ReEntry
Lent: day 1
It’s one of THOSE days — where all the negative keeps pushing to the surface. All those issues I thought I had dealt with and put down keep trying to get back on board. It’s not like I can say I’m being persecuted for righteousness sake — that would be a lie.
That said, I’ll just go forward, one foot in front of the other. I will remind myself that Love is a decision that may or may not be accompanied by a good feeling. I will remind myself that emotions are not controllable — they are what they are and they often have something to tell me about where I am. But, they are not me. Let me say that again to myself: my emotions are not Me. They might be a part of Me, but they are not ME.
OK — so, maybe Day 2 will be a bit more smooth.
Conversation
In her post this morning, Maintaining Wide Boundaries, Susan reflects on the views of an Episcopal bishop on the belief that it is better to have a few heretics in church than to push people out. The goal is to keep people in dialogue and therefore keep alive the possibility of conversion and allow God’s love to work. And that conversion, to me, seems to be something that can happen on either or both sides of disagreement.
In the past, I have felt “pushed out.” In reality, I did move from one parish to another by my choice, but that choice was tempered by a strong, painful sense of being pushed to the door and having it held open for me. It was driven by a need to find a home where I felt welcomed, even when I wasn’t necessarily agreed with. In the long run, it was “a good thing” — and my new home opened many doors and paved the way for a deeper understanding of God’s love. Eventually, with this support, I could make my peace with the other community. I could be transformed and forgive. It took a long time, but seldom, it seems does real conversion happen in an instant. It is a process.
And process is what I see the Bishop talking about. I have watched and listened as members of my family, who are members of the Episcopal Church, have made their own way through the upheavals in their church. I am always impressed when I see them love their church, even when they are concerned. I see them struggle to understand the way that others live out their faith. They love their community, warts and all. They are transformed in their own struggle.
Thanks Susan — I needed to read this reflection this morning.
Who gets results?
Todays gospel (Mark 7:24-30) has always bothered me. It relates the story of a gentile woman, a mother, who begs Jesus to banish the unclean spirit from her daughter. And Jesus answers, initially, that it’s not right to give the food for the children to the dogs. After she pursues the request, stating that even the dogs get to eat the crumbs that fall at the children’s feet, he sends her on her way with the child having been healed.
This just doesn’t fit into my image of Jesus or God. Sorry. I know that God doesn’t have to fit my image, but really – this just strikes me as so far off the mark. Is it just showing that Jesus, too, was having to grow in understanding of God’s Love? Is it there to remind us that each one has the responsibility to point out truth to the powers that be? I don’t know.
What I do know is that it eats at me. This vignette forces me to look beyond simply because it seems so very wrong and out of place. Hence, I do ponder the idea that it could be illustration that everyone, even the Christ, must grow in God’s Love — that we don’t start with the full picture, and probably never have the full picture. I ponder whether it is meant [at least for me] as a reminder that instruction and insight can come from the most unexpected quarter. This woman was an outsider, a stranger, not one of the blessed, ordained bearers of Truth. And yet, she proclaims Truth – maybe from wisdom, maybe from desperation, maybe from selfishness. But, she fights for what she knows to be needed and knows to be True. And her child is saved.
I live in hope that I will both listen and speak when I know it has to be done.
Letting go…
Two weeks ago, I traded in the Miata for a far more practical, roomy Venza. I can now tote both my guitar and a passenger… I can handle more than a single passenger… it’s quiet inside (convertibles are not very quiet)… I can use my iPod in the car. And yet, despite all these good things, and the fact that nobody leaned on me to do it, the day after, I cried.
Breaking up is hard to do. Especially breaking up with a piece of yourself. My inner anguish gave me the chance to ponder: just what was I leaving behind? Why did it hurt? Just what was the problem with trading cars?
I enjoyed the relationship with my little red sports car. A Miata is not a ride that has “MOM” emblazoned down the sides. It lets you feel the road in a good way. It offers a sense of being in touch and controlling the trip. It speaks of a certain Joie de vivre! and freedom from reasonableness that I really need to be in touch with on a regular basis. So much of who I think I am is tied up in what I think others want and expect of me — I’m a wife, a mother and a grandmother, a church musician, a person who held essentially the same job for more than 25 years. My Miata let me break away from some of those expectations.
This is good to know about myself. After 2 weeks, and a day trip to Birmingham in the new ride, I’m really comfortable and pleased with it. It still feels over-large, true. But, now that I’ve had a chance to reflect on why it was so hard to move from the old to the new, I think perhaps I can keep some of myself that I found in the Miata and move on to something new without folding and feeling like I gave in to convention.
And, I no longer have a close up view of the lug nuts on an 18-wheeler as I make my daily rounds.