Dad looked small and frail in his bed.Yet when he held my hand, I felt the same warmth
and strength that has been there all my life.His hands give me comfort.
I’m wrestling back that panic I feel.He likely will be gone in the coming months –
leaving a gaping hole.His presence is
the peace and solidness of our family.He
brings stability and calm so his absence will set our family akilter and
scrambling to rebalance our lives.
I had the honor of sharing some of my story on Red Tent Living. Their beautiful patchwork of stories invites women to discover and enjoy their unique femininity.
The Invitation “Courage, Dear Heart” He called, “Leap over the wall and listen in!” Becoming curious and fully alive, I entered the sacred space as Abba’s child into the love that keeps us sane. How could I ask for more.
The text came this morning explaining why and how I disappointed him. I texted back a compassionate response saying I understood his disappointment and acknowledged my part. But the first text was only the first round meant to lull me into thinking it wasn’t so bad. The text and email that followed contained hurtful and angry words designed to draw me into our typical word dance.
So I sit here pondering, what is the best way to respond? What should I do? What can I do to right this rift? Should I respond with kindness? Or maybe this time I should reply with the brutal truth? Maybe I shouldn’t respond at all. After all, what good would it do? So I freeze -- unsure of what should be my next step because it feels that I’m in a no-win situation.
This is a dance that has been going on for a long time. Conflict ensues, and I begin the process of figuring out the choreography that will make things right. I’m weary and want to step off the dance floor.
Today, I chose not to respond. I decided to sit this dance out. Yet, my mind wonders which dance steps I will eventually need to do in order to create peace and harmony. But as I am talking with God and considering what will come next, a new thought comes. Instead of “doing” the next thing, God was inviting me to grieve.
There is much to grieve. The list is long and God knows my list better than I know my list. Yet to sit in grief is to acknowledge the reality and the depth of loss. Dancing our typical routine keeps me in the magical thinking that I have the power to make it right and that it is up to me to sooth the beast of conflict and chaos.
Grief is a powerful force that feels as though it will never release us. It drags us down to the pit of despair that feels unbearable. Willingly going to grief is hard. Doing, fixing, striving are all part of the dance that keep me from entering grief. It is a well fashioned strategy to keep my soul from the pain of grief.
But as I think about God’s invitation to grief, I wonder if he is inviting me to a different dance. The dance that I am used to feels like a chaotic and angry tango where there is a constant push and pull designed to eventually pull the partner into a manipulated and resentful embrace. But the dance of grief feels more fluid and soulful. The picture in my mind is that of a contemporary dancer who uses her body, mind and soul with fluid beauty that is both soft and strong.
It’s been a week since I wrote all that is above. Again this morning, I’m in a place of choosing to dance. Which dance will I choose? The angry tango is vivid and loud in my mind. I want to tell everyone that I am in the tango again so that they can dance it with me. But can I choose for today to dance the soulful choreography of grief that God is inviting me to? Will I change the music?
Father, today, as my mind and body fight to keep the tango alive, please let me hear your invitation to dance differently. Please, Lord, as I enter the painful place of grief again, let me hold your hand and allow you to lead me in a place of your love and your peace.
“Where did you learn to dream?”
I’ve gone back to the writing prompt a dozen times. The first time I read it, my reaction was dread. Why would I feel dread over such a lovely question? Dreaming is full of hope and desire. Yet, my heart and soul have been far from hope and desire.
I think back over my life — did I ever dream? Who helped me to dream? What did I dream? Will I allow myself to dream now? And I must admit that in my mind, I’m not sure if I am able to distinguish between dreams, imagination, hopes and desires. Maybe they are all the same thing. But this word “dream” feels complicated — far more complicated than I imagine others experience.
I’m able to cobble together snippets of dreams. As a little girl, I remember starry nights lying in the cool grass gazing into the expansive sky. I felt freedom and connection to something much larger than my world. I didn’t know what it meant, but it was a dream of sorts where I knew the connection was significant. I sense this was a hopeful desire to connect deeply with beauty and mystery.
I remember nighttime dreams about God and about evil. When I woke, I would replay those dreams through the day which were vivid in my memory. Yet as a young girl, there seemed to be no place to process those images and thoughts. So nocturnal visions were a gracious gift allowing room for me entertain ideas that were hope-filled.
