the spiritual application of kitty litter

So, yesterday I was cleaning out the litterboxes and having a hard time of it because Merry wouldn't just leave me to it.

Merry, if you don't already know, is the kitten we (read: I, against the husband's better judgment) rescued from the dim, despairing reaches of our parking lot in June. We estimate that she is now 4-5 months old -- and, as I've described elsewhere, she is a tiny automaton with fur, powered by a boundless energy source and stuck in a redundant play-eat-sleep loop.

Pippin, our five-year-old tabby, remains unimpressed with the new addition, but they both seem to enjoy chasing each other.

Anyway, as soon as I started cleaning out the litterboxes yesterday, up bounded the little automaton to investigate what I was about. As I scooped unmentionable stinkiness into a plastic trash bag, she craned her neck over the edge of one litterbox to sniff.

"I'm working here," I told her.

Ignoring me in all-too-familiar cat fashion, Merry came closer and stuck her head into the sack containing the stinkiness.

"That won't smell good," I warned.

Unconcerned, Merry investigated the contents another moment or two.

"I really don't need your help," I said.

Merry withdrew her head from the sack, clambered into the larger of the two litterboxes, and promptly pooped in it.

"I am trying to work here!!!"

But, alas, my protests were for naught. The kitten finished her toilet, made a few half-hearted scratches that didn't half cover up the mess, and raced away to find the older kitty and torment her with some game or other.

Leaving me, of course, with a fresh mess to clean up.

And that's when I thought, "This must be how God feels."

Not that I'm setting myself up as God over my cats. (Anyone who knows cats and/or God knows what a laughable prospect that would be.) I'm more like the kitten. Actually, I think we're all more like the kitten.

God cares for us. He cuddles us and feeds us and gives us a place to sleep. He talks to us and listens to us when we cry. He puts special things into our lives simply for the sheer joy of seeing us happy. He loves watching us be what we're created to be.

And he cleans up our messes all the time.

And more often than not, we humans get in his way while he's doing it.

We don't leave well enough alone. We make a mess of our lives -- and maybe we ask him to help clean it up; maybe we don't. Either way, God steps in to do what's necessary to clean up the mess...

...but we don't trust him to do it. We come back to it to see what he's doing with it. We poke and nudge and prod: Are you doing this right? We try to cover it up, even though there's really no hiding it. We stick our noses into what he's already cleaned up -- even as he tells us he doesn't need our help and warns us that we probably don't want to smell this.

And sometimes, instead of letting him finish his work, we clamber back into the situation and mess it up all over again.

______________________

Pippin, our adult cat, also gets curious when I clean out the litterboxes. She watches me carry the plastic sack to the kitty cubby; she might even jump up into the cubby so as to get a closer look. But she sits back, watching. She doesn't stick her nose into what I've already cleaned, and she certainly doesn't climb into the box to do business in it while I'm trying to work. She knows that if she just lets me finish, she'll have a nice, fresh box and won't have to smell messes again for awhile.

That, of course, is where the effectiveness of the metaphor ends: A litterbox is *meant* to be messed up over and over again. A human life, however, is not designed for continual ruin. God wants to clean up our lives for us -- and then be there to help us keep them clean.

I want to mature so I can learn to sit back and let him do it.

this wasn't supposed to be my first blopgost of the year

...but it's just kinda happening, because I had this thought, and I wanted to record it.

In public.

Sheesh.

I am sick and tired of not saying what I really think.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really feel.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really believe.

I am tired of worrying about what other people will think of me.
Oh, I talk a great game of not caring, not letting others' opinions determine the course of my actions, blah de blah blah blah.

But really, in my secret heart, I want you all to like me.
I hate being the recipient of criticism, disapproval, and--o, the horror--rejection.

If I speak the truth about something, and someone responds by chastising me, my heartrate shoots through the roof, and my desire to make it all okay again shoots through the stratosphere.

This is not a healthy reaction on my part.
I have boundary problems.

And I'm sick and tired of it.

I don't want to be the gutless one.
I don't want to cower when a stronger personality tells me I Have No Right To Say _____________.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

In the religious denomination I grew up in, I was taught to keep my mouth shut about _____________--because expressing my rock-the-boat opinions might lead another person to trip over something and get hurt.

