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.

Some days are like that

Today is one of those "raw" days where I am not far from tears. 

I guess part of it is that yesterday marked a full month of having a nasty cough (so hard and long it makes me lose bladder control!) and congestion, and today I woke up incredibly weary with my eyelashes stuck shut in places - a weakened body leaving the soul bare and vulnerable. I'll be heading to the walk-in clinic this afternoon to deal with the physical side of things. 

Another part is that last night I learned of the sudden death of one of my baby's favorite famous people - comedian John Pinette - Saturday in Pittsburgh. Our best Christmas memory of our little girl is Christmas 2011 when we gave her tickets to see John in person - she was thrilled that we would give that to her, and I knew she would be, so I was prepared with my camera, and took a photo of her moment of realization.  

The moment of understanding what the
tickets were for (Christmas 2011)

Within a minute after I snapped the photo, she realized that we got her the tickets because we had seen him as a family the previous year, and she was not able to go even though we'd gotten her a ticket - and she had been so disappointed ... and now we were giving her another chance. She burst into tears of gratitude. 

And the camera was forgotten. She was in my arms.

And finally, I've been thinking of her a lot more lately since our church welcomed a young pastor and her husband to our church leadership team. Their last name is Willis (ours is Gillis) and their youngest child's name - - is Ariella. And her parents pronounce the first part of her name "AR" - the same way we pronounce our own Arielle's name - instead of "AIR" the way most people do.  FREAKY. The first time I heard them talking to her, I was mesmerized.  And Sunday morning, I was watching this little girl (she's about two) reacting to the music, interacting with her mom, talking to her dad, and eventually sleeping in the pew and tossing and fidgeting in her sleep. Her activity level reminded me of our own little firecracker. I found my eyes getting all watery just watching this little bundle of energy. 

I don't really like feeling the way I have been - perhaps because somewhere, in the mists of my early memory, is a voice that says you are only allowed to cry just so long and then you have to "get over it." Of course, that is a lie. Some days are just like that. There is nothing wrong with grieving; it is a sign that you love someone so deeply that you miss that person's presence now that he or she is no longer here. 

So I go back to my fail-safe position: taking one breath at a time. And I look after myself. And I wait as the billows wash over me, knowing they will pass. 

And they will pass. But even that doesn't mean they'll never come again. 

All I need to do is live in THIS moment, breathe THIS breath and not worry about the next one, or the next time, or to say to myself that I "can't wait" until such-and-such happens - or even to wish that I could go back and have another chance to do it over again. It is enough to just remain in today, this hour, this minute ... to simply be. It is Life's lesson for the times that are rough and raw, as well as for the times that are pleasant and happy: embrace the now and do not let the past or the future rob you of it. It is, after all, all that we have.

Want Not

In my last post, I talked about growing up as a child of parents who grew up in the Depression.

My dad was a factory worker; he worked on an assembly line making oil stoves for Fawcett, before the company was taken over by Enterprise. He didn't make much money, and we lived a very simple, very spartan life.  

To keep the "past due" notices at bay, in desperation my mother hired her services out to various clients as a weekly housekeeper, when I was eight years old. By the time I was ten, she was helping to pay off debts that had piled up: car loans, oil bills, grocery bills, even. At least the collectors weren't calling anymore. Yet money was still a major issue; there seemed to be barely enough to survive, even with a large vegetable garden. Extras were almost unheard of. 

As I mentioned in my previous post, the lessons we had learned about not wasting what little we had, paid off, and I can't ever remember a time when there was no food to put on the table. 

Yet, there were times when I would "want." I longed for a certain lifestyle that I could never have. I spent a lot of time imagining and fantasizing about what we'd do if a lot of money dropped into our laps. 

At times, it seemed as though our lives revolved around money. Not the way rich people's lives can ... but ours was more of a "poor man's greed." We were preoccupied with saving what we had for the essentials to the point of re-using milk bags to freeze food, for example. We wondered if we'd ever get enough ahead to have something nice: we were thrust from pillar to post by circumstances beyond our control, and the wolf of potential poverty was never far from our door.  All it would have taken was a prolonged illness, or some sort of disaster like a fire or a flood or even a car accident - and we would have been left with nothing. We all were keenly aware of it, and yet we didn't want other people to know how close the wolf was... a classic case of "poor man's pride."