I grew up in a time and place where thinking of the future meant replicating the family that you knew. So I dreamt of being a wife and mom. I’d be married to a man who worked construction, played softball, laughed with friends and had dinner with his family each night. I’d be a mom who volunteered in school, lead girl scout troops, and prepared family dinners. Our family would be perfectly content.
Married life wasn’t as I expected and the daily routine did not invite dreaming of a future. Instead, life was lived. The replicated life I expected did not materialize in the way that I planned but it was a full life. Yes, I had a husband and a family, and while there was joy, there was also an atmosphere of pain and secrets. Dreams are small and practical in a home filled with secrets.
The practicalness of life has always taken precedence over dreaming. Instead of dreaming of a career, I kept taking the next logical step up the ladder. After 20 years in a fulfilling career, without dreaming, I took the next logical step of leaving my career in order to help build the family business. Later, when I had a desire to learn more about caring for people, I took the next logical step and enrolled in classes at a local seminary. Without dreaming or planning, I took each next logical step until I earned my master’s degree in counseling.
Now, at 54, my marriage has ended, my children are grown, my time in the family business is over as a result of the divorce, and my “position” in my church no longer holds influence. It has been a season of dying and descending that has been necessary. But where do I go from here? If I allowed myself to dream, what would I dream?
My future seems both very open and yet very constrained. Open in the sense that I have no real ties or responsibilities to prevent me from moving toward something. Yet, I feel constrained by the realities of life. Dreaming is complicated for this ambivalent soul. I long for more and then I limit those longings with the practicalities of life.
I doubt I will ever be one who has pie-in-the-sky dreams of what life can be. But it seems that I’m being invited to explore. And while dreaming feels hard to access for now, I’ll start with my hopes and desires.
I long….
to be known deeply--mind, body and soul ...to belong to true community with shared purpose ...to dance, laugh, and sing ...to invite others into their interior worlds…..to open my home as a place of refreshment ...to explore story through curiosity, warmth and laughter…
all of these with family, friends and strangers ...and in front of a real wood burning fireplace.
“Where did I learn to dream?” I think I’m just starting.
She has been prominent in my life for as long
as I can remember.Nearly every memory
includes some part of her.Her presence
is always near and she influences my emotions, thoughts and actions.She has more power than I’d like.
Her appearance is complex and chameleon
like.Sometimes she is unkempt and messy
as she rushes me from one thing to the next. When she enters a room, her
presence is noisy and overwhelming -- demanding to be noticed.When she is like this I am left feeling chaotic
and confused.
Other times, she is tidy and buttoned up --
feigning the appearance that she has it all together.She moves with apprehension and fear as she
quietly waits to be noticed by those around her.Her interactions leave me feeling constrained
and uneasy with myself and with others.
Her name is Ambivalence.
I remember her in my childhood home whose
family rules were to be independent and to have fun.And while I easily adapted to those rules, I
was also the one with feelings that ran deep and wide.Sensitivity was a handicap in a family that
encouraged independence and merriment.Ambivalence was born from that constant tug back and forth within my
soul.
Ambivalence was present in my teen years as I
dated boys.Being noticed and wanted
gave me a thrill and enjoyment that unleashed the messy and noisy me that loved
the chaos.It felt life giving,
empowering and fun to my young soul.But
soon, the buttoned-up me would show up, speak through the chaos, and fill me
with shame and remorse for being so sexually charged.
As a wife, Ambivalence would make herself
known during every conflict. The neat and tidy persona told me time after time
not to rock the boat.Be happy with what
you have and certainly don’t ask for too much.Then resentment would kick the messy and demanding persona into action
where her anger was loud and violent.Back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth again.
As I’ve grown older, I am kinder to myself
when Ambivalence shows ups.I take the
time to explore the conflict within my soul which unleashes her more desirable
side -- I like her best when she is like this.In this casual persona, her hair is loose, her smile is genuine and her
eyes are filled with kindness.When she
enters a room her movements are fluid and steadfast and she speaks with
self-assurance.When Ambivalence comes
to me like this, she invites me into confident ease.
Yes, I still wish Ambivalence had less power
in my life.But when I took the time to
know her, I understood and appreciated her much better.She was born out of genuine emotion and
conflict within my soul that I want to honor.So I invite her to stay and to continue to encourage me to explore my
longings and struggles with depth and meaning.May she free me to embrace the the steadfast me with the confident ease
and a genuine smile.
A battle of wills -- it is constant within my soul. There is a longing to be at home and to sit in God's presence and trust Him in the midst of the chaos that is my life. Yet I'm struggling to gain control -- to handle this myself -- to get myself out of the pain. The battle is real. I wish I could say that my longing to sit with God was winning. It is not.