But what if that something isn't even really there?
What about the other person learning to take responsibility for looking at where they're putting their feet?
What if the thing they need most, in order to learn to walk better, is someone (like me?) who will holler at the top of their (my?) voice about the discrepancies and the dis-integrity?

I've been told that a lot of people in this world look up to me.
If that's true, I don't really know why they do that. I'm a continual screw-up--didn't you know?

And one of the ways in which I screw up is by keeping my mouth shut out of cowardice.

Yes, there is a time and a place for expressing my thoughts/feelings/beliefs about certain things. I need to choose wisely ( --> discern) when and in whose company to verbalize these things.

But if I'm staying quiet simply because I ***fear*** others' reactions...then that right there, O Friends and Neighbors, is Screwing Up In Grand Fashion.

So.

Maybe this was the right blopgost to start the New Year with, after all.

when life sucks

The first of the following quotes I discovered in Allison's blog. (Thank you, Al!) The second is from a book I recently read and commented on.

Both of these quotes resonate with me in a powerful way--especially because many recent aspects of my life have felt, to put it bluntly, unbearable. That I am

still here
still more than functional
still optimistic

is a testament to the activeness of God

in my life
in my surroundings
in my heart.


Somehow, he keeps me singing.


And, without further ado, the illuminating and encouraging thoughts of other women:

"Never, ever in our wait, is God inactive. NEVER. We have got to trust that if ever he puts a stay on something, if ever he has put a hold on something, if ever he has called us to wait upon Him: SOMETHING is up. Something is happening in the heavenlies. There is someway that things on earth are coming into the will of the things in Heaven. And we have got to trust Him.
"...When we wait upon a person, a thing, an event, we will lose; but if you're waiting on the Lord, you will renew your strength..."
--Beth Moore
"Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman"

"And he said--gently--that they believe when a lot of things start going wrong all at once, it is to protect something big and lovely that is trying to get itself born--and that this something needs for you to be distracted so that it can be born as perfectly as possible.
"I believe this to be true. And I especially believe it when other people's things are breaking down."
--Anne Lamott
"Traveling Mercies"


I, too, believe these things to be true. God in heaven, I believe these things to be true. You haven't given up on me, that much is clear. Neither will I give up on you. This, I swear.

excerpt from an email

He asked: What is the most important thing in your life? What drives you, or what is your motivation?

I replied:

The most important thing for me is probably communion. And by that I don't mean what goes on in church buildings on Sundays. ;o) I'm talking about communion: sharing my thoughts with someone--the other person sharing their thoughts with me--in a way that is transparent, vulnerable, honest, gritty. It's inextricably interwoven with genuine emotion, empathy, understanding. The kind of meeting-of-the-minds-and-hearts that happens after you've been talking for hours and hours and it's four o'clock in the morning, you're so tired you're delirious and yet each of your senses is sharpened, hyper-aware, perfectly attuned to the other person's wavelength. Four in the morning is the ideal time, but communion can happen anytime, anyplace, as long as both people are laying things out The Way They Really Are. You get to the point where fewer and fewer words are necessary...until just looking each other in the eye suffices for communicating a universe, a googolplex of thoughts.

This can happen with other humans. This can also happen with God.

As for my motivation.....I guess it's to become the kind of human capable of that level of communion--sustained.

If I could reach this goal....everything else would fall into place.

the one where i pass the point of no return

I am desperate.
I am tired.
I am hungry.

And I am not talking about my physical condition.

The last few years have wrought a great many changes in my spirit. The last 14 months in particular have stripped my soul of a great many impediments that had been mucking up my vision for a long, long time. Over the last few days, I've had several heart-wrenching, intimate conversations that have led me to *want* to say the things I am about to say.

I won't say that "I can see clearly now." ;o)
But I will say that I have reached a point of clarity enabling me to say, "I don't know."

I don't know who or what God really is.
I don't know exactly how he goes about saving humans from being eternally separated from him.
I don't know what the afterlife is going to be like.
I don't know why good things happen.
I don't know why bad things happen.
I don't know any human who can set a satisfactory standard of "good" or "bad."
I don't know what the nature of the universe is.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings, but I don't know exactly what that means.
I don't know a great many things.

I can speculate about all these things. My speculations might even be tinged with hints of truth. But they remain speculations because, frankly my dear, my human brain is too puny to fathom the spiritual reality behind it all.