Photo "Between Seasons" courtesy of Evgeni Dinev at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It wasn't until many years later, after I had moved away from that atmosphere and had lived many years as a wife and mother, that I realized how it was possible to "want not." 

Always in my life I had looked away to what I didn't have, the next big purchase or the next nice thing I wanted, as if I were trying to make up for my parents having to eke out a living. 

I only focused on what I didn't have. 

It never crossed my mind to be grateful for the good things that I did have.

When my life took a 180 degree turn in February 2009, I learned a whole new way of looking at life, one that demanded rigorous honesty with myself, one that required an attitude - a daily attitude - of thankfulness and gratitude. Thankfully, there were those who came alongside of me and modeled that lifestyle for me ... because I didn't have any clue how to do it; nobody had ever showed me before. Nevertheless, as I learned how to let go of unrealistic expectations and to live in "Today" instead of "If Only" - a new experience for me - I began to notice something I hadn't expected.

I smiled more. I was more relaxed, more ... content. Less and less did I care about "what if" and "if only." (I can't say that's disappeared completely, but it's a work in progress!) I could live more and more in Today; I could be present in the Present and not fret about the future or rail against circumstances (or against people) I couldn't change. 

Learning how to live in the Now helped me to allow others be who they were, and gave me permission to be who I was... and am. I began to feel a little more comfortable inside my own skin. That was a new feeling, too.

I started to "Want Not." I started being content with exactly who I was - and with where I was. 

I began to realize that I was right where God intended me to be, and I finally determined to just do the next right thing. It doesn't sound complicated - and it isn't - but it was at the point of desperation, because life wasn't working for me, where I was willing to let go of my old lifestyle. After I did, and I started to get unwrapped from all the constrictive, nasty grave-clothes I'd had wrapped around me all my life, my life was slowly transformed.

Of course, I am far from having arrived ... but all I can say, now that I'm on this journey, is that I wouldn't want to go back to the way it was before. 

Not for anything.

Hello, 4 a.m.

Yes, it's another of those mornings. I went to bed last night with one thought pertaining to sleep on my mind: Gotta get some, catch up that lost hour, maybe even more. 

Wrong. 

This year, daylight saving time has really taken its toll on the little hamster that lives inside my head. Part of it could be that my body is run-down from fighting sickness all winter. It could be stress (I've got lots of stressful situations to pick from). I believe, though, that it's a combination of these in addition to the "what if" component. 

A friend of mine calls it awfulizing. That's pretty much what happens, too. I think that it's a vestige of my old lifestyle - where my mind imagines all kinds of things that could happen in any given situation, then plays out that scenario to the final conclusion - usually based on my fears of what might happen and my core beliefs about what I deserve. 

The thing about that whole process is that it is focused on a period of time I have no control over: what happens next. 

The future has always been a specter for me - the unknown - replete with black robes, scythe and that maniacal grim-reaper's grin. I've spent most of my life trying to control whatever outcomes pertain to me and to my loved ones. It is an illusion of course, and it wastes a whole bunch of energy. 

Still, the clock mocks me with each blink of the colon between the hour and the minute - 4:00. In the morning. Toss, turn, think, pray. By 5:00 I suspect I won't be getting back to sleep; by 5:30 I'm sure of it.

So I get out of bed, slip on my bathrobe and pad out into the kitchen. I set the timer on the microwave to go off in about 90 minutes - and I head to the computer to write. 

Writing clears my head, helps me to make sense of what is going on inside of me. 

"Sunrise at First Sight" courtesy of Keattikorn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

My thoughts dwell on upcoming events, schedules and plans for those. It surprises me how much I have on my schedule.

Another thing that looms large is my family - specifically my kids. With one expecting surgery in the next few weeks, and another making tentative plans to strike out on her own, I find myself wondering what will happen, being concerned about possibilities that I can't influence: outcomes that - as much as I want to - have nothing to do with how much I fret about them. 

I pray. I tell Him all about it, leave it in His hands. 

I choose to let go. Again.

Day dawns inside of me, sunlight evaporates the mists of worry. 

This is a matter of trust, not of trying. 

I relax. I come back from the foggy realm of 'what if' - return to this specific twenty-four hour period - and leave the phantom of 'tomorrow' alone. 

'Today' looks a bit brighter as a result.

The Bubble

Personal Space in a Crowded World

One of the first things that freshman Psychology students learn about is personal space. At the core, everyone has an invisible bubble around him or her. Depending on how close a relationship there is, a person can allow someone to the outer limit of his or her personal space, or allow entry. 

