What can I say? Life happens.

It is August. August is a historically hard month for me. I have always had a personality that tends toward anxiety but August 1998 was when my anxiety hit an all time high and became clinical depression and I entered my biggest down hill spiral ever. That prompted group therapy, counseling, and eventually medication. (Side note. I think medication for anxiety/depression is one of the greatest things ever. It does not entirely do away with these things but it “levels the playing field” so you can deal with them like a “regular” person.)

Anyway, it is August once again and that old familiar overwhelming melancholy is calling. August is the hottest month of the year and heat makes me generally unable to cope with things well anyway. It fuels the fires of discontent in my soul. And today they don’t need extra fuel. I’m feeling very incapable of dealing with the demands of parenting a strong willed toddler that is apparently worse for me then anyone else. I try to set down boundaries, I don’t give in, I am firm, I set limits… and I get hit, bit, and screamed at. It makes me feel like I am not a very good mom. So I get impatient with him. And his sister. And my mom confidence drops more.

I have been exercising all summer long. I haven’t lost weight at all. Is it because I’m old? Eating too little? Eating too much? Not eating the right thing? I don’t know. I just know that I’m discouraged. Vacation meant an excuse to deviate from my fairly strict exercise routine and I think I’m missing those endorphins. I feel fat, bloated, pathetic. Meh. If those symptoms sound familiar an invoke thoughts of another monthly woe, well you’re right, that’s here too! Worst cramps ever. Writhing in pain. Short tempered. Wanting to crawl away and hide from everything/everyone but can’t. The hubby is away at a retreat so it’s me and my heat/temper/hormonal/weariness induced mood swings vs the terrible toddler and long suffering diva child.

What am I going to do all weekend?

“The more I want him — the less I am wanted,” she (Mother Theresa) wrote Périer in 1955. A year later she sounded desolate: “Such deep longing for God — and … repulsed — empty — no faith — no love — no zeal. — [The saving of] Souls holds no attraction — Heaven means nothing — pray for me please that I keep smiling at Him in spite of everything.”

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1655720,00.html#ixzz1RlGGAtgV

My husband recently decided that he is going to lose 100 lbs. He decided it in a “there will be no room for failure” way. He’s generally successful at everything he puts his mind too and he’s decided that now is the time that losing weight is going to be his next success story. I’m incredibly proud of him since I know that for him talking about weight takes him way outside of his comfort zone. I know that he’s undertaking this challenge, not just for himself, but also for me, our children, and our future.

Mindful eating means planning, analyzing recipes, figuring out calories. But with great challenges come great opportunities. This is a great opportunity for me to try to get out of my own comfort zone. I like combing recipes for tasty (calorie laden) treats. Now I’m learning to comb recipes for healthy, filling, satisfying recipes. What I’ve discovered is that there are a lot of people out there who are doing the same thing. I’m feeling good about the challenge. I feel like not only am I making us healthier but we’ll be teaching our children to be healthy as they grown and develop their own eating habits. It’s so much easier to maintain a good habit (say drinking water) then it is to undo a bad habit (soft drinks at every meal). We’re getting over some of our food prejudices (turkey burger- me, vegetables- him). I’ve found great resources online, there are so many websites with delicious, filling, healthy recipes.

When he started this endeavor I believe he was probably thinking of it as “his journey”, but I’m thinking of it as “our journey”. I’m excited about where it is going to take us. If you’d like to follow his journey you can do it at www.businessoflosingweight.com . I’m going to be cheering him on every step of the way and you can too.

I love that. It shifts the paradigm. All the sudden it’s not about you or your control of the situation. It’s not a solitary act that can be done once then checked off on a “to do” list. It becomes an active way of life in a new place. “Come and walk with me in my kingdom. Come be part of my mission.” Cede your control to me. Stop relying on yourself.

It makes faith less of a self centered thing and more of a let me die to myself and my desires thing. And that is a very unusual thing in the the world of American Christianity which has become a religion of “living your best life now” and largely ceased to be about doing unto others and more about how much “God” can bless “me”. Financial security and prosperity are seen as measures of God’s favor.  All in all it bears little resemblance to the faith represented in the New Testament.

So, when that paradigm shifts and all the sudden you find yourself leaving behind your path in order to join Jesus in walking in his kingdom and choosing to serve now and reorder your priorities now that can be a very exciting thing.

That is a journey worth taking.

What story are you telling? from Rhetorik Creative on Vimeo.