Here's what I do know. These things, I am sure of without a doubt:

God is.
God created humans, and he loves us.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings.
God hears each of us when we speak to him.
Jesus of Nazareth had a more personal, intimate, vulnerable, honest, transforming relationship with God than any other being that has ever existed.
Jesus was a safe place for people to be.
Jesus wanted/wants his followers to be safe places for each other and for every person they come into contact with.
If you look at Jesus, you will gain an idea of what God is like.
Religion means nothing. Relationships mean everything.
I want to become as safe a place for others as I can.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. ;o)
That's my statement of faith.
That's my creed.

seven characteristics of a loving person

I don't know where this list originated, but Rob shared it in our group discussion last night:

Seven Characteristics of a Loving Person

kind

patient

forgiving

humble

courteous

generous

honest


I have my own thoughts about these, but I'm curious to hear yours.
Do you agree with this list?
Would you add to it?
Subtract from it?
What is the value in defining a "loving person" in this way?
*Is* there value in such defining?
What is the value in striving to be a loving person?
Do you feel that you should try to be this kind of person? Why or why not?
If you are trying to be this sort of person, how would you evaluate your...hmm...success?
If you don't feel the need to be this sort of person, what goal have you set yourself instead? How would you evaluate your "success" in reaching your goal?

The floor is yours. :o)

great song by nickelback

They've been radio-stalking me, so I decided to share one of their songs I like. ;o)

"If Today Was Your Last Day" by Nickelback

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day's a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
If today was your last day

Against the grain should be a way of life
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try
So live like you'll never live it twice
Don't take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars
Regardless of who you are
So do whatever it takes
'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life
Let nothin' stand in your way
Cause the hands of time are never on your side

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

now that i know...

I once thought, in an intellectual way, that I was hungry.

I ate the food laid out before me, looked around in my immediate area for more, and thought I was satisfied. I thought that my hunger was small, and I thought that what was within reach would sate me.

Then life happened.

And now I know that I am ravenous. I have always been ravenous. And what I thought was satisfying...does not even begin to fill up my empty spaces.

I now know, in a deep, internal, visceral way, that I am starving. How I hungered before is nothing compared to the hunger I feel now.

Now that I begin to know how hungry I am, I want more.

And the beginning of knowledge only makes the hunger grow.

God, give me more.

faith and fixing things

This evening, in a group discussion, we talked about the definition of faith and what role faith plays in relationships. Here are some thoughts this discussion inspired in me:

As some of you know, I am, by nature/nurture, a "fixer" of things. I see something broken, I want to fix it. I see a problem, I want to solve it. I see another person's dilemma, I want to resolve it. My instinctive reaction is, "Oooh! A challenge! Let's stop talking about it and DO something about it!"

It is very frustrating and discouraging to others when I react this way.

They don't want me to fix it.
They just want me to listen.
They just want me to feel with them.

This has been a very difficult lesson for me to learn. In the course of learning this lesson, I hurt people who were close to me. I did some severe damage to some very important relationships, relationships that are still recovering from my immaturity. And my arrogance.

I fight against this natural/nurtural tendency to try to fix everything. I still have to squelch that initial, overeager, overbearing reaction--and I will probably have to exercise that rigid self-control for the rest of my life. But I am *learning*. I am growing. And that's the point.

Here's my definition of how faith should affect my relationships:

Faith is acting on the knowledge that when someone opens up to me, it is not my job to "fix" that person. It is not my job to fix that person's problem. It is not my job to worry and nitpick over how/when that person is ever going to change.

It is not my job to offer a solution. Why not? --> Because any solution I offer is a solution based on *my* experiences, *my* vision, *my* thought patterns, *my* emotions. The solution that I consider so clear and so right might be completely wrong if applied to the other person's life.

Faith is acting on the knowledge that God has a plan for the other person. Faith is acting on the knowledge that God has a "time schedule" for the other person, and that is *not* the time schedule that *I* would set. And this is The Way It Should Be.

My job is to make myself vulnerable and submissive to God's-will / God's-precepts / the-relationship-laws-God-has-set-up-for-his-universe.
My job is to let that will / those precepts/laws change me from the inside out.
My job is to ask questions in order to help others figure out what their worldview really is.
My job is to help others get to know who the Being is who set those precepts/laws in motion. The other humans' reaction to that Being is entirely up to them.

