Peace is the Paradox

September's melancholy musings

2012-09-02T04:05:00.000-07:00

The dog days of summer are over. School begins in three days and we're firing our engines. New backpack, new clothes, new supplies, new schedule...we're ready. My son is good to go. I'm good to go.

The next two years will be especially meaningful to me, because Isaac is my youngest child. With each step forward I know I'm saying good bye to these special rituals that I used to take for granted.

Soon my son will be finished with high school and marching toward adulthood, whether it be going to college, or doing something else. I'll have to make some personal adjustments of my own then, and I admit, that looks a little scary.

Hey, listen. No use worrying about it now. I remind myself daily to live in the present. Stay in the moment. Sounds like good advice, doesn't it? One day at a time?

Fall is my favorite time of year. When I first sense a slight change in the air, I feel a huge surge of energy. I buy a new planner and begin re-examining my priorities. For me, fall is the best time to set goals and make new commitments. I'm the kind of person who craves organization. I need my own personal routine to hold onto, just to stay sane!

I worked outside the home for many years, and it was difficult working and raising a family. I was always stretched too thin. I was often tired and worried about my kids, and what they were missing by me not being home. My marriage also suffered. But being home has its own drawbacks. Everyone acts like I'm loafing on the couch, and can be called upon at any time for anything. Each passing year I recognize a little more, the importance of creating my own schedule and sticking to it.

This past year has been enormously difficult because one of my children has been ill, and is still suffering terribly. Without sharing private information, not every illness has a cure, and it's taken every bit of strength I can muster to get through it. At the same time, the weight of worrying over my child caused me to lose perspective on a lot of other things. It certainly made small things seem bigger, or more significant, than they were. Everything is a matter of perspective.

I try to begin and end each day with at least 30 minutes of private time and prayer. It doesn't always work out, but if I don't have time alone first thing, I need to try and fit it in somewhere. If I don't reserve those 30 minutes, then one of two things happens. I either flounder wildly throughout the day, from one difficulty to another, or I end up seeking help and guidance in the wrong place, from the wrong person.

My birthday's in a couple of weeks and I'll be another year older. The main discovery I made this year is the magic of living small. All my life I thought I was meant to live "large." I thought I was meant to do something big, to help save the world, and humanity. Maybe those feelings came from a desire to do something important, so I would have a legacy to leave behind. I wanted to leave my mark. I thought it would be through my writing.

Now that I'm older I think perhaps I ignored the gift of life itself, with all my scurrying around, trying to "fix" things. Maybe "things" aren't as broken as I think. Maybe I need to spend more time paying attention to the small and ordinary. I have long reflected in my articles those tiny details – things we often miss. I don't know why, but that philosophy didn't translate to my own life, until now.

My children keep asking when I'm going to write a book. There are too many books in the world already. There's simply too much noise.

Would a haiku do?

Everybody wants to be God's rock star

2012-08-25T01:35:00.007-07:00

I want to believe in Lance Armstrong. I want to believe in him so badly I keep telling myself, "He just has to be innocent."

If I say it often enough will I believe it? I have a long list of reasons why he is innocent of doping charges, all which make good sense. The problem is, we'll never know for sure. For most of us it will remain a matter of faith, a matter of belief. Or disbelief.

It's quite amazing to see how many people believe in Lance and defend him so vigorously. They even support him when they think he did it. Does it really matter, they ask? Look at all he's done for cancer. Look how he inspired us. Yes. I think about those things, too. In this world, these are not small things.

Let me ask you something. Who among us hasn't cheated? Come on. Haven't you slid through an intersection closer to the red light, than the yellow? Haven't you told a little white lie to your boss, or your in-laws? And what about that old "the-check-is-in-the-mail" excuse? Call it a lie, call it cheating, it's the same thing. We have each crossed that line once or twice. We tell ourselves it's just a little thing and shake it off. Lucky for us there isn't a long line of accusers trying to bring us down.

I'm no innocent. I have plenty of mistakes to atone for, including lying and cheating. Hey, I know my moral lapses aren't hidden from everyone – as God is my witness. But I'm weak. I'm weak and lazy. I'm foolish and prone to making bad choices when I'm under pressure. Won't He understand? I think He understands. He loves me.

But when we're under pressure, isn't that the time God offers us the greatest opportunity to be a standard bearer? That's the time! That lightening quick moment when we can choose to make Christ visible to the world – a sign of hope. And to those in the unseen world – victory.

Maybe it sounds unbelievable, but I've been aware of the Spirit telling me it's the small things that mold us, and give us new life in Christ. God is calling us to open our eyes and see the true obstacles – the spiritual ones.

He calls us to live within our circumstances, whatever they may be, and be grateful for the challenges. This is our ministry. This is our purpose. This is where we connect with the Father, allowing Him to run the race with us.

As Christians, it's self-defeating to make excuses for ourselves, like "Everyone's doping and if he (Lance) wanted to win, he had to do it." We tell ourselves, "He didn't have a choice."

Don't we always have a choice?

"We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love," said Mother Teresa. If we love the Lord, ourselves, and each other, we should want to do everything with great love, and total fidelity. We should be transparent as glass.

In my daily reading I can't help but notice how many Christians desire to do great things for the Lord. Everybody wants to be God's rock star. No one ever imagines doing something, or being someone small for Jesus.

A heart with no exit

2012-08-20T16:25:00.001-07:00

"My heart only has entrances. It doesn't have exits. Whoever enters remains there. Whatever he may do, I love him the same as I loved him when he first entered into my heart. I pray for him and seek his salvation."