You can even get a copy of the paperback here:

http://www.powells.com/biblio/1-9781400202980-0

The more I think about it the more I am bothered by this statement and I want to tear my hair and yell “If we are just walking fish there is no namaste!” I love the concept of “namaste”. Namaste is a Hindi greeting and I’ve heard multiple interpretations of what it means.

Here are a few (from Wikipedia)

“I honor the Spirit in you which is also in me.” — attributed to but not claimed by author Deepak Chopra

“I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells, I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom and of Peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One.”

“That which is of God in me greets that which is of God in you.”

“The Divinity within me perceives and adores the Divinity within you.”

To me it means “The God breathed life within me recognizes that there is God breathed life within you.” It means acknowledging the mystery and miracle that is life. It represents the value in human life. And if we are evolved from some fish that crawled out of the water one day and that’s it then there is no namaste.  Because fish don’t really acknowledge the value of other fish. There’s no mystery and miracle, nothing more then birth a stretch of time and then nothing. And really,  if there is nothing more then this moment, then it doesn’t matter how you treat others, how you live. Because it’s not going to matter anyway. Because it’s meaningless. So why not abuse your body for your own pleasure, be greedy, be selfish. Get what you can for the moment you are in because when the moment is gone, it’s gone, and so are you… Sounds like a horrible, shallow, depressing way to live.

However, there is something in us that does respect life, that does cause us to want to help others, to give of ourselves.  I believe that something is God’s breath in us.  I have seen that “something” show strongly in the lives of those who say they don’t believe in God and I have, sadly, seen it missing in the lives of those who say they do believe in God. (But that , I suspect, is the fodder for another blog post.) I believe, whether we acknowledge it or not, that the acknowledgment of the sacredness and mystery that we hold within us is what we were created for by who we were created by.  There is something within us that sees the value in others. That acknowledges the humanity, the relationship that exists because we call this planet home. It’s what we see when there’s a natural disaster and help pours in from around the world. It’s why we see comfort poured out when their is tragedy. It’s why we gasp and recoil when we hear about atrocities committed against other humans. Yesterday was the celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr’s birthday. All day long I saw friends posting things he had said, things that affirmed the value and dignity of every human life. Dr. King was an amazing man who saw the namaste within others and would not be silent until he had done all he could to make sure that everyone around him could see it to. He worked tirelessly to reverse hatred, repair wrongs, to open eyes and hearts. Slowly people heard his message and picked up his call… because they too could see they value in the life of others. We are still sounding his call today because there was value in it.

It is because of things like this that I have to  believe that something in us hears the echoes of God’s breath that comes through me, and through you, and through every other being and that when we hear it we are moved to say “namaste”.

It can be a little scary to think about how good I feel things are right now. Things aren’t perfect and we’ve got challenging things happening, but to feel so secure and joyous spiritually and as a family is liberating. Part of me thinks, don’t say anything you’ll mess it all up, but the other part of me says don’t be afraid to say I’m feeling less marginalized, less disenfranchised and more like there is a place for me at the table.

Slainte!

For months I’ve been trying to figure out what I could do to be a more active part of some of the nonprofit organizations we help support. I wanted to give beyond financial support. It’s been hard to figure out since my time is not very flexible since my days revolve around feeding my baby. However, recently I had a chance to get involved with Crossbridge Ministries, a group that helps families of chronically and terminally ill children. Crossbridge steps in to offer whatever type of support the family needs. One aspect of their ministry is to bring meals to the families. It is a blessing to the families because it’s one less thing for them to have to worry about but I didn’t realize what a blessing it would be to me. This was something I could easily take part in, I prepare meals every day. I LOVE baking and look for excuses to bake treats that I can share with others. I signed up to take a meal to a family, prepared the meal, and drove it over. At the home where the family was staying I met the family’s grandmother, who was staying there to care for one child while the mother spent her days at the hospital with the child that was sick. The experience of dropping off the food only took a few minutes, she seemed so thankful to receive the meal, we chatted a few minutes then I left. When I left I felt oddly tearful. I hadn’t expected to feel so moved by the experience but it really got me thinking.

In the South, but really all over the world, the giving of food is so connected to the expression of love and support. It’s part of celebrating the arrival of a new life when there is a birth and families bring the new parents meals. It’s part of the giving of comfort and support when life comes to an end and a meal is shared after the funeral. If someone’s sick you take a meal. If someone moves to your neighborhood you bring them a “treat” to welcome them. Eating is a means of celebrating, comforting, welcoming, nurturing.

We’ve been attending an Anglican church for the past few months. As part of the service, communion is taken each week. This is outside of my realm of experience but something I’ve quickly grown to appreciate. I love this sharing of a spiritual meal as a reminder of God’s love. It’s a part of my week I’ve grown to look forward to. Moments to get centered and shut everything else out and experience a bit of peace.

