Author: Nadine SK

Nadine SK https://nuancedniddy.wordpress.com Mom, wife, pastor, nature lover, and camping enthusiast
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Withering Grass

For “All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass.  The grass withers, and the flower falls,but the word of the Lord remains forever.”    (1 Peter 1:24-25)

It was unsettling.  I stood beside my father as he bantered lightheartedly  with the monument salesman in the outdoor display yard.  We surveyed a variety of tombstones as we walked around this ‘PRETEND’ cemetery. Dad wanted something simple so as not to UPSTAGE the family marker of his ill-fated parents, brother and sister, next to which my mother’s and his shared stone would be erected within THE YEAR (whether they are dead or NOT).  

Dad made up something PITHY to be inscribed, and was pleased with himself.  I had no idea how much these things cost and was flabbergasted that my Dad just paid for it OUTRIGHT, that is, after he asked for a seniors discount.  Always a clown. My Dad instinctively began to put the monument man’s pen in his OWN pocket.  The guy had a sense of humour.  He said, “Well THERE’S your discount.”  My Dad, a retired pastor, pulled two more pens from his pocket to show them off.  BOTH were from funeral homes.  It drew out a good laugh.  When the salesman said, “IT’S YOURS!  The stone on the lot is the VERY stone that will be placed on your grave!”, it took the breath right out of me. I shuddered. Dad said, “Now your mom and I can die in peace.” “AWESOME”, I said.  “…and Nadine, since we are being cremated this lot can accomodate 4 MORE urns.” “Yup, Dad, that’s TERRIFIC news.”

I’m sure this kind of shopping trip happens in other families.  The weird bit for me is that AS WE WERE sampling textures, colours, and wording, my Mom was undergoing ANGIOPLASTY in a hospital more than two hours away.  We weren’t allowed to accompany her, so this is how we were KILLING (HA HA) time. Granted, this UNDERTAKING (Heh heh) was a PLANNED part of their trip to the area: Visit my sister at her cottage, duck into town to visit some family,  purchase their cemetery plot, and buy their tombstone.  A wholly PRODUCTIVE itinerary.

Things were going well.  They visited my sister.  CHECK.  They visited some aging family members.  CHECK.  They bought the cemetery plot.  CHECK.  This is where it all went to hell.  OF COURSE they NEEDED to go check out their new real estate!  It was a very hot day and a very steep hill.  Their grave site was down near the bottom.  Down, down they went, only Mom didn’t get back up – at least not without help.  My Mom had suddenly crumpled to the ground, practically ON TOP of her future resting place.  When her dementia allows it, and, she remembers bits of what happened, she says with a smile – “I just wanted to lie down for a while and try it out.” VERY FUNNY.  I don’t know what’s wrong with my parents.

When I got the news of her heart attack, I took a TERRIBLE 8 and a half hour train ride. My brother picked me up after midnight.  He lives 2 hours away from where my mother was in hospital, so by noon the next day we were by her side.  AND SO IT WENT.  My sister, my brother, and I, my nieces,  my aunt and uncle took turns reminding my Mom where she was and why she was there.  It got OLD really FAST. Dementia is incredibly difficult.

After days of waiting (it was a weekend), she was FINALLY transferred, alone, to the Ottawa Cardiovascular Centre where she underwent an angiogram and had two stents put in.  She was returned to Pembroke hospital at night. In the morning it was CLEAR she had been in MUCH distress and was VERY disoriented.  She embraced my Dad like a rescued child clings to their saviour.  I’d never seen either of them like this.

Recently, when I’ve had my parents on the phone,  before saying goodbye, I began telling them that I love them.  My kids, my husband, and I, tell each other ALL the time, but within my family of origin, admitting love just wasn’t necessary.  Love was always expressed in action rather than in words.  It took a few goes, but my parents had both reciprocated my profession a few times before these unfortunate happenings.  I think they welcomed it at the hospital.  In fact, they seemed a little surprised and delighted to hear those words.  It did wonders to my personal journey of healing from, well, LIFE.  

After her very hard night in the hospital, an unusual thing happened.  My parents began to recount the early days of their courtship.  I heard their love stories like I’ve never heard before.  Thankfully, my mother has retained some good long term remembering.  It was heartening to listen to them.

