Wednesday, June 30, 2004
I Heart the Suburbs
I love my new house. I love it. I love it. I was truly called to urban ministry, but the dark side of that calling involved seeking approval and respect from other urban ministry people. I devoted 13 years of my life to urban issues, and now I'm not. I don't miss the inner voices of my urban ministry mentors.
Some surprising observations about Mounds View.
1. They speak English here (most of them), and they accept U.S. currency.
2. People own very large possessions, like canoes and snowmobiles.
3. People do healthy things outside, like ride bikes as a family.
4. Some people live in trailers.
5. Some people, like the boy next door, practice drums in the garage. Never saw such a thing in the city (band nerds don't fare well in the ghetto).
6. They sell lots of frozen dinners at SuperAmerica for commuters. I have my eye on a salisbury steak.
Did I say that I love it here? Opal is doing really well. We've locked her up at night so she can't piss on stuff, but during the day she's free. Just this morning she went farther from the house exploring than she ever did in the city. Maybe she's a prissy suburban cat who was always afraid in the city.
And I love thinking back to Russell Ave, picturing Sarah, Javier, and Micah living there. Their furniture matches the decor better than ours ever did, which is a good sign. They also need lots of room for making music and making art, and that is there in abundance. James and I did lots of work on that house, and it's good to see our efforts blessing friends.
This move represents a corner turned in my grief, and what a blessing it is already. I'll write more about it later. Probably no one reads my blog anymore anyway!
I also had a great time at the conference I went to, but I don't think it was very blog-worthy. Its purpose was to encourage women into administrative leadership in colleges (Dean, President, VP), but the leaders of the conference discerned that I wasn't suited for college leadership. They said I was too blunt, and had a "suffer no fools" leadership style. These are assets in the classroom, but not in the kinds of smoke-blowing, ass-kissing situations that administrators find themselves in frequently.
Here's a question for you today. Two people recently suggested to me that I should be more gentle with myself. This move feels like a gentle thing - giving some peace to a broken person. If you were gentle with yourself today, what would that mean for you?
I'm glad I'm back - love to everyone today!
I love my new house. I love it. I love it. I was truly called to urban ministry, but the dark side of that calling involved seeking approval and respect from other urban ministry people. I devoted 13 years of my life to urban issues, and now I'm not. I don't miss the inner voices of my urban ministry mentors.
Some surprising observations about Mounds View.
1. They speak English here (most of them), and they accept U.S. currency.
2. People own very large possessions, like canoes and snowmobiles.
3. People do healthy things outside, like ride bikes as a family.
4. Some people live in trailers.
5. Some people, like the boy next door, practice drums in the garage. Never saw such a thing in the city (band nerds don't fare well in the ghetto).
6. They sell lots of frozen dinners at SuperAmerica for commuters. I have my eye on a salisbury steak.
Did I say that I love it here? Opal is doing really well. We've locked her up at night so she can't piss on stuff, but during the day she's free. Just this morning she went farther from the house exploring than she ever did in the city. Maybe she's a prissy suburban cat who was always afraid in the city.
And I love thinking back to Russell Ave, picturing Sarah, Javier, and Micah living there. Their furniture matches the decor better than ours ever did, which is a good sign. They also need lots of room for making music and making art, and that is there in abundance. James and I did lots of work on that house, and it's good to see our efforts blessing friends.
This move represents a corner turned in my grief, and what a blessing it is already. I'll write more about it later. Probably no one reads my blog anymore anyway!
I also had a great time at the conference I went to, but I don't think it was very blog-worthy. Its purpose was to encourage women into administrative leadership in colleges (Dean, President, VP), but the leaders of the conference discerned that I wasn't suited for college leadership. They said I was too blunt, and had a "suffer no fools" leadership style. These are assets in the classroom, but not in the kinds of smoke-blowing, ass-kissing situations that administrators find themselves in frequently.
Here's a question for you today. Two people recently suggested to me that I should be more gentle with myself. This move feels like a gentle thing - giving some peace to a broken person. If you were gentle with yourself today, what would that mean for you?
I'm glad I'm back - love to everyone today!
Friday, June 18, 2004
Serenity
God,
grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.
I admit that I am powerless to change Opal. But I can change myself. I can love her better by changing my daily schedule to accomodate her needs. I can accept her as she is, without demands. I believe that this unconditional love will change her life. And even if it doesn't, it will change mine.
Our new life together:
7 am give treat mixed with vitamins
7 am- 9 pm allow her to sleep wherever she wants. Set up three multi-leveled sleeping spots in my office, one at each window and a third in a safe place.
9 pm play with string so she gets tired and is less active on our bed.
- close bedroom door when I leave the house so she can't destroy carpet.
- periodically encourage her to drink more water.
- initiate play and touch, but don't always respond to her initiative. Refuse to be trained by her.
- turn on Feliway
- talk about her and pet her less when James is in the house. Make it seem like she's not here.
- make a plan for the transition of the move, and stick to it.
