by Liz | May 19, 2009 | main
It seems that I can easily fool myself — I think I have taken the time to pay attention. But it doesn’t stick with me unless I make a real effort. And effort to be awake and mindful and not just let life slide by aimlessly.
So – yesterday I had my new camera at work when new librarians came around for a bit of a tour. I am sooooo very bad with names (names must not be very important to me). But, I’m giving it a try. I took a picture of each (good chance to reinforce any new tricks with the camera) and made a conscious effort to attach names and things about each one to the name and face. This morning I saw them again and I could remember names and where they came from before moving here.
Is that a bit like praying? Or what is necessary to actually be touched by prayer or study? Take the time. Focus on it. Be mindful of what is happening now. Absorb it. Review it. It is only those things/events/people that we take the time to focus on that stick for the long haul.
And, I really want Jesus to be in that category.
by Liz | Sep 23, 2008 | main
We are all given talents – gifts, that is. Jesus even taught about this in the parable where the 3 individuals were given varying talents. He goes away for a while and returns later to see how these talents were used… It sounds like a talent is like a dollar, but it could be anything. Anyway, as we all know, the one who got 5000, went out and doubled the amount. The same with 3000. But the one who had little, only 1000, buried them, and returned exactly what he received. The first 2 were praised, the 3 scolded and sent away.
It seems to be about investment. I have many gifts, many talents. Not great talents, not great gifts, but an adequate supply. These won’t make me famous. And, in my mind’s eye, they are probably minor talents. But, the ones that I have invested are the ones that have paid off.
I love music. I don’t have a wonderful voice — I’ve long suffered from allergies, and I’ve done things that haven’t helped my voice quality. Over the course of nearly 45 years, I have spent a lot of time with a guitar in my hands. I’m good enough to know how good I’m not. But, the investment has paid off. I am a parish musician. As such, I have been put in intimate contact with music that expresses the things that I don’t have spoken words to express. I have had the opportunity to learn from other musicians. Scripture put to music speaks to me at many levels, and I remember it better. It has led me to read church documents of liturgy that I would probably have never looked at otherwise. It causes me to consider the Sunday readings more deeply as I try to select music to celebrate the themes. For me, the investment in this bit of a talent I have been given has paid back even more than the doubling of the gift that the 2 good servants experienced. I pray that this is what the Lord is asking of me.
In other areas, I’m a bit more like the bad servant. I’ve buried gifts that I don’t care to pursue. My mother has observed repeatedly that I always wanted to pursue things that I wasn’t good at, and ignore things that came easy or that I could be good at. Maybe that is true. I’m certain I have never lived up to my academic potential.
It’s funny though – the practice of crafting these posts is an investment in a talent that maybe I have buried. I thank my friends who encourage me to practice writing. I am grateful for their support of my investment in any small gift I have for stringing a bunch of words together to convey an idea.
With that said, I’ll also continue to encourage the gifts and talents of others. The ability to do that seems to be such a gift that I see in others, and one worthy of investment.
by Liz | Aug 7, 2008 | main
I was over at Creo en Dios! a few days ago catching up (I’ve been away at a conference). I took the time to listen to Susan’s latest podcast, Myth’s We Live With. I’m so glad that Susan took the time to create this and post it. When she gave the retreat, I must admit to a bit of unhappiness that I wouldn’t be a participant. I wanted to hear the part about “I am not my personality.” And, now, I get the podcast. Yeah!
I am not my personality
Just what might that mean? I’ve chewed on it for months now. And, in listening to the podcast, I suddenly had an image that made sense. I’ve got to reframe the issue in what might seem a minor way, but it is so enormous in the understanding. If I feel fear, or anger or even compassion those emotions are not me – they tell me something about my current situation. It’s another one of those statements that has take me years to begin to comprehend.
The image that shines out is the idea that the personality (how I appear outwardly) as a sort of a cast – a temporary cast, I hope. That outward expression (personality) is in many ways a protection for those places where I am most vulnerable and most unsure. It seems that indeed, this cast is a transitional form. I’ve seen it change as I have walked this journey and come to know and trust myself more. My response to situations and people has changed.
Or so I thought — until I got a verbal “dope-slap” the other day. Yanked me right up, made me very uncomfortable, elicited a response of my own of “I don’t like you right now.” But wait — I survived, I am still here. I could look at what was said, accept it (or not), listen to how I felt, and go on. I haven’t obsessed over someone else viewing clearly the imperfect way I deal with life (in the past this sort of thing would have caused anxiety and sleepless nights).
Hmmm… maybe some of cast is ready to be removed.
by Liz | Jul 26, 2008 | main
Before this week, I’ve always interpreted this parable as referring to the good people and bad people. Somehow, looking at it now, I’m not so sure it’s about people at all. Or it doesn’t have to be, anyway.
This week has been one of those where I would like have crossed up the wheat and the weeds in my life. In the moment of being the object of someone’s fury, I would have pulled that sucker out as a weed for sure. Bad. Bad. Bad. But, at the same time I learned some very positive things about myself.
Or, someone close to me who had to confess to a mess he’d made and finally get brave enough to say “I need your help.” A young man trying to grow up and having to swallow his pride. How do you pull out the weeds without also dislodging the wheat?
And so, I’ll accept that the sun shines and the rain falls on both wheat and weeds. Until they mature, you really can’t tell enough to sort them correctly. Once things mature, the whole picture becomes more clear. What seemed to be a bitter weed has produced the most amazing kernel of wheat.