The average North American's personal space bubble is three feet in every direction. This is generally "arm's length." Strangers are not allowed to touch the edge of that space. Acquaintances may touch it, but not enter in very far. Close friends are allowed inside, but may not be allowed to touch. Intimate friends (such as a spouse or a best friend) have permission to make physical contact. The rules vary depending on the personality. Extroverts allow more touching; introverts don't.

Personal space bubble drawing - here's the blog article

Different cultures also have different definitions of that space and the rules surrounding them. In the European culture, for example, the sense of personal space is a lot smaller. People allow other people within two feet with no problem, and the rules surrounding touch are far more lax. This is why, when you're traveling to (let's say) Italy, you might feel uncomfortable when your host gets up in your face and waves his arms around, nearly touching you. (shudder) 

Differences in culture can occur not just in the personal physical space, but also in the attitudes that people have. In the culture of which I am a part, the average person doesn't get excited or vocal about much. Nobody raises his or her voice much; nobody jumps up and down (unless it's at a sporting event); nobody likes to get involved in a hot debate or enter any kind of confrontation. It just isn't done. 

If someone from another culture comes into that mix, someone to whom these behaviors (shouting, jumping up and down, debating) are not only acceptable, but desirable, there is a conflict. People get uncomfortable. Some people - like me - just shut down and clam up in situations where that individual is saying, "What's wrong with you people? don't you get excited about anything?" (Inner voice: "Umm, yes, I do, and no, I don't see the need to shout about it. Step back another foot or two and lower your volume; you're in my face. And that is NOT a good thing.") 

It's so important to define boundaries in situations like this. I need to keep reminding myself that not everyone picks up on non-verbal communication and I just might have to (horrors!) SAY how I feel rather than stew and fret about it. If someone is infringing on my personal space, and I dread being around that person, it's my responsibility to make the boundaries clear - if I want to remain in relationship with that person. This is something I've had to learn over the last couple of years. It's slow going.

When personal space is injured

Sometimes a person's sense of safety is wounded. Someone, or a whole lot of someones, strikes an axe to the foundation of the rules that govern the person's definition of right and wrong, just and unjust. A person exposed to this kind of event can become suspicious, afraid, even angry and belligerent. The underlying reason is the belief that the world isn't safe. This can happen at any time of life, and in any number of ways, including:

• child abuse: physical, emotional, sexual, abandonment, etc., especially if this took place over several years
• witnessing man's inhumanity to man (or animal) and being prevented from stopping it
• dangerous / life-threatening situations including being the victim of any kind of violent crime
• death threats or threats of physical or sexual violence, whether experienced directly or indirectly (e.g., when someone you love has had this happen)
• bullying: at school, at home, at work, or at church
• motor vehicle accidents - either being the victim, related to the victim, or a witness
• personal loss / grief (social, financial, family, church-related, work-related)
• constant, chronic, untreatable pain
• having a life-threatening illness or watching a loved one struggle with a life-threatening illness

Such experiences sometimes lead to a certain set of behaviors and symptoms that have become known as "Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome," or PTSD. Granted, it appears in varying degrees depending on the severity of the stressful experience and how long it lasted. But one of the symptoms of PTSD is an expanded personal space. In fact, the shape of the personal bubble changes. It's not only bigger (say, 4 feet instead of 3), but it's also bigger in the back than in the front or the side. I know because I have that symptom, and have for many years. My personal bubble is 4 feet in diameter, but it's over 5 feet behind me. If I enter a room, I have to either be close to the door for a quick getaway, or in a corner with my back to the wall so nobody sneaks up behind me.  I'm not saying that I HAVE this disorder, just that I have that symptom.

Here are some of the other, more common symptoms of PTSD (the first four must be present, along with an identifiable traumatic experience, in order to make a clinical diagnosis) - just for interest's sake, I've "starred" the symptoms I have had in the past:

• re-experiencing the stressful event: "flashbacks" *
• avoiding situations that remind the person of the traumatic event(s) *
• emotional numbing: being unable to feel love, tenderness, or compassion
• hyper-vigilance: an obsession with order, safety, or control of the environment *
• severe anxiety in new situations, combined with an overwhelming desire to escape from them *
• nightmares, waking in cold sweats *
• insomnia *
• suspicion of everyone and everything *
• increased personal space *
• episodes of depression; occasional to frequent thoughts of suicide *
• occasionally, the person may experience panic attacks, and in very severe cases, psychotic behaviors -  hallucinations, "zoning out", paranoid delusions, etc., usually in very stressful situations

There are more, but these will give an idea of the kinds of ways that the mind can find to cope (or not to cope) with trauma. PTSD is a horrible disorder that affects a lot of people, and it isn't just a "soldier's illness." Anyone can suffer from it. 

