The Perspective of Presence

I've been looking at this whole "where are you God?" thing wrong.  Very wrong.

My counselor loaned me The Practice of the Presence of God by brother Lawrence at the end of our last session.  I asked her if she had any recommendations, any books that jumped out at her as "me" kind of books.  She thought and thought, looked around her office, and said, "Here.  Read this one."  I'm not certain that she was certain this was the type of book I was seeking, but on a whim she selected this book. And this book couldn't have been more what I needed at this very moment.  

In my last post I wrote:

I read.  I write.  I pray.  I cry from loneliness.  I fear I am damaged (like actually).  My life is okay -- each day rarely brings complaints -- but I worry this is it.  I know there is another way of living, a different way of being and existing that I want to possess -- there has to be.  This life is too blah to be all that there is.  

But what is it?  I know I want it and I know I don't have it, but I don't know what it is.  And if it is anything like forgiveness, then I don't even think I should have it in the first place. 

Where are the things God promised?  These were the words which ended my post.  It hurt to write this.  And to experience this doubt, to experience this loneliness and separation from the Lord -- the only reason I am good at my core, the only way I will survive this world and the pain it has caused and the pain it will bring -- left me empty.  My body felt like jello; my limbs were as lame as my heart.


I wanted to do some reading before bedtime last night.  I am working to finish this 700-page James Michener book -- and believe me, it is work.  The Drifters -- I enjoy it, and I don't enjoy it.  In places it's less than I expected, and in other places it's more than I expected.  Do I like the book?  Yes.  Would I recommend it?  No.  But the thought of not finishing a book is crazy talk to me.  My mind wrestled with what to read.  I need to finish the Michener book.  It would be nice reading, a nice escape from recent internal struggles.  But the book my counselor gave me -- I haven't started it yet.  It's a short book.  It is sure to help me and I'm interested in what it talks about.

This could have gone on forever.  And it definitely went on longer than needed.  I decided on the book from my counselor -- she has never let me down with her book/article recommendations.  So brother Lawrence it was.  Within a few pages, Monday's cry from loneliness was bandaged up with one simple paragraph.

Brother Lawrence was content doing even the smallest chore if he could do it for the love of God.  He even found himself quite well off, which he attributed to the fact that he sought only God, and not His gifts.  He believed that God is much greater than any of the simple gifts He gives us.  Rather than desiring them from Him, he chose to look beyond the gift, hoping to learn more about God Himself.  Sometimes he even wished that he could avoid receiving his reward, so that would have the pleasure of doing something solely for God.  (pg.10)

 I have been combing over these words since last night.  I woke up thinking about these words; I cannot stop thinking about these words.  To seek only God, and not His gifts.  God is greater than any of the gifts He gives us.  He is greater than love.  He is greater than truth.  He is greater than patience.  He is greater than patience!  He created it all and He gives it all; He is literally the master of all things.


And here I am.  Little Kristin seeking rewards I think I should have, utilizing God to experience the things I wish to experience -- to move me away from this place I don't think I should be.  Perhaps there are rewards all around me!  Maybe this is exactly where God wants me to be, where He put me to be!  To seek only God, and not His gifts.  To love Him and love Him and love Him -- just because.  To be content doing everything because everything is for the Lord; He is at the center of all tasks.  He created tasks!  To seek Him and find Him and learn about Him, to create and strengthen my relationship with Him who is greater than relationships.  


If God could say anything to me right now, I think He would say, Open your eyes, Kristin, and just let Me love you.

Indefinitely Searching

I look around and see no long-familiar faces;  I have caused pain or difficulty to just about every person I've been in a relationship with -- beginning in middle school.  At the moment, the person who has known me the longest (two years) is my counselor, and I pay her.  The consequences of my actions over the past two decades are blindingly clear to me -- I have no close friends.

Lately, I've been feeling the need to apologize to those good friends of the past whom I have wronged.  I am unsure if this is for self-satisfying, self-gratifying reasons.  What I do know for certain is that no one is waiting for an apology from me and no one's life will be better because of one.  Still, I want to tell the friends I've hurt that I miss them.  I miss their friendship.  I was in a really bad place; I was hurting so deeply inside and I wanted to hurt others.  Some of it wasn't intentional, but a lot of it was.

