by Liz | May 1, 2008 | main
Throughout the Easter Season I’ve been following the Acts of the Apostles as they begin to spread the Word. It strikes me as a book detailing how these new Christians learned what they should do now that they were new Beings. They are sharing what they have seen, but the road isn’t so clear. They argue amongst themselves as each one begins to see a piece of the story. But with prayer, they resolve a lot of the issues.
Not a bad model for right now.
I’m involved in some tense, intense discussions about the directions for a website I work on. There are 4 parties in the discussion right now, each with a different view on how things work, what works, what should work and how to get things to work better. We all have somewhat different visions of what the site is or what we want it to be. Some are more different than others.
As we sort through this whole thing, I’ve had to do a lot of reflecting on my role and how I see the others. There have been times when I’ve found myself muttering “Lord, you better show yourself more clearly because I really can’t see you in X right now.” There is the “examination of self” to try to keep straight where something really matters and where my views are heavily colored by a turf war. There is the struggle to stay with it and not just blow off another person’s opinion in frustration. There has been the comfort of discovering that some parts of my vision are shared by one or more of the group.
We’ll continue to study the whole issue, I’m sure. We’ll continue to discuss it and learn from it. We’ll continue to look at the numbers and the patterns. We’ll learn more about what we are doing and why.
And, I pray that we will be able to act accordingly. Take a step. Move on. And proclaim our message.
If we begin with prayer and follow through, the road may be rough, but I believe that it will definitely move us in the right directly… Just like this Journey to myself.
by Liz | Apr 28, 2008 | main
I am at a conference for work and traveling with a fellow who works done the hall. Breakfast conversation turned to the Catholic Church (he was raised Catholic) and faith and rules, etc. At one point he remarked that he hasn’t been to church in years because if one disagrees with so many of the rules why go?
Where else would I go? I’ve thought about this as I struggle with the rules and whether I can abide by them, or must follow my own way. And I consider that rules and rulings have changed throughout history. But, it focused me once again on why I stay: I need the community.
While faith and prayer are intensely personal, and require a personal relationship with God, it seems that the example of how to live that is only truly found in community. The Trinity is God as community. The Church lives out the individual vocations of its parts as community. Human life (except in really bizarre, artificial circumstances) requires the input of 2 people to create a new person. All life on earth is dependent on the ecosystem – the interaction of all the parts and pieces to create the proper environment for life.
Where would I go? I can’t come up with a satisfactory answer to that. I have no inner call to be a Christian of any other ilk than my current status as Roman Catholic. And so I stay, as one of many parts in the this one body… and I’ll just have to take that One Body, complete with scrapes, scars, warts and rashes mixed in with beautiful eyes, hands that take care of others, strong legs and feet. I can only hope to be a part of the that body that can help with healing the parts that need it — and allow myself to be healed when I need it.
We are many parts, we are all one body.
by Liz | Apr 26, 2008 | main
I’ve heard it said, and I believe it: the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. Hate requires some sort of emotional connection and response. Indifference comes from being insulated from that sort of connection, it seems.
Today’s gospel begins:
Jesus said to his disciples:
If the world hates you, realize that it hated me first.
This makes me more than a little uncomfortable. First, the word “hate” is so strong. We fling the word “love” around so freely, sometimes it doesn’t hold the power of “hate.” I mean the word “love”, not actual Love. Love can be just as frightening as Hate. I’m not so brave about either of these.
And yet I can find some comfort in this passage. To be hated for the right reasons might mean I have done something right or at least tried to do the right thing. And Jesus repeatedly reminds us that we are not alone — the world hated Him first.
Several years ago, before I started writing here, I found that the more I struggled to come closer to God, the more negative response I got from a particular group within my [then] parish. Anonymous letters full of information about malformed consciences were not the least of the indications. Being informed that we couldn’t use “Gather Us in” as a hymn at mass because the 3rd verse (“Make us your bread, broken for others, shared until all are fed”) was heretical. (Go figure that one out) It’s hard to stand tall when your very being is being attacked. And, I hated back.
As I reflect on this, the message that finally comes through is one of support and comfort. Jesus was there, Jesus is there, Jesus went through this pain. I wasn’t alone – He knew these things would happen because He experienced them. And after being given a penance that involved offering every song I sang at mass as a prayer for those I felt were persecuting me (I did that for 7 months before I knew I had completed it), I was gifted with a change of heart in myself. I find that after many years, I still pray for those that I felt were persecuting me. I pray for them in their own walk with God.
