Are You Willing to be Disturbed?

That was the question she posed to us..."are you willing to be disturbed"?

It was a weekday morning in mid-December and I was listening to a radio broadcast.  I don't even remember the speaker's name, but her question caught my attention.  She was talking about the cushions we place around us so as not to allow the ugliness of what's "out there" to threaten our nice, comfortable lives.  Things like poverty and disease, rampant in so much of the world, but which "we" like to keep at a safe distance.  Hers was a story of how she came out from behind the cushions and eventually began birthing aid's orphanages.  Although her question tugged at me, I found some of her thinking to be, well, radical, which in turn made me skeptical.  And so I went on with my mostly neat and tidy life.

A couple of days later, as I opened the newspaper to peruse for a few minutes over breakfast, I was met with the headline, "U.N. LOSES WAR AGAINST POVERTY", accompanied by a picture of a young child, half naked, standing in a garbage dump.  And my initial inner response was, "I just want to eat my breakfast in peace...I don't want to see THIS."

And then I heard the question again, "are you willing to be disturbed?"  And with probably an audible sigh, I said, "yes.".  I read the article, and then prayed for this young boy and his hopeless existence. What more could I do?

A day or so following, as I was getting ready for my day, the Spirit seemed to gently provoke me.  "So...what are you going to do about it?"  I knew the Spirit was not just talking about the little boy in the garbage dump, or even poverty in general, but ME.  This was about me.  And as I pushed gel through my wet hair, remembering that I needed to get that appointment made to have highlights put in my hair, I heard the Spirit asking yet another question, "are you willing to give up your hilites?"

Ouch! Not my hilites!!!  I wanted them for Christmas...they would look awesome...just brighten me up for this festive season.  I really wanted highlights.  So, would I give them up?????  It took a few minutes until I could say yes in my heart.  But I did.  I knew it was right and good and quite frankly... really hard.  It wasn't about sending $$ for the little boy in the garbage dump.  It was about my heart, and a willingness to sacrifice something I wanted.

That was a pivotal day for me.  The beginning of something incredibly challenging, something that would eventually change my life and put me on a very different course that still, to this day, is largely unknown. It's big and deep and freeing and difficult and overwhelming and God-size.  Which is why I'm on the journey with Him.

To think it all started with six word question.

"Touching the Shadow"

I devoured this book, "Touching the Shadow" in about 3 days.  In it, Bruce Nygren, shares a unique journey.  He and his wife, Racinda, live a rocky marriage to begin with, and are then blindsided by her breast cancer.  At a time when stresses are seemingly at the highest level, their relationship begins to slowly be renewed.  It is truly a beautiful story of a husband purposefully, tenderly loving his wife in ways he probably never has-- through this ugly disease.

I am remembering some of my own journey through another ugly disease...clinical depression.  Gratefully, my husband and I enjoyed a very strong, rich marriage, before the darkness descended.  But the stresses still hit us full force.  And this is where I am still in awe.

My husband was "God-with-skin-on" to me.  He truly was.  I've never been able to fully grasp his care for me, his unrelenting, patient, loving, compassion.  Do you know that I never heard a word of complaint cross his lips.  Not a hint of frustration or annoyance.  Not a moment of anger or disappointment with me, or our life circumstance.  In that initial 1 1/2 years of seemingly daily crisis, followed by another 1 1/2 of slowly recovering, he was beyond human.  Some days I would ask him why.

"Why aren't you sick of me...of this?"  (I sure was!!!)  And his reply would always be the same..."because I love you and I don't have any expectations."  He didn't have a date set in his mind when I would be well.  He wasn't counting on the next medication or doctor to have the answer.  Whether I got better or not, he promised he would always stay with me.  During a time when I feared that my friends and family...even my husband, would one day tire of this hell I was in, and leave me, his constant assurances were so beautiful.

Yes, I know how blessed I was...I am.  I am living a much fuller life than five years ago, but he still graciously loves and serves me in the not-so-joyous days.  His faithful commitment to me is a humbling gift.

"Brian...I am indebted to you for your selfless love...
in days past, and still today.
Unspeakably grateful...
I love you
Juanita"

Can it Be?

"The snowdrops nodded their
delicate heads
as if calling to her,...
'winter is over, spring is here.'"
--Louisa May Alcott
"Jack and Jill"

There but by the grace of God, go I

I went to visit a friend yesterday.  It's not as simple as just picking up the phone to arrange a time.  There's a process to follow, restrictions to enter into, an environment to submit to.  I always find myself a little uptight, nervous, prior to our visit.  And there's this nebulous weight which descends upon me...not overwhelming...just there, reminding me that this is not a casual conversation over a cup of tea.