~ the Elder Epiphanios of Athens, from the text 'Precious Vessels of the Holy Spirit'

John Michael Talbot discouraged by 'nasty and argumentative' Facebook folks

2012-08-15T08:53:00.002-07:00

John Michael Talbot

Troubadour for the Lord, John Michael Talbot, stated on his Facebook page this morning that he may shut down the site. Here's his full statement:

I am about to close my FB site. I find folks so nasty and argumentative that it is growing too difficult to maintain. The anti Catholic arguments require books, not FB comments to answer. The political temperature is so verbally violent that I simply do not care to engage much longer. Please keep me in prayer as I discern this. We reach around 2 million people a month, but it is not worth the aggravation if we Christians cannot learn to dialogue with greater mutual respect and civility.

John Michael Talbot has spent some 40 years bringing peace and healing to others, not only through his music, but through the monastic community he founded and still nurtures, The Brothers and Sisters of Charity.

What Talbot describes is fairly common through social media. Many people lack the ability or desire to have a pleasant conversation. They aren't interested in making friends, or learning something new, but instead only want to stir things up. Some are so antagonistic and hostile that you wonder about their true motives for being there.

John Michael Talbot is a special person to me. His music encouraged me and kept me going during a time when I was so depressed I couldn't even pray. I could only listen. I have often thought about writing to him, to tell him what he means to me. Who knows where I would be now, without that gift of music? When I hear the love and compassion in his voice I cannot help but feel the presence of God. I am grateful for this man's willingness to serve the Lord.

I understand John Michael's frustrations and the need to shut off the noise, but I hope he stays on Facebook, and finds a way to ignore the static. I'll be praying for him and I hope you will, too.

God bless you, John Michael Talbot.

Making peace with diabetes, one day at a time

2012-08-11T11:25:00.004-07:00

It looked like I was off to a rough start this morning, waking with a fasting blood sugar of 339. Physically and mentally I felt awful. Shakey, upset stomach, irritable, confused. No peace to be found in me.

After loading up on both long and short-acting insulin and swallowing my morning pills, I began to feel better. Hopefully that rough start will be the worst of it for today. I've been having difficulty keeping my blood sugars down, due to the heatwave we've been having, and because I'm worried about my daughter, who is seriously ill.

I've spent many years resenting diabetes and all the baggage that comes with it. My body is extremely resistant to insulin and even a slight change in the weather can make my blood sugar soar. And then, of course, what goes up must come down. The unpredictability of it all makes me crazy. I have what they used to call "brittle" diabetes.

There's a lot of talk in the diabetes world about "control." The better you control your blood sugar levels, the less likely you are to suffer long-term complications. The more control, the more likely it is that your present life, as well as your future one, will be pleasant. Here's the catch. No matter how hard you work at it, control is often elusive. It's the nature of the disease.

In the world of medicine, diabetes is unique. It's primarily a self-care disease. As soon as you leave the doctor's office, you're on your own. Diabetes is a progressive disease that often leads to premature death. That's a lot of responsibility when you think about it. Once you've been given the diagnosis, you're not only fighting for your life, you're in for the fight of your life. Diabetes is not for sissies!

Knowing you're the one in the driver's seat is tough. You don't get a break, ever. It's par for the course to feel discouraged. One serious aspect of diabetes is dealing with a sense of failure. Every diabetic feels this at times, and it can snowball. You not only feel miserable because you can't control the disease, but because you can't handle the guilt, the emotional wear and tear. It's a vicious circle. The mounting level of stress puts a terrible strain on your body and mind.

A few months ago, I started to change my attitude about this whole diabetes situation. What I could not accept before, is now becoming just another part of me. I'm not sure how the change began, because my resentment was very deeply rooted. One thing for sure, I was on a self-destructive course of major proportions. I had to begin treating myself more gently.

It reached the point where I hated being alive. I told my husband more than once that I wanted to die. I knew my moods and behavior were hurting the people I loved most -- I was so very, very out of control. I had to get a grip, and fast. One way or another I had to achieve better control.

Diabetes is a lonely disease. It's not just hard on your body, but it impacts your thoughts, emotions, and worst of all, your closest relationships. It presses on your family in terrible ways. The monetary expense alone is ridiculous. No, there isn't much good to say about diabetes. But, I think long-term survivors will tell you that in order to live, you must find a path to acceptance, even if you can't necessarily make friends.

I'm pretty stubborn and I don't like change. It took decades for me to surrender, to accept the full responsibility of taking care of myself. It's not easy and I doubt it will get easier.

Diabetes is an unwelcomed guest at every meal. There is no cure. No one can handle it for me. There's not a minute of the day when I can relax and forget about it. It has to come first, before everything. Fighting it doesn't help...it's a losing battle. The only way to "win" with diabetes is to get on board.

I'm taking it one day at a time and trying not to sweat the small stuff. There's more to this story, but not today.

Into the quiet

2012-08-04T08:45:00.001-07:00

Sometimes finding peace is a matter of creating it for yourself. Other times it's a choice, between confusion and simplicity.

Impossible though it may seem, reaching a peaceful state is as easy as stepping from one room to another. Or slowly riding a bicycle on quiet, tree-lined streets.

The road to peace needs to be smooth, because life is not.

Dragon slayer

2012-05-28T04:53:00.000-07:00

"Heroes take journeys, confront dragons, and discover the treasure of their true selves." ~ Carol Lynn Pearson

Last week I registered my son for his junior year of high school. Because of his autism I often wondered how we were going to make it and now we're seriously talking about college.

So many dragons on his journey, but so many discoveries. The discovery I have made is that he is so sensitive, wise, and understanding – he's almost a mystic! His travels have served him well.

God's tender mercies are present & real

2012-04-15T08:00:00.012-07:00

Nothing can bring me lower, or cause me more suffering, than to see one of my children in pain. Easter Week was apocalyptic. It's all I can really say

Today is Divine Mercy Sunday for Catholics and Anglicans. How fitting. This week I have been able to see and feel and embrace God's infinite mercy. I recognize the ways He has been preparing me for this, and for what is to come.