Dear Lord Jesus, I just come before you today asking you to bless Opal. And Jesus, I just ask you to set a hedge of protection around her, making angels to go before her and behind her. And Jesus, I just want to apologize for beginning this prayer with intercession, because I should have begun with adoration. I just want to begin again and pray with the ACTS prayer that I'm pretty sure is somewhere in the Bible.
Dear Lord Jesus,
A (Adore) I just praise you for Who You Are.
C (Confession) I just want to confess all the bad things I've done. I ate brownies for breakfast. I hid more candy. I did not get up to make lunch for my husband.
T (Thanksgiving). I just want to thank you-oo Lord, I just want to thank you-oo Lord, for all da..da..da..da.. (this is sung to the Keith Green tune)
S (Supplication) And Lord Jesus, I just come before you today asking you to bless Opal. And Jesus, I just ask you to set a hedge of protection around her, making angels to go before her and behind her.
In the name of the blessed baby Jesus,
Amen.
P.S. I'm going to a conference for the next week in some god-forsaken place where there are no computers. Then we move...so no word from me until I'm in Mounds View and computer is connected, sometime next weekend. Love to all!
God,
grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.
I admit that I am powerless to change Opal. But I can change myself. I can love her better by changing my daily schedule to accomodate her needs. I can accept her as she is, without demands. I believe that this unconditional love will change her life. And even if it doesn't, it will change mine.
Our new life together:
7 am give treat mixed with vitamins
7 am- 9 pm allow her to sleep wherever she wants. Set up three multi-leveled sleeping spots in my office, one at each window and a third in a safe place.
9 pm play with string so she gets tired and is less active on our bed.
- close bedroom door when I leave the house so she can't destroy carpet.
- periodically encourage her to drink more water.
- initiate play and touch, but don't always respond to her initiative. Refuse to be trained by her.
- turn on Feliway
- talk about her and pet her less when James is in the house. Make it seem like she's not here.
- make a plan for the transition of the move, and stick to it.
Dear Lord Jesus, I just come before you today asking you to bless Opal. And Jesus, I just ask you to set a hedge of protection around her, making angels to go before her and behind her. And Jesus, I just want to apologize for beginning this prayer with intercession, because I should have begun with adoration. I just want to begin again and pray with the ACTS prayer that I'm pretty sure is somewhere in the Bible.
Dear Lord Jesus,
A (Adore) I just praise you for Who You Are.
C (Confession) I just want to confess all the bad things I've done. I ate brownies for breakfast. I hid more candy. I did not get up to make lunch for my husband.
T (Thanksgiving). I just want to thank you-oo Lord, I just want to thank you-oo Lord, for all da..da..da..da.. (this is sung to the Keith Green tune)
S (Supplication) And Lord Jesus, I just come before you today asking you to bless Opal. And Jesus, I just ask you to set a hedge of protection around her, making angels to go before her and behind her.
In the name of the blessed baby Jesus,
Amen.
P.S. I'm going to a conference for the next week in some god-forsaken place where there are no computers. Then we move...so no word from me until I'm in Mounds View and computer is connected, sometime next weekend. Love to all!
1 Comments:
-
I just came across your blog about singles relationship counseling and wanted to drop you a note telling you how much I enjoy reading the stuff you are posting here. I also have a web site about singles relationship counseling so I know what I'm talking about when I say your site is top-notch! Keep up the great work, you are providing a great resource on the world wide web!
greets,
FrankBy
, at 12:44 PM
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Touching Hugo
Hugo wrote an interesting post about touch. It raised a number of questions for me, so I'll write them here instead of writing 8 comments in his comments section.
I was raised to not touch people, and to repress extreme emotion. I still have issues with touch - James and I did couples' yoga this weekend, and I washed my hands afterward - I thought about his molecules of skin and sweat that were on my hands (I also found that I was alone in the bathroom doing this!). In terms of power relations, my childhood pastor molested boys in our church for 30 years, and after leaving that church I had a flirtatious, boundary-crossing relationship with another male pastor when I was a young adult. I learned that when holding power (as a teacher, an adult, or a mentor), it's better not to touch at all. I also decided that the person who has relative power in the situation is most responsible for maintaining boundaries.
Hugo writes about touch between males and between adult males and young females at his church. He's also a professor...what are the boundaries at school? Or in a special-ed classroom? Or on a playground? Or with other peoples' kids? Or other places?
I started touching students more this year, in part because of all the healing touch and affection I received this year. I use public and private space as an important boundary. I touch students on the arm, head, or shoulder in class or in the hallway. I use touch to emphasize my words - to be affirming, encouraging, or in greeting. I don't touch without words. I hug female students in the hallway frequently. I don't hug men, except at graduation (in front of their families and other profs). Hugging male students seems way too risky - I've have flirting and sexually-related manipulative behavior coming from men from time to time and I don't want to inadvertently encourage it. I don't touch women or men in private settings - if I go for a walk with a student, if my office door is closed, etc. I also don't ever close my office door when talking with male students - I close it for women if they're crying or if they ask for it to be shut. If men ask for it to be shut, I still leave it open a crack.