Getting Things Done, and other importantnesses

So, in the interest of bragging, I'd like to direct your attention here, so that you might ooh-aah over How Much I Have Gotten Done since the recent posting of my to-do list.

Yes, I am tooting my own horn, and I am liking it, thank you very much.

*toot*

*toot*

*grin*

I am a geek.

On a more serious note, there is something on that to-do list that I would like to report is now going better. Two somethings, actually. The first is that I have gone running twice a week for the last three weeks. It hasn't been easy--actually, it has been mostly frustrating and demoralizing as I see how much stamina I lost by not running for two months. Six running sessions, and I still can't go as far or as fast as what I was doing when I quit in November.

That's the first time I've called it what it was: quitting. I quit for two months. I hadn't been able to admit that to myself until now.

I soooooooooooooo badly want to get back to what I was doing before I quit. I had been so encouraged by the progress I'd made; it's not easy for a former heart patient to build up the kind of stamina that comes naturally to most people. And by quitting, I sabotaged myself. I tend to do that with a lot of things--too many to go into right now. But I often wonder if I subconsciously believe that I don't deserve for good to come my way, and so I sabotage myself so as to avoid the good I believe I don't deserve?

Possibly. But that is another story and shall be told another time. ;o)

Anyway, the point is that I WANT to work hard and build back up my to pre-November stamina...and then I want to go further. I am competing against no one but myself, which might make my challenge more difficult.

On the other hand, I ***looooooooooooove*** challenge. Bring it on!

The second "to-do" is that I've been listening to God a lot more lately. Things finally came to a head several weekends ago, when I found myself in so much pain--mental and emotional--that I simply had to drop everything and go to God. I'm sorry I let myself go so far that hitting rock-bottom like that was necessary. But hit the bottom I did, and from there, I had nowhere to go but up.

I don't want to go into details, because really, they're not important. What matters is that for about seventeen hours, I couldn't see or talk to anyone (except Ed, since (a) he lives with me and (b) he got to experience the full force of my emotional-fallen-apart-ness). I talked to God a lot, but I couldn't bring myself to go out and see anyone else. It feels a little weird to say, but my need to spend time with God was so great, I couldn't bring myself to attend a Sunday morning worship service. I was so desperate for God, I wanted no other humans with me, not even other Christians. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but that's how it was.

By Sunday evening, I had regained enough peace to worship with the house church and immerse myself gladly in that fellowship. Since then, I feel as though I've started being a little more aware of God's presence in my life. My relationship with God still isn't anywhere near where it should be--but I think there is healing going on, like a medicine deep inside, working where nobody but God can see. This isn't the first time in my life that I've experienced this healing; one would think I would have remembered that there's a reason he is called the Great Physician.

Hey, remember the song we used to sing when we were kids?

"He's still workin' on me
to make me what I ought to be...
How loving and patient he must be..."

Why do we ever stop singing that song? It's a lot more relevant for adults than it is for children.

why you don't have enough money...and more important things

I just read this great quote about financial wisdom, so I thought I'd share it here:

"While your job doesn't necessarily need to be your dream job, you need to enjoy it. If you choose a job you don't like just for the money, you'll likely spend all that extra cash trying to relieve the stress of doing work you hate."
--Jeffrey Strain
"10 (More) Reasons You're Not Rich"
thestreet.com


I believe this is one reason so many people

shop to make themselves feel better
buy stuff they don't need
own stuff they never use
want more and more stuff
have credit card debt
can't get rid of their stress
feel as though they're stuck in a life they don't want
etc.

God built certain skills, talents, abilities, and passions into each of us. I believe that most humans do things with their lives that don't accord with their skills, talents, abilities, and passions. And I believe that's why so many people are so miserable (aside, of course, from the fact that many don't have God in their lives in the first place): They have chosen a life that doesn't correspond with what God has designed into them individually.

What are your dreams? What are your passions? Whatever they are, God has built them into you, and he has provided you with right ways to follow them. (*Right* by his definition, not according to human standard.) He has created you in his image: He followed his passions by creating the universe and all the diverse life in it, he wants you to follow your passions, too.

important kilometerstone

Ten years ago right now, Ed and I were sitting in Chili's (for my German readers: it's a sort of Tex-Mex restaurant), eating supper. We had just left our wedding reception and gone to our hotel, only to realize that we'd had nothing to eat but cake and punch since lunch. (It would be years, however, before we realized that we were poets and didn't know it.) Figuring that the rest of the, er, evening would go better if we had something to eat, we took refuge at Chili's--Ed in his tux, I in my blue evening gown.