My friend is serving time in a correctional facility.  Even writing those words is a stretch for me.  Still unbelievable, actually.  Despite the time that has lapsed since this all unfolded, there's still so much to digest.  Still a thousand questions without answers.  Still emotions and thoughts and confusion that confront my psyche.

But he's my friend, and there but by the grace of God, go I.

It's the latter part of that sentence that stops me in my tracks..."there but by the grace of God go I".  It's one of the things that grabbed me in the beginnings of all of this.  My own weakness, fallenness...propensity to sin.  Not something any of us like to face.  I mean, I would love if the person I portrayed, was always the person who lives inside of me.  But those two people are not always one in the same.  Sometimes, when I look deep down inside, and see what I am capable of...for evil...it haunts me.  There was a prophet Jeremiah, in the Old Testament of the Bible who recounts what God says about my heart...and yours:  "The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; Who can understand it?"  Jeremiah 17:9  I read those words and I know two things:  My heart is not pure, and I am not alone.   

I'm not above going down the wrong path.   That reality sobers, humbles and terrifies me.  It  keeps me seeking hard after God, asking Him to plumb the depths of my heart for that which is not right or good.  It compels me to  surround myself with people who can provide direction, counsel, and accountability.

And it keeps me visiting my friend.  And if that sounds too simple, you're right.  The layers and ramifications of all of "this" is immeasureable.  I'm not ignoring or avoiding it.  But today it's not part of what I believe God has called me to be...a friend... walking a journey with another friend, one step at a time.

Beyond Crazy

After all these years of struggling with depression, it still amazes me how I can be doing so well, and then completely flip upside down.  I understand, as much as I think it is possible to understand, what is going on in my mind and body, but it doesn't seem to lessen the complete bewilderment I feel, when the "switch" flips...one way or another.

Back in the summer/fall, I read this book, "Beyond Crazy--Journeys Through Mental Illness" by Julia Nunes and Scott Simmie.  Or shall I say, I devoured this book.  No medical explanations.  No therapeutic prescriptions.  No "when, why, what, how".  Just stories.  Authentic, heartbreaking, hope-filled stories.  Real people, with real journeys through mental illness.  And I loved it.  Because I felt understood.  And that's what I need today...someone to validate what it is I feel within.  So I leafed through a binder that is filled with poetry, quotes, and excerpts from all that is meaningful to me, and found pieces of stories that I had recorded from "Beyond Crazy". Like this one:

"On so many occasions, Valerie has attempted to describe to me what the torment is like; how it twists illogic into logic, how it is all-encompassing, all-pervasive.  She speaks of the hopeless void, the numbness, the fear of the unknown and the known, of being fearful when you are sad because it will never end, and fearful when you're happy because it will."  --Tom Morris(speaking on behalf of his wife, Valeria, bipolar survivor)

I so get the experience of this woman.  It makes sense to me...it's real to me, and  it validates that I am not alone.  Someone else has spoken "for me".  And today, in this moment, that's what I needed.

A Gift of Love

I have received countless gifts throughout my life.  Some gifts are in the realm of practical, yet still very much appreciated.  Others were given for my pure enjoyment.  Tangible, intangible...flashy, simple...unique, traditional.  I'm sure it would be quite a humbling experience to seek to recall all that has been bestowed upon me.

The other evening, my hubby and I, along with our two teenagers enjoyed a belated birthday celebration(for me) in my parents's home.  My stepmom is a gourmet cook, and so a meal is always a feast.  We were not disappointed.  This in itself is always a gift; I have an evening off from meal preparation, and am able to, yes, indulge in every tasty morsel set before me.  But I did know there was a birthday gift waiting for me, and I, like I think every other human being...love unwrapping gifts.  And so after we were all thoroughly satisfied, we moved to the livingroom to continue our visit...and "do" the birthday thing.  What fun!  Some lovely country placemats which have already been put to good use.  And, a Christmas star...yes country as well, with flickering lights.  How cool is that!!! 

I sat there with "Juanita" gifts on my lap, feeling thankful and blessed.  And then without warning it was sitting beside me.  Another gift, placed quietly beside me by my stepmom.  I looked at her and my Dad with a, "What's this?", inquiry.  I was told it was something "special".  Opening the top of the container revealed a banner of lace placed across a covering of turquoise tissue paper.  I began to gently remove the lace, opening one side of the tissue. 'Neath the tissue was more lace...beautiful lace.   My mind was still mystified...until I folded back the remaining tissue...and suddenly I knew.   My children tell me my face was "priceless". For me, it was one of those earth-standing-still-moments, as I gently touched  my mother's wedding dress.  A thousand thoughts and emotions pressed in on me;  I felt frozen...suspended in time, until I heard my father say, "It's okay, you can cry."