It is sad that touch is oversexualized. In our culture, any person represents a potential sexual encounter - youth, children, male, female, married... anyone. It's hard to form relationships when you must first ascertain the other persons' sexual intentions. And it's obviously tragic that we have to teach our children to be wary of whether or not they are being viewed sexually by others.
KP loves to touch people - I've never seen anything like it.
P.S. I diverge from my blogging of spiritual experience this week because I have so little to say today. Yesterday I just lived in this world, in the here and now. I didn't experience a strong connection with God, in part perhaps becuase I didn't engage in intentional spiritual practice. I had a good talk with James, and a pleasant experience in nature, both evidence of God's presence in my life.
Hugo wrote an interesting post about touch. It raised a number of questions for me, so I'll write them here instead of writing 8 comments in his comments section.
I was raised to not touch people, and to repress extreme emotion. I still have issues with touch - James and I did couples' yoga this weekend, and I washed my hands afterward - I thought about his molecules of skin and sweat that were on my hands (I also found that I was alone in the bathroom doing this!). In terms of power relations, my childhood pastor molested boys in our church for 30 years, and after leaving that church I had a flirtatious, boundary-crossing relationship with another male pastor when I was a young adult. I learned that when holding power (as a teacher, an adult, or a mentor), it's better not to touch at all. I also decided that the person who has relative power in the situation is most responsible for maintaining boundaries.
Hugo writes about touch between males and between adult males and young females at his church. He's also a professor...what are the boundaries at school? Or in a special-ed classroom? Or on a playground? Or with other peoples' kids? Or other places?
I started touching students more this year, in part because of all the healing touch and affection I received this year. I use public and private space as an important boundary. I touch students on the arm, head, or shoulder in class or in the hallway. I use touch to emphasize my words - to be affirming, encouraging, or in greeting. I don't touch without words. I hug female students in the hallway frequently. I don't hug men, except at graduation (in front of their families and other profs). Hugging male students seems way too risky - I've have flirting and sexually-related manipulative behavior coming from men from time to time and I don't want to inadvertently encourage it. I don't touch women or men in private settings - if I go for a walk with a student, if my office door is closed, etc. I also don't ever close my office door when talking with male students - I close it for women if they're crying or if they ask for it to be shut. If men ask for it to be shut, I still leave it open a crack.
It is sad that touch is oversexualized. In our culture, any person represents a potential sexual encounter - youth, children, male, female, married... anyone. It's hard to form relationships when you must first ascertain the other persons' sexual intentions. And it's obviously tragic that we have to teach our children to be wary of whether or not they are being viewed sexually by others.
KP loves to touch people - I've never seen anything like it.
P.S. I diverge from my blogging of spiritual experience this week because I have so little to say today. Yesterday I just lived in this world, in the here and now. I didn't experience a strong connection with God, in part perhaps becuase I didn't engage in intentional spiritual practice. I had a good talk with James, and a pleasant experience in nature, both evidence of God's presence in my life.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Ow! Ow! My feelings!!
Jimmy, an enneagram 1, needed to clarify my use of the word "theology." Carla, a 2, needed to be sure I wasn't hurt. Good combination in a marriage! My feelings are very rarely hurt when discussing ideas, or discussing anything in print. I figure if I put something out there, I should be prepared for disagreement, critique, and alternate views. If I need all affirmation, all the time, I'll go to my women's therapy group.
Jimmy is right in that we can't allow experience to be the ultimate epistemological authority. Experience can't be communicated directly to others - it is put into words and interpreted by the person who experienced it. So, for example, I could have an experience in which God abused and mocked me. We'd need to discuss how that experience fits with what other people know of God, both now and through history, in the church and in the Bible. And it wouldn't fit, so I either had an entirely different experience of God than has ever been had before, or, more likely, I'm bringing my own baggage to my interpretation of some experience. So, like all of our knowledge, experience is not a complete epistemological source.
So, I'm not claiming that experience alone is truth (and certainly not my experience), and Jimmy wasn't really saying that I was. I'm saying that I crave conversations in which Christians talk not only about abstract ideas, but about their experience and journey of the faith (and journey of faith is not only an unfolding of ideas over time). Perhaps this is the kind of theology I value - talking about God, talking about living with God, talking about our experience of reality in this world. Theology is too often more like philosophy, with systems of logic and philosophical moves, etc. I think that's useful for certain purposes, and it exists as an academic discipline for a reason, but there's also a reason I didn't become a theologian.
I like theology created by common people in communities, tied closely to their experiences and their way of life, but linked outward to other cultures and communities in other places and times. For example, Hugo discusses the places in himself that generate interest in women's studies and women's lives. Bobbie tells her story of addiction because it strongly shapes how she thinks and experiences church. At Bethel, people often defer to the Bible/Theology department as the place where people (mostly white men) really know about God. The implication is that the rest of us are just playing at it. Academic credentials allow a person to understand numerous theologies, and to understand the implications of theological ideas, but I don't think theologians necessarily know more of God (an individual theologian might, or might not, but not based upon credentials).