The battle makes writing this reflection a struggle. Daring to be with people is a risk. Allowing myself to nurture my soul feels like a luxury that I can't afford. Focusing on God for more than fleeting moments seems impossible. I'm in survival mode and I desperately want to find my way out -- to find my way home.
So I must ask myself, what would it mean to trust rather than to survive? I know that if God wanted the pain and chaos to end, He would do it. And since He has not, will I trust that He is still with me in this? Will I trust that He is present in the pain? Will I desire Him more than I desire the pain to end? Will I make my home in Him?
I want to, I really do. Staying in the battle in an act of faith that takes more energy than I want it to. My body, mind and soul long for the rest that comes with trust. And I know that when I am able to have deep spiritual connections with Him and others, I rest in that trust. My heart rate slows, my mind stops racing, and my soul exhales. I feel like the me that God designed me to be.
Today, I read this quote from Henri Nouwen "...come home and trust that God will bring you what you need.......when you come home and stay home, you will find the love that will bring rest to your heart."
I've allowed fear and chaos to keep me from being at home with God and who He created me to be. Spiritual disciplines have been ignored and rejected. So now I'm committing to return home. Each day, I will spend time with God through meditating on His word and listening for His voice. I will engage in physical activity to help release the unhealthy energy being held in my body. And I will also be purposeful in pursuing spiritual conversations with others as a return to who God designed me to be.
I long to release the battle and allow myself to be at home with God. Spirit, intercede for me that when I wonder from home, that I will quickly find my way back.
A tornado has hit -- my life was ground zero. It seemed to come without warning and hit with a fury, ripping my life to shreds. My safe and comfortable life has been lifted off its foundation. Debris is spread as far as I can see. Hopes and dreams are shattered. Family unity is destroyed. Home is a shell of loneliness.
As I look back, signs of the coming storm were everywhere. The distance in our marriage was like a dark and ominous sky. Discord was like hail raining down, beating down signs of life. Heavy clouds told me that a serious storm was coming -- but I did not expect this.
I've been hit by a tornado before. I knew the signs. And yet, I believed a tornado would not hit the same place twice. Naive hope.
When the storm hit, my life went into the whirlwind. It felt like the tornado and I were one. Spinning. Churning. Violent. Unpredictable. My thoughts raced with little direction or purpose. My emotions spun out of control leaving destruction in the midst. My body ached from the force of the storm. It seemed that the cyclone would never stop.
Fierce friends and family kept me tethered. They came and sat in the rubble and helped me explore the damage. They cried with me and their tears told me that the storm mattered. They fed and nourished me in every way possible. They were the hands, feet and heart of Jesus. They kept me from losing my way in the storm.
How does one survive a tornado without tethers? A tornado is bent on destruction -- ripping apart all in its path. In the spinning and chaos, it is easy to lose your bearings, to lose your way, to lose yourself. Yet my lifelines were ever present -- loving me, caring for me, nourishing my heart and soul.
Destruction and beauty co-mingling. Both are true and real.
Lord, as I live in the tornado's destructive wake, may I hold tightly to the beautiful tethers that You have provided. May I know the realness of both.
There confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.
The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. (James 5:16)
Confession is communal and contagious.
• Because of this day atonement will be made for you, to cleanse you. Then before the Lord, you will be clean from all your sins. (Lev 16:30)
• Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. (Matt 3:6)
• Many of those who believed now came and openly confessed what they had done. (Acts 19:18)
What keeps me from confessing my faults and weaknesses?
• Pride -- Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall. (Prov 16:18)
• Fear -- Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe. (Pro 29:25)
• Unwillingness to Change -- They have left the straight way and wandered off to follow the way of Balaam son of Bezer, who love the wages of wickedness. (2 Pet 2:15)
What are the benefits of confessing my faults and weaknesses?
• Humility -- Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the word to save sinners -- of whom I am the worst. (1 Tim 1:15)
• Fellowship -- If we claim to have fellowship with him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. If we say we have not sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us. (1 John 1:6-7)
• Healing -- Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that their deeds will be exposed. But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what they have done has been done in the sight of God. (John 3:20-21)
How do I receive the confession of my friend?
• Know your own need for God.
• Allow yourself to be quiet.
