I had some understanding this morning as I meditated with the hot air balloon image she shared at peer group last week. The image was meant for me, given to her by the Spirit on my behalf. I knew when she shared the image that I would need time to sit with it and go on a virtual balloon ride in my mind. This morning I "pulled that image out" to go for a ride and see where it took me. I've wanted to do a real hot air balloon ride for a long time and never have so I went into that imaging meditation expecting to thoroughly enjoy it, sailing high above the world, at one with the breezes, peaceful, exhilerated. But very quickly the ride was different than I'd expected it to be. As I began going up in the balloon, I began to fear the landing, being dragged in the bucket on the ground, or dumped out, hurt in some way. I began to realize that I wouldn't even enjoy the sailing part for fear of the landing. I realized I would prefer to completely miss out on the "good stuff" for fear of what "might" happen in the end. I prefer to keep myself grounded.
It saddened me to realize that that's the way I've come to do life. I often don't attempt things I could probably do and even enjoy because the fear of failure or getting hurt overrides attempting. My peer told me that in her image of that balloon she saw it snagged in a tree. When I imagined myself caught in the branches of a tree, I felt relief...oddly enough. I didn't expect that. But there was relief in being safe momentarily from having to land and risk getting hurt. So, although I wasn't enjoying sailing peacefully through the air, I wasn't feeling fear of the impending landing either. It felt preferable to just remain snagged, stuck, safely tucked into a tree. It felt nice not to have to make the decision of whether to go up in the balloon or not. For that moment, stuck in a tree, I felt I had no control over the situation. Ahhh...and no responsibility. It didn't feel bad to be in limbo...(heh...LIMBo)
And that's where I am right now in my life. I feel stuck, not risking, not reaching out. I sense that this will be changing, so I am willing to sit with this stuckness and accept it for what it is right now. I am willing to finish the meditation with the images and thoughts of the others in the group...loving myself and accepting where I am. My friend asked me to also sit with who might be controlling this hot air balloon. I think my fear is.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
"Are You Serious?"
Birthing has never been easy for me. Most mothers are with me on that one! It has been two years of every sort of emotion birthing my first children's book, "Are You Serious?" I have been excited, even elated, discouraged, even to the point of throwing the whole project out the window. And yet, here it is!
And I am struck with the idea that I am having some of the same feelings and reactions to this birth that I did with the births of my three biological children. Certainly there has been a measure of excitement. Yet that excitement has been coupled with a healthy dose of the reality that I must now "raise" this child of mine which, in this case means do my own marketing, promote my own work. This is sobering, much the way it was sobering to think that while I had successfully delivered each child, the real work, the work of a lifetime was dauntingly before me.
In order to promote this book, I have to have enough belief in myself to put it and myself "out there". I am not without pride in accomplishing this work. Yet it has been a pride coupled with humility. After all, I reason, certainly I think it was worthy of the work I put into it, but that doesn't automatically mean anyone else will see it that way. So, while I am proud of myself for seeing this project through to completion, it is now out there for the scrutiny and judgment of anyone who takes the time to peruse it. As long as the book or my children were still unpublic thoughts in my mind or lumps in my tummy, no one but me could judge them. Once made public, I must necessarily let go and realize that others will have judgments about that which is more than precious to me.
While these judgments in their negative forms are painful to endure sometimes, judgments in the positive are fun. But, as this book alludes to, neither judgment exclusively creates a template by which we can really see the truth. It is up to me to remember that the truth is subjective and elusive and always carries a balance. Books and children alike, once born, take on lives of their own that really have not much to do with me any more. To take myself out of the center of this creation is excruciating and life-giving.
As for the subject matter of this book, the concepts are near and dear to my heart, of course. With this book, I long to create waves of thinking, inspiration, change and awareness. I long to see it nurture and transform....not just kids, but adults as well. If this can happen...or should I be so bold as to say, WHEN this happens, my two years of labor will be worth all the fretfulness and self-doubt. And to be even more bold, despite any of my longings coming to fruition, the two years of labor has been worth it...period.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Silas
I began writing something about my journey as Silas' grandmother and soon realized the story is too big for this blog site. His life, his death and even his larger family legacy before him is a story I want to tell but not here, at least not in detail. What I will share here is just this:
His great-grandmother, my mother, lost her third-born child sixty years ago to a freak accident when he was two years old. Silas, my daughter's third child was only eight months when an eerily similar freak accident took his life this summer.
Why has the family been plagued to journey through such heart-wrenching tragedies? To say "plagued" seems right at first. It suggests some on-going scourge upon the family, like Job of the Old Testament. As though God somehow singled us out to torment us. Isn't that how Job felt? It's one of the feelings I have, I know that.
But what if we are not plagued? What if we just happened to experience a "luck of the draw" life? Just happenstance that such tragedies should happen to one family? I suppose that's possible although Job's Old Testament peers didn't seem to think that was a plausible explanation for his life. They preferred to think that Job had somehow fallen out of grace. But if it truly is "luck of the draw" I want to know why I don't have luck winning contests.