God found me in two ways yesterday: in body and psyche. I worked very hard packing, moving concrete, and moving loads of cardboard. I felt strong, and remembered well how weak I was 8 months ago - couldn't get in and out of the car, couldn't lie on my back, couldn't...couldn't...couldn't. I thanked God for giving me a body that heals and rejuvenates. In the evening I meditated, and experienced relaxation and emptiness. I was spent in body and mind, and felt it deeply.
God made the external universe, and a universe within each of us. So much to explore.
Jimmy, an enneagram 1, needed to clarify my use of the word "theology." Carla, a 2, needed to be sure I wasn't hurt. Good combination in a marriage! My feelings are very rarely hurt when discussing ideas, or discussing anything in print. I figure if I put something out there, I should be prepared for disagreement, critique, and alternate views. If I need all affirmation, all the time, I'll go to my women's therapy group.
Jimmy is right in that we can't allow experience to be the ultimate epistemological authority. Experience can't be communicated directly to others - it is put into words and interpreted by the person who experienced it. So, for example, I could have an experience in which God abused and mocked me. We'd need to discuss how that experience fits with what other people know of God, both now and through history, in the church and in the Bible. And it wouldn't fit, so I either had an entirely different experience of God than has ever been had before, or, more likely, I'm bringing my own baggage to my interpretation of some experience. So, like all of our knowledge, experience is not a complete epistemological source.
So, I'm not claiming that experience alone is truth (and certainly not my experience), and Jimmy wasn't really saying that I was. I'm saying that I crave conversations in which Christians talk not only about abstract ideas, but about their experience and journey of the faith (and journey of faith is not only an unfolding of ideas over time). Perhaps this is the kind of theology I value - talking about God, talking about living with God, talking about our experience of reality in this world. Theology is too often more like philosophy, with systems of logic and philosophical moves, etc. I think that's useful for certain purposes, and it exists as an academic discipline for a reason, but there's also a reason I didn't become a theologian.
I like theology created by common people in communities, tied closely to their experiences and their way of life, but linked outward to other cultures and communities in other places and times. For example, Hugo discusses the places in himself that generate interest in women's studies and women's lives. Bobbie tells her story of addiction because it strongly shapes how she thinks and experiences church. At Bethel, people often defer to the Bible/Theology department as the place where people (mostly white men) really know about God. The implication is that the rest of us are just playing at it. Academic credentials allow a person to understand numerous theologies, and to understand the implications of theological ideas, but I don't think theologians necessarily know more of God (an individual theologian might, or might not, but not based upon credentials).
God found me in two ways yesterday: in body and psyche. I worked very hard packing, moving concrete, and moving loads of cardboard. I felt strong, and remembered well how weak I was 8 months ago - couldn't get in and out of the car, couldn't lie on my back, couldn't...couldn't...couldn't. I thanked God for giving me a body that heals and rejuvenates. In the evening I meditated, and experienced relaxation and emptiness. I was spent in body and mind, and felt it deeply.
God made the external universe, and a universe within each of us. So much to explore.
Monday, June 14, 2004
A Week of Faith
This week, and perhaps in the future also, I'm going to write about my experience of the spiritual. That is something I long for among Christians. Too often, we talk about what we think of God (theology), instead of what we experience of God (spirituality). It feels a little bit like talking about the idea of sex, versus talking about one's experience of having sex. It's a personal thing, but unlike sex (most of the time), spirituality is worth writing about in public. So comment away - feel free to compare and contrast with your experience, identify heresy, connect to Scripture...
Yesterday I attended a Sunday retreat for my mind/body class. I was given a piece of paper and instructed to draw a timeline of my life. We were given stickers, too, so my timeline had kitten stickers all over it. Making the timeline became a spiritual practice for me (the stickers, not so much). I drew a vertical axis ranging from peace, love, and relaxation to despair, loss of hope, and wishing for death. The horizontal axis mapped my experience of infertility and pregnancy since spring 2001. I saw that my emotions and experience of life paralleled my life circumstances.
My mind poorly paraphrased something Jesus said about love - if you love only those who love you, then what good are you? Even the Gentiles do this. But you should love your enemies. So for me, do I experience love and joy only when my life circumstances are loving to me? I should also love my enemies (life circumstances of sadness, no pregnancy, pain, death...).
I realized that my life is something different than my life circumstances. With God, my life is always safe in a place of love, peace, and relaxation. My life circumstances are not in my control, and I don't think God controls them either. They will be happy, sad, good, bad, and will always be changing. I want to experience life itself with God and in God's peace, regardless of my circumstances.
I wrote questions on my timeline: Is this the time to let go? To surrender? Can I long for children, but not desperately? Can I mourn my babies, but not despair of my own life? Can I hold the things of this world for what they're worth, and nothing more?
If God will take my panicked desires, he can have them. I am not completely ready to surrender, but it is within sight. I can't toss my babies and my desire for a family up into the open air, but I can unclench my fists, and expose them to God for the taking.
