotes inner healing, and it makes it possible for me to function.  

Functional is good.

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.

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.

Inside Out

I have a theory.  

Our lives as individuals can be described as taking place inside a series of three concentric circles, which touch or converge with others' circles to a greater or lesser degree.  

I say three, because I believe the human being to be composed of three components: spirit (or heart, or centre), mind (or soul, if you like), and body.  In a healthy and whole human being, the life force flows from the inside toward the outside, and messages from the outside can pass from there to the inside, and be accepted or rejected depending on whether the message is good for the individual or not.  

Source:
http://etc.usf.edu/clipart/42600/42654/
concircles_42654.htm

That's in a healthy individual, for the inner barriers are distinct but semi-permeable in one who is healthy.

At the risk of belabouring the obvious, the body is the physical realm - the part that gets hungry, tired, craves physical touch, and so forth.  It includes the physical heart that beats, the physical brain with the neural impulses.

The mind (or soul) is that part that reasons, that justifies, that thinks things through.  It is where the intelligence of a person resides. 


The spirit (or heart) is the centre of the will and the emotions.  It is the part that is beyond the understanding, beyond intelligence. It is the core of who we are and the part we refer to as 'deep down.'  Deep down we are all the same.  This is the part where - when we have a relationship with God - He comes to live.  If He's not there, we try to fill it with other things - relationships, mood-altering substances, habits that make us "feel" or "stop feeling."  It is where addiction is born.  It is the most vulnerable part of us.

The whole of the three parts is somewhat like an egg - there is a distinction between shell, white and yolk, but they interact between themselves and with other outside elements. (Yes, certain things - like air and water - can pass through the shell: it's how chicks can breathe inside the shell before they hatch, for one thing - [source:  http://ph.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100128064137AAFCi93.] - and it's also why I always put a bit of salt in the water when I boil an egg.  Not only does it make the water more dense and the egg less likely to crack and extrude the white into the pot while cooking, it also lightly seasons the egg.  But I digress.  Again.  ;)

Back to the human entity.  When the barriers between spirit, soul and body are not semi-permeable or interactive, when there is a barrier built up between them, spirit, soul and body are unable to interact with each other.  People then become hardened, unable to either feel or (if they can feel) to express their emotions appropriately.  They may become insensitive and roll right over top of other people with no regard for others' feelings, they may try to hide from their feelings and do something (anything) to numb them, or they may isolate themselves from people because there is no common emotional frame of reference, no way to relate to the other person.  Sometimes the opposite is true - the barriers are so fragile that the least touch will shatter or burst through the layers. Then they lose the integrity of their selves altogether and just become quivering piles of mush, a tangled mix of emotion and reasoning, way too vulnerable and either too afraid to interact with others or embracing them to the point of becoming engulfed by them and losing their identities in the process.  

The process of inner healing, of recovery from that kind of unbalanced inner life, involves identifying those places, those experiences in our lives where the barriers have become too softened or too hardened (as the case may be) - and rebuilding the psyche.  

So much for the theoretical.  Now for the practical! 

Some say that the answer is to forget about the self altogether and focus on other people.  While this has its place, I believe it's premature to just plunge into a life of serving others before dealing with the whys and wherefores of the current inner state of affairs.  All that premature service might end up doing is messing up other people's inner balance with our own dysfunction.  Helping others from a place of wholeness is always preferable.  It helps them not to be distracted from their own process by our "stuff," and it keeps us from being sucked into their process and fall back into our own imbalance. 

Yet so few are even willing to admit to themselves that there is an imbalance.  The biggest step in healing of the inner life is getting to the place of that simple confession we must make to our own selves and to God, "I can't do this; I need help."  

That is the threshold to a life of honesty with the self, to a life lived from the "inside out."

He Loved Me First

"I'm amazed by your strong faith," she told me.  "How much you love God, everyone can see it - what is your secret?"  My daughter's eyes probed mine.  

In the space of two seconds, I saw rapid-fire, vivid images in my memory - the stories of decades compressed into just a few moments.  

