by Liz | May 30, 2008 | main
I was poking around on Susan’s blog rereading her post on an attitude of gratitude – or being grateful for the little things. I’ve tried to cultivate that attitude. And in the past few days I’ve been grateful for some “little things” that aren’t so little. These are the phone calls to check with me about how I’m doing with something that has caused me anxiety. Just quick chats to let me know that somebody cares, that someone is praying, that someone just wants to let me know that they are there.
These things might seem like small things. But when I acknowledge them, and give thanks for them, they grow and they make a change in me. It’s kind of funny – it’s not just the gift, it’s the receiving as well.
Hmmm… now to go out and practice being grateful.
by Liz | May 28, 2008 | main
Several years ago I had my first mammogram. Definitely not a comfortable procedure. And it got more uncomfortable when the nurse called and told me that they thought it would be good for me to come back for a second one in six months. There was an area that was a bit unusual, but not so worrisome. They just wanted to do a second one to be sure that it was all normal for me. So, while that caused a bit of worry, it didn’t seem so awful. At least not until the doctor decided to call me and try to reassure me. I listened to him, and all that I could think was “If it’s so ‘routine’ – if it’s really nothing to worry about, why is he calling?” In a way, his trying to be reassuring backfired. Fortunately, at the 6 month redo, it was decided that all was well. No problems.
I don’t like to wait for these kind of results. Someone close to me is having a lump looked at. I squirm. One side of me says calmly: “It’s probably nothing. There’s not reason to expect this to be bad news. It’s good that this is being looked at. And besides, what good does it do to worry? When the results are in, then we’ll know.” The other side is jumping up and down, coming up with every bad diagnosis on the planet. I;m trying really hard to let calm have the upper hand.
What to do? How to cope with the waiting? Do I believe in prayer? I’m certainly letting God know that this is important to me. I’m certainly asking for this to be OK.
And it comes to me a bit more clearly. Believe. Pray. Ask others to pray with you. Admit the anxiety (it’s there anyway) . I’m back to “I believe! Lord, help me in my unbelief!”
As I write this – as I admit that my faith and my patience are far from perfect, a small voice comes to me. From across the centuries I hear Julian of Norwich telling me the truth: “All shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.”
Amen.
by Liz | May 27, 2008 | main
It’s stuck with me for over a week now: Mercy. And more than that, the definition of Mercy as something like “womb-love.” (Thanks Jack for that). Mercy is that kind of love and relationship that most mothers have for their off-spring. It’s what makes Mama always believe in you. It’s why, despite all evidence to the contrary, Mama believes you to be worth a second, or third or thirtieth chance. It that way of acting that Hosea speaks of: “Come back to me, with all your heart, don’t let fear keep us apart.”
I often cantor repsonsorial psalms at mass, and so I remember many of them. Phrases like “The Lord is kind and merciful” or “Be merciful oh Lord for we have sinned.” Mercy is all over the scriptures.
Am I merciful? I’d like to think so. And at times, I’m pretty sure I am. But today I had to ask myself once again, “Am I merciful? Can I be merciful in this situation?” It sometimes seems easier to have mercy when I am the one harmed directly than when either my child, or my friend has been hurt. I had to sit and listen as my friend worked through a rough spot. I had to not jump on someone who jumped on my friend. I’m now at the place of beginning to pray for the whole situation. Praying for healing. Praying for honesty. Praying for folks to be able to see in the mirror clearly and work out the difficulty. Praying for the ability to be merciful, let my frustration and anger turn to mercy and compassion.
It’s just not as easy as it would seem.
by Liz | May 15, 2008 | main
After feeling so overwhelmed yesterday, I found myself praying for my friends… and talking with them on the phone. They actually know each other. And by the end of the day, friend A was using me to pass the message that she would be praying for friend B and vice versa. It’s kind of wonderful to watch each one pull herself out of her world and take the time to pray for the other.
I sometimes forget that I am a part of this community that shares its joy and it pain. In that sharing we are joined in one body. On Sunday we sang “We are many parts, we are all one body, and gifts we have, we are given to share…” My friends reminded me of that. When one part is in pain, the whole body hurts. And when we laugh, all parts feel better.
So – I’m better. Yesterday was a day to treat my own wounds and at the same time try to help heal the wounds of others. It’s amazing to watch.
by Liz | May 14, 2008 | main
It seems that life is so very rugged for many of my friends right now. A couple of them are involved in situations where there are legal issues to be settled before they can get proper medical treatment. There are health issues that are cause for concern. If I focus on this alone, I find myself in one of two spots – totally discouraged or feeling guilty that I’m only dealing with some hurt feelings and shouldn’t I be really grateful?
It is generally a bad idea to compare myself, and my situation, with someone else. There will always be those who seem to have a heavier burden to shoulder right now, and those who seem to be flying high. In reality, I don’t know what is going on inside any of them. To feel guilty is to make light of how I feel ( they might be small problems or joys, but they are MINE). To be jealous of someone else’s good fortune is also to make light of my own life ( they might be small joys, but they are MINE.)
I seek to bring myself back around to looking in the mirror of God’s love, where I am where I am supposed to be right now. The mirror that reflects the truth about myself, how loved I am and the reality of life. In this mirror I can see clearly. I can see what can be. I can be in proper perspective.
I can accept that for me, the issues I deal with are real and worthy of consideration. If I dismiss my feelings too quickly or don’t give the attention they need, they will awaken me at 3 am, night after night (thanks owed to F. Scott Fitzgerald in “The Crack-Up” for that imagery), and make themselves into horrible monsters — well out of proportion to reality. Better to deal with them now, and put them to rest so I can openly and sincerely offer prayers and my support for my friends in need. I can cry with them or just listen without guilt or gloating.
At least that’s my plan.
