by Liz | Aug 16, 2005 | main
Use words only when necessary…. St. Francis of Assisi.
These words ran all over me while visiting the Franciscan Monastery in Kinnebunkport ME early one evening in July. We were walking the grounds with another couple (my husband’s cousin and his wife), and the questions began to flow.
She said – “I’m not sure what this is.” as we approached the outdoor Stations of the Cross.
“It’s the Stations…” I answered. But, as she didn’t know what that meant, we started with “It tells the story of the crucifiction.”
We walked around the stations, giving the general idea of each as the story unfolded. And then he says – “But I don’t understand why they wanted to kill him.” and I begin to sweat inside a bit as I try to find the words to express what I believe – without being preachy, or talking down or assuming more background than was there.
But more than that I felt another struggle. On the surface, these folks were asking questions about the Catholic Church. But, I couldn’t shake the idea that what needed saying was something that spoke to Faith, and Love and spirituality that underpins these traditions. And then again, maybe the questions just were the ones about the practices and traditions and stories. I didn’t want to head off in a direction on my own. I tried to listen and respond to the questions asked. I tried not to be so surprised that someone that I think was baptized as a Catholic could grow up without some of the basic ideas of the Church (but I was later informed that his family didn’t really go to church except with gramma on holidays).
And, I’m not sure what was going thru JP’s mind. He explains things succinctly and efficiently. I never detect what feelings might be underneath the words. But that’s another issue, for another day, and far out of reach of anything I would put in a public place.
I’m home now — it was a lovely evening in spite of being skeeter food. I’m still praying and discerning. Do I send a Bible and a note suggesting that he read through the New Testament and see if he can figure it out for himself? I’m not sure. I do know that I want to keep the dialog open. If these are seekers, then I want to help open doors.
For now, I’m reading Henri Nouwen’s “Life of the Beloved” – which I found on the bookshelf last night. I think it might just guide me to some answers.
And perhaps I can find those words when they are needed.
by Liz | Jun 2, 2005 | main
I’ve been thinking about this — I want to live life to the fullest (isn’t that the promise of Jesus?). But, I have to get along with others as well — you know, the live in community bit. And so, I wonder “At what point do I decide that a situation or a relationship that isn’t bad, just OK, is OK?”
Last night we had a mass for 3 deceased loved ones of some of the members of our local Cursillo community. It was at the larger of the 2 Catholic Churches in the area. I am a parishioner at the other. The music was borderline passable – they stuck a list of songs under my nose at the last minute, and said “can you lead these?” – Had I known ahead of time, I could have brought my guitar and done a very presentable job of it. The homily was pleasant – nothing to argue with. But, as nice as the pastor is, he just doesn’t get under my skin like our pastor. He didn’t get my attention. I had to work hard to find something I could use. He wasn’t bad. I just wanted a bit more “meat” as it were. A bit of something that I could take home and try to live.
And so I sat there, listening carefully. It dawned on me that I have grown to the point where I could go back to that parish if it were the only alternative. I wouldn’t find it easy to feel well fed, but I wouldn’t be totally starved either. It would be ok. Why is this growth? Because of past events, there was a period of a couple of years where I couldn’t force myself inside the doors. But that’s for another time.
And so it goes. I’m still trying to discern some other situations and relationships where I have to decide that the compromise is OK. From where I sit, it doesn’t look like it will get much better. But, it’s not so bad that I have to avoid it. Or, are there cases where I have to dust off my sandals, and launch out in a new direction?
Sometimes it causes me to wish for more clarity. But for now – OK is OK.
by Liz | May 31, 2005 | main
We are all “other people” it seems. You know the feeling – something unsettling, unnerving, down right wrong happens to you or someone you care about, and you think to yourself “This can’t be happening! This kind of stuff happens to other people.” And then the realization hits: I am other people.
There have been huge chunks of time where I have wondered “Why? Why me?” I survived an alcoholic father. I’ve spent time in AlaTeen programs, six weeks in ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics). I’ve been diagnosed and treated for anxiety-depression. I’ve taken the medications and I still take advantage of counselling. Why?
Some of the “why” must be to learn to forgive. One has to practice forgiving. It gets easier the more you practice. Jesus was on to something huge when He said (and I quote loosely here) “Forgiving 7 times is just the start. You have to forgive 70 times 7.” By the time you get to 70×7, forgiving is a way of life. Just as my hope is that God continues for forgive me 700×70… and more.
Practicing forgiving — someday maybe I’ll master it, but I’ve got a ways to go — also teaches compassion. It also reminds me that I am not judge and jury. My task on earth is to love, not judge. Actually, life is a lot easier that way. I can leave the results in the hands of Mother God.
So – what brought on this little treatise? In the past week I’ve been made aware of 2 people who have floundered into a drug addiction. Both from families and communities where you just wouldn’t expect it. Both people I know. Both now walking the road to recovery. And, I find that I have learned something: I can listen and not judge. I know that it’s OK to just be there so that someone doesn’t have to walk through the trials alone. If I am a part of the Body of Christ, then I am called to community and that means that nobody need be alone in the pain. We all suffer in different ways, and mine might be hard just because it’s mine – and yours will be difficult for you, because it’s yours. And we just don’t need to be alone.