Every family, every person, has their share of suffering. Some have more than others. We occasionally wonder why certain families, or individuals, have so much more than their share. I get it now. Preparation. Whether you actually have had more than your share of suffering, or just feel that you have, rest assured, there's a purpose. You are building strength for the journey.

In the past I would have blamed Him for this week's tragedy. I would have added it to the list of calamities in my life. In my helplessness, I would have screamed to the heavens, "WHY?" And I would have pushed Him away – even denied His existence. My behavior would have deprived me of the divine comfort and love that I need.

Through some very curious circumstances, He prepared me.

Thomas Kinkade: bringer of love & light to a dark world

2012-04-07T14:52:00.000-07:00

"Lighthouse" by Thomas Kinkade

Popular American painter Thomas Kinkade died unexpectedly on Friday. He was 54. While reading about his life I was struck by one unusual thing.

According to an article in the San Jose Mercury News, this devout Christian did not use his art as a vehicle for self-expression, but instead as a way to give people what they wanted. He put a light in their lives that made them feel better in the darkness of today's world.

There may be other artists who have sublimated or sacrificed their own desires for their audience, but it's not the norm. Visual artists, musicians, and even performers use their gifts as a way to reach what is inside them – thoughts and feelings that cannot be put into words.

As a group, artists aren't known for their generosity, but instead this intense drive to discover themselves, at any and all costs. For many, the only time they can find peace is when they are in the creative moment. For some, the only joy comes from the adulation of others.

I wonder how and when Thomas Kinkade no longer needed to follow his own impulses, but instead had the great love to put others first. This is the spirit of Easter, bringing love and light to a dark world.

Fragile lives

2012-02-29T10:40:00.030-08:00

Eleventh station of the cross at Christ in the Desert Monastery

Wednesdays are always special, because I can count on receiving an email from Christ in the Desert Monastery. This has become an important part of my spiritual journey.

The letters written by Abbot Philip Lawrence not only provide timely news from the Benedictine community, but also simple lessons on faith and life.This has been comforting for me, during this long stretch when I have been away from the Catholic Church.

This morning I read the upsetting news that on February 25 a lay volunteer and monastery resident had taken his own life. It was about the most shocking thing I could have read, but after reflecting on it for a while, I realized I should not have been surprised. This religious community, which draws its members from the outside world, is a reflection of that world. I know this because of lessons the Abbott has shared. They've erased any misconceptions that people who enter monastic life are somehow perfect, or far removed from the difficulties we all face.

This struggling soul had served the community for more than 20 years. Among his many talents, he was skilled in woodworking. When I read this I wondered if he made the wooden crosses that are stationed outside the monastery, like the one pictured above.

Abbot Philip wrote that you could easily tell he was a man of deep faith, yet that did not rid him of his demons. I've been thinking that this man's desperate act is a reminder of how fragile we all can be, and how our pain is often kept hidden. If someone living in a close religious community can feel so much anguish he is driven to take his own life, then we should strive to be even more aware of suffering in those around us, out here in "the world."

Suicide is one of the last taboos in modern society. It's not something that is commonly discussed outside of groups that have been affected by it. Nevertheless, I've known people who have not only considered it, but tried it. I've known individuals who have lost family members to it. I once handled a suicide call while working in a hospital emergency room. The woman involved was "saved" just in time, but I have to wonder if she tried again and was not rescued.

One of the things I appreciate most about Abbot Philip's letters, is his honesty and openness about his own life, and his own personal battles. He writes that he was the child of alcoholic parents and the abuse he suffered caused him to live in numbing fear until he became an adult. From his remarks, I have noticed that psychological healing from all that abuse has been slow, and continues to this day.

We are all so fragile. We all have our limits in what we can endure. And our endurance is constantly tested. Because of my personal history I have dealt with depression for most of my life. I was also raised in an alcoholic home. Everything that ever hurt me in life has been tied either directly, or indirectly to alcohol abuse by others. I have considered suicide many times, but by the grace of God, came close only once.

There is no place for guilt or shame when someone leaves this world by their own hand. It's a horribly violent act brought out of extreme suffering, which is not the fault of the survivors. It's true that other people can make our lives quite miserable, but the responsibility of self-murder lies with the individual.

As Christians we are expected to be there for one another. We are expected to try to bear each other's burdens, or at the very least, not make them any greater. In human relationships this is not always possible, and when someone commits suicide it becomes easier for the survivors to blame themselves, than live with the unanswered question of "why?" I can imagine this will be a very, very difficult time for the Christ in the Desert community, and all who loved this man, and I will be praying for them.

Apart from the loss of a friend to the community, in this week's email the abbot talks about penance. I'm not sure where I stand on this issue. There seems to be a difference between the act of doing penance as the church defines it, and the biblical repenting of sins. I do like the idea of being able to do penance on behalf of someone else, who may not be able to do it for themselves. Also, sometimes we find it hard to forgive ourselves from something we've done, even though we know God forgives us. Penance might be a way to help heal our own deep remorse. But those are only my thoughts -- I have no idea what church doctrine states on these issues.

As for as the Catholic Church, suicide, and the matter of penance, I believe the harsh archaic views have changed. Because of advances in science and our knowledge of the brain and how it works, we know that depression is a disease. Suicide is a result of unresolved depression, or some other psychiatric condition. I hope the church now looks upon suicide for what it is, a terrible tragedy. In any case, here is an online question and answer about the views of the Roman Catholic Church on suicide.

If you are in pain and thinking of suicide, please, please...call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at #1-800-273-TALK (8255).

