by Liz | Jun 17, 2009 | main
Myth, science fiction and fantasy – tales of wizards and magical beings are reflections of real truths. For example – a wizards is very careful about someone actually knowing his true name. To be named is to be controllable. Even the Old Testament God had an unpronounceable name — isn’t that what Yahweh approximates? Trying to pronounce something that is fundamentally unpronounceable?
And so, I’m back at this point in my spiral of journey. Naming things. Identifying things. Grabbing a hold of something so I can let it go. Maybe forever this time. Can’t let go of something when I don’t know what it is. Peel another layer off the onion so I can see more clearly what has a grip on me and wriggle free… or may see more clearly what I am clinging too, and then be able to let go of it.
What do I name? I name those hurts that I carry along. I look deeper to see what the real hurt is. So often, the hurt that makes me start looking is a decoy – a mask – protection from seeing the real truth. Why does it upset me that my spouse can upset me? Why does my voice get shaky at work when I least want to be unsettled? Why does my child’s pain hurt more than my own?
When I am able to name the cause, I have the possiblity of laying it down. It’s the possibility of understanding fully that you can only truly forgive that which you remember. If you can’t really remember, you can’t name it, and then you can’t really completely let go… because you have to know what you are letting go of.
And so, finding myself facing the same things that I thought I had let go of brings me to the realization that I let go of only the part I could see at the time. This time I see a bit deeper, so I can let go of a bit more.
And the spiral continues… Amen.
by Liz | May 24, 2009 | main
This weekend I’m answering a call that shouts out from deep inside me to create — more specifically, to work on something I can touch and feel and turn over and hold. Not something on a computer. And so, I’m “scrapping.” Rather, I’ve taken an empty scrapbook/photo album that has been languishing in the guest room and I’m filling it with my “photographs sans people.”
I frequently photograph flowers, trees, landscapes, squirrels, ducks and the dogs. I have images of ginger flowers and a great shot of a duck in Hawaii from the 1970’s (scanned from Kodachrome slides no less); I have plants I can name, and ones I can’t. I have a duck from Hawaii and a seagull from Montauk, NY. I have dogwood and azalea blossoms and crepe myrtle from summer and winter. There are pictures of daylilies from Alabama to Maine, and columbines where the seeds were brought from Maine and planted here in Alabama (beautiful flowers).
It started simple — put the pictures in a book and make a note about what, where and why – or something about what what going on at the time. But, it didn’t last that way. The impression is so much better if you frame the shot. You know — maybe a bit of cropping, or a bit of color around the edge. Follow that with something other than just centering the photo on the page. Group things that go together. Frame it!
Frame it. Not everything can be the most important all the time, all at the same time. Frame it so that there is a focus to the shot. Frame it to free up the observer to get the point. Pick up the proper colors. Use the best mat color and size. Frame it to make my point. And in the process, I begin to understand it all better myself. And I make it solid so I can go back and remember what I thought I learned.
In reading back over what I wrote above, it strikes me that in many ways Jesus is the image of God’s love… framed within the Gospel stories, framed in the shape of a human being, framed by the effect He had and continues to have on people. God’s Love made solid. Something we can touch and feel and at times hold.
[Note/Update: After posting this, I found that a friend had posted following link on Facebook: The Case for Working With Your Hands. Is there something in the air? I tell you, there are no coincidences. Or, maybe I’m just focussed on the same thing as Claire.]
by Liz | May 20, 2009 | main
I was reading Susan’s post this morning ( Portrait of Ourselves ) — I don’t think I have ever been so self-assured. My mistakes or missteps are more often because of being so uncertain that my view of the world is right or has any value. That may have saved me from some missteps – but it certainly has caused many others.
I am only getting to the point of “I will no longer serve that which I no longer believe in…” only in my 6th decade. Only now am I beginning to be brave enough to figure out what I no longer believe in. There are things that I have never believed in, true. But, there are some things that I have to look in the mirror and say “Honey – give it up. You just don’t believe that. Not now.” And that is rather scary to me.
I discover these things about myself often through reading – through characters I find in novels. The authors that put those stories into words do affect me by letting the characters speak and act.
Thanks Susan for the reflection — and for the focus it helps to bring to my own discovery process.
by Liz | Jan 26, 2009 | main
Today’s Gospel (Luke 10,1-9) contains the instructions to the 72 sent out by Jesus: …Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals; and greet no one along the way…
What strikes me is that the instruction is to leave your baggage behind. I carry too much baggage with me into any situation. It’s hard to leave baggage behind. I mean, get real — sometimes I remember how someone reacted last time. Or, I know I trust this person to be less than open. And yet, Jesus tells me to go without baggage and offer peace. And, if it doesn’t work out, don’t take the bad stuff with me when I leave.
Good advice. But not so easy to carry out at times.
by Liz | Sep 28, 2008 | main
Do you know the term “switchback”? or maybe the sailing term “tacking.” – If I’m not mistaken, both refer to making progress by taking a zigzag sort of course – progress is made, but there’s an awful lot of switching direction. Rather like my take on today’s gospel…
Jesus talks about the two sons – the Father tells both of them what he wants them to do. The first one says “no way!” but later decides to go ahead and do his father’s will. The second says “Yes! certainly.” and then go on his merry way without doing anything.
It’s no good to try to figure out which of these children I am. I am both. In times of growing, I can hear a call and it hits so close to home that I turn and say “no way! I can’t do that. I won’t do that.” But, it eats at me, and I come around. Other times, I feel so interested, and say “yes!” and then I fail to do anything.
I am a convert to the Catholic Church. Now, I’ve been a Catholic Christian for far longer than I was a protestant Christian, but the path that got me here was the one of the older (?) or first brother from the gospel. I was sitting on a hill, in front of a fig tree near the Catholic Student Center when it occurred to me that I was to join this community. “Not me, God. You have the wrong person.” The very idea rocked my soul to the core. Good Calvinist Christians do not join the Catholic Church. No way.
As time passed, the idea wouldn’t leave me. I finally gave up fighting the request and began to go through the preparations to join the church. Funny, I went through the classes no less than 2 full rounds. And, in the end, I had to convince the priests and sisters that I was serious. I understand their hesitation – and they were right to try to make sure that I was serious. The road has not always been smooth, but, after the initial “No” I found I had to reconsider and say “Yes.”
The times when I am the second son are many and not so dramatic. And, right now, I am not even willing to address some of them in an open forum. But, the “Yes” with no follow-up happens more often than I would like.
This journey is one of switchbacks and tacking. It is good to know that God is always calling. It is good to know that the Spirit is there as the wind in my sails, even when I have to tack for a great distance. It is good to remember that “yes” can happen even after the initial turn-down and wise to remember that just because I say “yes” the task is not yet accomplished.