I had the privilege of accompanying them home to their rather isolated house, tucked into the woods near Burleigh Falls.  Things got a lot better for my mother.  Although she couldn’t recall all that had happened she eventually recognized that she was, in fact, HOME.  After a couple of days she was humming to herself and skipping around the house like she always did, feeding the birds, sitting on the deck, talking about good reads, and looking at photo albums.  This time was PRECIOUS.  I feel so blessed to have glimpsed my Mother as herself – these fleeting moments were beautiful.  All is well with the world when she is in her own home with her beloved and a sense that everyone and everything that she holds dear are all okay.  God I MISS her. (that’s a prayer, by the way)

The glory of the flesh is like the flowering of the grass.  Although a part of it withers away, God’s good purposes remain.  The Holy Spirit within continues to burn with the heat of love, and whistles out the rhythms of sweet memories that comfort us.

“While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.” (Genesis 8:22)

I wish my parents didn’t have to change.  I know that we learn about God through the ebb and flow of nature.  The seasons illustrate the balance between change and changelessness.  At first, the idea of things simultaneously transforming and staying the same, seems impossible.  Change is impermanent and permanence is unchanging.  God is hidden in mystery AND is being revealed through it. It’s mind boggling.

My mother’s heart attack sent me down a path of reflection.  How do the joys of our lives BALANCE with the suffering?  How do we accept the change and all the work that IMPRESSED upon us?  I am relieved that nature ALWAYS finds a way to return to balance.  The difficulties we experience DO NOT last forever.  God is AWAYS taking all that hard stuff, holding it, reworking it, re-creating our lives and the world around and enables us to adapt and grow with the changes.  God is always working to make ALL things new.  My Mom is already in God’s loving care, being gently enveloped in God’s creative force.  She is not in the process of ending, but in becoming.  She dwells in love just as she always has and always will.

I am easily distracted with all the things I THINK I still have to do with my parents and my family. Sometimes I forget to appreciate everything we’ve ALREADY done; the experiences we’ve had, the memories we’ve made, and the things we’ve accomplished.   I don’t readily notice that these are the very elements that are steadily pushing us all FORWARD to new life.   

I hope that the changes in YOUR life compel YOU to REFLECT, to find all those little bits of gratitude that get LOST in the hussle.  I hope you find moments to cultivate whatever is in you that tells you that you are a part of something GREATER than yourself.  That all stages of life are sacred puzzle pieces that lead to some kind of cosmic WHOLENESS.  For me that is the ground of all being whom I know as God, and the Holy Spirit of Christ dwelling in MY heart.  Somehow this mysterious unity gives meaning and purpose to all that we experience.  Savour the earthly moments.  Delight in transformation.  Don’t be afraid.

An aside:  Being prepared for one’s funeral is beneficial to those who continue to walk the earthly walk.  I don’t, however, recommend you physically try out your purchases before the big day.

Visiting Serenity

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. 4 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world.”

Psalm 19:1-4 NIV

My husband GINGERLY tows our LARGE travel trailer so that our family can go camping with ‘the comforts of home’.  By ‘COMFORTS’, I mean, bringing many of our furry friends.  Andy removed the dining table and bench as well as the couch to make room for animal enclosures and adult sized bodies to sleep on the floor. As we careen down hills, and barrel around curves WAY too fast, my hubby swears and, I pray.  Our kids (all over 18 except for 1) sit squished together in our F-150, which is VERY difficult for our daughter who lives with severe OCD ETC.  Everyone is packed in like sardines.  The twins and their youngest brother in the back, Andy and my oldest son in the front, with me between them.  I have to keep my feet up on the console with my knees way up in the air – it’s like doing a 6 hour abdominal CRUNCH.  Man, my knees ache, and my belly gets sore!  The 3 guinea pigs are stuffed under the back seat.  The gerbils are in two carriers at the feet of one of my daughters.  The dog sits ON TOP of my other daughter and son.  It is GRUELING.  But we have collectively decided that it IS worth it.

Do you watch ‘The Chosen’ series on TV?  It’s not for everyone, but I enjoy the visual and the literary license taken to depict ‘A’ story about the ministry of Jesus the Christ.  MY CHRIST.  There is an episode in season one, illustrating Jesus BEFORE the onset of his public life, BEFORE he calls his disciples or any of that.  In it, Jesus pitches camp – FOR REAL. He sets up a cloth shelter, makes a fire pit surrounded by rocks, collects wood, forages food,  builds a wooden table, a work bench for tools he carries with him, and a hanging rack. He cooks over the fire with clay pots, and eats from homemade bowls.  He sleepswith his body on the GROUND.  He washes his face in a stream. He prays and exercises.  He sits and CARVES MANY things.  He hums and sings and EVEN tells campfire stories to children who visit him. 