I feel ashamed and lonely for the mistakes and poor choices I have made -- the words and actions that have caused others pain and myself regret and embarrassment.  The place I am at now -- looking back -- who was that girl?  If someone were asked, "What do you think of that Kristin person?", I fear the response would be just as I knew it would be.

My faith tells me to seek forgiveness from God, and I have.  At least I've tried.  But deep down at my core, I don't think I am forgivable.  How can I ask for something I don't think I deserve?  My faith tells me that I don't deserve forgiveness -- no one deserves any of the things God has for us.  He forgives us because He loves us unconditionally.  When I hear and read such words, I am numb.  It hurts me to say that these beliefs I should hold inside are just words -- there is no meaning, no acceptance on my part.  How I want to believe I am loved no matter what I do or don't do!  How I want to believe that I am an amazing creature from the deepest part of my being!

I read.  I write.  I pray.  I cry from loneliness.  I fear I am damaged (like actually).  My life is okay -- each day rarely brings complaints -- but I worry this is it.  I know there is another way of living, a different way of being and existing that I want to possess -- there has to be.  This life is too blah to be all that there is.

But what is it?  I know I want it and I know I don't have it, but I don't know what it is.  And if it is anything like forgiveness, then I don't even think I should have it in the first place.

Where do I start?

Where do I stop?

Where are the things God promised?

Crossroads

A blank screen.  Why is this so intimidating?  What about this brings on exhaustion and doubt before any effort has begun?  It seems the opposite should occur -- excitement and readiness for the opportunities that await.  A blank screen means endless possibilities.  A blank screen equals freedom -- to create, to vent, to teach, to learn.

I am at an odd crossroads on my journey to healing.  I suppose it's more accurate to say my journey through healing -- healing isn't a destination; it's a process, a lifelong process which never ends, can never be completed entirely.  This crossroads I speak of?  I'm okay.  I'm still searching, of course.  Aren't we all?  But overall, I am feeling calm, better.  My journey must continue, I want to continue -- but where do I go now?

With every psychotherapy and inspirational fiction book I read, with every Bible verse that moves me, with every worship service and counseling session I attend, another tiny piece of me is made whole.  My authentic self is a mosaic, and my progress has assembled enough pieces together that I am able to see the full picture developing.  I can make out the shadows and shapes, the shades of color and expression.  But there are still many pieces, chunks even, that are missing, pieces that I am moved to uncover and understand.  But in which direction do I go?

I know it's deeper and within minute passages that are barely maneuverable.  I know pain and non-truth exist there.  I know I am afraid but curious to traverse the jagged and dark terrain.  But what will take me there?  What will deliver me to the entrance of the unknown that I am ready to discover?

More counseling?  More reading?  More writing?  More praying?  Is it more of what I am already doing, or is it something completely new I must add to my healing regime?  Could it be a new way of doing what I am already doing?

This is the crossroads I am at -- unsure of where to go next, but more ready than ever to just go. 

Presence as a Present

Yesterday I saw my mother for the first time in 5 years.  Well, minus the time 2 years ago when she sidelined me by sticking around my sister's apartment once she found out I was coming over.  That was a 10 minute visit with an easy exit (I went to the gym to workout).  There was nothing easy about yesterday.

I prepped for a week in anticipation of this face-to-face nightmare that would take place at my sister's bridal shower.  My counselor and I met for coffee/tea on Friday and the subject of my mother and the impending reunion was the main topic.  I talked with my boyfriend several times throughout the week about my fears and thoughts on seeing her.  I prayed.  I journaled.  I experienced many emotions, the most prominent being anger and fear.

I am so angry at her for things she has done to me and said about me and to me over the course of my life.  She does hateful and manipulative things, and then acts like everything is fine.  She suffered a lot of trauma growing up, and the pain of this trauma has ruled her life.  She won't get help.  She doesn't see how detrimental her actions and words have been to me.  I am finally beginning to see that this isn't my fault, that what she says and does means nothing about me as a person.  Finally, after years of thinking I am bad and disgusting and unwanted, I see that a new truth exists.  And while I am exploring this new truth, testing the waters of my own goodness, finding ways to live out the identity of my soul, she is still manipulating and blaming and damaging people.  Mostly herself.  I don't want any part of it, any part of her.