And sometimes, that means realizing that “I am other people!”
by Liz | May 6, 2005 | main
Within the Cursillo context, this would be titled “Let go and let God” instead of “Letting Go.” It seems this is one of the core messages I’m hearing right now. The previous post on Forgiveness is on aspect of letting go – forgiving involves facing reality and letting go of parts of it. When I have been successful at forgiving, I’ve had to accept the hurt and then let go of it – to look beyond it. Forgiving is necessary – because then I am no longer forced to expend the emotional energy required to remain in a state of anger. Hanging on to that is so draining that I get to a place of no energy at all.
Five years ago our home burned – to rebuild required taking the structure down to bare studs and bare concrete (the house is on a slab); The cats escaped – no one else was home so nobody was hurt. We even managed to salvage most of the picture albums which, by the grace of God were in closed cabinets, down low in the other end of the house from the start of the fire. It was alarmingly easy to “let go” – because it was “just stuff.” And, I didn’t have to do the hard work of deciding to let go as I do when I opt to clean out the closets. It was like forgiving in some respects – in the current incarnation of the house a few walls are moved, and the light switches are in different places. At times, when I’m on auto-pilot, I still reach for a light switch in the old location… just like sometimes I revert to old emotional patterns and old fears and old anger. But, now, I can stop, laugh at myself and embrace the new location of the light switch. And so, in this process of “letting go” and forgiving, there are times when I have to step back, laugh at my shortcoming and embrace the new.
by Liz | May 3, 2005 | main
I took the 4-Apr-2005 America with me when I took Dan to the doctor yesterday and came across a couple of articles that hit really close to home. One of these was “Iraq’s Urgent Need for A Reconciliation Ethic” where I found these words:
In the Old and New Testaments, reconciliation means “restoration of right relationship.†The Christian tradition emphasizes restorative practices of healing, repentance and forgiveness between individuals. Now John Paul II is advocating these for collectivities: nations, civilizations and the church itself.
Yes – nations need reconciliation, just as each of us needs it. Perhaps that can only be understood by practicing it ourselves as individuals.
When I started counselling several years ago I was presented with the idea that I had to forgive. Well, duh! I thought I knew that. In the intervening time, I’ve had the opportunity to practice forgiveness and reconciliation again and again and to grow in peace from the experience. It seems I don’t always welcome these “opportunities” but I’m always much more whole and at peace after I recognize and tackle them.
One of the most difficult parts for me is the remembering and naming of hurts. To forgive is not to forget. To forgive is to remember and make peace so that the remembering no longer causes the pain but helps me to look beyond. I don’t like confrontation. I hate confrontation. I don’t really like the sorting and identifying that goes with getting to the bottom of why I am angry/scared/hurt. I don’t like looking it in the face. But, then, I really do like the results of facing down a hurt or fear, forgiving, making peace and moving on- usually much closer to person I had the problem with in the first place.
And then, perhaps I can gain the courage to stand my ground and insist that my country be reconciled with other nations. That my nation must reconcile with itself. Then, and only then will the world move toward peace instead of just trying to squelch conflict.
The article talks about the healing (not complete, but a part of it) that comes of telling the story of the hurt. In South Africa the Truth Commission helped people through this by giving a forum so that the hurts could be named and then dealt with. It seems to me that Iraq will need to do the same. And for me, the sacrament of Reconciliation functions that way. I take myself to the sacrament to help to name both the hurtful things that I am responsible for and to name the hurts I perceive as being inflicted on me. It helps me both to ask forgiveness for what I have done and to seek reconciliation no matter who is the culprit.
Life is just to short to spend all that energy stoking the fires of revenge and generating more hurt. Life is too short to spend the time feeling miserable about where I have failed. Life requires that I make amends where I can and then move on without the baggage. I don’t manage to live up to this wonderful ideal as much as I would like, but still – I must try because life is too short to waste it hauling the baggage around.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
by Liz | Apr 24, 2005 | main
Well – no. I just got in from a Cursillo closing. While we were waiting I was talking with a friend who asked about the recent trip to Paris… “Was it good? Did you journal while you were on the trip?”
I took my journal (the paper one), but I didn’t ever sit down to reflect and write. It would have been good to do so. If I had there are several things that might have been covered in more depth:
- I could have done more with “prophets in your face? or you in your own face?”
- I could have waxed eloquent about the joy of hearing my 20-something daughter talk about how she seems to have influenced her fiance to understand that when you receive something you have to “give something back.” Oh – the joy that knowing that something about her upbringing “took” – that she picked that up.
- There are things that I discuss with my friend and confessor that will never make it to this forum. What is likely to make it, however is that he shines a light that reminds me that I am loved, just as I am.
- I could have written more clearly my thoughts about the windows at St. Chappelle – the ones for Judith and Esther. Strong women with their stories told in gorgeous stained glass
- Or my immediate reactions to the beautiful witness that JP II made in his way of dying with dignity and his seeming fearless facing that death.
But, I didn’t. That means that I pick up pen or keyboard and resolve to carry on now and in the future. It certainly helps to explain myself to myself. Just the act of trying to capture the feelings and thoughts in words. The act of sorting and organizing these randoms flashes of insight into a more cohesive whole. Like I’m doing now in some fashion.
Peace.
