by Liz | May 3, 2010 | main
I grew up loving trips to the Gulf Coast… cross the state line into Florida and I get a feeling of HOME — and odd, deep, excitement. As a child and later a teenager, 20 something and young mother I could stay at the beach, playing in the surf and watching the waves for an eternity. My soul rests when I look out at the Gulf.
In 1977 I was a part of the scientific crew on the Machias (research vessel from the University of Miami) to do baseline studies of the Gulf prior to opening it up to oil exploration and drilling. Due to an accident, we came in to port a week early to drop off our injured worker, only to discover that the Bureau of Land Management had decided to pull all of our funding. When we got off the boat a week later, we had no jobs. And, more importantly, there would be no hard data to show what the ecology and environment in the Gulf of Mexico had been like prior to drilling. If you can’t show what was there before, it is really difficult to prove that there has been great damage. That’s politics and law.
Today I find myself grieving. I drive a car, so I’m a part of the problem. Granted, one of our cars is a hybrid (Prius); Helps with gas mileage. Still, I grieve. The damage assessment from this leaking well only seems to get worse by the hour. I hope I live to see the recovery. I pray that God will guide the hearts and minds of those who must try to stop the hemorrhaging oil well and lead them to a solution. I look in horror at the pact with the devil that humankind has made to satisfy our need for energy – coal and oil…
Yes, I’m distressed. And trying to figure out how to help straighten the mess out (without making things worse). Forgive us, Father — we really don’t know what we are doing.
by Liz | Apr 26, 2010 | main
Can’t decide what is most in my mind today… making note of how my latest pass at following the South Beach diet is going, or making note of the the connectedness of all of creation. I think I’ll indulge myself and begin with the former.
This is day 1 of week 2 of Phase One of South Beach. That’s the stage that gets well and truly BORING – lean meat, veggies (but no carrots or sweet potatoes), no fruit, no bread or other starchy items. No Sugar. Lots of lowfat cheese, lots of eggs. And, of course, I seem to be losing less than hoped in this initial stage. Drat!
With that out of the way, I’m remembering the joys of “eating right.” When I’m noticing that I’m hungry, I am. Not the crashy, GOT TO EAT NOW AND FAST hungry, but still hungry. Most of the sensation of an overfull abdomen is gone. I sat on the bed last night to watch my 2 Sunday shows and discovered that I could do so without pain – without reflux. Joy!
And this morning in Zumba, I found myself doing far more of the jumping jack type moves, more hops, more of everything. Woohoo! The goal of having the jeans get looser is accompanied by the desire to do all of the Zumba class without pause and to enjoy it even more than I do now. It’s coming along slowly.
To get to the heart of it all, I’m looking at this as a way to facilitate ditching that extra layer of protection I carry around almost like another person. Gotta get rid of that. Gotta be just me. It is all a part of that Journey to Myself that I am on. It’s a part of finding the “me” that exists whether I work at the library or work from home or don’t even work at all. It a part of finding the “me” that is the same whether I’m daughter or sister or mother or grandmother. It’s learning to listen to the quiet, still voice that assures me that the person hiding in here is loved without having to earn it — and being willing to let her out.
I’ve been at this part of the spiral before… it seems good to find myself at this part of the circular path once more only a bit closer to the center.
by Liz | Apr 24, 2010 | main
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.
by Liz | Apr 8, 2010 | main
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.
by Liz | Mar 29, 2010 | main
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!