I still don’t want to be hated. I don’t like being in these uncomfortable situations. But, at least I know I’m not alone.
by Liz | Apr 24, 2008 | main
Over the past week, the gospel repeated these words over and over. “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” And yet, even as I read them over and over, I realized that my insides were saying to me – “That’s wonderful. But, my heart IS troubled.”
Not troubled in a massive, overwhelming fashion. But, small waves of troubled. It’s always that way when I see my children (adult though they are) having a rough go of it. Not earth-shaking rough, just rocky, uneven ground that challenges them, and me, to be a bit more trusting. The kind of bumps in the road that let us know that we do walk by faith and not by sight.
If I, as a mother, have these troubled feelings when the road is not smooth for my offspring, I can only imagine how Mary must have felt as she watched her son follow his path that led to the cross. It makes me want to shout to God – “make it smooth for them! Let me take these trials for them!” And yet I know that each of us must walk the walk ourselves.
Over the past few days, as my daughter and I have talked through some of the things that are causing her stress, and discussed things that I still would probably hesitate to talk with my own mother about, it does strike me that we are drawing closer to each other. We are sharing. We are becoming a bit more of a community. In many ways, that is how I learn to listen to those words “Do not let your hearts be troubled” and begin to accept them in my heart.
I circle back to that prayer that seems to ground me always:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can
And the Wisdom to know the difference
by Liz | Apr 23, 2008 | main
I have a relative who keeps my inbox loaded up with all of the current chain mail and jokes that circulate around the net. I sometimes feel like I have my own personal spammer. Thing is, I usually at least look at every one of those emails, because I never know when there might be something really good in there.
A couple of days ago she sent one purporting to be a dog’s letter to God. I’m a dog lover. We share our house with a couple of miniature schnauzers that earn their keep by protecting us from the neighbor’s “evil yellow cat.” And so I did laugh my way through this “letter.” It was filled with observations and questions such as “if a dog barks its head off in the forest and there’s no human to hear it – is it still a bad dog?” It gave a list of what a dog must remember in order to be a good dog: “The garbage collectors are not stealing our stuff” and “The cat is not a squeaky toy.”
As I continue to chuckle over the dog’s observations, it brings to mind the expectations we put on each other and ourselves. All those things I am expected to do or not do for others to see me as good. Don’t laugh at the wrong time. Mind your manners. Don’t let anybody know how I really feel – especially if that flies in the face of how others see things right now.
And the expectations that we have for each other are no easier. In Acts, there is great disagreement going on because some (most?) expect that for a newcomer to be a Christian, that person must have gone through all the steps of becoming a Jew first.
As I follow Acts, in many ways I see it as the beginning of the journey from pushing “my expectations” to “accepting God’s expectations.” And, so often they are so different. We expect rules, God expects relationship. I expect the syllabus for the class so I can figure out what I have to do to pass, God expects me to come to class and live the experience. I expect a map and a schedule. God says “Walk with me, talk with me. It’ll be a great adventure.”
It seems I’ll just have to continue to learn to let go of my expectations, slow down and learn to be in the present without a syllabus, a map or a schedule.
by Liz | Apr 22, 2008 | main
It’s been a day. Started by spilling coffee on my shirt when I transferred it to the travel mug so I wouldn’t spill it. Change shirts. Load the dogs up to go to the groomer’s. Spill coffee from that stupid travel mug on shirt number 2. Get to the groomer’s, and Cooper manages to soak my pants with what’s left in that ever inefficient travel mug. Call work – I’ll be a few minutes late. Run home, change clothes (that shirt 3, pants 2) again. Get to work just before 8:30.
Give me patience Lord. I was so not at peace before 8:30 am. And work was not exactly a calming experience either.
Call me back, Lord. Remind me that You are the wind beneath my wings, that you are the Rock that I stand on. And most of all, help me slow down and take a minute to talk with You.
And yet, as twitchy and unfocused as I was, ocasionally I could hear those words:
Through all the tumult and the strife,
I hear the Music ringing
If Love is Lord of Heaven and Earth
How can I keep from singing?
I have been given many gifts in this life – music is one of my favorites. I’ve not been gifted with a glorious voice, but I can make my guitar sing. I hear music in my head. Music calms my soul. Music feeds me and gives me energy to go on. Some weeks, by Thursday, I’m ready to throw in the towel. And then we congregate at church for what passes for choir practice, and I am renewed.
It’s so amazing that God can find so many different ways to be present to us — if I just pay attention, I can see and hear Her. In people, in nature and in music.
How can I keep from singing?
