Comme çi, comme ça
Duct tape
Just because I don’t make myself post here, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking and praying. It is better for me when I do, because it forces me to focus and wrap words around the things that go on in my head and heart. Writing is clarifying. Writing is stepping into where I am and taking a long hard look. But, it is at times difficult. It shows me things that maybe I don’t want to know.
So, what does that have to do with duct tape? Duct tape is like “the Force” – it has a dark side and a light side and it holds the universe together. And that idea of two-edged swords has been on my mind of late as I transition from full-time, 8-5 employment into this place where I work on my own time and have to reset my schedules. This is a good thing. I find that I am enjoying it immensely. I find that I am much more at peace with myself and the world around me. I find that in many ways I am more productive (at least from my point of view). And, I find that I am concerned that maybe I’m not pulling my share of the load financially or that I have to shape up some of my spending habits. I have to rediscover what things I consider most important in my daily life and find the discipline to follow through with it.
All things in this world come with pluses and minuses. Food — required to live, but too much or too little is not healthy. Exercise – lifting weights builds muscle, but it does so by tearing some down and then rebuilding. Prayer — that one is a bit scary at times… because if I truly listen I am called to change, and don’t let anyone kid you – real change is dying and being reborn.
I think of my children and grandchildren. Each one is a separate, wonderful being. The one that has caused the deepest grief is the one who’s excitement and exuberance in living life can also bring the biggest smile. The one who had no friends at 12 has a circle of friends that circles the globe. The one that often baffled me because we learn so differently is now so close to my heart.
I’m back to duct tape — that shiny, slick side and the sticky white side. Very different, but inseparable — and one must accept both before it can do its work.
Henry
My friend died tonight – a little over an hour ago. When I got the call, I just knew. But, I think I knew when it happened. Earlier this evening, in the middle of what passes for choir practice at church, Henry suddenly loomed large in my head and my heart. I felt so strongly that I needed to pray for him.
Earlier today I called Henry. I had such a strong urging inside me to call him. He sounded bad – but he wanted to talk. We used to talk at work. Stand outside and solve problems, discuss philosophy and theology. And so, today we talked about general stuff and how all he wanted to eat was ice cream and fruit. It was a good talk, good sharing. I’m pretty sure at this point that I was open to the urging of the Holy Spirit when I made the call. I’m just as certain that at church the Spirit once again prompted me.
So, is this post about me or about Henry? Both and neither. I think it’s about being sad that my friend has moved on and it’s about that being for me a near occasion of grace. I find it far better to be aware and feel the pain than to be asleep and miss being a part of life.
Thank you God for Henry’s life. Thank you for allowing me to share a small piece of that life. And thank you for the prompting that led me to call and talk with him this morning.
Which Thief Am I?
Almost all gospel stories can call me to reflect on who I might be in the picture. Yesterday’s accounting of the crucifiction of Jesus from the Gospel of Luke causes me to wonder which thief I would have been: the wise, repentant one who accepted himself and asked “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom” or the the self-serving, angry one who didn’t accept his own failings and tried to get Jesus to save himself and save them as well? I’d really like to think I’m the one who came to his senses. I fear I am the one who just wanted another way out. Either way, I’m pretty sure I’m not Jesus in the center, giving everything for Love.
Walking through Holy Week, I’ll be pondering this idea. I come closer to grasping the gospel value of being servant and seeking the best for others. But, this pain thing, is hard. Granted, I delivered 3 children without the benefits of anesthesia – and did so by choice. But, the first time that choice was informed as much by a fear of the needle required for an epidural as much as the desire to feel, and live the process fully and to give my child the best start possible. For the other 2, I had discovered I could do it! And live! And recover quite nicely. Perhaps I can learn to face this idea of pain more openly after all. Then I can allow myself to see me as clearly as God sees me. And who knows where that can lead me?
De Colores!
Walking Through the Pain
Today’s readings have always been confusing to me: first there is the tale of the Israelites complaining about being in the desert with bad food, so God sends seraph serpents that bite them. The cure turns out to be raising the very cause of the bites, the serpent, up and gazing at it. ( Book of Numbers 21:4-9) — and the second is from the Gospel of John 8:21-30, where Jesus essentially indicates that we must look at him (and his suffering) to come to know God (I AM.)
Of late, it seems though, that begin to get a glimpse of understanding. For much of my life I have tried to sidestep those things that make me angry, to avoid the people and things that are hurtful. In retrospect, it really did me no favors. For that matter, it seems to have been at the root of my episodes with depression. The way out proved to be shining a light into those dark corners, looking closely at the monsters and basically walking through the fear and pain instead of pushing it aside or trying to bury it. The way to God seems to be by looking at and absorbing the cross in order to get to the Resurrection.
I’ll be pondering this as we are rapidly approaching Holy Week –Palm Sunday through the Cross to Easter.