This week, and perhaps in the future also, I'm going to write about my experience of the spiritual. That is something I long for among Christians. Too often, we talk about what we think of God (theology), instead of what we experience of God (spirituality). It feels a little bit like talking about the idea of sex, versus talking about one's experience of having sex. It's a personal thing, but unlike sex (most of the time), spirituality is worth writing about in public. So comment away - feel free to compare and contrast with your experience, identify heresy, connect to Scripture...
Yesterday I attended a Sunday retreat for my mind/body class. I was given a piece of paper and instructed to draw a timeline of my life. We were given stickers, too, so my timeline had kitten stickers all over it. Making the timeline became a spiritual practice for me (the stickers, not so much). I drew a vertical axis ranging from peace, love, and relaxation to despair, loss of hope, and wishing for death. The horizontal axis mapped my experience of infertility and pregnancy since spring 2001. I saw that my emotions and experience of life paralleled my life circumstances.
My mind poorly paraphrased something Jesus said about love - if you love only those who love you, then what good are you? Even the Gentiles do this. But you should love your enemies. So for me, do I experience love and joy only when my life circumstances are loving to me? I should also love my enemies (life circumstances of sadness, no pregnancy, pain, death...).
I realized that my life is something different than my life circumstances. With God, my life is always safe in a place of love, peace, and relaxation. My life circumstances are not in my control, and I don't think God controls them either. They will be happy, sad, good, bad, and will always be changing. I want to experience life itself with God and in God's peace, regardless of my circumstances.
I wrote questions on my timeline: Is this the time to let go? To surrender? Can I long for children, but not desperately? Can I mourn my babies, but not despair of my own life? Can I hold the things of this world for what they're worth, and nothing more?
If God will take my panicked desires, he can have them. I am not completely ready to surrender, but it is within sight. I can't toss my babies and my desire for a family up into the open air, but I can unclench my fists, and expose them to God for the taking.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Pie for Breakfast
Mmm...I just ate the rest of James' birthday blueberry pie for breakfast. I'm feeling homesick for D.C. I used to go to big events whenever I could - Clinton's inauguration, the millenium bash on the mall, July 4 fireworks, protesting the INS, protesting Clintons's welfare reform, protesting Columbus Day, protesting the illegal nature of marijuana (that was an accident). I lived 10 blocks from the Capitol, and biked or walked the dog down there frequently. I'd go to Reagan's funeral, and I wouldn't even say anything mean about him.
Things don't look good for Opal. Like Rachel commented, she is being blamed for things that aren't her fault. The vet said Opal is a "special needs" cat. She would thrive in an environment where she is the only cat, the people don't move, and people don't travel much (lots of stability). She's within the range of normal personality, but on the "neurotic" end. She said we can try Feliway and Nature's Miracle, and if we want to try Prozac, we can. But she doens't expect much change with any of these, and she encouraged me to find a quieter home for Opal (Opal is great 99% of the time - she gets upset when I travel or when we move). I started crying and said, "All my children died, and Opal is all I have!" The vet looked at me as if I am a special needs neurotic, too.
I want to keep her, but if someone wanted her, I'd give her to someone who would love her. Is that someone you? She's very soft and loving and purrs loudly and lives a geriatric lifestyle. She'll probably die within a couple of years. At this point, I sort of want a backup plan in case James really says she has to go.
If I didn't know myself well, I'd think I was a rich white childless woman moving to the suburbs, spending vet money on her cat. If I didn't know myself well, I wouldn't want to be friends with that woman. Oh well - I'm stuck with myself. And I know I have a larger life than this, but I'm in a hard season.
My blog sucks this week. I promise it will get better! So, in the spirit of my sucky blog, the comments section question for the day is this: What is something you've done poorly this week?
Mmm...I just ate the rest of James' birthday blueberry pie for breakfast. I'm feeling homesick for D.C. I used to go to big events whenever I could - Clinton's inauguration, the millenium bash on the mall, July 4 fireworks, protesting the INS, protesting Clintons's welfare reform, protesting Columbus Day, protesting the illegal nature of marijuana (that was an accident). I lived 10 blocks from the Capitol, and biked or walked the dog down there frequently. I'd go to Reagan's funeral, and I wouldn't even say anything mean about him.
Things don't look good for Opal. Like Rachel commented, she is being blamed for things that aren't her fault. The vet said Opal is a "special needs" cat. She would thrive in an environment where she is the only cat, the people don't move, and people don't travel much (lots of stability). She's within the range of normal personality, but on the "neurotic" end. She said we can try Feliway and Nature's Miracle, and if we want to try Prozac, we can. But she doens't expect much change with any of these, and she encouraged me to find a quieter home for Opal (Opal is great 99% of the time - she gets upset when I travel or when we move). I started crying and said, "All my children died, and Opal is all I have!" The vet looked at me as if I am a special needs neurotic, too.
I want to keep her, but if someone wanted her, I'd give her to someone who would love her. Is that someone you? She's very soft and loving and purrs loudly and lives a geriatric lifestyle. She'll probably die within a couple of years. At this point, I sort of want a backup plan in case James really says she has to go.
