Happy?

About a year ago I attended meetings to support those with bi-polar disease and depression. Though raw and troubled, the people made me think about important things.

Lately, I have been thinking of one man in particular. When he came to meetings, the ravages of his disease were visible and palpable. It was all he could do to sit for the duration of the meeting without becoming agitated and hostile. But in a strange, yet gentlemanly way, he was able to detect his boundaries (very hard for a bipolar) and left when it became too much for him. It sounds sad, but it appeared from my unprofessional observations that it was his way of separating for his health and others. He was intelligent, well read, older and hanging by the chemical threads of his latest brew of meds.

One evening, he asked if anyone in the group was happy. He asked, "Will anyone of us EVER really be happy?" He was truly sincere. All kinds of inadequate answers floated across the table. I went into a typical Christianized mode speaking about the temporality of happiness and that it is joy that is possible. He left nevertheless after everyone's patronizing

Lately, I've thought about that question. If our goal in life is to be happy, we will be disappointed. But, he was asking for a crumb, something his problem had not allowed. It really made me think. He was very real to me---honest. And I think there were no demons to be cast out that night--just a good question posed by someone who didn't have or who never had the luxury of distracting himself with normalcy or tepid sanity.

Bird Watching 101

Anyone who is close to me knows I have a thing about birds, especially the common unpopular ones. They connect me to God in a special way. When filling their feeder today, the beauty of the weather and sounds of their singing overwhelmed and suspended me for a moment and out of nowhere the first line of Psalm 24 came wafting through my thoughts.

The Earth is the Lord's and everything in it, the world and all who live in it.


What an unexpected moment. How comforting those words are. Everything belongs.

Emotional Wisdom: Note to Self

Anyone can become angry---that is easy. But to be angry with the right person, to the right degree, at the right time, for the right purpose and in the right way---this is not easy.

Aristotle

Book Tag

Okay Cheryl, here it is. I ‘m nervous when it comes to discussing books because I don’t consider myself well read especially where fiction is concerned. I started a journey to read great literature over a year ago, but I have taken few steps. I get contemptuous taunts from Virginia Wolf and Cervantes every time I dust their spines. Yet, in my ridiculous quest to be “edjamucated,”I continuously buy more for the journey. Brothers Karamazov and Daisy Miller just rolled their eyes. I also do that awful thing and read two or three books at a time...must be part of the mood thing.

1. How many books do you own? I own too many. I just counted and had to stop. It is in the hundreds, many are unread. I think a book compulsion has been discovered!

2. What was the last book you bought? I bought a used copy of, That Hideous Strength by C. S. Lewis in the used section of the library. It is the third book of his Space trilogy and basically is a parable about the degeneration of man as a result of his worship of scientific materialism.

3. What was the last book you read? I just finished the last pages of Blue Like Jazz by Don Miller. I read most of it several months ago and got distracted. It was humorous and meaningful, but I enjoyed Anne Lamott’s version, Traveling Mercies, much better.

4. Name five books that mean something to you. This is hard. I would never part with my copy of, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I love her style of writing and the book themes are so wonderful. I think the essence of children is captured so well in this story.

The Return of the Prodigal Son by Henri Nouwen is a very important book for me spiritually. I loved that he became spiritually inspired through a masterpiece of Rembrandt. It’s a good example of the role art plays in worship and creativity. Tied with the Prodigal is N.T. Wright’s, The Challenge of Jesus. It had an effect on how I thought about what my mission in life might be.

I really got emotional after reading Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver. She is an excellent writer. It’s a great picture of the underlying dysfunction of, families, the church/religion and nations; with nature of course always having the last word. I was born on the continent and in the same time of history in which the story takes place in.

Eloise by Kay Thompson is one of my favorite children’s books. There is really something in this book you are supposed to get. I identify with Eloise. I like to think about Jesus as Eloise thinks about her nanny... He is my, “ Mostly Companion.”

I think I am relatively still sane because of the words in the book of Psalms. I believe its human writers were inspired to draw upon and embrace the beauty of worship, mystery, creation and suffering. My favorite chapters are many but I love chapters 23 and 42.

If I really read more literature this list would probably change, but this is how it is off the top of my head right now...I tag Kristine, Ramon, and Sherry.

Bronwyn at Eight

She is eight. I would like to freeze her at this age.

Today we had a delightful conversation in the Target snack bar while Caitlin was at her violin lesson. It was not so much the depth or content of the dialogue; rather it was her intensity and innocence about life. It was one of those great parental circumstances when you know the moment is special or perhaps, sacred and will disappear like vapor. As I sat with her, I had this instance where I was totally taken in by her. I could feel the future and saw myself remembering her there in Target (of all places) with her big blue eyes, tousled hair and her retainer sitting on the table as she is telling me all about her visit to the gym or what happened on the last episode of Full House.

I want to freeze her like this, a little girl with long legs and arms talking about how much she loves little babies and how she wants to take ballet and will I ever have another baby...pleeeeeeease?

I want to remember how open and funny she is. I want to remind myself that out of the blue at precisely 4:06 pm in Target she promised me she would never smoke because it would probably kill her and why would people keep making things that would kill people?

I will miss this certainty of innocence; this time of her unfeigned life when it would be fine if I had a baby and it was not “okay.” She would still love her even if she didn’t have a hand like the little baby at the gym.