My eyes filled with tears.  "It's simple, honey.  He rescued me.  He loved me first, and He met me where I was and rescued me ... from myself."  Then I told her the story of a few of those images I had just seen.  And yes, I fumbled for words sometimes - but she saw my heart and knew I was sharing it with her.

I told her how unhappy, how desperate for love I had been when I was just a few years younger than she.  How I had searched for it in so many different ways and people, and nothing satisfied.  And then (and at this point I couldn't stop my tears from flowing at the memory) I told her how He came to me, and literally saved me from a path that would have led to my death (or worse.)  How He loved me the way I was and filled that empty hole, healed me from the inside out, listened when I needed someone to understand, and let me lean on Him when I didn't have the strength to stand.  There was so much more I wanted to say ... but I'd learned enough in my own recent healing to keep it simple. 

Her eyes misted over as I described my before picture - and she hugged me when I was finished describing my work in progress picture.  "Someday, Mom," she said softly, "I hope I can have the kind of love for God that you have."  

"You will."  I took a deep breath, and wiped the tears from her cheeks.  

"You're already on your way," I thought.

Facing fears

I've hated confrontation for as long as I can remember.  I guess it comes from growing up in a home where the cardinal rule was not to make a certain family member mad - or worse, to make that person cry.  (ughh.)  I remember spending my childhood either walking on eggshells or trying to hide from someone's unpredictable wrath because that was dangerous to my health: physical AND emotional.  

So when I started to recover from a lifestyle of doormat-itis and of controlling others through guilt trips and manipulation... avoiding direct confrontation whenever possible ... it was a really difficult step for me to learn how to speak up for myself and inform someone when he or she was doing something that was bothering me - either physically or just that "arrrgh!" that comes from someone's annoying habits that might only bother me personally (anything from tapping a pencil on a desk, to entering into my personal space - extremely closely - to talk to me).  

As I was recovering, it was difficult to know what was a valid complaint and what wasn't.  I had some definite problems with certain behaviors of other people which were causing me physical pain.  Yet I felt as though I couldn't approach them - partly because I hated confrontation so much (okay mostly that) but also because being in their presence was physically painful to me.  I didn't handle those situations well before I started to recover.  I made some pretty awful mistakes, as a matter of fact; I hurt quite a few people.  And when I was first recovering, I didn't know what to do about these situations.  My previous behavior really bothered me... yet I didn't know how to right the wrongs I had done and still communicate my needs to people.  It stumped me for a long time.  

Having had no boundaries for such a long time, it was hard to set them without offending people; I had no practice at all.  And so ... I did the only things I could think of to do.  First, I prayed about it.  Then... I asked for help.

I approached someone at my workplace whose job it is to resolve conflicts.  She and I developed a rapport and we still touch base every 6 months or so.  She listened to me, gave honest feedback, and suggested practical ways to approach people whom I had harmed, to start conversations with them and set my own expectations realistically.  I was grateful for her suggestions.  Today, with the exception of perhaps three of those people, I've been able to make amends to them, and I even enjoy good working relationships (including playful banter) with some of them.  

With some of them, I had to go directly to them and have a fairly difficult and honest conversation - approaching it with an open mind and listening more than speaking.  With others, the direct approach didn't work; I just began (as simplistic as it sounds) to smile at these people when I saw them in the corridor.  One of them has only barely started to smile back.  I still haven't given up on those three remaining people - it might take a while but I am determined to approach each one in a way that fits with his or her particular style of reconciliation. 

It's coming.

Yawn

It feels good.  Yawning feels good.  And it's contagious!!  

One of the most contagious yawns in the natural world is a horse's yawn... they stretch out their long necks, close their eyes a bit (or completely), open their mouths wide and yawn deeply... often skewing their lower jaw to one side. I remember "cooling off" my mount after riding lessons about 20 years ago - and she would get me yawning with abandon with just one or two of hers.  She enjoyed it SO much!!