If I didn't know myself well, I'd think I was a rich white childless woman moving to the suburbs, spending vet money on her cat. If I didn't know myself well, I wouldn't want to be friends with that woman. Oh well - I'm stuck with myself. And I know I have a larger life than this, but I'm in a hard season.
My blog sucks this week. I promise it will get better! So, in the spirit of my sucky blog, the comments section question for the day is this: What is something you've done poorly this week?
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Hard Day for Opal
Opal's going to the vet today for behavioral advice. She's getting more neurotic as we pack and move stuff around. Last night, for example, she threw up 7 times in our bedroom. Peed the night before. We have mostly hardwood floors, so it gets clean, but our new house has more carpet. When do you draw the line and get rid of a cat? James wants to get rid of her, and I went into hysterical crying - I just can't face any more loss. She's going in at 12:30 today if you'd like to say a prayer for her (or maybe for me!).
It's just been a very hard several days of grief, so why blog about it? I did have one insight, though, to share.
Do you ever bore yourself with your thought and emotions? At one point a few days ago, I said out loud, "I'm so sick of myself!" Sometimes the psyche heals quickly, but sometimes it seems that I process the same relationships, experiences, thoughts,and emotions for months and months, so much so that I seem tedious even to myself. This made me think of friends (especially small group folks) who struggle with the same issues for long periods of time. This, to me, is part of the beauty of friendship. We stick with each other, and are attentive to each others' lives, even when we don't change very much. We listen to each other again, even though we've already listened to the same story. We're patient and gracious with each others' tedious slowness.
So I'm boring myself with my problems, and I'm upset about Opal, but at least I have some friends. And, for better or worse, they have me!
P.S. James' family birthday dinner is tonight (birthday was yesterday). Even though he's antisocial with most of you, you can say happy birthday if you want at jpar1140@yahoo.com
Opal's going to the vet today for behavioral advice. She's getting more neurotic as we pack and move stuff around. Last night, for example, she threw up 7 times in our bedroom. Peed the night before. We have mostly hardwood floors, so it gets clean, but our new house has more carpet. When do you draw the line and get rid of a cat? James wants to get rid of her, and I went into hysterical crying - I just can't face any more loss. She's going in at 12:30 today if you'd like to say a prayer for her (or maybe for me!).
It's just been a very hard several days of grief, so why blog about it? I did have one insight, though, to share.
Do you ever bore yourself with your thought and emotions? At one point a few days ago, I said out loud, "I'm so sick of myself!" Sometimes the psyche heals quickly, but sometimes it seems that I process the same relationships, experiences, thoughts,and emotions for months and months, so much so that I seem tedious even to myself. This made me think of friends (especially small group folks) who struggle with the same issues for long periods of time. This, to me, is part of the beauty of friendship. We stick with each other, and are attentive to each others' lives, even when we don't change very much. We listen to each other again, even though we've already listened to the same story. We're patient and gracious with each others' tedious slowness.
So I'm boring myself with my problems, and I'm upset about Opal, but at least I have some friends. And, for better or worse, they have me!
P.S. James' family birthday dinner is tonight (birthday was yesterday). Even though he's antisocial with most of you, you can say happy birthday if you want at jpar1140@yahoo.com
Monday, June 07, 2004
Material Things
Moving is so material that I'm losing track of my inner life. So many objects to touch, consider, choose whether or not to keep, and then pack. I've lived fairly simply, and the only objects I truly love are my piano, my computer, and some jewelry. But now I've collected about 10 boxes of family "heirlooms" - things my mother and grandmother saved. It's hard - it feels like weight on my shoulders, yet I also want to keep everything. Last night I decided that if James and I end up without living children, I'll call my cousins and nieces/nephews and pass it all along to them, sooner rather than later.
All my babies' possessions fit in a small box (a few hours on this earth, and you still end up with clothes, trinkets, and papers from the government!). Those things are packed and labeled, but I can't decide what to do with their urns on moving day. I don't know where to put them in the chaos of moving, but I also don't want to give them to anyone else to hold for me. It's hard to set things aside on moving day, cuz someone might pick it up and throw it away or toss it in the moving van without knowing. I know they're just ashes, and they might become less important to me someday, but for now it's still a big deal. It's not healthy for me to ruminate about things like this, so I need to make a decision and move on. Now that I'm focusing on it instead of just mulling it over, I think perhaps I could put them in my purse and set it on top of the frig. People usually leave purses alone during a move.
Sometimes I'm doing so much better, and then other times grief comes back and hurts the same way it did the day they died. The good times are becoming longer and longer, though, when the babies are incorporated into my daily life in happy ways. And James has his own process too, which is still very active. Sometimes this feels endless, but shouldn't it be? Loving a person doesn't ever have to end, even when they die.