It's weird to think that we've been married ten years. I don't feel old enough to have been married ten years! I remember being a teen and thinking that people who'd been married this long seemed really old--not in a decrepit sense, but so much wiser and more sophisticated than I.

I guess I don't feel wise or sophisticated enough to have been married ten years.

Whatever that means. ;o)

It hasn't been ten years of so-called "wedded bliss." I don't believe such a thing exists. We've had our troubles, our infuriatings, our upsets, our hair-rip-outs. There've been times neither of us was happy.

Such is marriage.

Is it worth it?

Beyond doubt, it is.

Last Sunday, Rob preached a sermon about marriage, and he said something that I think might be the most significant statement about human relationships I have ever heard:

God designed marriage not so much to make us happy as to make us holy.

Marriage has taught Ed and me patience, self-sacrifice, respect, mercy, compassion, honor, courage, exhilaration, commitment. Perhaps we could have learned these elsewhere--and perhaps not. Perhaps God knew that we needed each other and our shared experiences in order to learn these things.

And there's more to learn. There are more *new* things to learn (especially if/when we have kids!). We're not finished--we've barely scratched the surface, chipped the tip of the iceberg, shaved the top layer off the cliche. ;o)

Ten years is but a small step (my grandparents celebrated 68 this August!). I hope and pray that God will bless us with at least ten more years of life, so that we can take another step. Another ten after that, another step. I'm thankful that Ed will be at my side for as many steps as God wants us to take.

I love you, honey!

a first something! yay!

So on Saturday, Ed and I were driving south on Penn, when we passed the Village Library. I don't remember what I asked him about it or what he replied, but the end result of the conversation was that we turned around, drove back to the library, parked the car, got out, walked in, spoke to the receptionist...

...and I got my first library card. *Ever*.

Gasp and egad, right? How in the name of all that's Good and True and Writable in this world have I, writer extraordinaire and ultimate bookworm, managed to go thirty-one years without having a library card? It's not as though I've never before patronized a library--it's just that my patronization took place on the Army base, and Daddy was the one with the card. Plus, until recently, I always insisted on owning whatever books struck my fancy instead of simply borrowing them. Ed and I laughed about the fact that of the two of us, *I* am the avid reader, but he's the one who's had a library card in every city he has ever inhabited.

Holy moments of irony, Batman.

So on Saturday, to celebrate my new status as library-card-holder, I checked out John Scalzi's "Old Man's War," which I've been wanting to read because Wil Wheaton made me curious, and Roger Zelazny's "Princes in Amber" series, which I read in high school and have been wanting to re-read for about ten years.

Me happy. Like clam. End proverb.

Currently, I'm reading "The War of the Flowers" by Tad Williams, a copy of which I picked up at Barnes & Noble, where I went on Friday to console myself after Hobby Lobby didn't have the button-making-kit I was looking for.

It doesn't take a lot to make me happy. Really, it doesn't.

Yay, I can haz library bookz! Splendiforous!

transitional ruminations

I feel as though I'm overdue in penning some words about the cultural transition that Ed and I have been going through. To begin, I'd like to grace you with a top ten list that illustrates one of the frustrations that goes along with transitioning, namely, the fact that people often don't know what to say to us. (Please note that I am not angry over these utterances, but frustrated.)

Top Ten Things NOT To Say To Cultural Transitioners And Why
(in random order, though I have a particular dislike for #s 5 and 7)

1. How was your trip?
It wasn't a trip. It wasn't a vacation. It was my life. Please to be noticing the difference, thank you. ;o)

2. We've been praying for you to come back.
I think I know what you mean when you say that, and you might think that's a lovely sentiment. But when you say that, what I hear is that you've been praying for me to be separated from people and places I love. That's neither helpful nor encouraging.

3. You've got a lot of time on your hands now! You could (fill in blank with an activity or a job for which I have expressed no interest).
I didn't come back here with no plan of what I want to do with my life. This was not a spontaneous, frivolous decision. Much thought and prayer and planning went into it. Please don't assume I'm sitting around, bored, with nothing to do, just waiting for you to come rescue me with ideas that would make *you* happy.

