by Liz | Nov 18, 2013 | main
I’ve been back stateside for 2 weeks now… the trite, but oh so true, feeling is “so long ago and far away, and yet, only yesterday.” I spent 5 weeks walking the 500 miles from St-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. My job, as it were, was to walk — walk about 15 miles (25km) every day with a pack on my back. To walk in rain and sun, heat and cold, light and darkness and to be present in every moment along the way. And, that way was marked by yellow arrows.
I smile when I think of those arrows. Sometimes they jumped out at you. Sometimes, they had to be sought out. You might find a yellow arrow on a street or a sidewalk, or the side of a building. You might find a yellow arrow on a bench, a rock, a wall or a lamppost… on a tree trunk or a stone marker. They showed The Way. And, if you hadn’t lost your way, it seems that a yellow arrow appeared just at that moment when you began to question if you were on the right road.
We missed a yellow arrow one morning in misty darkness. The way felt “not right” but since there were few, if any options for turning or not once we had veered off the path, it took us more than a kilometer to find the path ending in a field. Yup. We missed an arrow. By this time, there were 3 of us headed in the wrong direction. Nothing to do but climb back up the hill until we found an arrow. Oh, and then follow it. Back on the path.
How many times in life have I just kept going despite strong misgivings and no arrows to validate my path? How hard is it to admit that I was wrong, and go back to a place where I can see the arrows? Hard to admit taking a wrong turn. Hard to hold back from blaming someone else for my error. So easy to say “Well — I wouldn’t have gotten lost if YOU had painted that arrow bigger, or brighter, or in a slightly different spot that would have been easier to see! Not my fault!” Hard to say — “Oops! That was a lovely path, but it seems it wasn’t the one I wanted/needed.”
Since my return from the Camino, I find that I must continue to look for something akin to those yellow arrows. I must follow these instructions, even if I don’t know much, if anything about what I will find on the path, exactly where it will lead or how far I will go today. I know that they will lead me to my goal and I really don’t have to know every detail of the path before it happens. And, if I miss one and find myself lost, then I must go back and find an arrow, and begin again.
by Liz | Sep 3, 2013 | main
So, I couldn’t help myself this morning (not that I tried very hard) — simply had to add my two cents worth when a friend posted this picture on Facebook with a comment about “would you wear this shirt?”
My first response was a long the lines of:
the second part of this is “love thyself” — my overweight self, my angry self, my happy self, my addicted self…
And that is true, to me. If I love my neighbor as myself, then I’d better love myself or the neighbor won’t be very pleased with how I “love” them. I’ll despise and hate those neighbors that remind me of the parts of myself where I am still at war with myself.
I felt ok about posting that thought in a public place.
Her brother took exception to the sentiment on the shirt, pretty much calling it PC BS. He stated that it is a two-way street, and we certainly don’t need to love those folks (groups represented on the shirt) especially when they are out to harm us. He said he would never wear the shirt.
OK.
Love your neighbor… doesn’t seem to be optional for a Christian (and I suspect for people of other faiths as well) to love your neighbor. There is no mention of how your neighbor feels about your or how your neighbor treats you. I totally agree that people have a right and a need to feel safe and to exercise judgement in relationships. Sometimes love can be really tough, and not all fun — ask any parent of a teenager. But, loving your neighbor isn’t optional.
The best thing about the exchange this morning is that is certainly helped me to understand my own beliefs. It helped me to look at my strengths and my shortcomings. And, I pray that I was able to express my own beliefs and hopes without destroying someone else. After all, we are called to love our neighbors.
by | Mar 26, 2013 | main
Over the past 15-18 months, I have struggled in with my feelings and relationship with another person. He is far away now, but in a place where I will surely encounter him again in the next few weeks. He is someone that I care for, care about and really like. If you asked him about that in the past year or so, he would probably inform you in no uncertain terms that I bore false witness against him and that I was the cause of much unwanted change in his life. I’m pretty sure he has himself convinced that I was out to get him, and successful at doing so. I’ve lived with and walked through the anger he left behind and as we enter Holy Week, I can say “Thank you.”
I’ve been through my own defensiveness, my own battle where I have wanted to scream [at him] — “Look, Jerk, I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but I saw someone who needed some help.” or “I’m really angry that you think I was out to hurt you.” I’ve gritted my teeth, and hurt, as I became an invisible person in his presence. I’ve sat with the anger when I heard from others that he had told them that I was the reason he was moved away. I have taken comfort in another friend suggesting that I pray the Psalms, because they contain all of the emotions I have passed through.
Sunday, I listened to the Passion as recorded in Luke’s Gospel. It sank in that through the troubles of the past year I have also looked at myself. I have opened a small opening to let the Light of God’s love shine in and illuminate my actions, my thoughts, my feelings. I have asked forgiveness for the contempt I have felt. I have attempted to step outside the situation and see the whole thing. I have examined my motivations for what I actually did do and tried to be honest about the parts that were on the track of being loving and caring as well as the parts that were driven by hurt and anger. I have come to appreciate at a deeper level that “Doing the right thing isn’t always the easiest thing” (Thanks to my favorite TV Shrink, Dr. Danny of “Necessary Roughness”). I have finally accepted that sometimes you must say what you believe, even though it will likely put you into very uncomfortable places. I am at peace with knowing that I wasn’t perfect, but I did try to do what I thought the Spirit was calling me to do.