Moving is so material that I'm losing track of my inner life. So many objects to touch, consider, choose whether or not to keep, and then pack. I've lived fairly simply, and the only objects I truly love are my piano, my computer, and some jewelry. But now I've collected about 10 boxes of family "heirlooms" - things my mother and grandmother saved. It's hard - it feels like weight on my shoulders, yet I also want to keep everything. Last night I decided that if James and I end up without living children, I'll call my cousins and nieces/nephews and pass it all along to them, sooner rather than later.
All my babies' possessions fit in a small box (a few hours on this earth, and you still end up with clothes, trinkets, and papers from the government!). Those things are packed and labeled, but I can't decide what to do with their urns on moving day. I don't know where to put them in the chaos of moving, but I also don't want to give them to anyone else to hold for me. It's hard to set things aside on moving day, cuz someone might pick it up and throw it away or toss it in the moving van without knowing. I know they're just ashes, and they might become less important to me someday, but for now it's still a big deal. It's not healthy for me to ruminate about things like this, so I need to make a decision and move on. Now that I'm focusing on it instead of just mulling it over, I think perhaps I could put them in my purse and set it on top of the frig. People usually leave purses alone during a move.
Sometimes I'm doing so much better, and then other times grief comes back and hurts the same way it did the day they died. The good times are becoming longer and longer, though, when the babies are incorporated into my daily life in happy ways. And James has his own process too, which is still very active. Sometimes this feels endless, but shouldn't it be? Loving a person doesn't ever have to end, even when they die.
Friday, June 04, 2004
Nothing Going On
I've just been swamped with e-mails asking me to describe details about Leroy and Lucy, the cats at the Humane Society I blogged about the other day. It's important to maintain a good relationship with my public, so I'm doing my best to respond.
Nothing going on today. My plans:
make minestrone
make chocolate cake
pack more crap
write feedback to students on their papers (I know, I know, school ended two weeks ago)
pet cats
read Sexuality and Holy Longing
go to yoga at 11:30
Well, that's quite a lot going on today! What are you doing?
I've just been swamped with e-mails asking me to describe details about Leroy and Lucy, the cats at the Humane Society I blogged about the other day. It's important to maintain a good relationship with my public, so I'm doing my best to respond.
Nothing going on today. My plans:
make minestrone
make chocolate cake
pack more crap
write feedback to students on their papers (I know, I know, school ended two weeks ago)
pet cats
read Sexuality and Holy Longing
go to yoga at 11:30
Well, that's quite a lot going on today! What are you doing?
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Further Embarrassment
I'm packing for our move. It's June 26 (Saturday), by the way, and anyone reading this is welcome to come help us. E-mail me if you can. The deal is that we'll be super-organized, and I'll cook you whatever you want if you help (either for lunch that day or at some point in the future).
Most stuff is packed in boxes, but books are in open crates. What if people judge me because of the books I own? I found three potential embarrassments:
A Bruce Wilkerson book (Fruit of the Vine)
Fifty back issues of Martha Stewart
1960s videos in which Jesus is white (like King of Kings)
If you help us, just pretend you don't see them.
What do you own that's potentially embarrassing??
I'm packing for our move. It's June 26 (Saturday), by the way, and anyone reading this is welcome to come help us. E-mail me if you can. The deal is that we'll be super-organized, and I'll cook you whatever you want if you help (either for lunch that day or at some point in the future).
Most stuff is packed in boxes, but books are in open crates. What if people judge me because of the books I own? I found three potential embarrassments:
A Bruce Wilkerson book (Fruit of the Vine)
Fifty back issues of Martha Stewart
1960s videos in which Jesus is white (like King of Kings)
If you help us, just pretend you don't see them.
What do you own that's potentially embarrassing??
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Embarrassing Myself
Much of my therapy is with women - now that I think about it, all of it is with women. My therapist said to me in parting yesterday, "Do whatever is right for you." I took it to heart, thinking, "What would be right for me right now?" The answer was clear, so I stopped by the Humane Society on my way home. I would tell you details about Lucy and Leroy, but I don't want to embarrass myself.
I am in this weird alternate universe where people say, "Do whatever is right for you", "You're doing the best you can", "Take care of you", and "Honor your spirit."
The universe I was raised in offered messages like, "You're a filthy worm of a sinner", "Just hope you don't burn in hell forever", "Follow the rules", "Screw up too badly, and no one will love you."
I'm living in a space between these worlds, with both messages rolling around in my head. Yesterday, when I really thought about what would be right for me at the moment, I thought, "I want to give love to someone who can fully receive it." And that was a cat. It pleased me to give love, and it helped make the cats more adoptable. (I also met two people in the cat room doing the same thing as me, and we had a good talk).
The true self isn't selfish, which is what I first thought of all the therapy jabbering. When the true self considers what it needs, it finds care and love. It needs to be loved, and also to love. It needs to be served, and also to serve. It needs for itself, and it needs to give to others. My true self was made for others, and the love I give for others is more real and lasting when it comes from my true self rather than from external authorities or from fear.
But really, women's therapy can get a little silly with all the talk of bathing, candles, scrapbooking, and chocolate. I'm sort of embarrassed to be part of it, but sort of amused with myself too.
