by Liz | Apr 7, 2008 | main
This morning I came up against some feelings that I had been avoiding or ignoring or just pushing aside. The moment offered me a first chance at examining where I am, where I might want to be, and what I am willing to do to try to get there.
Are there those folks in your life that make you feel like you are walking on eggshells? Or someone that you know absolutely must have complete control or there will be fireworks? Yeah – I suspect you know them. I certainly do.
And so, I’m looking again at where I begin (and the other ends) – where the boundaries are and trying to find the real issues. At some level I have to respect the other person’s need for control. At some level I also have to accept the fact that it is the other person’s issue and only work on the part that I own.
OK – so much for generalizing. It was suggested that I could work as a two-person team with someone else. My gut screamed “Not on your life!” When that happens, I have to figure out why. I came up with: 1) I really hate conflict 2) There would be conflict in this situation 3) I don’t want to cave on something I care deeply about 4) This could really wind up being a turf war 5) The other person probably doesn’t even realize that I am affected this way 6) Is it possible for me to let God be in control and not fight this battle all by myself? 7) Maybe not – if possible, I’ll pass on this cup, Lord, thank you very much.
There’s a lot of comfort in just having the discussion with myself. And then having the discussion with a trusted friend. And, then having the discussion with Jesus. Even if I haven’t reached a resolution, I’ve at least looked face-to-face with the situation, and I can start to let go a bit.
It seems I’ll be doing my most recent notable penance for the rest of my life. That would be the one where I am to stay with the problem, and hold within me the opposites that seem irreconcilable.
by Liz | Apr 6, 2008 | main
The dogwood is associated by legend with the crucifixion: the cross and the crown of thorns in the center.
When I was a child, my mother had some trees planted, and one that survived for several decades was My Dogwood. As I understand it, I followed the workmen around and asked questions and generally got in the way. But, they planted my dogwood. And it grew and thrived and looked out over the hill that was our front yard. It was My Dogwood.
We moved but my grandmother lived in that house. And, I can remember, even as a teenager and a 20-something going to visit my dogwood. After my grandmother died, and the house was sold and moved, the tree continued to watch over the new road that ate up much of the former front yard. The lot was empty, but it stayed and kept watch.
Needless to say, when that corner property was sold off for commercial development, and my dogwood was a victim of the site work, a piece of my heart went with it. Now, instead of a graceful, aging dogwood, there sits a parking lot for a chain drug store. Ouch!
Today, I noticed that it seems every dogwood in town has bloomed. The streets are lined with the shining white blooms. The azaleas are in bloom as well, and the contrast of the brilliant pink and the white of the dogwoods is stunning.
Maybe I can remember that just as the crucifixion allowed the Resurrected Christ to be brought into the world, each spring can bring the renewal of life – the blooms, the color, the sound of the birds – and be thankful for my dogwood that helped me grow in the awareness of all of Creation’s glory.
Amen.
by Liz | Apr 6, 2008 | main
Susan relates the story of today’s gospel so well, I’ll send you there for that summary. And I’ll take up her challenge to reflect on what keeps me from being able to see that Jesus is with me.
How many small walks to Emmaus do we make? I’m brought back to the refrain of the song I quoted the other day:
Walk with me, talk with me
Tell me about all the good things you’ve seen
Stay with me, pray with me
Leave all your blues in your shoes at the door
Almost every Wednesday morning at breakfast, I find myself back in the room seeing Jesus among us as we share coffee and breakfast. We walk through our week, we share what we have seen or done, we pray, we sit together and it’s like Emmaus all over again: Suddenly we see Jesus among us. We see where God was present in everyday events. And then we are ready to set out on our day with new eyes and renewed hope.
So, what keeps my eyes blinded during so much of the rest of the week? It seems that when I feel the hurts or find myself in situations that confuse me and make me feel small and scared and angry then my tendency to withdraw sets in. If I can sit with the feelings and step back just a bit and listen to them, just like the friends they ultimately are, I can learn what they have to say to me. I can learn to accept. And, I can allow myself to see God in the situation. It involves work, true – at least the work involved in taking the time to sit and reflect.
There we go! Back to our Lenten theme at church this year: Listen — Reflect — Receive
I think I’ll quit now before the babbling gets out of hand.
by Liz | Apr 5, 2008 | main
I just got back from making a run down to Holy Trinity where the men’s Cursillo is in progress. Amanda and I took off early, had a great breakfast at the IHOP, got caught in traffic, and finally made it to the retreat house in time to hear the sounds of the men singing at mass. That sound always puts me into a grand space – I love it.
Holy Trinity is Holy Ground. I’m not sure what it is about the place. I do know that the minute I cross into the grounds, the universe shifts. Holy Ground. I’ve felt that way since I got to go over as a college student. I felt that way when I made my Cursillo. I felt that way when I went for Sr. Josepha’s funeral and for the 25th anniversary celebration for the Cursillo movement in this diocese… and the many times I’ve been as a team member and on retreat. I know it’s Holy Ground, despite the fact that our friend Nick died there at the 15th station a few years ago…
And so, I got my dose of hugs and smiles and thoughtful but quick sharing from my friends. Nothing to deep, but also the kind of morning that grounds me in the joy of Christian Community.
De Colores!
by Liz | Apr 3, 2008 | main
There’s a song that we used to use for mass (back during the days of the original Glory & Praise). I suppose it got ditched because it was deemed “not liturgically appropriate” – but it meant alot then, and it still calls to memory a lot of how I see life as a Christian. I think it might have been by Joel Zigray, but I’m not sure:
I was a child once, I know it
My mother has pictures to show it
But she always knew I’d outgrow it
I guess that’s what pictures are for.
Walk with me, talk with me
Tell me about all the good things you’ve done
Stay with me, pray with me
Leave all your blues in your shoes at the door
I have many pictures of myself and my siblings as children. I have even more pictures of my own children. And my granddaughter is a well photographed child. But what do I see in those pictures? I see far more innocence that I possess now. When I am around my children now, so often I catch a glimpse of those children in the photos – in the moments when they let their guard down, when they laugh or when they are thoughtful. That beautiful child is still there.
Is that how God sees me? When I relax and let myself be me, does that child finally shine through again? Does the me that is loved just because I am show her face?
When we take the time to walk and talk and listen to someone we have a chance to see that child again. To stay and pray with someone can often have the effect of leaving those blues behind.
So – as I celebrate the 26th anniversay of my 29th birthday, I think I’ll try to spend some time walking and talking, staying and praying, and remembering those kid pictures.