I have been a single parent all week and as you know that can be stressful. But it is moments like today in the hustle and bustle of a busy consumer temple which remind me how special a child’s life is. This time will never be repeated. I am reminded of the importance of being present in every moment of life because, as some wise words I recently read so perfectly put it, "That which we are present to is that which we are becoming."

A Hard Week

This week Caitlin was formally diagnosed with Scoliosis. She was fitted for what will be an extremely restrictive and uncomfortable brace which will need to be worn for 23 hours a day.

The fitting process itself was very hard on her modesty and the realization of eighteen months of observation and restriction with no guarantee of preventing a corrective surgery was about all she could take. Many tears have been shed.

The type of curve she has is considered borderline. This means the brace will keep the curve from progressing during her adolescent growth, but may not be enough to prevent her from having to undergo surgery--which her doctor seems to be leaning towards. It is unknown now just how much of a genetic dose she has of scoliosis and the unknown is making our imaginations run wild as we try to grasp for some sense of control over this. I feel like Santiago in Hemmingway’s Old Man and the Sea…the first shark has bitten my perfect prize. But like Santiago, I hope to endure with grace under pressure.

Trying to set aside my need, or rather, my illusion of control, I am attempting to draw on the richest places that have been mined by the trials I’ve passed through. My "mother" prayers go to One who holds it all in his hands despite my symptoms of fear, anger, sadness and lack of faith. I ask him for healing and acceptance of whatever form he chooses to deliver it.

As Caitlin’s community, will you pray for her however you are led? My specific requests are that she will not require surgery; that she will have strength and courage to deal with what seems to be way beyond the scope of a young girl and for her self-image to develop in a healthy and whole way. I also ask that you pray our family grows closer and each of us deepens in the love of our Father during this stressful time.

Black Monday

Today I am irrelevant and wobbly. I have fallen through the hole in my net. But my coffee tasted so good because I learned to add a pinch of salt to the grounds.

He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.

On the first Easter morning, the apostles and the holy women did not see a ghost of Jesus. They saw him in the flesh, but in a different flesh, as the oak tree is different from the acorn that was its origin. We touch on the mystery of a body, not just Jesus’ body but our own, which will express us at our best, will not blunt our spirit with weariness and rebellion, but express it with ease and joy. This is a mystery beyond our imagination, but it is the centre of our faith. As we grow older, nothing in our faith makes more sense than the Passion and the Resurrection, the certainty that our body, like Jesus’, must suffer and die, and the certainty that we, in our bodies, have a life beyond death. - Sacred Space

Ice Cream Social

Bronwyn has completed her Ice cream graph based on those who responded. Chocolate was the winner. Orange sherbert was second and strawberry came in third. As a thankyou, we are bringing ice cream tonight to serve in cones after the meeting. Hope to see you there.

Help Bronwyn

Bronwyn has to make a graph. She has chosen to compare information on three ice cream flavors: Chocolate, Strawberry, and Orange sherbert. If you came to her party, which flavor would you choose.


Thanks

The Family of God

Twenty years ago Gregg and I attended a major denominational church. We were married there, sang in the choir, dedicated Caitlin at the altar and were, what we believed, committed to the body.

From time to time the pastor, a loving man, would stand before his flock and announce the numbers of people that had been added to the church that month through their confession of Christ and baptism into His family. We were briefed on all the successful Sunday school and witness training programs and the upcoming, exciting Cantata the choir was working on. The word of God was being preached and we were giving enough money to not only support our missionaries, but to even dream about televising our Sunday service to those shut-ins and remorseful gamblers unable to be with us in God’s house. We had baptized so many people in one period that a prominent member of the denomination made a gracious appearance to don the spiritual feather in the cap of the faithful.

Somehow, I think these presentations and visitations were meant to give us some sense of security that we were getting it right as successful harvesters in the Lord’s kingdom. Did I mention that the church served a meal made by the women of the church and fed mostly homeless people every Sunday evening without fail?

Not a few years later, this congregation met one Sunday with one group of individuals on one side of the pews and another on the other side. They spent what was meant to be a worship service in red-faced-jugular-bulging shouts of bitterness and division over the pastor’s desire to leave the present building to plant anew in the growing Northwest.

After their volleys of rage had done the damage, the pastor’s resignation was demanded. Of all the figurative “church barbecues” I have been to--- this one was the worst. No perceived success could have compared or overcome the real failure that was at the core of this congregation’s heart. It was all a façade. It was a time of great disillusionment.

Tonight I listened to a man tell a small group of people that he desired to be with them because he had fallen in love with them. I don't know why but I found this refreshing. The people he loves will probably never be congratulated by some celebrated member of the moral majority for congregational successes, and their sermons won’t be televised. But, his friends are the most successful people because they have loved him as they were commanded to do. Their obedience to be faithful in their love and presence in his life has made him a Genuine Success. Tonight, without numbers, programs or Cantatas, someone communicated authentically the core of fellowship.

I feel this night was glorifying to God. Intentional love is a mustard seed which deserves the patience to produce growth and fruit. Ironically, in this obscure catacomb experience, I remembered the words to a song my previous congregation would sing. They attempted, but never truly embodied the words. Some of you reading this may remember the words………(Yes they are cheesy)

I'm so glad I'm a part of the Family of God,
I've been washed in the fountain, cleansed by His Blood!
Joint heirs with Jesus as we travel this sod,
For I'm part of the family,
The Family of God