And I wept.  Deep, cleansing, freeing... weeping, while my stepmom stood beside me with her arm wrapped around my shoulder.

My mother's tragic death, several months after my fifth birthday, left me with an ocean of grief.   It was to remain a hidden calm within my spirit until my adult years, when the tides of sorrow came rushing in, threatening to overwhelm me.  The journey of grief work has been long, arduous, painful... with never a feeling of completion. Still, I am grateful for each healing balm which eases the loss yet a little more.

And now I find myself with her wedding dress in my home. I am still empty of words, adequate to convey my deep gratitude.  The initiative of my parents to plan and bestow this gift of love on me, has felt like yet another healing balm to cover me.  It is truly something I cherish.  The dress, with confetti still visible in the lace and satin bodice, now gracefully adorns a special place in my home.  I'm not sure if all that is unspoken within me will ever be fully expressed; for now, I am content to be awed at such a gift of love.

  "If you haven't already, you will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and you never completely get over the loss of a deeply beloved person, But this is also good news.  The person lives forever, in your broken heart that doesn't seal back up.  And you come through, and you learn to dance with the banged-up heart."
--Anne Lamott
"Plan B"

Spring is in the Air

What does this mean exactly...that spring is in the air?  At 7:50 this morning, it was still very cold as I set out for a walk.  But the sun was warm, and that just felt sooooo good.  I'm not sure if the birds are singing with greater grandeur, or if I'm just noticing them more this week.  Certainly, the sidewalks are mostly bereft of snow.  Now it's just patches of glistening ice to beware of.  That well known aroma of spring, is not quite here, though I am convinced (almost) that it is not far away.  Whatever it is that has signaled the nearness of spring, it is definitely "in the air".  And I am quite sure that over the coming few days this will reveal itself even more so. 

I think I'm ready. 

"No winter lasts forever, no spring skips its turn."
--Hal Borian

OH CANADA!!

Oh, Canada
Our home and native land,
True patriot love
in all thy sons command
With glowing hearts
We see thee rise,
The true, north, strong, and free.
From far and wide
Oh Canada
We stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land
Glorious and free.
Oh, Canada we stand on guard for thee,
Oh, Canada we stand on guard for thee.

Proud to be a Canadian!

Reminiscing

Finally!!! I have been waiting all winter...for winter. And what a breathtaking landscape she has so lavishly provided. (I recognize that some of you may not agree)
It is true...we are soon to trek into March, but the way I see it--if it's going to be cold enough that  I need to wear a coat and mittens, there might as well be snow to go with it. I find it much more appealing than dormant grass, shrubs and trees.  I confess to also wanting to capture some winter wonderland pictures. My porch is covered in snow...and I am just loving it.  

I've also been doing some reminiscing.  I am knee deep in memories of my childhood winters.  Literally.  On a particular day this past week,  my daughter asked me  if it was a snow day.  Trying hard not to guffaw, I responded, "Ashley, you don't know what a REAL snow day is!!"

I remember...one year having two weeks straight of snow days..  I would wake up in the morning, hear the wind howling and see the snow flying, and roll over with the covers tight around me  (Of course I'm not sure that my stepmom enjoyed this as much as her six kids did!!  She was quite the trooper.  I anticipated those times when she sat with my sisters and I, at the family room table coloring in my Barbie doll coloring book.  She was an expert...never ANY smudges when she used pastels.  I loved it!)
I remember...driving slowly due to poor visibility, but not too slow, so as to be able to plow through the snowdrifts across the road.
I remember...worrying that my Dad would get disoriented and freeze to death walking from the barn to the house(which wasn't very far), because of blizzard conditions.  (Okay, I might have a slight tendency to the dramatic, but really, really...I couldn't see the barn!!!!!) 
I remember...outdoor skating rinks created by my Dad and attaching an old towel to the hose, to flood it in the evening.  Many a ruthless hockey game was played there with my brothers and sisters.
I remember...speeding down the barn hill on my red super-slider-snow-skiis.  Yikes!!  That's as close to Olympic competition that I got. :)
I remember... countless expertly established snowmen, dressed with old scarves and hats.
I remember...snow forts with an arsenal of snowballs lying in wait for an unsuspecting sibling, and later, six of us shedding wet snowsuits, and everything else winter.
I remember...my father driving, in unrelenting whiteouts, rolling down the window(notice I said rolling) so that he could at least watch the yellow line on the highway, enabling him to know if he was still on the right side of the road.  I didn't particularly enjoy these excursions.
I remember...eating snow...lots of it.  And contrary to all the health directives not to, I'm still alive and...mostly well.  ha,ha 
I remember...snow, snow and more snow. 
I remember... when winter was winter...all winter long. 