It resonates.  I was raised by AVID, RUSTIC style campers.  I have given up some of THAT experience to accommodate the unique needs of MY children that would otherwise have prevented us from camping AT ALL. But I can speak this language of minimalistic, nomadic, nature exposed, and nature dependent circumstances.

The wallpaper on my phone is my FAVORITE icon of Jesus, “Christ in the Wilderness” by artist Kelly Latimore. She pictures Jesus sitting alone in the wilderness, under a starry sky, next to a campfire. He looks run down, in need of a rest. He gazes at the galaxies above, perhaps pondering HIS HUMAN SMALLNESS. The way he sits suggests he is cold or maybe shielding his legs from biting flies.  It is meant to represent his 40 days of temptation by the devil.  He is removed from all the ‘comforts’ of civilization and faced with the discomfort of CREATURELY living. To me, it speaks of reorienting oneself to the earth, the enormity of creation, and solidarity with lions and tigers and bears, OH MY! In my camping experience there have been bears, yes. Chipmunks, racoons, skunks, deer, and the damn mosquitoes are the norm.

A funny thing happens when we settle into our campsite.  My son who has led the life of a HERMIT since Covid, emerges from the trailer to sit by the fire.  To go for hikes with the dog.  To visit with extended family.  To smile and laugh, I can see his eyes and it fills me with RELIEF and JOY.  He worries me, SO.  

My neurodiverse daughter ALSO gladly emerges.  She hunts for all things living, capturing frogs, snails, millipedes, aphids, salamanders, moths,  isopods (roley poley/pill bugs), spiders and Daddy Longlegs (did YOU know they ARE NOT spiders? I still don’t like them).  She admires them ALL and thoroughly researches them on her tablet.  She takes tons of pictures and then releases them back where she found them.  Her OCD seems to vanish as she treks through the bush, off the path,  searching through rotten logs, under rocks, and in the dirt.  She loves seeing nature in action.  Ants moving their larva. The variety of mushrooms. How the chipmunks taunt the dog and steal her kibble.  She doesn’t realize how much exercise she is getting.  Like my son, she has exerted little energy since Covid.

The rest of us drink in as much of the beauty and serenity each day brings, even as it rains, as our pets get sick, and the trailer breaks.  Being outside ignites energy.  It lights a fire in our weary souls.  We suddenly feel the urge to move, to explore, to create, and to EAT. All that fresh air makes us VERY hungry!  

In Jesus time, I don’t suppose the smells and stuffiness of being indoors was very appealing. Going outside and breathing deeply is therapy for a life so congested with STUFF and overscheduling.  It allows a moment to taste and see that the Lord is good.   Look up, look down, look around, look within.  God is everywhere.  Nature opens us to receive the gifts of energy renewed, hearts filled, and the hope of living unto death.  

No matter what your position on the spectrum of mental health, I prescribe for you to GET OUTSIDE!  Creation speaks not a word.  Creation enfolds, inspires, energizes, and teaches us how this planet is good. The animals – mammals, reptiles, amphibians, birds, fish, insects, arachnids, molluscs- vertebrates and invertabrates, they are GOOD!  Trees, shrubs, grasses, flowers, weeds – ALL GOOD!  Dirt, soil, rocks, and sand, moss, fungi – so very GOOD!  Each with a God-given gift to serve the earth and EACH OTHER!  WE are a part of this circle of GOODNESS! The same SPIRIT is where we live and move and have our being. (Acts 17:28).  

Maybe Jesus wasn’t REALLY a camper, but he appreciated the created world.  Maybe you aren’t a camper EITHER.  You can STILL enjoy the fragrance of a beautiful garden, the breeze on your skin, the sound of the wind through the trees, the taste of the fresh bounty from the earth, birdsong, chipmunk chatter, the cry of a loon, the touch of soft grass on your toes, the smell and pitter patter of the rain.  Nature embraces you just as the Spirit embraces you, wherever you are, whoever you are, however you are. These natural things are available to us to seek out, to nurture, and to visit.  Serenity is found in hearts that listen for the ‘ground of all being’ that sings the rythm of the universe into the foundation of our humanity, into our Godspark, our very soul.  What a BLESSING to belong to this GOODNESS.

Toilet Trauma

It didn’t go according to plan. ‘IT’, being, reducing my meds.  The decision was made by me, MYSELF, in the presence of my psychiatrist.  He wasn’t convinced but went along with it – maybe to spare my feelings or to let me really SEE. Maybe he thought it would be funny. Let me just say, I was monumentally wrong. 