But there she was, coming up to hug me, showering me with superficial comments about how long my hair is and how good I look.  And there she was, asking me questions that I didn't want to answer -- "Where are you living?  Where are you working?  The last I heard you were....."  And like I discussed with my counselor and my boyfriend, I was vague with my answers.  I said a few words, nicely, without really saying anything; then I got up and casually walked away.  I was angry she was there.  Sans my sister's fiance's mother, she was in a room filled with people she has been horrible to, people she has badmouthed and labeled and blamed.  I was quite surprised that she even showed up.  But there she was.  Laughing.  "I'm doing awesome!"  "Yea, that's so great.  I haven't seen you in forever."  No shit.  No one wants to see you.  Oh, but there she was.

And I kept an eye on where she was.  I sat in places where she couldn't sit next to me.  I went inside myself.  I wasn't my outspoken self.  I wasn't making jokes.  I didn't want any of the focus to be on me because that would mean her focus would be on me.  I didn't want to make eye contact with her.  I didn't want to look at her or talk to her or feel her presence next to me.  I made myself the designated photo taker, which I love to do, so that gave me freedom to move about the party and not be in any one place for too long.  She's still doing it, she's still causing me to be defensive, to be on alert for danger, and to act in ways that will bring about the least emotion and friction.  The food was delicious and I talked and laughed with family members, but I felt a constant uncomfortable, anxious, awkwardness in my stomach.  I kept reminding myself that the day was about my sister.

And she was so happy.  She was glowing and smiling the entire time.  During the gift opening, I felt a pang of sadness.  Sadness for my life, for my anger toward my mother, for not being able to scream at her, for not being where I want to be in life, for feeling these feelings on one of the most important days of my sister's life.  My little sister is getting married.  What does that say about me?

The reasonable and rational and healthy answer (which I came up with tonight, mind you) is nothing.  My little sister getting married means I have to squeeze into a cocktail dress and walk around with heels on for 6 hours.  My little sister getting married means we finally have another man in the family to balance out all of the raging estrogen.  My little sister getting married means my little sister is getting married.  What my sister does says nothing about me  -- this makes sense, this I understand.  If what my sister does says nothing about me, then this means what my mother does says nothing about me, either.  But I'm just not there yet.  I don't believe this statement is true, and I don't know if I will ever get there.  As my counselor would say, "This is your journey."

I felt my inner struggle at the bridal shower -- my racing heart, my knotted stomach, my out-of-sync breathing, every part of me physically experienced the presence of my mother.  As the party ended, an opportunity for manipulation presented itself.  "Hey Kristin, come over here, I want to show you something."  I looked at her, wanting to say "I'm on my way out" or "I don't really want to talk", but instead, I nervously said "Hang on a minute".  While looking at her for this brief moment, I saw meanness in her eyes, her face had that look I always remembered, that look that said "You are bad" and "I am your MOTHER".  Coward.  This was my chance to set boundaries.  I couldn't tell her no.  I walked over to her where she was sitting on the couch.  I remained standing.  She held up her phone to show me a picture of a man I didn't recognize and said, "This is my real brother."  I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing.  I looked at the picture for what seemed like forever, and then I looked at her.  With tears in her eyes and a shaky voice she said, "Your uncle."  I shook my head a couple times, raised my eyebrows, and gave a low "uh huh".  Then I walked away.

What did she think would happen when she showed me a picture of "my uncle" I've never even met?  Why did she even come at all?  Mother of the Bride, my ass.  You have intentionally hurt every single person in this room.  Does she actually think anyone thought she was doing "awesome"?  Does she think she accomplished something by going to the shower?  I could go on and on with the "what-ifs" and "why's", but ultimately, I must remember that this is my journey, and I accomplished something by going to the shower.  I did what I haven't been able to do.  I kept my emotions tidy.  To everyone, I was just another guest, the maid of honor, the proud sister.  The broken, angry daughter had to step aside for the party.

But as the party ended, as I was shown a photograph that said "family is your family no matter what", I wish the broken, angry daughter would have spoken up.  Right then was my chance to draw the boundaries, to say no, to assert myself and tactfully and calmly tell her that I have no desire or intention of communicating with her aside from what's required at my sister's wedding.  But I wasn't sure I could find the words.  I wasn't sure what she would say or do.  So I said nothing and walked away.