In so many ways, this whole mess has helped me to accept that I am loved: even when I push back at God’s love and try to distance myself simply because God can see me so clearly — which can be very uncomfortable.
And so, I say “Thank you” to my friend (and I truly still consider him a friend, no matter what he thinks) for helping me to grow closer to God. I pray that he too will find it in his heart to let the walls come down and let go of his own hurt and anger — because that makes this life so much more joyful to live.
by | Feb 25, 2013 | main
If a teacher would bring up these two terms, I fear the question would be: Contrast and compare transfiguration and transformation. They are different, yes, but, it seems also very intertwined. And, they’ve been on my radar for a couple of days.
Saturday night, USA ran Schindler’s List comercial free, wrapped only in an into and epilogue by Steven Spielberg who spoke about tolerance and about the Shoah Foundation. I had never seen the movie before, and found parts of it twisting my stomach into knots with horror. I can in some ways understand those Holocaust deniers who cannot accept that this happened. This bit of history reflects some of the worst of humanity.
So, how does this play into transfiguration and transformation? Oskar Schindler, of course. Schindler doing the right things for the wrong reasons. Schindler’s transformation into a man who would go to the ends of his world to save his people. Schindler who was transformed in a way by how the Jews he had under his protection had been transfigured for him into human beings, worthy of protection and care. By the end of the movie, the end of WWII in Europe, this man had been changed, almost in spite of himself.
Another theme I found in the movie was just a hint of how the cruelty and inhumanity of the entire cancerous Nazi philosophy and practices twisted those involved. I’m in no way defending Goeth, but there was a glimpse of a deeply disturbed man, fighting against his own humanity. I got a glimpse of how his choices and his world ate away at him, leaving behind a damaged, dangerous individual who couldn’t face himself and struck out at anything that came close to his “good” side.
Enter Sunday’s Gospel: the account of the Transfiguration of Jesus. I listened to this reading in the aftermath of the movie. I thought to myself that the Transfiguration sounded more like the transformation of the disciples so that they could truly see Jesus, more than any change in Jesus. I could be wrong, but I don’t think so. Who knows what can happen if we allow ourselves to see differently? To be transformed so as to see a transfigured world around us.
Think about it.
by Liz | Oct 3, 2012 | main
Last night I was at a talk by the directory of Ignatius House in Atlanta. I’ve known her for many years. We made our Cursillo weekends at the same time. We walked for an hour or so early in the morning for nearly a year. She is a Myers-Briggs extrovert, I an introvert. So, it is fascinating watch and hear this woman who draws energy from talking and interaction and doing speak about how her first silent retreat had such a profound impact on her life because the answers and insights came from within. She just had to be slowed down and made quiet long enough to be able to hear and pay attention.
Then, this morning I was trying to encourage another, older friend to pursue OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learner Institute) classes. I particularly enjoy “Writing Our Lives” — a class that aims to help people write better and in particular, to write memoirs. Me? I use it as a push to journal. I am primarily interested in telling my story to myself so that I can begin to understand and accept this person that lives inside my skin. There are days I really like her, and days when she mystifies me, and days when I really don’t want her around. Writing is personal to me. It helps me to get to know me, and if anyone else is interested, that is fine. (If you are reading this, you are one of the few that might be interested).
Anyway, my friend, not knowing much about OLLI, seemed overwhelmed at the thought of taking classes. I found myself explaining that there is really no homework (unless you want to do something outside of class — like in the Spanish classes I take), and there are no grades. “No tests? No grades?” she asked, suprised. “Then how do you know you are improving?””
I felt myself stop cold. My first, silent, reaction was “What kind of dumb question is that? Can’t you tell when you are improving?” I’ve been mulling it over. I still rather feel that way — I am comfortable with my own evaluation of my progress. It seems a bit sad to think that someone requires another person to pass judgement on whether they are learning anything. Yes, being accountable to someone else can help me move forward and stay on track. But, listening to God within, is the thing that can actually make a difference.
I worked for many years at a job where my bosses and I were seldom on the same page. I think I had to learn to listen to myself and be true to what I believed to be job that needed doing, no matter what they thought. If I had only done what they thought necessary, the results would have been disastrous. I was hired to take care of technology and computer security and I simply had to do what was required despite the often incomprehension of those I worked for. It resulted in learning to listen to myself and try to move beyond the negative feedback from those around me. It wasn’t easy. It added to other issues, and I dare say it contributed to depression. But, in the long run, it has been a lesson worth the anguish. That external validation is good, but it cannot be the rudder that guides the course. That rudder, that compass is between me and the Creator.
And so, I hope my friend can move to the place where she is comfortable with the idea that tests and grades are not the yardstick by which she must measure herself… that will be a joyful day for all.