• Speak forgiveness and pray.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
I am honored to have a voice in the Red Tent Living community! Their beautiful patchwork of stories invites women to discover and enjoy their unique femininity. I'm excited for you to read my piece that reflects my heart as I approached Taylor and Connor's wedding. Enjoy! #RedTentLiving.
My dad has forever impacted my life. As the first man I ever loved, he set the stage for all relationships that followed. For good or for bad, dads do that -- they leave an indelible imprint on their daughters.
Simple moments of humor and love best tell of my dad’s legacy. In the simple moments, Dad told us stories, beamed with pride at our accomplishments, and joyfully danced with us.
One of my favorite moments is when we were little girls and we would put dad’s shoes on his feet. What fun it was! Before family outings, Dad would tell us we could leave once we put his shoes on his feet. He would be freshly showered, clean shaven (except for the horrible beard season!), and smelling of Old Spice and Brylcreem. My sisters and I would pile on top of Dad and try to guide (force!) his feet into his shoes. Dad bent and contorted his foot so that it would not go easily into his shoe. We giggled, squealed and begged him to get his foot into the shoe.
After much effort, Dad would relent and we’d get one shoe on! We then moved to the second foot -- more giggles, squeals and begging as we forced his foot into the shoe. Eventually, we would get his second foot into the shoe, celebrate our success and then realize he had taken his first foot out of his shoe! And the adventure started all over again.
Four young girls, two freshly polished loafers, and one mischievous dad created moments where love and playfulness flourished.
As dads go, I got a really good one. I’ve never doubted Dad’s delight in my mother or in his daughters. We were (are) cherished, respected and loved by a strong and caring man. Without knowing it, Dad taught me some fundamental truths about love that has impacted me laterally, downward and upward.
His legacy shows laterally in the men that my sisters and I have married. My husband, Ken, is compassionate, engaging, and wise. In the dark of the night when he reaches for my hand, the tender warmth of his touch tells that I’m cherished and loved. His love, protection and care for our daughters display what a remarkable dad his is. He attended tea parties with dolls, baited hooks and taught them to fish, fixed their cars, and attended every single school performance. Ken’s love, humor, and tender strength are an encouraging presence in our lives. Our daughters are resilient and passionate women as a result of his imprint on them.
Dad’s legacy continues downward as our oldest daughter marries the love of her life later this Spring. While I don’t know what kind of dad her fiance will be, I see the love, playfulness, and steady strength he exhibits with our daughter. It fills my heart as I anticipate the family they will build. I believe the legacy will continue downward through their children too as another good man creates cherished moments with his children.
Dad’s imprint on me also significantly influenced my relationship upward with God. I think when Dad reads this he will be surprised at his influence on my faith walk. You see, Dad is not a ‘religious’ man. He didn’t read to me from the Bible or pray with me nightly. He came from a generation where faith is a private matter so I’m not sure exactly what Dad believes.
But what I do know is that his love for me influenced my relationship with God. The tender strength of Dad’s hug provides me with a sense of affection and safety. Few things sooth my soul more than a hug that tells me of the warmth of Dad’s presence.
It’s not lost on me that those hugs teach me about God’s love. It is said that relationships with dads directly influence how we see God. My friends who have harsh dads are lead to believe God is rigid and oppressive. Friends with absent dads fear that God will neglect and abandon them too. And then there are those, like me, who have loving dads who demonstrate our Heavenly Father’s loving kindness.
My dad is not perfect. There were times when he was silent that I wished he would have spoken. And in my imperfection as a daughter, there were times when I kept Dad silent instead of inviting him to speak into my life. Those times of quiet have also lead me to expect silence from God. And in my sin, has lead me to ignore His voice.
Even in the imperfection, Dad’s love is evident. While he may have been quiet, his tender strength and presence provide me with a foundation to give and to receive love. I know what it means to climb into my father’s lap to be comforted and loved. It makes it easy for me to imagine doing the same with my Heavenly Father. And I’m grateful that Dad’s legacy leaves an eternal imprint on me.
I'm feeling heartsick. The feeling has overwhelmed me over the last few days. I'm heartsick over the loss of civility and kindness that we offer to one another. In recent days, I've seen posts or heard in person the following:
A Christian man call a female celebrity (whom he opposes politically) a "Stupid C__t".
A woman who abhors the bullying tactics of our president, shame and ridicule another woman for enjoying the inaugural balls.
The negative spin of observers to say that a 10-year old boy, who was playful and innocent at his father's inauguration, is part of the family's "marketing machine".