Until tonight, I viewed these actions as cowardly and a failed moment in my journey, but something inside tells me differently.  I was able, in a matter of 15 seconds max, to be presented with something uncomfortable and that I didn't understand, remain in control and aware of my thoughts and feelings, and respond in the best way I saw appropriate in that moment.  I was present.  Everything I know has conditioned me to react, react, react, and for one of the first times, and in one of the most crucial moments of my journey, I naturally went against everything I was taught -- and I did it face-to-face with the very person who taught me.

I still have doubts and questions about yesterday -- I would be lying if I told you otherwise.  But the doubts and questions from tonight are much different than the doubts and questions from yesterday.  Tonight's questions hold curiosity; tonight's doubts hold hope and wonder for what yesterday's experience will bring tomorrow and the day after.  Something wonderful will come out of yesterday's difficulties -- God has put this revelation in my heart; this I confidently believe.

There she was, but here is where I am.  And here is what matters to my journey.

Getting My Peace Back

I was in another world last week.  I felt such calmness and contentment from within.  I took delight in nature - the sounds, the smells, the sights of tiny snails and tall Oaks.  I prayed and journaled and felt God near.

Now I'm off to another week and the joys of just a handful of days ago are no longer felt from within.  I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter how I feel - that the wonderful week I experienced can't just go away.  But that week has passed, and it took my smiles with it.

When I take a step back and ask myself, "Why am I feeling less than good?  Why am I no longer calm and peaceful?", I have a few concrete answers, but the brick-house of them all is the approaching wedding of my sister, which has unfortunately bridged the gap between myself and my estranged mother.

My mother has called me sporadically and left voicemails over the years, all of which have gone un-listened to for the past 3 years.  My avoidance of her will come to a screeching halt this weekend when I will see her at a bridal shower.  I'm not so sure how I feel about this.  Who am I kidding?  I absolutely do not want to see her.  I do not want to talk to her.  I do not want her to ask me questions about where I live and what I've been up to.  And all of these do-not's are made even more frustrating by my uncertainty about how to handle the situation.

I've made progress.  I've read books and I've attended counseling for quite some time.  I have knowledge about her treatment of me and truth about my goodness and why my reality is so insufferably distorted.  This truth has given me a new perspective -- about her, about me, about my past and present and future.  I see her as a terrible woman, a woman with her own pain so deep that she inflicts pain on others.  I see her as clueless and immature.  I see her as a human being with her own goodness that she must discover herself, but a human being that I do not want in my life in any capacity, nonetheless.

My boyfriend has given me advice on how to handle any interactions with her this weekend and the weekend of the wedding.  Even though I asked him what I should do or say, I was compelled to yell at him, "You have no idea how I feel!"  But I didn't.  His advice was good advice, but good advice that I expect will be very difficult to follow.

Use my voice.  Don't feel obligated or at fault.  Remain focused on what the day is about -- my sister.  I am an adult who will be respected and treated as such.  I am an independent adult who owes nothing to anyone.  Assert myself.  I have the power to speak, to remain silent, and to walk away if necessary.  Pretty good advice, huh?  Shit, how will I do this?

All of my work, all of my progress and breakdowns from childhood to today, all of my insights and fears and experiences housed in this very blog, every counseling session, every prayer -- this was my preparation for a day that would inevitably come.  And I'm scared.

I'm a lot of things.  I'm bitter.  I'm fed up.  I'm tired.  I'm sad.  Why me?  Why more of this crap?  The day will be a breeze or a complete nightmare -- it's one or the other with her.  And the power of positive thinking won't apply to her craziness.

So where does all this leave me?  Today it left me empty.  I had many negative thoughts about myself which I had to tell out loud were lies and to just stop.  I don't want to spend my week worrying about a 3-hour event.  I thought ahead and scheduled an appointment with the pastor of the church I've been attending - I had other things I wanted to talk to him about, specifically Lent questions, but also the relationship with my mother and what God thinks about it.  I found out this morning my mother would be attending this weekend's event, and I couldn't help but think, "Perfect timing."  I meet with him tomorrow morning.