I think it's actually possible that we have been privileged or "loved" with these events. I know that sounds morbid. But what if, as I have read, we reincarnate to learn the fullness of God's Love through lifetime situations that help us "get it"? I'm not talking about punishments. I believe all things work together for good... (Romans 8:28) And I don't think God is about punitive life-lessons...at all. In fact, I think the book of Job addresses that, that it is human to believe in divine punishment but that that is not Who God is.
If this is true, or even if it isn't, going through as opposed to around is what I believe, without a doubt, brings us the fullness and richness of life. It is in going through the storm that we appreciate the rainbow for what it is: a promise of God's love and grace.
No matter how many tragedies me and my family or you and yours sustain, the Love of God has never left the scene. No matter what. I do truly believe that. And in order to continue to believe that, I embrace not only the tragedy for what it is, no more, no less, neither good nor bad, but I also embrace the lessons that come with such painful times, lessons in the compassion of those around us during this time, lessons of forgiveness needed moment to moment, over and over again, and the lesson of Grace enough to cover it all.
As Corrie Ten Boom,a Nazi concentration camp survivor, said: There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still. Amen.
His great-grandmother, my mother, lost her third-born child sixty years ago to a freak accident when he was two years old. Silas, my daughter's third child was only eight months when an eerily similar freak accident took his life this summer.
Why has the family been plagued to journey through such heart-wrenching tragedies? To say "plagued" seems right at first. It suggests some on-going scourge upon the family, like Job of the Old Testament. As though God somehow singled us out to torment us. Isn't that how Job felt? It's one of the feelings I have, I know that.
But what if we are not plagued? What if we just happened to experience a "luck of the draw" life? Just happenstance that such tragedies should happen to one family? I suppose that's possible although Job's Old Testament peers didn't seem to think that was a plausible explanation for his life. They preferred to think that Job had somehow fallen out of grace. But if it truly is "luck of the draw" I want to know why I don't have luck winning contests.
I think it's actually possible that we have been privileged or "loved" with these events. I know that sounds morbid. But what if, as I have read, we reincarnate to learn the fullness of God's Love through lifetime situations that help us "get it"? I'm not talking about punishments. I believe all things work together for good... (Romans 8:28) And I don't think God is about punitive life-lessons...at all. In fact, I think the book of Job addresses that, that it is human to believe in divine punishment but that that is not Who God is.
If this is true, or even if it isn't, going through as opposed to around is what I believe, without a doubt, brings us the fullness and richness of life. It is in going through the storm that we appreciate the rainbow for what it is: a promise of God's love and grace.
No matter how many tragedies me and my family or you and yours sustain, the Love of God has never left the scene. No matter what. I do truly believe that. And in order to continue to believe that, I embrace not only the tragedy for what it is, no more, no less, neither good nor bad, but I also embrace the lessons that come with such painful times, lessons in the compassion of those around us during this time, lessons of forgiveness needed moment to moment, over and over again, and the lesson of Grace enough to cover it all.
As Corrie Ten Boom,a Nazi concentration camp survivor, said: There is no pit so deep that God's love is not deeper still. Amen.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
"Are You Serious?"
Here is an illustration I have finished that goes with my first children's book "Are You Serious?". It's the story of a young girl who loves to ask and ponder big questions about God and her universe. She gets help from her mother and a star named Sirius. Seriously!
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Colonoscopy Meditation
Okay, I'll admit it. My ability to meditate myself out of anxiety is far from perfected. It helps but doesn't eradicate my angst and so I live with low-level worry a lot of the time, particularly this past week awaiting my second routine colonoscopy screening. The fact that my last screening five years ago showed me to be "clean as a whistle" didn't help relieve my anxiety. And the fact that my brother died of colon cancer only upped the ante. All said, I was bound and determined to remain faithfully anxious.
The prep wasn't as bad this time since they used a different method. In fact, I used the same brands of laxative my mother uses. I felt somewhat bonded to her during those twelve hours. Still, drinking 112 ounces of fluid in a ridiculously short span of time after pushing clear liquids all day long is not my cup of tea. Pun intended. I stared at my glass full of prep and offered the mantra, "you can do it..." over and over again until finally I had.
Arriving at the endoscopy center bright and early and having to wait 45 minutes in the waiting room only made my anxiety worse. Well, after all, who could blame me? The news droning on from the TV high in the corner of the room featured a story about all the medical mistakes that are made in this country but never reported. Geez Louise.
Finally it was my turn. I got checked in, donned my hospital gown, had my vitals taken, and was given a warm blanket. Then I was told I had another ten minutes or so to wait. Did I want reading material? Something in me said, "no". They turned out the light in my cubicle, pulled the curtain and left me alone. As I stared at the ugly-colored curtain (no offense), I decided to befriend my anxiety since that's all I had with me at the time.
I reasoned with it: look, last time I was fine and since then I've maintained an exemplary diet of plenty of ruffage. Anxiety didn't listen.
I pleaded with it: look, enough already! This isn't going to change the outcome, right? Anxiety would have nothing to do with me.