Much of my therapy is with women - now that I think about it, all of it is with women. My therapist said to me in parting yesterday, "Do whatever is right for you." I took it to heart, thinking, "What would be right for me right now?" The answer was clear, so I stopped by the Humane Society on my way home. I would tell you details about Lucy and Leroy, but I don't want to embarrass myself.
I am in this weird alternate universe where people say, "Do whatever is right for you", "You're doing the best you can", "Take care of you", and "Honor your spirit."
The universe I was raised in offered messages like, "You're a filthy worm of a sinner", "Just hope you don't burn in hell forever", "Follow the rules", "Screw up too badly, and no one will love you."
I'm living in a space between these worlds, with both messages rolling around in my head. Yesterday, when I really thought about what would be right for me at the moment, I thought, "I want to give love to someone who can fully receive it." And that was a cat. It pleased me to give love, and it helped make the cats more adoptable. (I also met two people in the cat room doing the same thing as me, and we had a good talk).
The true self isn't selfish, which is what I first thought of all the therapy jabbering. When the true self considers what it needs, it finds care and love. It needs to be loved, and also to love. It needs to be served, and also to serve. It needs for itself, and it needs to give to others. My true self was made for others, and the love I give for others is more real and lasting when it comes from my true self rather than from external authorities or from fear.
But really, women's therapy can get a little silly with all the talk of bathing, candles, scrapbooking, and chocolate. I'm sort of embarrassed to be part of it, but sort of amused with myself too.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Help, I need somebody...
Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.
When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.
Today is a day of help. I've got a doctor's appointment, a therapy appointment, and mind/body class in the evening. That's a bit too much for one day, but I take what I can get.
I talked about therapy quite a bit last semester in my classes, partly because I saw so many connections between the micro and the macro. The dynamics of race relations and ethnic conflict, for example, are similar to interpersonal relationships (denial, conflict, violence, repression, etc.). But mostly, I talk about it to show them that an intelligent, capable person sometimes needs professional help (My personal boundaries shifted alot this year when Bethel students prayed over the death of my babies in chapel, and a number of them came to their memorial service). Many of them come from evangelical backgrounds generally similar to mine, in which therapy is mostly taboo. When I went to therapy for the first time, following the death of my high school boyfriend, I invited my family to come for some sessions. One family member said, "Ha! We're not going, because you're the one who's crazy!" So I went through family therapy by myself - a fact that has strongly shaped my relationships with family members since that time. I know many of my student suffer from grief, eating disorders, depression, addictions, despair, etc. So I say, "Help is there for you. When you need it, take it."
On the other hand, I shared one of my favorite books with two of my students, "The Careless Society" by John McKnight. He argues that our society has professionalized care, so we no longer value friendship. We pay people to care for us, in body (doctors), soul (pastors), and spirit (shrinks). Our sense of responsibilitiy toward each other is lessened. He's mostly concerned with urban poverty, and argues that what we need most is to care for each other, not to create more professional social services.
For myself, I would like about 90% of my care to come from friends (including family members who are friends), and 10% from paid professionals. Professionals have bags of tricks the rest of us don't have, and sometimes their expertise is just the thing I need. Much of the time, though, I just need love and attention, and those things are better when you don't pay for them.
Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.
When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.
Today is a day of help. I've got a doctor's appointment, a therapy appointment, and mind/body class in the evening. That's a bit too much for one day, but I take what I can get.
I talked about therapy quite a bit last semester in my classes, partly because I saw so many connections between the micro and the macro. The dynamics of race relations and ethnic conflict, for example, are similar to interpersonal relationships (denial, conflict, violence, repression, etc.). But mostly, I talk about it to show them that an intelligent, capable person sometimes needs professional help (My personal boundaries shifted alot this year when Bethel students prayed over the death of my babies in chapel, and a number of them came to their memorial service). Many of them come from evangelical backgrounds generally similar to mine, in which therapy is mostly taboo. When I went to therapy for the first time, following the death of my high school boyfriend, I invited my family to come for some sessions. One family member said, "Ha! We're not going, because you're the one who's crazy!" So I went through family therapy by myself - a fact that has strongly shaped my relationships with family members since that time. I know many of my student suffer from grief, eating disorders, depression, addictions, despair, etc. So I say, "Help is there for you. When you need it, take it."
On the other hand, I shared one of my favorite books with two of my students, "The Careless Society" by John McKnight. He argues that our society has professionalized care, so we no longer value friendship. We pay people to care for us, in body (doctors), soul (pastors), and spirit (shrinks). Our sense of responsibilitiy toward each other is lessened. He's mostly concerned with urban poverty, and argues that what we need most is to care for each other, not to create more professional social services.
For myself, I would like about 90% of my care to come from friends (including family members who are friends), and 10% from paid professionals. Professionals have bags of tricks the rest of us don't have, and sometimes their expertise is just the thing I need. Much of the time, though, I just need love and attention, and those things are better when you don't pay for them.
1 Comments:
Congrats in your new mission.
By
teeth whitening review, at 8:33 PM
Post a Comment
<< Home