Allow me to share a recent, fairly harmless example.

Here’s what would have happened IF I had been on a proper dose of meds:

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN.  How annoying. Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. How inconvenient. Being lazy and thinking I can just handle it using the toilet brush, albeit less effective, it will probably pump enough water to dislodge whatever is stuck. (EEW)

I quickly grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  I say, ‘OH SHIT’ (literally) as the container is right FULL of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor.   

I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet to swish it around and rinse off the offensive crap (HA HA).  I complete the rigorous pumping action and am rewarded by the glorious flush of the tank. “Oh good, the toilet isn’t broken.”

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, dump (Heh heh) its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  Put the container in the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. While Container and brush chill in the toilet, I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “Gee, I hope I got it all.” I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. 

How it really went down – me on reduced meds: 

I walk into the bathroom expecting everything to be in order but the toilet is plugged. AGAIN. I scream, ‘BLOODY HELL! WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND WALKED AWAY? WHO PLUGGED THE TOILET AND FAILED TO REPORT IT IS OUT OF ORDER?  WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?” Puzzlingly, the plunger is MISSING. “O MY GOD! WHERE IN THE HOLY HELL IS THE PLUNGER?  WHO TOOK THE PLUNGER? WHY WOULD ANYONE TAKE IT? AND DIDN’T WHY DIDN’T THEY RETURN IT?  WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?”  

In a frenzied rage, I grab the handle of the brush and pull it from its holding container.  “OH SHIT!” The container is right full of nasty, dirty toilet water which propels forth across the entire half bath and makes an ugly puddle on the floor. “UUUUUGH!!! YOU BASTARDS!”  I still need to use the bathroom.  I squeeze my legs together, and hastily submerge the brush in the almost overflowing toilet. I VIOLENTLY pump it against the drain with superhuman force until it flushes. 

Now, I pick up the toilet brush container, causing spillage and swearing under my breath. I dump its contents in the toilet. FLUSH.  I angrily force the container into the FRESH toilet water and use the brush to ‘CLEAN’ it. Leaving the container and brush in the toilet, I yell, “I GUESS I HAVE TO CLEAN THE WHOLE BATHROOM TOO! WHY IS THIS ALWAYS MY JOB?  CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?  I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN! NEXT TIME SOMEONE PLUGS THE TOILET, IT IS STAYING EFF-ING PLUGGED UNTIL THEY FIX IT THEMSELVES!” I spray and wipe down the floor, the walls, the mirror, the pedestal sink, the windowsill, the window, the blinds, the picture frames, and the cat’s litter box.  “F***. I probably missed some. We just have to live in FILTH.”  I finish by giving the toilet a quick clean and putting the container and brush back on the floor beside the toilet.  THEN, I use the bathroom and carry on. Everytime I meet someone in the house, I stop them and list ALL the UNPLEASANT things I HAVE TO DO EVERYDAY and how I’m not the ONLY ADULT in the HOUSE who is capable of cleaning.  I continue to passive aggressively return to this subject FOREVER. 

STOP.

I often question whether taking medication is stifling or ACTUALLY helpful.  The process of weaning off, changing my mind, and then slowly increasing the meds again until I reached a state of lessened anxiety, was a SIGNIFICANT struggle.  It was worth it just to discover that my spirit stays intact.  My essence remains with or without medication.

I officially take medications to curb the symptoms of borderline personality disorder.  Personally, I think ‘Borderline Personality Disorder’ is a misnomer.  It’s more of an EMOTIONAL disorder.  Without meds, I am unable to regulate my emotions and trend toward intense, catastrophic anxiety, inflexibility, negativity, and depression.  It is really hard WORK to check myself, especially as a pastor who is, by nature,  expected to be humble, accepting, and loving.  IF a trigger IS hit, it’s a challenge to reel it in.  I’m a bit of a walking emotional time bomb. IF I feel ignored, abandoned, or disliked, I react emotionally to quell the overwhelm of anxiety.  My behaviour CHANGES to protect, numb, or distract myself from the discomfort of extreme stress.  Shielding my fragile self-image sometimes spells personal sabotage and destruction. It can be AWKWARD.