I am leaning on God.  I am asking Him for clarity and forgiveness and peace.  I am counting on Him to help me this weekend.  Perhaps, this too, is my preparation for a day that will inevitably come.

Authority in the Now

In everything I read and listen to and study, I return again and again to the same idea:  I have authority over my life.

Life isn't something that happens to me.  Life doesn't happen.  Life is given -- given as a gift to me from God.  Every year, every day, every moment -- a gift.

Gifts are special and meaningful and a symbol of love from the giver.  How many days have I taken this gift and thrown it in the trash?  How many instances have I exchanged this gift for something else, something less wonderful?  How many mornings and afternoons and nights have I hid this gift under my bed for fear of what it may bring should I open it?  How many times have I wished for the gifts to cease while someone else was wishing just one more gift?

All I have is today.  And I may or may not have all of today.  The only thing I know for sure, the only time that is guaranteed to me is right now -- this very second, this very breath.  What I do with this promised moment leads into what I will do with the next promised moment, should it be granted to me.  Every moment matters.

Life is a gift wrapped with ribbons and bows of moments and breaths.  Too often, I toss the ribbons aside so I can get to "the good stuff".  But I'm missing the good stuff -- I have the good stuff in my hands but I choose to throw it to the side in search of something better.

There is no "better".  There is only right now.

That I Have

All You want is a broken spirit.  Lord, that I have.

You created me in love and for love, but the world took its grip on me as I took my first breath.  For this breath announced, "I am here for the taking.  Cheat me, beat me, eat me, and spit me out."

Such pain, but You were there.  Lost and searching, only to find more pain, but You were there.

You, too, have been tested.  You, too, have been shamed and ridiculed and judged.  But Your father was there.  You understand my pain in ways that I don't understand myself.  You know why I hurt; You know the ways I hurt.

With hurting comes crying, but I do not cry with the same tears anymore.  Joy, peace, promise -- these are what my tears are made of.  And when I bring pain to others as I so often have, I do not cry with the same tears anymore.  Tears of regret, embarrassment, shame have been dried with Your grace.

And all You ask for is a broken spirit, a spirit that believes only in You.

Lord, that I have.

Redefining "Body"

My mind is a battlefield.  Joyce Meyer says this a lot.  But what I’m talking about here is Engel, specifically, the first exercise of Chapter 10 in Healing Your Emotional Self. 

When I read the title of Chapter 10, I put the book away for three weeks.  “Learning to Love Your Body”.  Bird poop.  I could not bring myself to continue on my emotional healing journey by way of this book with those words looming over my head.  Though I put the book away, I kept thinking about my body and my love for my body.  As the weeks past, I realized on many occasions that the way I was treating my body at a particular moment wasn’t loving at all; in fact, it was more like punishment.  While sitting down for dinner last night, with my boyfriend’s plate full of chicken and corn and rice, with my plate empty with a sad, plain chicken breast and some spinach leaves, after days of barely eating in order to lose weight, I said, “So, I’ve been putting off reading the next chapter in that book I told you about.  The chapter is about loving your body and I haven’t wanted to read it.  But after seeing how I’ve basically been starving myself to lose weight I think reading the chapter would be good for me.”  “So, read it,” he replied.

 

I woke up this morning with a mission to tackle “Learning to Love Your Body”.  I didn’t get very far.  Within two pages of my reading was an exercise.  More bird poop.  Engel asks a series of questions about my breathing (Is it deep or shallow?  Do I ever forget to breathe for long periods of time?).  She tells me to pay attention to my breath today.  All day.  Excessive, if you ask me.  She asks me to identify the emotions my breath is expressing (anxiety, fear, etc.).  She wants me to pay attention to the parts of my body that are most tense.  “What would they tell you they need?  What would they tell you about past trauma?”  When I read the word trauma I notice my breath.  It stops.  About past trauma.  The word trauma is holding me up.  I don’t like it.  With it brings denial of any such thing, of such a severe word.  With it brings memories, what I felt at the time the experience was taking place.  Memories and feelings bring truth.  Trauma is a part of my life.