4. Oh, you were in XLand? I was in XLand back in the '70s....XLanders are so (fill in the blank with a prejudice you developed while you were over there for two years 30 years ago).
Please don't assume your experiences were my experiences. Also, please refrain from telling me, based on your few months' experience, what the people of my homeland are like. Not to be snotty, but I do believe I know them better than you do.

5. Adjusting? Oh, give it a couple of months, you'll be fine.
I see. And the last time you went through cross-cultural reentry was...? Oh, you've never left your home state? Ah.

6. It's so good to have you back. I don't know why anyone would want to leave here in the first place.
(Okay, so nobody has said these words to me directly....but the implication is all over the place.) Well, probably because God created a whole, huge, interesting planet that I want to know about, not just a single continent.

7. I bet you're proud to be back.
I'm sorry, but I don't even know what that statement means.

8. It's good to have you back.
Why? You've never had more than two or three conversations with me. You don't know me. How could my presence possibly signify in your life one way or the other?
(Note: This truly applies only to those who haven't made an effort to get to know the returnee. If you do know me, and if you have made the effort, it is definitely heart-warming to hear you say that you're thankful for my being here!)

9. Aren't you glad to be back?
Yes. No. Maybe. Sometimes, the answer changes from one hour to the next. If you're not prepared to listen to an answer you don't really want to hear, please don't ask.

10. We're so glad to have you home.
This isn't my home. For one thing, I didn't grow up here. From that perspective, I haven't lived in my "home" for 12 years. For another, I spent the last 6 years building relationships and planting roots somewhere far removed from here. This isn't my home. This is your home. On this earth, I don't have a home. And actually, I'd like it to stay that way.

11. Unspecified.
Open to anyone who wants to share some of their own experiences of being on the receiving end of remarks of this sort, as well as dealing graciously with them. I don't always. Especially when it's stuff like #s 5 and 7. ;o)


Looking over the last 8 months (we have been here over 8 months--that is so weird), I can see a lot of lows, a lot of highs, a few plateaus, and some banged-up knees and elbows as we've tripped and fallen and sprawled flat on our faces and gotten back up again. I say "we" because Ed and I both have dealt with our share of spiritual and emotional scrapes and bruises...but really, I'm talking about my own transition here. Cross-cultural reentry is an intensely personal experience (which is what makes it so difficult to describe to anyone who has never experienced it), so each person's is different.

My lowest point so far was Earlyapril through mid-May. The bathtub incidents kind of set off the depression--but if it hadn't been the bathtub, it would've been something else. But I've had help. Help from a wonderful, loving God, who has sent wonderful, loving people into my life and placed me in loving, wonderful communion with them. I've had help through open, honest, in-depth conversation. I've had help through "The Artist's Way" (by Julia Cameron--THANK YOU, GAIL!!!), which is opening my eyes more and more to what it truly is that God created me to be. I've had help through a loving, wonderful, commiserating husband, who has actively grown with me even as he deals with his own transition issues.

I feel very blessed. I not only feel it, I *am* it, and I live it. I hesitate to say that I am learning to be content, since that is such a huge concept....but I think I am beginning to learn it. I am beginning to know why I am here, I am beginning to know what the next step could look like, and it's an unknown shape, but I'm excited about it instead of terrified. I feel as though I am unpacking my mind here, instead of merely unpacking cardboard boxes. I am beginning to travel light again, instead of schlepping around the misery of not knowing who I am. I am beginning to feel/see/hear reference points, reorient my inner compass, tune my inner self to the resonance of God's universe.

No matter what happens, I always know that eventually, I'll be at peace. Moving over here, finding myself in a low spot of sadness and depression, I knew that eventually I'd be at peace.

It's nice that at-peace is starting to happen again.

for my artist friends...

...and anyone else with whom this resonates.

An Artist's Prayer

O Great Creator,
We are gathered together in your name
that we may be of greater service to you
and to our fellows.
We offer ourselves to you as instruments.
We open ourselves to your creativity in our lives.
We surrender to you our old ideas.
We welcome your new and more expansive ideas.
We trust that you will lead us.
We trust that it is safe to follow you.
We know that you created us
and that creativity is your nature
and our own.
We ask you to unfold our lives
according to your plan, not our low self-worth.
Help us to believe that it is not too late
and that we are not too small or too flawed
to be healed--by you and through each other--
and made whole.
Help us to love one another,
to nurture each other's unfolding,
to encourage each other's growth,
and understand each other's fears.
Help us to know that we are not alone,
that we are loved and lovable.
Help us to create as an act of worship to you.