We excuse ourselves when we yawn in front of others because we think that it shows we are bored, tired, or disinterested.  But it doesn't necessarily mean that.   According to recent research, yawning is the brain's way of maintaining the body's temperature in order to think better.  It's a re-energizer, allowing the body to change from one state of mind to another.  It helps us relax.  It even acts in a similar way to some anti-depressant medications, inhibiting the brain's re-uptake of serotonin so that these neurotransmitters are more readily available for use in brain receptors. 
( Source:  www.naturalnews.com ). 

So yawning is good for us!  (I knew it!! - well.... I suspected...)  That's comforting, because I've been doing a lot of it lately... even talking about it - or remembering being around that horse - can set me yawning:  perhaps you yourself have been doing it while reading this (and no, I won't take it personally).  

Okay then.  Here's another thing to add to my list of things to do to look after myself.  Hm!

I can do this...  :O

Resting

Faith is resting.

It's depending.  It's relying on completely.  It's not intellectual.  It happens inside and shows on the outside in decisions.

It's trusting that what (or who) you put your faith in will not let you down, won't move away.

Lasting, enduring faith is not humanly possible.  At least I've never been able to sustain it on my own without help. The Bible says that the faith that saves (rescues) us is a gift from God, not from ourselves.

It's one of those daily gifts that get stronger with the using - and the way to use it is to cease from our own efforts and just rest on His strength.  It's another one of those spiritual paradoxes.  Strength in apparent weakness, life in apparent death, richness in apparent bankruptcy. I don't know why or how it works.  I just know it works.

And the side-effect of this resting paradox?  Peace.  

Seize the Day

One of my very favorite movies created in the last few decades is "Hook" starring Robin Williams and Dustin Hoffman.  They are brilliant in this flick. 

When Peter is in Neverland, Thud (Raushan Hammond) hands him a bag of marbles and tells Peter that they belong to Tootles, a lost boy who left Neverland and forgot to take them with him.  "These are his happy thoughts," Thud explains.   The only Tootles (played by famous British actor Arthur Malet) that the adult Peter knows is an old man who appeared to have lost his mind, always wandering the rambling old English mansion searching for his marbles.

I think my favorite scene in the movie comes at the end when Peter returns from Neverland back to the real world and gives the marbles back to the now elderly "lost boy."  The hope and excitement is tangible - and contagious!

The message is clear.



 

Restorations

One of the most famous art restorations in history is the one done of the Mona Lisa.  It was painted on a block of poplar wood by one of the most remarkably talented painters of the Renaissance period, if not of all time.


Amazing.

In 1956, someone threw acid at Leonardo da Vinci's famous painting.  The acid landed on the lower half of the painting and the restoration took several years before the restored painting went on display in New York, Tokyo and Moscow in the 60's and 70's.  

Perhaps if it hadn't been for the acid attack, nobody would have thought of trying to restore the painting to its original beauty.  There's a thought!  Isn't it odd that it would take a seeming tragedy to bring about a means for countless people to enjoy the enhanced wonder of da Vinci's brilliance.

Someone recently did a computer scan of the Mona Lisa and found that da Vinci used over 30 layers of varnish over the painting to preserve it.  Over time, the varnish darkened, producing the yellowish cast most associate with the painting. Removing those layers - little bit by little bit - allowed the natural colours of the original work to shine through.

The process of restoration is painstaking.  Brushstroke after brushstroke, millimeter by millimeter.  It takes a great deal of skill.  It also takes time.

It takes a LONG time.

The restorer has great skill.  He knows what he's doing.  

When I get discouraged at how long my own restoration of spirit is taking, how sometimes I tend to take a step forward and then three steps back, I remember that I'm not in charge of this process, and that my Restorer IS.  I am encouraged to look back over the whole of the journey and not just the events of the last day or week or two.  When I do that, and realize how it is God who has empowered me to go through this process, I am so very grateful ... and another millimeter of yet another layer of lacquer comes off of my spirit.

I'm very, very glad He doesn't give up on me.