I move on from trauma to the last question.  “Which parts of your body are the most numb? Why have these parts of your body lost all feeling?”  Here’s another kicker.  “Underneath the numbness is probably a lot of pain; what is this pain about?”  Again, I notice my breath.  Again, it has stopped.  I have a choice to make.  Do I want to answer these questions?  If I do, how much time do I want to put in to finding the answers to all this stuff?  All day? 

I open up my journal and thumb through used pages upon used pages.  I’m already into the last one-third of this journal.  The first two-thirds are all filled with notes I made while reading this book.  Revelations, memories uncovered, more truth.  Trauma.  I remember how difficult the previous chapters in this book were to read.  I remember the arguments with my boyfriend in the days following those chapters.  Defensive.  Alone.  It was like I had a third-degree sun burn and I couldn’t be touched without cringing, without yelling and blaming.  I return to the blank page in my journal, and I want to fill it.  I want to use up this journal, feel every ounce of pain as I scribble from top to bottom, sideways, arrows, bullet points.  I want the final stretch of this journal to resemble the beginning – chaos while reading, remembered pain while reflecting, asterisks by the truths I’ve uncovered.  I’m ready to answer the questions. 

I breathe deeply after reading a striking passage.  I’m taking it all in.  A deep breath because I was holding my breath in suspense of the words I’m about to read.  I relate too closely to what I am reading or watching.  I hold my breath because I am uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable with the truth that is before me in black and white.  My breathing pattern is irregular – short and shallow or all out deep and filling.  My breathing pattern is like my other patterns – all or nothing.  Every part of my being has been conditioned for unhealthy, negative living.  Even my breathing, the simplest, automatic and most fundamental activity of a human being, has been tainted.  Exhaling deeply, I am tired.  I’m weak from the truth I just inhaled.

My stomach is tense.  I need to relax.  I need to feel safe.  I couldn’t relax as a child.  I was always on alert for danger; the changing atmosphere meant I had to be ready.  I am that child today.  Watching, listening, waiting for an attack, and those who are closest to me are the most likely attackers.  I live life with a tense stomach, with a defensive demeanor.  Nowhere is safe.  No one is safe.  I have to be ready at all times so I don’t get hurt.

My mind is numb.  Yes, it’s constantly analyzing, comparing, on alert.  But that is all done on autopilot.  My mind is not interactive.  It doesn't engage with the rest of my body; it’s not curious about my surroundings – it only reacts, reacts, reacts.  Reality has proven too difficult.  My mind means feelings, feelings mean actions, and all is negative.  It’s easier to be numb than to feel.  I am that child today.  I shut off my feelings and needs as to cause the least ripples.  I let my mind take me through life, numb and on autopilot, only to react, react, react.

I sit in silence for a while as I take in what I’ve just written.  Truth, trauma -- my words, my feelings.  Until I read the words “Learning to Love Your Body”, I never considered the idea that I didn’t, at least not anything past aesthetics.  My boobs are too small and I need to lose another 15 pounds.  But that’s not the body Engel is speaking of, at least not in this exercise.  I never considered my breathing or my tenseness or numbness as part of my body, and certainly not part of how I treat my body.  I never connected the dots between this treatment and past pain.  These are the dots I need to connect.  These are the dots which connect me to my healing.  Not “my boyfriend said this which really means that; therefore, he doesn’t love me, he is interested in another female which makes me unattractive, damaged and inherently unlovable.”  Yes, people, this is the nonsense that runs through my mind. 

“I never considered” has become “now I know.”  I am reminded again of Joyce Meyer and her podcast I listened to yesterday.  “Once God reveals something to you, once you realize something about the way you’ve been living, you now have the responsibility to act different.  To whom much is given, much is required.”  I’ve been given truth, painful and surprising, but truth nonetheless.  I am the only one responsible for what I will do with the truth I’ve just received.  The expectation for change is greater now than it’s ever been. 

I’m ready to answer.

Lent as I Know It

Lent has always meant, to me, a 40-day period when you give up something you love:  chocolate, sodas, television.  When I was in third grade, I tried to give up vegetables for Lent, but this didn't fly so well with the parentals.  Until last week, Lent meant, to me, a time when I would give up something I really enjoyed, unlikely to abstain from said enjoyable item for the full 40 days.  All it took was a few Sunday morning worship services and a few Wednesday evening contemplative prayer sessions for my eyes to be opened.  And some Google-ing.