--Julia Cameron
in "The Artist's Way"

I cried when I read this.

"what is your glitch?" --"my glitch?"

Sometimes, I think my main problem is simply that I want to understand everything yesterday.

my transition meltdown. let me show you it.

I ought to be getting in bed right now. I've actually not been doing half bad about keeping to a regular sleep schedule lately. I'd hate to mess it up just because of a little case of RRRCS. Reverse Reverse Reverse Culture Shock. But as I was about to shut down the taplop, I realized I simply didn't want to go to sleep without blogging about this first.

Don't let the sun go down on your culture shock. Isn't that how the scripture goes?

Anyway...

I've been feeling edgy the last few days. Partially because of hormones--I'll spare you those details. But even if it is hormone-related, that doesn't make the emotions any less valid.

So. Edginess. Still, okay. Then came a couple of phone calls yesterday. Well-meant, and ordinarily not something I'd react to adversely. But I came away from them feeling inadequate, untrustworthy, weak, and foolish (notably, not by the callers' doing). I don't need to say that this did nothing to take the edge off the edge. So I won't say it.

Today, I got an email from our dear friend Elsa, reporting on the latest ETM class that took place last week. And there was a photo, too. Not only that, but there was a meeting over the past weekend for *all* the ETM participants *ever*.

I took one look at that photo, read the first line of Elsa's email, and promptly started bawling.

I should have been there, was what I was thinking. I wanted to be there. Desperately. But I couldn't be there. And I suddenly felt like I was wholly and irrevocably in the wrong place.

Shortly thereafter, I called my parents to talk about something totally unrelated, ended up misunderstanding something Daddy said and getting upset all over again, and then bawling to both him and Mama. Later, Jennifer came for coffee, and I bawled to her. Then Isaac arrived, and I bawled to him, too.

By the time Ed got home, I was all cried out. Besides, just seeing him made me feel better. Later, Jennifer and I went for a walk and a talk, and that helped a lot, too.

I don't *really* think I'm in the wrong place. I'm not *truly* dissatisfied with where I am in life and why and whatnot. That might be how I feel right now, but I know it's not so. The feelings are valid, but they aren't a reflection of reality. They're simply part of the transition process.

So eventually, I'll be okay. Today was just a rough day. I've known for awhile it was coming. But, like the day I cried in Buy-for-Less, I didn't expect it on a particular day. It's impossible to predict what will trigger it.

Tomorrow evening, I'm supposed to substitute teach a Ladies' Class. On personal evangelism. You know, that thing I did fulltime in Chemnitz. That thing I believe is part of the definition of "Christian." I hope I can get through the class. With God's help, I know I can. But only if I let him take care of the transition-emotions. And I'm not sure I'm ready to let go of them and let him, yet.

Blech.

I don't like this.

I think I might do some painting this week.

That's all. I feel better now. :o)

something to chew on

I found this quote that I'd scribbled down somewhere. I have no idea who said it, but it's an excellent thought.

The worst thing that could happen to you is that you go to your grave a respectable fraud who spent your entire life worrying that someone would find out, but you ignored the only one who saw it all.

an 'i am' poem

message to a friend who was


i am penitent and hopeful

i wonder if i will ever be able to ask your forgiveness
i hear a voice whispering discouragement into my heart
i see myself speaking to you of my sin
i want to assure you that i desire nothing of you
i am penitent and hopeful.

i pretend no more
i feel myself growing beyond the confines of who i was
i touch the places in my past that hurt
i worry that you resent me
i weep not, though: for
i am penitent and hopeful.

i understand that i cannot fix this
i say these things to you because i must
i dreamt i was not prideful, but i have awakened to what’s real

i remember our laughter

i hope i will one day have the honor of asking your forgiveness

meanwhile
i am penitent

and hopeful.


The above text © 2007 by Courtney Weger Cantrell.

a thought

"Every majestic oak tree was once a nut who stood his ground."

--Author Unknown


I'm a nut. What are you?
;o)