I even laughed at it: look, this is simply ridiculous. If I were facing brain surgery or something, then, okay, bring it on. But a routine colonoscopy screening? Anxiety didn't care.
Finally, I just sat there. I let all the extraneous noises of the clinic fade way, way in the background and I physically relaxed my muscles. It was the closest thing to meditation I had done all day. Soon the thought floated by me saying, "I'm scared of these test results." This thought was obviously not new. But it felt like there was something I wasn't seeing. Then, just behind it came thoughts loud enough that I wondered if anyone else had heard them, "Test results! That's it! I've ALWAYS been afraid of test results. School exams, drivers test, medical tests. But I've (almost) always done well. So why not now?" And with that, the anxiety began to leave me for the first time since I had scheduled this test. And guess what?
Everything came out all right in the end!
The prep wasn't as bad this time since they used a different method. In fact, I used the same brands of laxative my mother uses. I felt somewhat bonded to her during those twelve hours. Still, drinking 112 ounces of fluid in a ridiculously short span of time after pushing clear liquids all day long is not my cup of tea. Pun intended. I stared at my glass full of prep and offered the mantra, "you can do it..." over and over again until finally I had.
Arriving at the endoscopy center bright and early and having to wait 45 minutes in the waiting room only made my anxiety worse. Well, after all, who could blame me? The news droning on from the TV high in the corner of the room featured a story about all the medical mistakes that are made in this country but never reported. Geez Louise.
Finally it was my turn. I got checked in, donned my hospital gown, had my vitals taken, and was given a warm blanket. Then I was told I had another ten minutes or so to wait. Did I want reading material? Something in me said, "no". They turned out the light in my cubicle, pulled the curtain and left me alone. As I stared at the ugly-colored curtain (no offense), I decided to befriend my anxiety since that's all I had with me at the time.
I reasoned with it: look, last time I was fine and since then I've maintained an exemplary diet of plenty of ruffage. Anxiety didn't listen.
I pleaded with it: look, enough already! This isn't going to change the outcome, right? Anxiety would have nothing to do with me.
I even laughed at it: look, this is simply ridiculous. If I were facing brain surgery or something, then, okay, bring it on. But a routine colonoscopy screening? Anxiety didn't care.
Finally, I just sat there. I let all the extraneous noises of the clinic fade way, way in the background and I physically relaxed my muscles. It was the closest thing to meditation I had done all day. Soon the thought floated by me saying, "I'm scared of these test results." This thought was obviously not new. But it felt like there was something I wasn't seeing. Then, just behind it came thoughts loud enough that I wondered if anyone else had heard them, "Test results! That's it! I've ALWAYS been afraid of test results. School exams, drivers test, medical tests. But I've (almost) always done well. So why not now?" And with that, the anxiety began to leave me for the first time since I had scheduled this test. And guess what?
Everything came out all right in the end!
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Faith
Jesus says so often, something like, "Your faith has made you well." I got to thinking about the usage of the word "faith" in the scriptures. Did Jesus mean the same thing I think of when I read that word? Did he mean your faith in God? Your faith in himself, Jesus? 'Cause that's what I have grown up thinking about when I hear, "Your faith has made you well."
But nothing I read about Jesus would suggest he wanted people to have faith in him. WE believe WE should have faith in him but I don't believe he thought that. I believe he wanted to point the finger away from himself, actually. I believe that he wanted his followers to believe in the same faith that he had - not in himself specifically but in the God he loved and the Love of that God and the Power of that God. I don't believe Jesus thought HE was doing the healing. If he had, he would have said, "Your faith in ME has made you well."
But he didn't even say, "Your faith in God has made you well." This blows my mind now that I really think about this. Your "faith". Faith the size of a mustard seed sometimes apparently from what scripture says. Faith the size so as to move mountains, it says elsewhere. But just FAITH. Not FAITH IN, but just FAITH.
This suggests to me an attitude that what I want to have happen actually will. Just that. Is that enough to be made well? To acquire your hearts desire?
Why not? The scriptures say so. Jesus says so. It must have worked for him. Why not you and me?
But nothing I read about Jesus would suggest he wanted people to have faith in him. WE believe WE should have faith in him but I don't believe he thought that. I believe he wanted to point the finger away from himself, actually. I believe that he wanted his followers to believe in the same faith that he had - not in himself specifically but in the God he loved and the Love of that God and the Power of that God. I don't believe Jesus thought HE was doing the healing. If he had, he would have said, "Your faith in ME has made you well."
But he didn't even say, "Your faith in God has made you well." This blows my mind now that I really think about this. Your "faith". Faith the size of a mustard seed sometimes apparently from what scripture says. Faith the size so as to move mountains, it says elsewhere. But just FAITH. Not FAITH IN, but just FAITH.
This suggests to me an attitude that what I want to have happen actually will. Just that. Is that enough to be made well? To acquire your hearts desire?
Why not? The scriptures say so. Jesus says so. It must have worked for him. Why not you and me?
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