Many sufferers talk about "retreating into their bubble" - isolating themselves because it's the only way they can feel safe - and it takes a lot of effort to venture outside that comfort zone.

Treatment usually involves a combination of medication and therapy. Milder cases can be managed with therapy alone. And once a person has PTSD, it doesn't mean that he or she will always have it. Some have suffered acute symptoms for several months or a couple of years, and they have resolved themselves with therapy and/or with anti-psychotics, antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications. It depends on what the initial trauma was, how long it lasted, whether anything else compounded or added to it over the years, and quite a number of other factors. Those that do have chronic PTSD can learn to manage the symptoms and live normal lives. It is not anything to be ashamed about, and talking about it does help, especially if it's with people who understand what it's like.

The lifestyle I live now goes a long way toward easing my symptoms; they are much less intense than they once were. I remember when nearly every night was filled with nightmares where I re-experienced the violence that was so much a part of my growing up, or where my deepest fears came to life and I would wake in a cold sweat. The "One Day At A Time" and "Let Go and Let God" approaches allow me to release things that are out of my control and get on with the business of living and enjoying life. I've gone back to the past deliberately, not to dwell there, but to allow God to banish the demons that lurked behind me to devour me. I try to focus on living in today, and leaving the future to the Almighty. 

Which leaves only today (what a relief!), in which I am learning to live with gratitude. My over-sized bubble is slowly getting smaller as I continually learn to trust myself and God more, to let trustworthy people inside. It's a long way from where I'd like it to be, but it's coming.

One Day At A Time

The other day I got my hair trimmed; I'd been thinking about it for over a month and finally got it done.  It turned out nicely.  At least I was pleased with it.  

The new coiffure did wonders for my appearance.  At least, according to one source.  

And if it had ended there, that would have been a nice memory.  

But no - the person wouldn't let go, and went on to try to convince me to do a lot more to change my appearance, to the point of pushiness.  I warned that I often react badly (as in the opposite to what the intent is) to pressure like that; then, I found myself being psychoanalyzed.  

This was one occasion where I had laid out a boundary and it was ignored.  The person really thought this "advice" was helping.  It wasn't.  It was making me all the more determined to NOT do the strongly suggested /insisted-upon thing.  

So ... I deflected - purely a temporary psychological survival mechanism.  And I relied on my recovery skills to set an internal boundary, reminding myself that the person had all the zeal of a new convert, and that I didn't need to make a decision about this right away - if ever.  I got out of the uncomfortable situation without shedding blood (grin), and then was able to promise myself that I would process my feelings afterward, after I had had time to detach.  Breathe.  Unhook.  Ask myself what I was feeling, and why... whether this went far deeper than just someone's criticism advice.  

Once away from the situation, I realized that part of the reason why I felt so threatened was that the person was suggesting radical, wide-spread changes in my entire lifestyle, changes for which I was not yet ready.  I envisioned ahead of me an interminable life-sentence of misery because the advised changes would involve giving up something that I absolutely love doing ... and risking becoming like (or at least being accepted by) people I cannot stand to be around.  

Part of it, too, was the fact that I have always been a people-pleaser, and it bothers me when I feel like I don't measure up to someone's expectations of me. I don't even have to like the person very much for his or her opinion to eat away at me. I'm working on that; it's a great deal better than it was as my self-esteem improves.

Another - perhaps much larger - part was the same feeling I frequently got as a child when I was just getting up from the living room sofa to come and volunteer my help in the kitchen without being asked, and my mother would impatiently call out to me to come give her "a little help with these dishes."  I was already on my way to do it of my own free will, and she robbed me of the satisfaction of doing it on my own initiative by jumping all over me verbally before I even had the chance to let her know my intentions.  

My eventual reaction was to arrange to disappear when the dishes were being washed so that I wouldn't have to be reminded yet again what a (expletive deleted)-poor excuse for a daughter I was.  How I'd never amount to anything.  How I was lazy and useless.  How, even when I did help out, I always did it wrong (i.e., not the way she would do it).  So telling me to do something I had already wanted to do just made me not want to do it anymore.  I've done that with everything ever since, with everyone from passing acquaintances to preachers.