Without the meds, my whole bathroom saga felt like a personal attack on my ability to parent and keep house. As if the clogged toilet was a CALCULATED demonstration of what I have FAILED to teach my children and how terrible I am for letting the ‘yuck factor’ in cleaning get OUT OF HAND.  It triggered a subconscious cascade of unwanted thoughts and memories about EVERY failure I have perceived in my motherhood and marriage. My self-judgment spurred the loud cursing that was designed to rouse the attention of my family, name myself as the victim and BLAME everyone else to take the pressure off of my isolated position in the story.

I don’t think this is unique to BPD, but I experience splitting, which is a marked division between my ‘NORMAL SELF’ and my ‘UNHEALED SELF.’  As a result, my mood swings are unpredictable.  I have issues with identity confusion and internal conflict. Insert [Imposter Syndrome]. Depression overtakes me with a deep sense of ongoing emptiness.  It is in THESE moments that I need MORE than medication.  I need to look inward, embrace mystery, and trust GOODNESS to prevail.

Once, when I was feeling pathetically helpless, I prayed for something very specific to cheer me up.  “God,” I said, “I never REALLY ask you for anything tangible.  It would help me enormously to know you ARE listening.” Then, as if God works like some kind of magical Santa Claus, I asked, “Please, please, please let the clothing I ordered arrive TODAY.”  I’m not usually so desperate about clothes, but these were clergy garments that would refresh my wardrobe after many years of body dysmorphia and clothes that just didn’t fit right and detracted from my professionalism.  When I finished I scolded myself for being SO petty.  I went on with my day.  When I got home THE BOX was on the table.  I began to do the math – “what day did I place the order?  Has it been 6-8, or maybe 12 weeks?  Was this MY intuition or did GOD really just DO that for ME?” The crust around my soul began to crumble. (sounds Grinchy)  “What IF God just did that?”….. “Um, God, okay, thank you for showing me that you ARE real and you HEAR me.  I’m so sorry that I put you to the test…  So…hey…you’ll deliver my package when I ask – what then will you do with my REAL problems?”  

This is an experience I often return to when I’m in distress.  God cares about ME. God loves ME.  God looks out for ME, myself.  The missing toilet plunger doesn’t matter.  The mess has no enduring consequence. My family is not to blame, no one is plotting against me or abandoning me.  The toilet is JUST clogged and there IS NO plunger. It’s an inconvenience. Nothing more. The goal of treatment for emotional/personality disorders is differentiation of self – having the ability to maintain one’s true self in anxiety and in emotional situations.  My healing work is focused on changing my relationship between how I THINK and how I EXPRESS my EMOTIONS. It leads me through the storms of life to find my center calm, my connection to the ground of all being, my Christ-heart, my godspark, my soul.

I’m a work in progress.  Aren’t we ALL? Dr. Richard Schwartz’ theory of ‘Internal Family Systems,’ takes Dr. Bowen’s ‘Family Systems Theory’ which is concerned with the different interdependent roles assumed within healthy AND dysfunctional families, and APPLIES IT to an individual person and their many ‘parts’.  This resonates.  I don’t feel that I have a bunch of different personalities inside of me that fight for leadership.  But, I do feel like I have distinct PARTS. 

In IFS the ‘parts’ include EXILES, the parts of yourself that your ‘system’ works to keep hidden and out of trouble.  They carry your burdens like shame, fear, grief, anger, dependency, and loneliness. They also long to be healed and freed. MANAGERS are your parts that protect ‘the whole system’ from feelings of hurt and rejection. They maintain control by creating an illusion of safety by being super competent, and utilizing your self-critic to prevent humiliation and abandonment.  FIREFIGHTERS serve and protect ‘the system’ when triggers hit too close to home.  They react, attack, and create diversions (like addictions, eating and sleep disorders, extra work, self-harm, and dissociation), all to keep your exiles from seeing the light of day.

My favorite part is the CORE SELF.  When you can uncover this part and maintain it, it becomes the active and compassionate LEADER of all the other parts. It takes away their ‘jobs’ and replaces them with pleasant, and positive, productive roles.  It is your natural essence, that has been sheltered from damage by all the other parts. Your Core Self acts with spontaneity, and creativity. It emerges when you feel centered and truly safe and calm. Your confident core self is Playful, Curious, Adventurous, and Stable. It is your BEST SELF.  When it is uncovered, it needs NO improvement, because it’s already perfect the way it is…..the way God made you.