Revised and re-posted on 3/17/12

Into the Fire

2012-02-24T11:37:00.014-08:00

St. Augustine's Confessions must rank among the most passionate and beautiful in all of world literature. Here are some excerpts from Book I.

Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy
power, and Thy wisdom infinite...

Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter
into my heart, and inebriate it, that I may forget my ills, and
embrace Thee, my sole good! What art Thou to me? In Thy pity,
teach me to utter it. Or what am I to Thee that Thou demandest
my love, and, if I give it not, art wroth with me, and threatenest
me with grievous woes? Is it then a slight woe to love Thee not?
Oh! for Thy mercies’ sake, tell me, O Lord my God, what Thou
art unto me. Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. So speak, that I
may hear. Behold, Lord, my heart is before Thee; open Thou the
ears thereof, and say unto my soul, I am thy salvation. After this
voice let me haste, and take hold on Thee. Hide not Thy face from
me. Let me die- lest I die- only let me see Thy face.

Narrow is the mansion of my soul; enlarge Thou it, that Thou
mayest enter in. It is ruinous; repair Thou it. It has that within
which must offend Thine eyes; I confess and know it. But who
shall cleanse it? or to whom should I cry, save Thee? Lord,
cleanse me from my secret faults, and spare Thy servant from the
power of the enemy.

Before I begin each day, and every night before I sleep, I read books on faith, in the hope that something will sink in and make me a godly person. It occurred to me last night that I should do less reading about God from another person's point of view, and instead simply spend more time with Him. Why shouldn't I get to know Him for myself, instead of relying on an interpreter?

The problem is, the surest and quickest way to meet God and be a friend to God, is to spend time with others, and serve others. In his writings Augustine tells us that God is everywhere and in everything, even in the depths of Hell. This means that He is not only "out there" somewhere, but inside each one of us. So what better place to meet God, than through each other?

I have always believed that we are here to serve and care for one other. But what if we reach a place in our lives where it is not so comfortable, doing that which we have always done with such ease? What do you do when advancing age, poor health, or some other "worldly" situation, distraction, or decline keeps you from being as close to God as you want to be – by talking, working, and sharing with others?

Something has changed in my life – several things. I won't be able, or even willing to do things the way I've always done.

Augustine's Confessions is the story of his lengthy conversion. As I read I can see just how much he is in love with God. He is desperate to be in the presence of his creator. Nothing less will do. He calls it a restlessness, and says that every person's heart should be on fire for God.

I wonder if I still have it in me, to risk being burned?

Love is all there is

2012-02-21T04:16:00.002-08:00

Tomorrow, February 12th, is Ash Wednesday. The observance is held on different dates, but always 40 days before Easter, to begin the season of Lent. The ashes are a sacramental expression of guilt and remorse.

The entire story of Christianity is about sin. It's about doing wrong, feeling remorse, admitting guilt, seeking forgiveness, receiving grace, and being redeemed by the blood of Christ. Everything hinges on sin. In a way perhaps we should be grateful for sin, because without it how would we have known just how far God was willing to go to save us? You might even think it was part of God's plan, except we know it wasn't.

I've been reading another book about the ministry of Mother Teresa, and the words I keep hearing in my mind as I read, are "Love is all there is...Love is all there is...Love is all there is."

Love is greater than sin. Love blots out sin. "Love covers a multitude of sins." 1 Peter 4:8

I know if we could see what sin looks like in our souls we would recoil instantly, because all sin is grotesque, even small ones. It's not a presence we want in our lives, spreading like a cancer onto everything we touch, and everyone we love.

I'm like a lot of children who don't learn their lessons the first time. I keep making the same mistakes over and over, and though they may appear like small infractions in the beginning – perhaps unnoticeable – by the end they have grown into monstrous tumors.

When I feel overwhelmed by my own guilt then I am feeling the weight of spiritual sin. It is so heavy I can't lift this burden on my own. I need a savior.

Is God depending on me?

2012-02-13T11:42:00.002-08:00

When I first started writing this blog I decided to try and stay away from my books that I love so much, and search for what was already inside of me. The thought I had was that I must have learned something in my life, some way of seeing the world that was uniquely mine. Maybe I could describe what I was seeing in this new world, in a new way.

I believe each of us are here to fulfill a prophecy, and our lives are not complete until we do that one thing that only we can do. Even though I sometimes see myself as a hopeless case, the world includes me. Is God depending on me? If I leave my job undone, what will He think? How will He feel?

There are days, like today for instance, when I am so weak and tired I feel like I cannot take another step. But I must get up and take the next step. I have to. Not only for those who depend on me, but because I want to see what God is going to do next. He always has a plan. I want to see how things turn out.

That one thing, or the many things that I’m supposed to be doing, the reason I’m here...what happens if I give up, toss in the towel, call it quits?

Last year I started collecting prayers. Here is one by John Wesley, a great theologian and founder of the Methodist church. These words describe my highest desires.

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee, or laid aside for thee,
Exhalted for thee, or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.

Dragging my cross behind me

2012-02-11T01:37:00.000-08:00

This was a good week, an amazing week, and in other ways, both a sad, and disappointing week.

My youngest son turned 16 on Wednesday, which made it an incredibly grateful and joyful time. He's had so many hurdles to overcome because of his autism, and he's come so far. We are bursting with pride, because we know what the struggles have been. We know what each small accomplishment has cost him. The journey continues. He has a long way to go, and God willing, we'll be there with him every step of the way.

Another reason for gratitude this week was a visit from my dear friends, Gail and Steve. I've known them for a very long time and haven't had the pleasure of their company for over a decade. They flew to San Diego from their home in North Carolina, to be with their son Michael on his 40th birthday.