I was still rather upset about the whole current "advice / criticism" incident ... and knew I had to find some sort of closure, or it would keep me from sleeping well tonight.  

What came to me as I mulled this over ... was yet another recovery strategy that is so easy for me to forget:  practicing gratitude for the changes that I've already gone through, and taking one day at a time, not taking on tomorrow's tasks (or next year's) but focusing on today's.  I had felt, when this person was giving me advice, that the changes of the past were dismissed as being worth nothing ... and that I wasn't acceptable to this person the way I was.  (Might I say that this individual told me that this wasn't the case - yet - one can't turn off feelings like a faucet.) I also had to remember that the advice-giver is extremely attractive, appeared to have an extremely good self-image (though I may be wrong in that regard; I don't know), and also didn't know what it was like to struggle with any of the major abuse issues that I only started facing a short time ago.  

I had to remind myself of that which I say so often: "Real healing happens from the inside out.  If it doesn't, it will only be temporary. Only God can heal the heart."  And I want my transformation to happen at its own rate, as directed by God - and nobody else.  One day at a time.  It's already changed me in ways I can't begin to describe.  And it will continue to do that.  I don't need to let what someone else thinks I should do, dictate to me what I WILL do.  Or WON'T do!!  

I decide.  There is more to life than just the exterior; I choose the interior.
Today.

Hit the Ground Running

I must have looked a little frazzled when a former co-worker saw me tapping my foot impatiently by the elevator on my way to a physiotherapy appointment.  She asked me how things were going and I mentioned something about having hit the ground running first thing this morning and not stopping since.  She laughed and we commiserated.  She asked me why I would volunteer to do a certain task; I let her know I enjoy it and we went our separate ways.  

Source - stumbled on this through Google Images at:
http://mychinaconnection.com/english-idiom/
being-gung-ho-hit-the-ground-running/

Before I go any further, let me say that it's not wrong to "hit the ground running." A lot can be accomplished in the run of a day that way.  But there comes a time .... well, I'm getting ahead of myself.

After I got to my physio appointment, with electrodes attached to my lower back giving vibrations, plus a moist heating pad beneath me, I settled into the change of pace it brought. Sometimes this transition is graceful; other times it isn't and I struggle to relax.  This was one of those "can't settle down" times.  I found myself thinking about the work day I just had, how much work there was left waiting for me to do, and whether I would be able to get to work at the time I wanted to arrive tomorrow.  That word should have been a red flag for me - but it wasn't; I was in full "fret mode."  It wasn't until I found myself planning what time to leave work Tomorrow so that I could do what I wanted to do Tomorrow Night, that it dawned on me.  I was doing it again.

Tomorrow is one of the great thieves of the enjoyment of the moment.  I wasn't in the moment.  I hardly noticed the moment.  I was tense and stressing about a day that had not - as yet - been granted to me.

TODAY, I reminded myself.  Live in TODAY.  After a few deep breaths, and some prayer, I started to relax.

Well, I must have relaxed a fair bit .... because by half-way through the session I woke myself up by my snoring!  

So, knowing that my body was tired and that there must be some reason for it, I started doing a bit of an inventory on what I was doing to look after myself, and - naturally - I'd been "hitting the ground running" a lot lately.  

This evening I am happy to just sit and "vegge" on Facebook, blog (yes, I LOVE to blog!), chat online, maybe even go on Skype with someone, and possibly watch some pre-recorded TV programs with our oldest daughter. And enjoy it all.

And all this so that I can have enough energy - when the time comes tomorrow - to "hit the ground running."  Again.

I just hope that by my next appointment I am not drifting off on the treatment table again....  ;D 

If Only...

Summertime finds many people crossing days off the calendar at work or elsewhere as they wait for an anticipated trip or just their vacation.  I've caught myself counting down the days to my vacation in my head as it gets closer and closer.  

I don't think there's anything wrong with looking forward to upcoming events.  At the same time, it's possible to live so much for a future happening that a person can forget to enjoy today.  

Another danger is the one that involves wishing for a change in circumstances or in someone's behavior or personality, to the extent that it robs a person of enjoying the present events or company.  I still catch myself doing it. Sometimes when people say something like, "It's supposed to be sunny tomorrow," I occasionally blurt out, "If only it would stick around all week!!"