On Sundays and Wednesdays, my ears heard the reasons for Lent, the symbolism of the Wednesdays and Fridays and Sundays of the Lenten season.  My eyes scanned through numerous articles and web sites devoted to the de-mystification and explanation of "what exactly is Lent all about?"  With everything I read and heard and thought about, my heart longed to fully and truly participate in this Lenten season, and not just by way of giving up chocolate or caffeine or some other delicious requirement for sanity, but to follow the Lenten season as a journey through the darkness of suffering to the light of love and grace, to suffer with Him and for Him and relying only on Him to see me through this 40-day devotional.

This new understanding has called for some serious reflection.  How should I go about my Lenten journey?  What should I give up?  What should I add?  For how long and how much should I read scripture?  I am reminded of a recent Joyce Meyer podcast when she said, "God cares about practice not perfection."  This really simplifies things.  A lot of things.  God doesn't care what I give up or how many good deeds are added to my day planner.  I can't earn what I already have - love and grace and completeness.  I'm still learning to accept this fact, to believe that I am worthy of such an amazing love.  I want to get closer to this love, to His love.  This is where the "giving up something" during Lent comes into play.  What in my life keeps me from growing closer to God?  What keeps me from His love?  What keeps me in the darkness?  Whatever the answer, or answers, give it up.  Sacrifice instant gratification for eternal joy.

Jesus went around helping people.  He always put the needs of others before His own, even when He knew he was going to be killed.  What can I add to my life that will make me more like Jesus, a lover and helper of others?  What can I incorporate into my life that will bridge the distance between me and God? What can I do to move closer to Him and His love, and in turn, bring this love into the lives of those around me?

There are as many Lent practices as there are people who wish to practice Lent.  Fasting is the most common, and even this tradition brings with it many options of doing so.  From everything I have read, from the last few sermons I have heard, I believe that Lent is about strengthening one's own walk with Jesus and moving through suffering to rejoicing with Him and for Him.

I am genuinely excited about this Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, when the Lenten season begins.  I am also realistic in that I know this excitement will dwindle down, that I will find myself very uncomfortable, maybe even miserable.  But this will be a good thing!  It is in these darkest hours, when I am uncomfortable and longing for my "old" ways of life, when I am unsure if I can sacrifice and suffer one more day, that I am one with Jesus and His sacrifices for me.

So what have I decided for my practice this Lenten season?  There are countless web sites that allow you to sign up and receive a daily scripture reading every day during Lent.  This I have done by way of http://www.biblegateway.com/newsletters/.  The rest is still under construction and left to prayer and reflection in the days to come.  Humility is key during the Lenten season.  I will blog about my Lenten journey, but the specifics as to what I do or don't do won't be included, nor will they matter.  What matters is what God reveals to me, my experiences with Jesus during this time, how I receive His love and grace both in the light and in the dark.  These are the things of Lent I want to share with you.

I would like to say that I am a new Christian; my walk with God is fresh.  Everything I write is from my heart, and my experiences and the words I use are new to me and are what I understand at this moment.  I encourage you to talk to the pastor or associate pastor of a local church if you have questions about God.  I love reading about God and listening to podcasts and blogging, but the times I have sat down and talked with an active believer have made the most positive impacts on my faith and understanding of God and Christianity.  And of course, keep reading! - it's an honor to have you visit and experience life with me.

Nothing A Little Parsley Can't Handle

Do you ever feel like you just want to get the old stuff out?

“Stuff” could refer to any number of things – a pantry overflowing with expired or no longer wanted food, a closet full of clothes too small or too large or too outdated, a garage packed floor-to-ceiling with boxes bursting with who knows what.  Just stuff.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself ostracized from the human condition.

I’d like to think that I'm good about purging my belongings when their totality gets to be all too much.  About twice a year, I pile all of this “too much” into a box and head to the local Goodwill.  The donated items are a given – a pair of jeans I last wore in high school (I’m pushing thirty, btw), a horrendous Christmas sweater compliments of Grandma…you know, the usual.  But there are some things I just can’t let go of.  I think, “I might need this at some unspecified point in time even though I haven’t used it since a forgettable time ago.”  My purging of “too much” never seems enough when I return home and see that I still have so.much.stuff.  Being that this is a journey-to-healing blog, you know where I’m going with this.  If you don't know where I'm going with this, consider yourself ostracized from the human condition.  Not really.  Just follow along.