It seemed like only yesterday that Gail babysat while I gave birth to two of our sons. When you're in the flurry of everyday life it never occurs to you that those are magical times you'll later wish you could live over again. I miss those days.

Steve had a stroke last year. He isn't the same; he's not as sharp. During the five short days they were here, a close friend of theirs passed away in his sleep. It made our time together bittersweet. I want to believe that we will all live forever and there will be many more of these visits. In my heart, I know better. Before they left I received a call from another friend who lives in New Hampshire. Jacqui will fly out for a visit next month. We'll only have two days together, but we'll make the most of them.

I've been fighting it, but I can't stay in denial forever. My friends are getting older and so am I.

Some of us are shorter and rounder than we used to be. Our hair is turning gray and our skin is no longer silky smooth. Most of us have arthritis, and we all agree the pain sets in when the weather changes. We have less tolerance for some things, while things that used to matter a lot, don't mean a thing. Some of us enjoy art galleries and museums, but wild horses couldn't drag us through Disneyland. Others have developed a real fondness for naps.

In some ways we are less restrained, and some of us are more passionate than ever about new hobbies, interests, or careers. When asked, most of us admit that the thing we like most about getting older is the feeling that we've grown in wisdom, understanding, and compassion. We feel sorry for the kids growing up today, and we worry what will become of them.

Aging alters us. One of the biggest transformations in my life has been my relationship with Jesus. I almost hesitate to say His name out loud, not because I'm embarrassed, but because it's so precious to me. I hate to think back on all the years I either ignored Him, or blamed Him for all my troubles. I said a lot of mean things in prayer, if you can call it that. The experience was more like placing orders and throwing tantrums when I didn't get what I wanted. I was pretty awful. He, on the other hand, was always forgiving.

I used to feel very uncomfortable when someone told me they would pray for me. It was even worse if someone suggested that we pray together "right here, right now." My faith was a private affair, I told myself, and them.

I stopped corresponding with one of my old high school friends, because he kept asking me if I'd been saved. Had I welcomed Jesus into my heart? I had, but I didn't want to talk about it. Why? I don't know. But I had been a believer very early in life. When I was young I clung to Jesus. I needed Him desperately. I couldn't wait to be baptized, and liked it so much I had it done twice.

Truth is, I can't remember a time when belief wasn't a rich part of my life. But there were stormy times, hurtful times, and discouraging times when I just couldn't get it together enough to live like a believer. I wanted to be a saint, but that life seemed impossibly far away. Has age changed that? Did I finally catch on?

I'm ashamed to say I did not. There are times when my limited wisdom, understanding and compassion isn't enough to support evidence of my belief. I'm still stumbling in my Christian walk. I wish it wasn't so. I wish my prayer life reaped greater rewards. I'm still following Jesus, dragging my cross behind me, but...

Lately I've had a hard time finding the words to pray. I sit alone and try to feel God's presence beside me. I get lost in the mystery of knowing that God loves me, when I am such a worthless thing without Him. What do I have to offer God? I know I have nothing, and can do nothing constructive on my own. There is plenty of evidence of that!

In my heart I silently pray for perseverance, for the wisdom to know what's right, and the strength to do what is right. I pray to be a more generous and kinder person, and a healing presence to those who need me. I pray to love God more, and to love my neighbor as myself. I pray to understand what love really is, not the illusion of it. I pray God will bring other believers into my life, to help me learn and grow.

And yet, I stumble. My greatest sin is love of self. Given the opportunity I choose myself over God and neighbor every time. It all amounts to believing in what He says, and being able to trust that He will keep His promises. Even these two things I am unable to do without His mercy and grace.

"Lord, I believe. Help thou mine unbelief." Mark 9:24

What does my life say about me?

2012-02-05T04:29:00.001-08:00

I live in my head. I enjoy solitude, so I can think, and write. I tell myself I need privacy, in order to organize my thoughts and my life. And at the root of it, I prefer to be alone so I can feel the presence of God. I can't seem to make that connection with people around. Or maybe I just don't want to share.

When you think about it, that's all wrong.

Jesus lives inside us. We find Him when we have fellowship with one another. Being with others, having relationships, is the quickest and surest way to Christ. We need to recognize Jesus when he's standing right in front of us. Even in the most painful relationships, He can be found.

Though I desire to be a contemplative person, my life speaks otherwise. I have a busy family, cherished friends, and I am active in my community. My exterior life speaks loudly about reaching out, making connections, and providing service to others. Somehow I need to get my head, heart, and hands to work together. Right now, if I ask myself "What does my life say about me?" the answer is that I am splintered and lack vision. I don't trust, in God, in self, and in others. I'm hiding.

I stopped writing about six months ago. I lost sight of myself and my vocation. I was doing that pretzel thing where you try to manipulate yourself into being what you think others want.

I know who I am and who I should be. My life should cry the gospel every day. My life should radiate the love that I have been given as a child of God. If you turn the corner and see me, you should see Jesus.

Blessed are the peacemakers

2012-01-22T07:06:00.000-08:00

Prayer for Protection

The light of God surrounds me.
The love of God enfolds me.
The power of God protects me.
The presence of God watches over me.
Wherever I am, God is.

One evening while waiting for takeout at an old Mexican restaurant, I saw this prayer written on faded yellow paper on the wall. Sitting there I read and re-read the words.

I discovered that the author of the poem was James Dillet Freeman, a American who had the distinction of being the only person whose poems were taken to the moon, during both the Apollo 11 and Apollo 15 flights.

This week I'm dedicating this prayer to the countless men and women all over the world who have commited their lives to waging peace, by protesting war and all the deadly instruments of war.