Oh nostalgia...how enjoyable you are!  Rest assured, I'm not begging those days back, but a substantial  dumping of snow every few weeks would be most welcome.  By me anyway.

I will revel in this beauty for as long as it lasts.

 

Some lists work and some don't

I'm a list person. Actually...I love lists. I love choosing funky, pretty, or fun list pads, and then jotting down on a fresh piece of paper, my list. Oh the abundance of lists in my home!! Grocery, "To Do", Shopping, E-mail, Card-making, Budget,Job lists for my kids(they love those!)etc.. Then comes the fun of stroking off the list, whatever it is that I've accomplished. I find an incredible sense of satisfaction comes from seeing my list taper off. And when I'm down to one or two items, I start a new list, because by then, my paper has far too many strokes through it, and a fresh start is required. I really do love lists!! They work well for me. I am a very detailed, organized, methodic person. To have developed this tool, is of great benefit.

But I am discovering that lists don't work for all areas of my life. If you've been following along on my blog, you will have noticed that there are various areas of my spirit that are needing some attention. A part of me recognizes the beauty of my spirit hearing God's Spirit whisper in my ear. I welcome His gentle invasion into my soul, and long to cooperate with His intentions. But I am in the early stages of having to change how I approach these works of my heart. Lists don't work for spiritual transformation. You probably knew that, and I think I did too...somewhere up there in the recesses of my brain. But it ends there. It's never traveled the 6 inches to my heart and taken up residence. Instead, I approach soul work, with a pen and floral list pad, only to find myself in the midst of battle territory. My list only serves to remind me that I have not accomplished what I set out to do. My pen has never put a line through a much sought after character trait, signifying it's completion. It discourages me and leaves me with tumultuous inner questions.


The problem?? Spiritual transformation is a process. Funk and Wagnall's Dictionary states that a process is "a forward movement, progressive or continuous proceeding; passage." My Roget's Thesaurus offers a kinship of words with similar meaning: "refine, grow, cultivate". Many of these words bring pictures to mind and invoke a common theme...time. Time does not appeal to my list-making mindset, yet there is a very real attraction for my heart. Granting myself time for God's transforming work is a much more gracious act than a list. Not only does it give God permission to be God in my life, I'm convinced that this allowance of time will be gratifying to my spirit, much more than a pen and paper.

Carl Arico, in "A Taste of Silence" provides this insight, "Transformation is the process of God's recreating our very selves...All the phases of transformation are not done through our strategies. They are done to us because we are open to remaining in the presence of God."

I remain...open in His presence.

To be or not to be....content

I am choosing to practice contentment. It's not something foreign to me. For many years now, it's been a practice of mine, but with the coming and going of "seasons" in my life, it receives varying measures of attention. The current season of my life is calling for a more focused attentiveness to this practice. I found it almost comical this morning...I'm sure God did even more so... that as the hours moved onward my thoughts became, "Couldn't we just save this contentment "thing" for another day...when it's a little bit easier?"

That is how we humans think, isn't it? Someday...when all my "i's are dotted and all my "t's" crossed, when my "ducks are all lined up in a row", THEN, I will practice contentment. But today???? You've got to be kidding. Sometime ago I came across this quote: "One of the hardest things to realize is that our someday is right now." (Author Unknown) That really resonated with me because I know that's how I think. The future holds my "someday". Call it what you will...age, maturity, wisdom...I have come to believe more and more, that my "someday is right now" It's not down the road.

So what does it mean for me to practice contentment? I don't believe it means that I have to love where I'm at. Authenticity is still a part of contentment. Nor does it mean that I don't have any goals, or that I've stopped striving to change what is in my control. But there's a good deal that's out of my control today. I have to wait for a new medication to start working in my body and it's not going to be overnight. My "to do" list for the day might not be accomplished. Am I going to brow-beat myself on my pillow tonight because of that, or accept the reality. I'd like to see super human progress in some other areas of my life. Who am I kidding????!!!!!!!! I don't have any of Super Woman's genes in my body....it ain't going to happen!!! Oh, and I'd really love to be able to serenely manoeuver through all of the above. Not likely! That would be why my pastor yesterday referred to it as a grace practice. I am given an abundance of "do-overs". Thank goodness. Because I know from experience, that contentment takes a lot of practice. To be content requires me to focus on the good instead of instinctivly defaulting to what's less than ideal. It means I am grateful for attentive doctors, OHIP and drug plans. It calls me to work through my character flaws gently instead of loading on shame. Practicing contentment opens my eyes to the strength I do have and allows me to accept my limitations graciously.

I know Someone who doesn't need convincing of the above. God does not just demonstrate grace to me...He is grace.
Oh to practice contentment with the same spirit of grace for myself, that God so lavishly pours over me!

To be or not to be...content. That is the question. I know what I want to be.