I found myself in church the past couple Sundays for worship and a few Wednesdays for the guided contemplative prayer group.  As I mentioned before, this is my season of searching, searching for God knows what.  Funny, these words are the title of a book written by Donald Miller, one I came across (but have yet to read) after reading his A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  I am searching, this I know.  But what is it that I'm searching for?  I really don’t know.  But I do believe God knows and that He initiated the search.  Touché, Miller.

This church I attend is simple and contemplative.  Just being in site of the place makes me want to throw out everything I own, grab a pair of flip flops, and travel the world just enjoying life and the people I meet.  Being among other believers in complete silence, worshiping God, praying, listening to the pastor…the peace and simplicity I experience is cleansing, but it also reveals just how much complex weight I carry.  Debt, failed relationships, estranged Mother, tarnished reputation from stupid drunk decisions -- this is the old stuff, the “too much” I attach to other stuff, the “too much” I have no room for but just can't get rid of.

 

I am all about dieting and cleansing programs, have tried many of them, and have failed most of them.  By “fail” I mean I didn’t really feel any bit different afterward.  I was just starving and tired of being on the toilet every 10 minutes.  So when I came across an article in this month’s O Magazine that outlined a two day cleanse by Dr. Oz, I was initially skeptical but still very interested.  Dr. Oz said nothing about losing weight, noticing a flatter tummy, or clearing out the depths of your intestines.  What he did say was the effects of this cleanse, as experienced by him, weren’t just physical; there was a spiritual aspect as well.  Peaceful, rejuvenated from the inside out were words he used.  After a quick read thru of the menu, I decided to try it.  Yes, another cleanse but another purpose.

As I do with all recipes, I changed up the cleanse menu to fit my budget and to make it simpler – I refuse to purchase nutmeg, caraway seeds, ginger root, and the likes to put only one teaspoon of each in whatever it is I am cooking.  Yesterday I headed to the store to purchase items for the Valentine’s Dinner my boyfriend was cooking us, and grabbed a few extra fruits and veggies, the key ingredients as directed by Dr. Oz.  So many of the ingredients of our dinner were included in the cleanse menu, making it very easy to prepare for this venture.  I was most excited to make the main meal of the cleanse, a soup overflowing with vegetables and herbs.  I woke up this morning and got to chopping.

This is what went into the soup – celery, cabbage, onion, garlic, fennel bulb, rosemary, basil, and lots of parsley all simmered in a huge pot of water for one hour.  Parsley happens to be a big mover and shaker in getting things moving and shaking, if you know what I mean.  One of the pointers for this cleanse was to drink dandelion tea at night – but I didn’t want to buy dandelion tea bags, and I had this huge bunch of parsley.  My synapses connected and I found a recipe online for parsley tea.  Said it was disgusting (I think the word used was “bitter”) but very good for you.  Since I’m going for purpose and not taste, parsley tea it will be.

 

As I sit here typing away with the bountiful veggie soup ready to be eaten, I am experiencing excitement and wonder.  Excitement for this short journey I am taking, and wonder for what in the world parsley tea could possibly taste like.  But seriously folks, my season of searching has me simplifying what goes into my body, caring about my organs and how they function, and ready to empty myself of the “too much” I’ve been carrying with me for too long.  I am dedicating myself to this cleanse and keeping God as my center.  I am not doing this cleanse to lose a quick 5 pounds or to rid my body of the evil parasites that take up residence in my colon track; I believe I will achieve a sense of lightness and purity within my spirit.  Maybe I’m thinking too much into this cleanse.  But maybe I’m not.  I choose to believe.

Tonight is the guided contemplative prayer group I spoke of, and I will be in attendance.  I am looking forward to this quiet time with myself and with God, to hear what He has to say, to be made aware of more of my brokenness so that I may experience and embrace the peace He brings me.  And I’ll do it all with a big mug of steeping parsley tea resting on the lips of my smiling face.  Now what can be bitter about that?