From Disarm Now Plowshares

2011-09-03T02:47:00.000-07:00

The following video features a song posted on the Disarm Now Plowshares blog, a site I visit regularly. If you click on the youtube icon it will take you to that site, and you can read the comments below that explain some of the references. This is a short story of individuals sacrificing their lives for the cause of world peace. Their dream is global nuclear disarmament.

The winding road of friendship

2011-07-18T05:51:00.000-07:00

Famed American humorist and writer Will Rogers once said, "A stranger is just a friend I haven't met yet."
He was definitely on to something. His funeral in 1935 was described as the largest since Abraham Lincoln's.

Archive footage shows Rogers' casket lying in state, draped by a wreath of flowers in the shape of the American flag, guarded by policemen and uniformed soldiers. Thousands paraded by, paying homage to the spirit, wit, and wisdom of Oklahoma's favorite son, the fellow who once declared, "I never met a man I didn't like."

Much has been written about social media and its impact on relationships in general. I don't think much of it, especially when someone lists 600 or so "friends" on their Facebook page, or has 20,000 followers on Twitter. When you get right down to it, that's all nonsense – nothing more than a game of pretend.

When it comes to solid, enduring friendship, not much has changed. Most people over the age of 40 probably agree with the old adage: I can count my true friends on the fingers of one hand.

I've given a lot of thought this year to the meaning of friendship, and all my relationships for that matter. As a consequence, I've chosen to sever some long-term, but unhealthy relationships, and decided to work on renewing, or rebuilding others. In a few cases, where wisdom escaped me, I opted to endure and simply let things be. Some relationships are more complex than others, such as between a parent and adult child.

In western culture today, instant "hook-ups" have become the standard relationship fare. Men and women let their physical and emotional walls down before they know one another.

I don't think we are as careful as we should be when it comes to using words like friendship, and love. I think we could be a lot wiser and more cautious, when letting people into our lives in intimate ways, and I'm not just referring to sexual relationships.

Best intentions aside, relationships have a way of evolving and taking on lives of their own. When those relationships hit the rocks they don't always die an easy death. The loss of a deep friendship, or a deep love, can be as devastating as an actual death, so it's prudent to invest yourself wisely.

It's only through time and shared experiences that we can learn who another person is, what their habits are, and how they relate to others. You can sometimes tell a great deal about a person in the first few moments you meet them, or at least have a feeling you know them. But to understand the depth – the heart and soul of an individual – that takes time. Not minutes, but years. And it may require lots and lots of patience.

My Peace Blog - Part II

2011-07-11T04:13:00.000-07:00

Hard financial times have changed our circumstances and priorities, so this leaves less time and energy for writing.

We're doing our utmost to prosper in this wretched economy – I refuse to say survive – but let's face facts. If there's an economic recovery going on, it hasn't reached Southern California.

Jobs are few, pay is dismal, and full-time jobs with benefits are practically non-existent. Sadly, this onerous situation creates an atmosphere of desperation, where workers become the unwilling targets of greedy, unethical employers. It's painful to think how much has changed in two short years.

Even so, we cannot allow ourselves to be pulled under by a tsunami of worry and fear. God has been so gentle and so generous with our family, and I trust He will continue to meet our needs.

I wonder sometimes if we deserved that kind of grace, but He is a merciful and loving God, and we would never have made it this far without Him. Our job now is to continue to be confident in His promises and not let discouragement set in when the going gets tough.

Yesterday while shopping and running errands, I thought about the rich tapestry of our lives as a whole, and I sort of sang out to my husband, "We'll never be poor!"

"No, we'll never be poor, but we struggle," he replied wearily. "Sometimes more than others." I knew we were both talking about more than finances.

When we returned home I found the cat sprawled lazily atop our bed, just the way we left him. Stretching and yawning, not a care in the world. So peaceful. No double-dip recession in his world.

"Our home is peaceful," I thought to myself. "We can't let the outside world steal our serenity."

I can see the hand of God at work, transforming our lives once again. When we get to the other side I pray I'll come out a stronger, more faith-filled person. I'm trying. I test myself every day.

I've decided to put "Part I" of the Peace Paradox blog in storage, while I follow an unmarked trail. I think it was Helen Keller who once said "Life is nothing, if not a daring adventure." I agree. I have a feeling there are new discoveries to be made just around the bend.

Making peace with diabetes

2011-06-20T04:43:00.000-07:00

After 16 years of reserving a shelf in the refrigerator for my insulin, I have finally surrendered to the obvious. We can't afford this anymore. Money. I can't afford the stress of constantly worrying about it.

Since losing our insurance last December we've struggled like never before to come up with the extra thousand dollars a month for my insulin and other medications. The burden this has created for my family is too much to bear.

I've been flirting with the idea of going insulin-free for a while, but I couldn't do it with anger and resentment in my gut. I had to reach a point of gentle acceptance, and I have. I'm mostly at peace with my decision. My husband, on the other hand, is upset and worried.

He's been carrying this burden, too, for years. He's done a great job – we both have – but there are no more rabbits in our hats. I had to figure out a better way than continually using the lion's share of our resources on diabetic supplies and prescriptions. Since God has brought us through so much, and since I firmly believe in the power of faith, and in the mind, to heal, I had to ask myself, "What are you waiting for?"

I know I sometimes rely on the insulin to do the job I could do myself, by eating better, exercising more, and meditating often. But diabetes is a chronic and progressive illness. The nature of the disease dictates that as time passes, you generally get worse.

You generally get worse unless you are very skilled at keeping tight control, have the financial means to get all the medical support you require, and can afford to buy fresh, healthy foods.