If only.  How many years have I wasted with "if only."  Never satisfied with my lot in life, never satisfied with how people were behaving, wanting to fix people, change circumstances.  It has robbed me of a lot of joy along the way.

One of my favorite scenes in the "Star Wars" trilogy (okay, I have a LOT of favorites, but this is one) is in Episode V when Yoda nearly gives up on his potential protégé Luke, saying, "For many years have I watched this one.  Never his mind on where he was! what he was doing!  always he had to be looking away to the future..." The scene - when I see it - reminds me to be present wherever I am and not to be wishing my life away.  

When I live in the now - when I concentrate on being thankful for what is, instead of wishing for what isn't - my stress level goes down, my contentment goes up and I'm better able to handle the stresses (and the joys) of the moment.

God's Waiting Room

By nature I am not a patient person.  
You see, I find it difficult to wait.  For anything.  Oh, I CAN wait.  But I don't like to.  Especially when I don't know the outcome...which I am finding is most always.

Today I had to go to a waiting room with someone - a doctor's waiting room - and when I walked in, it looked like an airport waiting area, the seats were like that, back to back and decidedly uncomfortable for long waits.  I settled down to what I thought would be a very long session. But - to my surprise I didn't have to wait long.  Within 5 minutes our name was called.


It's funny - when we sat in the exam room and waited for the doctor to show up (which only took another 5 minutes or so), the calm of the inevitable sunk in and my panic started to abate.  I can't explain it other than to say it was a sense of something being surreal, of a process that we'd entered that was unavoidable and that would come to its own conclusion.

Within a total of 30 minutes from walking in, we had seen the doctor and were out of there with instructions from his nurse for the next visit.  Hm.  I had been hoping that there would be some sort of information that was conclusive.  Well, at least the guy told us what to expect next.  But it means I - we - still have to wait.  

Source: 
http://www.artocrats.com/pieces/ee/waiting-room/

Matter of fact, I think I have spent a significant percentage of my life waiting for things and for people.  Ferry terminals account for approximately 3 months of my life.    Doctor's offices probably another couple of months. Scary! 

There's no way I could measure the amount of time I have spent waiting for this or that to happen.  Or for this person or that person to 'straighten up and fly right'.  What a waste of perfectly good time that might otherwise be spent in enjoying life.  One wise fellow I know says, "Life is what happens to you between your plans."  I like that.

When I think about it, I realize that along the way, God gives me "something to do while I'm waiting" but - as is often the case - I don't do it.  That something is twofold. 

The first thing I get to do is trust.  A friend told me today that trust was a 4-letter word (two Ts) and it's true, I find it hard to let go and trust that things which are beyond my control will turn out the way they are supposed to turn out.  This friend suggested that this would be a good opportunity to take God for a test drive.  I responded, "I've been test driving God for years; it's time to buy."  I have a tendency to panic about certain things and to rail against the powers that be that I have no control over the outcome.  I know from experience that all that gets me is knots in my stomach.  And those take quite a while to loosen.  How much better to accept the things I cannot change.

The second thing I get to do is enjoy now while it is now.  I don't know what will happen tomorrow or even in the next minute.  But I do know that the things that are happening are happening to me NOW and that I can refuse to let tomorrow's trouble rob me of the joy of the present moment.  This involves a great deal of gratitude and a whole lot of letting go.  

Even if I don't understand why or I don't know what the result will be. 

From Refugee to Nomad

I finally got a decent cubicle at work after two moves due to scents and the traffic patterns that spread scents.  

Then the company that looks after the building decided it was time to re-carpet the room I work in.  They started with the hallway outside, and after 3 to 4 days of putting up with the encroaching fumes from off-gassing, and with the knowledge that it would get far worse when they laid the carpet, I requested alternate accommodations.

Thus began my status as a refugee.  I worked in a cubicle in a different unit, on a different floor.  I was not allowed to use their printer for official documents, but had to print to my old printer on the network, and have someone from my old area bring my print jobs (decisions on eligibility for benefits) to me, wait around for me to sign them, and take them back to the "completed files" table.  Oh yes, they also took my completed files back, and brought me new ones to work on.  And supplies.  And other assorted stuff.  I joked about not being able to get used to "not having a staff anymore" when my sojourn would eventually be over.  In fact though, it drove me nuts to have to depend on other people, especially if they started criticizing the content of my decisions.  But I digress.