Over the summer we’ve been trying to reach out and work on enriching some of our friendships. Sharing meals has been a major and natural part of that.
We’ve shared meals, stories, and lots of laughter.

And it’s been delicious…

Right now I think I need help learning how to tell my story. The day I read about this contest I was actually visiting my parents and I started telling my mom about it and about Don’s book and what it was about. A little later she asked me what I thought I might like to do once my kids get a little older. I answered without even thinking, the words just sprang off my lips, I’d like to write. I kind of surprised myself. I have long been an avid reader and I like to mentally “write” things and play with words but I haven’t had any formal training and I have no discipline when it comes to trying to put things down on paper (or typing them into a computer). So, the first part of the reason I’d like to come to Portland for the story contest is entirely pragmatic. After years of being the reader I want to learn how to be the writer, I want to be able to give voice to the story I feel like I have to tell.

The second part of the reason I want to come to Portland is a little darker, a little less pragmatic. A little harder to put into words. You see, part of my story has become tangled. It’s become harder to define. The spiritual part of my story is not a “fun” place to be right now. I was raised in a loving, Christian family. I grew up in the South where religion basically means “Evangelical Protestant” and I grew up knowing that I loved Jesus and thinking that as long as I followed a set of rules and did “good” then He would love me too. I would know that I was doing “right” if things in my life went well. You see, in the South, Jesus came so we could live nice white, middle class lives and if you go to church on Sunday and work real hard you can get a nice house and a nice car and everyone else will know that Jesus loves you too. At least that’s the message that somehow seems to come across a lot. In college I started questioning a lot of that. I met the man who would become my husband and we started questioning it together.  We got married. We lay in bed many nights having these intense conversations about spiritual things, basically questioning every thing we’d been taught and wondering how it fit with this man called Jesus. Wondering if everyone else we knew heard our conversations would we be labeled heretics. Would anyone understand? Did anyone else think this way? Then about 4 years ago I happened to pick up a copy of Searching for God Knows What laying on a table at our church. I started reading it and couldn’t put it down. I immediately started doing that thing where you have to read passages aloud to the person you’re with because you are THAT EXCITED that someone has written these words and suddenly you know that you aren’t THE ONLY ONE who thinks the way you do.

Picking up that book changed our lives because we suddenly realized that there were other people out there who thought the way we did. That were looking at the way Jesus looked and lived and the way the church in America was looking and living and saying “you know, these two things don’t really match.” It was incredibly liberating. It was exciting. I devoured Don’s books, books by Rick McKinley, Dan Kimball, Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, Anne LaMott. I read about the emerging church (I know Don says that he has nothing to do with the emerging church but if the emerging church is a “conversation” then he is definitely a “conversation starter”.)  Suddenly God’s grace seemed like so much more then it had ever seemed to be before…

… so you’d think at that point things would just fade into a lovely grace filled glow and we’d be living the fulfilled, giving of ourselves, our time, our resources, life that we are called to. Right?

Well, only partially. Because there are days that it does seem like that. But lately there are lots of other times when I feel like the cynicism has won. Suddenly there are days when I don’t know how I feel about God and his existence because the church has done so much to make an American god who is all about justifying everything we/they do or don’t do. And it has just started to make me sick. I hurt when I look at the church. It leaves me feeling empty. All I want is to find some community. To not feel so alone. To feel God’s presence once again. Because right now it is missing. It’s my dark night of the soul. It’s thinking, “I still believe there is a God when I look at the complexity of creation but I don’t know if he is at all involved in what’s going on down here anymore.” I get angry, cynical, hurt, and I hide it all under a very smiling, pleasant, non boat rocking exterior.

I would give up hope but then I read about Susan Isaac’s “dark night of the soul”. Or I listen to John Mark McMillan sing “find me broken, find me bleeding, cause I need more now then a fairytale, a god who lives in a book. I need someone real… come closer… son of David, don’t pass me by.” And I hear these stories told through a book or a song and I know I’m not the only one who is going through this or has gone through this or will go through it.

How to wrap this up… because I’ve been thinking around in these circles for awhile now.  I have hopes that giving a voice to my story might help me celebrate the strong parts where things are going “right” and help me to process the weak parts and maybe see where some things need to change or maybe how they aren’t even weaknesses after all but growing places that are going to contribute to a better story… I just need help learning how to tell it.

This is a link to more info about the story conference, hosted by Don Miller, in Portland, OR:

www.donmilleris.com/conference

Here’s a video about it:

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