Managing diabetes is a lot of work – a complex juggling act. Some people have an easier time handling it than others, and some have the admirable skill of just making it look easy. For me, it has never been easy. Every time the wind blows my blood sugar dips or rises. That rollercoaster ride is what causes short-term difficulties and long-term complications. That rollercoaster of up and down blood sugars is what causes total exhaustion, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

One of the most difficult aspects of diabetes is fighting the belief that you're a failure every time your blood sugar jig-jags. I've been feeling like a failure and resenting, even hating my body for a long time, for letting me down in this terrible way. I have to get over that.

It's a new day and the rules have changed. I'm going to create my own kind of medicine by loving and supporting my body, and not the disease.

And a poet will lead them

2011-05-10T02:26:00.000-07:00

Mexican writer and long-time human rights activist Javier Sicilia lost his son – taken, six weeks ago – by one of Mexico's infamous drug cartels.

This pain so fresh, who could blame Javier for hurtling his grief in every direction, at every nameless villian? At those who did the unspeakable thing, those who contributed to it (both close by and from a distance), and all those who failed to prevent it – who on this earth could blame him?

Before the discovery of Juan Francisco's tortured body, before the moment Javier's heart was crushed forever, he was a much admired essayist and poet, internationally known, whose brilliant sensitivity grew out of his Christian faith, and a fascination with Catholic mysticism.

Javier has not said if his faith died with his son, but he says it has been the death of his poetry. His last poem was written for Juan Francisco the day after he was murdered.

No more poetry perhaps, but words he still has, some spoken outloud, and some silent. Last weekend Javier Sicilia, this non-violent poet, led thousands of men and women on a silent protest march from Cuernavaca to Mexico City. Their aim and their hope was to stop the rivers of blood flowing ever-deeper through their country. Their intention was to expose the "ineffective" strategies used by their government and military to stop drug trafficking. Their prayer was to save their country, which has been "ripped apart."

Tens of thousands joined the march from all directions. After the 3-day trek, at a May 8th rally, protesters loudly voiced their disgust with the extreme anti-drug policies of Mexican President Felipe Calderon. This is the cause of so much of the violence, they claimed.

Some 40,000 innocent lives have been lost since 2004 when the Calderon drug war began. Many of the weapons used in the killings have been purchased in the U.S. Why isn't more being done by the United States government to stop the flow of illegal weapons, the Mexican people want to know. It was just one of their many questions.

There is so much more to this long and complex story, freely available through news sources on the web. I'll close with a Sicilia quote from an April 3 open letter to the criminals and the politicians, published in the Mexican magazine Proceso.

"What I want to say today, from these mutilated lives, from this pain that has no name...what I want to say from these mutilated lives, I repeat, from the indignation sparkled by these deaths, is that we have had it up to here."

Text of complete letter from International PEN: http://tiny.cc/l5uyz

Article "Mexicans Call for Peace" from U.S. Catholic: http://tinyurl.com/3zkx3nn

Mercy

2011-04-14T04:54:00.000-07:00

My Lenten journey has been filled with grace and mercy. I understand more than ever before, just how much I need a savior and how much this weary, suffering world needs one, too.

During my life, curiosity has sometimes led me to portals of other beliefs, and yet the pull of my Christian faith held me at the door. My anchor has always been Jesus and knowing what he did for me when he died for my sins. People don't like hearing that word, sin, but sin really is the crux of the matter.

Sin keeps us from being free. Jesus paid a steep price so we can always be free, if we choose to accept it. Acknowledge the sacrifice. Behold the savior. Accept the freedom to live forever in love and peace.

There is a great loneliness in the world, and even greater fear. I think every person carries inside them a terrible fear of being alone, with no one to understand their heartbreak, to feel their pain, and no one to save them from the frightening things that pull on every side.

No matter how old we are, we seem to always remain little children on the inside, reaching for a hand to guide us around those scary corners of life.

I will never forget reading about an early visit to the United States by Blessed Mother Teresa. After touring New York City she said it might be the poorest place on earth, because of the stark loneliness there. People living completely cut off from one another, hiding in their apartments, afraid to voice their needs to anyone. "Loneliness is the greatest poverty of all," said the Saint of the Gutters. At the time it was a shocking thing to hear, and the quote ran in papers around the world.

My mind has been focused on this season of Lent and the meaning of sacrifice, and I've wondered how much sacrifice is required to bring us closer to God.

Everyone knows that sin separates us from God, and yet in spite of our best efforts we will sin, we are bound to fail at every turn, while we remain in this earthly life. Do our sacrifices cover those sins? Not hardly. This is where God's grace and mercy come in. Our relationship with God, with Jesus, depends solely on divine love and our willingness to say "I accept you, Lord."

No matter what we do, we can never out-sacrifice, or out-give God. All we are able to do, is love Him. That thought makes me fall to my knees.

There, but for the grace of God

2011-03-19T13:50:00.000-07:00

Apparently, my passion for cappucinos needs to cool down.

Every time I have a cup I get jittery on the inside, and shaky on the outside. After some internal protests, in the interest of good health and a calmer countenance, I decided to cut back on my morning joe. I also switched to herbal teas in the evening. What a surprise to learn that peppermint tea calms my stomach and helps me sleep restfully.

It will probably take longer to give up the social rituals that go with a caffeinated life, like gabbing with friends over hot lattes, or picking up an iced macchiato on my way to the beach. Still, I've taken that first crucial step toward changing a lifetime habit. (Some might say a physical addiction.)

When we alter or modify our behavior in some way, we are working through a process of A-D-A-P-T-A-T-I-O-N. It can be done consciously, or unconsciously, but either way, we do it all the time.

If we speak of adaptation from a scientific point of view it generally leads to discussions of evolution. When we talk about change in our day-to-day lives, it leads to a lot of moaning and groaning. Few people embrace change, particularly if it means letting go of something they would rather keep.