Repeated denials that a disabled man was mocked -- even though we've all seen the video.
One first lady is called ugly and the other is labeled stupid.
Peaceful protesters are called cry babies who are wasting their time and money.
Republicans are dubbed racists while democrats are called morons.
The list goes on....
Where has our civility and kindness gone? I'm not talking about spirited discourse of ideas and views -- these are good and necessary. I'm talking about name calling, denial of truth, bullying, etc. Each side sees the sins of the other other side but refuses to see their own. Hypocrisy runs deep.
I confess, I too am a hypocrite. I stand in the middle and judge and ridicule those on the far left and on the far right. I am asking for civility that I too have withheld. In my sinful superiority, I am no different than those on the list above.
But, I long for something different.
I long to be a person who listens to your thoughts and opinions without defensiveness.
I long to be with others who listen to one another's thoughts and opinions without defensiveness.
I long to be a person who seeks to understand your point of view.
I long to be with others who seek to understand one another's points of view.
I long to be a person who thinks the best of you -- even when I disagree with you.
I long to be with others who think the best of one another -- even when they disagree.
I long to be a person who sees you as a child of God.
I long to be with others who see one another as children of God.
I long to be a person who lives with hope.
I long to be with others who live with hope too.
I can't promise I'll be perfect, but I commit to trying to be the person that I long for me and you to be.
Earlier this week, I was feeling emotionally and spiritually depleted. It’s a week before Christmas -- a time for wonder, hope and joy -- but all I could feel was blah. So I spent time at a nearby retreat center and I hiked, talked with God, and sat in His presence. It felt like a journey. I arrived heavy-hearted but God joined me and kept me company on the journey and as a result I felt deeply nourished and loved. We Journeyed Together.
Our life journey is not meant to be walked alone. Jesus stepped out of heaven, to walk the journey with us and for us. God created us for relationship so if we live outside of that design we will likely feel anxious and depressed.
Think about the 33-year journey that Jesus had here on earth. He modeled relational connection for us. There were times He went off alone to be with His father and there were times when He enjoyed those on the journey with Him. He celebrated with his community at wedding feasts; He treated His mother with love and care; He had close friends to pray, work and play with; He spoke with and cared for those around Him, and so much more. He walked His earthly journey with His family and friends -- in other words, they Journeyed Together. Consider the relationships God gave you for this journey -- what might you learn from His example?
In the days leading up to Christmas, reflect on His humble arrival in a manager. He is with us -- loving us, encouraging us, teaching us, laughing with us -- journeying with us.
The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out, true from start to finish. (John 1:14 MSG)
I hope that these FGH’s are helpful to you. If your sadness and stress are overwhelming to you this Christmas season, please reach out to a friend or to a counselor and let them help you through the struggle.
May your Christmas be blessed with knowledge of His presence and His peace.
Today, we are continuing of FGHs of Coping with Christmas Anxiety and Depression. So far we have covered Face Faulty Strategies, Give Gentleness and Grace, and Have Fun. Let’s continue with letter I….
Illusion of Control
Someone I love, I’ll call her Joan, would get her Christmas shopping done early, diligently wrap the gifts and then hide them away in the attic. Little did Joan know, each year her son located the presents, carefully unwrapped them to see what was inside and then expertly re-wrapped them to their original condition. Joan did all that she could to surprise her kids with terrific gifts -- but because she could not manage all of the factors, she was unable to control the outcome.
Admit it -- we all like to have some measure of control. Holidays can intensify that desire because the media is filled with images of perfect families in beautifully decorated homes, eating chef quality food and exchanging ideal presents. Attempting to achieve perfection means that we must expertly manage and direct the people and circumstances in our lives. Our attempts to control things often lead to added frustration, disappointment and exhaustion which then fuels anxiety and depression.
But please hear this: Control is just an illusion. Like Joan, we can plan and execute our intention, but we can’t know the choices of those around us. It is impossible to control every variable necessary for a given outcome. If we give up our illusion of control, we are better able to accept the choices of others and embrace the reality of our imperfect lives. Surrendering our demand for control can reduce our anxiety and depression. And it frees us to discover the rest and peace that comes with continued dependence on God’s wisdom and love.
Foolish dreamers live in a world of illusion; wise realists plant their
feet on the ground…..The Fear-of-God is like a spring of living water so
you won’t go off drinking from poisoned wells. (Prov 14: 18, 27 MSG)
Tomorrow we will conclude the FGHs with a focus on Journeying Together.