  There was a delay in the carpet-laying.  My time in the refugee camp was getting more and more uncomfortable as new tenants had moved in who were either unaware or decidedly disrespectful of the scent-free policy.  So I asked if there might be somewhere to move, even temporarily.  After one failed attempt last week, this week they found a workstation that was temporarily tenant-less.  One of my co-workers was going on a 2-week vacation for Christmas.  And I was planning on staying if I could. So today I packed up my few belongings and made a couple of trips to get "settled" in my temporary digs, in the farthest corner of the other room (our unit takes up two rooms) away from the new carpet, bordered on three sides by co-workers, and on one side by a large window.  I even have access to a printer, and if I hold my mouth just right I can print things...  

I am living out of a box, a bag, and a couple of inboxes, but I do have my chair, my plants, my essential office supplies, and a photo of my girls to keep me company. I can get my own files, print my own letters, and take them to the right place ... by myself.  Yet I am keenly aware that the place I'm staying in is not my own.


So now I am a nomad.  I have no clue where I will sit come January 4, 2011.  

I will probably know on December 30 or 31, 2010.  

Until then, I'm content to sit where I'm sitting, enjoy the quiet in my far corner by the windows, and do the next right thing for my clients.


I look at it as an opportunity to practice living "one day at a time" and to not allow myself to get attached to things too much.  And someday, I'll enjoy the move when I will finally be able to return to my old cubicle or get placed in a permanent one elsewhere.  On that day, I will be so tempted to put up a sign I saw once :  "Cubicle sweet cubicle."

Between Two Thieves

It has been said that Jesus, the Eternal Now, was crucified between two thieves: "What might have been," and "What might yet be."

In other words, yesterday and tomorrow. These are the two greatest thieves known to mankind.

Living in yesterday - if yesterday was good - makes us critical and judgmental of what's happening today that's different. We waste our time lamenting that things are not like "the good old days." If yesterday was awful, living in it can keep us trapped there, bound up in resentments, bitterness, fear, and anger. It robs us of any happiness that might be happening in today because the past clouds and colors our perceptions through a dark and repressive filter.

Living in tomorrow - if we think tomorrow will be better than today - robs us of the simple pleasures that happen in the moment. All we look for is "pie in the sky bye and bye" and our feet are not firmly planted in reality - we are way too "cosmic" to be of any real use to ourselves or to others. If we think tomorrow will be horrible, and we worry about how we'll ever manage, it too robs us of the strength we have been given to handle today's problems, because we spend all of our allotted strength on worrying about what might happen in the future.

Living in today, in gratitude and expectation, is a very powerful thing. First of all, it is where God lives. He said that He is the great "I am." Not "I was." Not "I will be in the future." Right now. Everything we need - He is. Second, because God is in the present, He is present to help whenever we need Him. Third, it's so very liberating to live in today, free from the chains of the past, free from the burden of the future. How many Christians I know today who simply can't enjoy the moment just because they're all wrapped up in the urgency of how close the Tribulation Period is, how evil the world is going to become - or what they "Should" be doing in the meantime (see my series on Shoulds and Oughtas from earlier this month - by the way, last time I looked it was GOD who convicted people of sin, drew people into the kingdom, gave the increase - it's all through the Bible ...) that they can't even relax. How sad.

I believe the past has a purpose - to instruct us in what to do - or not to do. I don't believe that we have to shut the door on the past, even if it was horrible. Until we deal with the past, there is no moving forward and those behaviors and attitudes we got from our pasts will continue to plague us in the present. There is help to deal with the past in a very simple program called the Twelve Steps. Whether it's an addiction to a mood-altering substance (legal or otherwise) that has gripped us, or whether it is a compulsion to do something else - mine was fixing, manipulating, and controlling other people - the Twelve Steps is a very useful pathway to learning from and being free from the chains of the past.

So then we can live in the now.

I also believe that the future has its place and we can live in joyous anticipation of it without robbing ourselves of the moment-by-moment enjoyment of the presence of God in our lives. The Bible says that God has sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts and He calls out, "Abba Father!" Quite literally that means, "Wow, Daddy this is fun being with You - what's next!" That's not obsessing about the future. That's enjoying the present with the assurance of a hope and a future. That's different.

That's living in the now.

He who is the Eternal Now still calls out to each of our hearts - to tryst with us.
Not in the past. Not in the future.
Today.