Over the past few years several of my friends have gone through marital breakups, and it has been interesting to see how differently each person has coped with this catastrophic event. Except for one individual, each of them have been able to adapt and move forward with their lives. No matter where they started from, a place of anger, grief, or shock, they each used at least 90% of their energy to begin building a new life. I saw this as a very good sign that the majority have an innate determination to survive and thrive. But what about other calamities? How do we handle those?

During my Friday trek to the library this week, I ran into a former co-worker. I was stunned at his appearance, and when I asked him what he was up to he showed me a bag filled with recycling. "I pick up cans," he said. "I do this now." I understood immediately that when he said he picked up cans, he meant this was his job.

After a sudden and serious illness a few years ago, "L.W." was fired from his job and has been unable to find a new one. He could no longer afford his share of the rent for his apartment, and he couldn't afford his medical care, nor the upkeep for his car. The silver compact is parked, unregistered, in a quiet corner of the Methodist Church parking lot, where my friend sleeps at night, trying to stay warm in the cold. Since his illness L.W.'s health has continued to deteriorate, but he told me that he doesn't mind living on unheated canned soup, and walking all over town to find a place to shower and do his laundry.

It broke my heart to see a man in this condition. He's aged terribly and he looks sick. I practically begged him to call and allow us to help him, even if it's just for a free meal and a night of mediocre television. I promised I would try to help find him a job, and would provide him a reference. I promised everything I could think of.

In spite of L.W.'s discouraging situation, he has managed to adapt the best way he could. He still has his "pride" as they say, and he explained that he is able to keep in touch with friends, and remains under the watchful eye of the church. He did complain about having to listen to "all the other sad stories" in church on Sundays, because it's so overwhelming. He added that some of his friends have fallen into even worse situations than his.

Although this is the 21st century, compared to millions of people, L.W. has a life of safety, peace, and abundance. An enviable life. Can you imagine?

How horrible, that when we open our eyes we see a world of starvation and cruelty, a world on fire, whole countries in ruin, with entire generations of children trying to stay alive, needing to heal from the atrocities of war, and other unspeakable traumas. Will they ever be able to adapt, and if so, what kind of changes will they make in themselves, and the world, in order to survive?

During Lent we are asked to make symbolic sacrifices in honor and remembrance of the sacrifice Christ made for us. Although giving up chocolate is a time-honored tradition, I hardly think it will do much for those living on the fringe of existence.

My personal sacrifice is simply to pray more – to spend more time in God's presence – and to be more aware of human suffering when I see it. While it is definitely not a sacrifice to spend more time in the presence of our Great Comforter, it is a sacrifice to play closer attention to the struggles and sufferings of others.

It is a sacrifice to not turn away when seeing becomes so painful. There, but for the grace of God, go I.

How elastic is your love?

2011-03-18T05:42:00.000-07:00

Lent is a time of spiritual housecleaning. A time of penance and prayer, a time of deep reflection on our relationship with God. During Lent we contemplate the enormous love Jesus had and has for us, and how far He was willing to go to save us from ourselves. As our hearts swell with gratitude, we can use this time to ask ourselves how far we will go for Jesus – and one another.

Spring has come where I live. The sky is a powder blue. Whispy clouds float in the air. On the ground lilies bloom from the warmth of the sun. Spring has come, like heaven.

Five-thousand miles away, the people of Japan shiver in winter's cold. They hunt for signs of life in an apocalyptic wasteland covered by a blanket of snow. Here lies the wreckage the tide brought in.

Because my relationship with Jesus, and my relationship to Jesus, allows me to share in His love for all mankind, I ache in every cell for my brothers and sisters in Japan. I want to embrace the entire nation and heal it with the breadth and strength of my compassion. Can I stretch my love this far?

Almighty God, you are greater than any storm, more fierce than any opposition. Please send swiftly, your indestructible power and healing grace to the heartbroken, the fearful, and the suffering, not only in Japan, but all over the world.

Amen

A wellspring of joy

2011-03-14T05:12:00.000-07:00

This is my dear friend, Naomi, swimming with dolphins. I spoke with her yesterday on the phone. I wanted to know if she'd located all her family members in Japan, following the deadly earthquake and tsunami. Thankfully, all her relatives are safe.

Naomi has a healing lightness about her which can be sensed even from a distance. Just now, remembering the sound of her voice, I'm starting to cry. I miss her so much. We were very close at one time, living close together, working together, sharing our lives. Then, "life happened" as it often does, and we drifted apart.

One day, out of the blue, I decided to try and reach her. "Vicky!" She recognized my voice instantly. All that time and space vanished.

From Naomi I learned about wildlife rehab. It was because of her that I successfully raised a great-horned owl named Archimedes, and a raccoon named Annie. They were later adopted by an animal care facility for educational purposes, while other raptors I recovered were released back into the wild. I was not quite as compassionate as Naomi. She once rescued a litter of baby opossums from their mother's pouch, after the animal was hit by a car and left on the road for dead. They were just about as "cute" as you would expect them to be. With razor sharp teeth.

Besides her human family, Naomi now shares her home with a couple of manx cats, some chickens, a crow named Edgar, and a curious pot-belly pig named Hoover. She also owns a reptile and amphibian store up in Northern California. She must be loving it, because every time I talk to her she's laughing. It wouldn't be my cup of tea though, and here's why:

I don't know where Naomi's wellspring of joy comes from. Like most people, she's had her share of heartache. When her children were still young she lost her husband, Richard.

A deputy sheriff, he was driving to work early one morning when a drunk driver crossed a meridian and hit his vehicle head-on. A family's life plan changed in an instant. But people are resilient – they have to be. It's not that Richard's death didn't leave scars. It's just that eventually, life goes on. I think, more than ever, the experience taught Naomi just how impermanent life is. You have to embrace and be grateful for every second, even if there's a lizard hanging off your ear.