As a Christian, the core self, my best self, fits the concept of my soul – which I believe is beyond the limits of the physical body or the human psyche.  The soul is the essence, energy, electricity, everlasting part of you that IS accessible during this earthly walk and contains ALL the wisdom and strength you need to find peace and healing WITHIN  yourself.  I’m not talking about a cure-all.  I am talking about a state of being that is calm, knowing, and in fact, a little piece of God’s all encompassing love that has settled in you no matter what else is happening in your life.  

People are complicated.  When you are faced with dirty toilet brushes and stuff that’s stuck, BREATHE. Center yourself.  Ask all your managers and firefighters to give you some room, to step aside.  Hug your exiles and draw on your CORE – the being that God meant for you to be – be filled with THAT light.  Bathroom drama, I think most dramas, CAN be navigated with improved self-awareness and the courage to be vulnerable. We can live as we die and die as we live within our personal ‘system’ and in interconnection with and care for the ‘systems’ of OTHERS, even if they expect you to clean the toilet.

Requiem

A letter to my dead brother.

*Trigger Warning. Suicide*

Requiem is Latin for REST.  But you ALREADY knew that, didn’t you?  You were always so well read, so smart, and so articulate.  Are you resting now?  Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine. ‘Eternal rest grant them, O Lord’ – has eternal rest been granted to YOU?  You were forty-four when your otherworldly quest for peace began.  It was your birthday this week.  I thought of you. You would’ve been fifty-six. You’ve missed 11 earthly birthdays. Still life rolls forward even though there are many things left unsaid.

Do you know that ALL I ever wanted from you was approval?  A smile, a nod, a kind word.  I understand that you were deeply troubled. I’ve become QUITE familiar with mental health derailment. When you and I  were kids the labels and the help DIDN’T exist.  Eleven years ago it wasn’t much better.  Today it seems EVERYBODY wants a piece and it makes it difficult to get proper care – until you REALLY lose your mind or cause harm.  There are no neat categories.  No definitive diagnosis or prognosis. But if you are willing to jump through the hoops, endure all the chaos, allow the endless poking and prodding, eventually, if you are lucky – perhaps only by God’s grace, someone FINALLY stamps your hand and gives you passage into the shakey world of treatment and accommodations.    

The medical and psychological powers never did nail down YOUR disease.  Granted, from what I understand, the process of your personal detangling didn’t start until you were well into adulthood. Nevertheless, bi-polar or whatever you were, I ALWAYS sensed it.  My angry, hurtful, terrifying big brother.  Although you just could NOT like me, I adored you. Even when you screamed in my face, threatened me, thwarted me, squashed the caterpillar I was admiring, and said vile, hateful things to me, I loved you and I wanted you to care.  But you couldn’t.

You were so kind and so funny, and obliging to EVERYONE else, even to my silly friends who thought you were the coolest.  I thought you were the coolest – but you left me in the shadows.  You didn’t know it, but I watched you from a distance, longing to sit close.  Even so, I peeked out to marvel at your radiance.

I built a wall around myself once.  It protected me. I needed SOMETHING to guard me, to buffer the insults – to muffle the direct and horrible hits to my self-worth, to block out the overwhelming question about whether I DESERVED to draw air, to be in YOUR presence.  EVERYDAY you were alive, I clung to the hope that ONE DAY YOU WOULD CHANGE YOUR MIND.  You’d LET ME be a part of YOUR amazing life.  You’d show me the art you created and let me listen with you to your favorite music, you’d tell me about the best books you’d read, about your wilderness adventures, you’d laugh and tease and appreciate me – your reverent little sister.

When you died that hope was LOST.  Our children would never benefit from the carefree days of cousinhood and you and I would never enjoy a comfortable, unspoken, unconditional bond, as many siblings do. There would be NO camping trips, NO Christmas dinners, NO friendly check ins, NO growing relationship. To this day, I am reinventing myself as someone who doesn’t NEED your APPROVAL, or anyone else’s for that matter.  It’s funny how much of my identity was threatened when the wall became IRRELEVANT.  I kept it, out of habit, I suppose.  My perception of myself broke into a thousand bits that I’m STILL struggling to put back together. The wall looks different now – parts of it have crumbled and fallen, but

I still hide behind it sometimes.  

You had your 10 year chip.  A HUGE accomplishment. The autopsy confirmed you were not drinking. You were working SO hard on yourself. I’m proud of your valiant efforts. I’m not sure who you chose to make amends with when you did your ninth step.  Did you DO your ninth step?  It’s none of my business…but I can’t help but wonder, WAS IT TOO MUCH for me to wish that you’d acknowledge the damage you’d inflicted upon ME?  DIDN’T YOU KNOW THAT YOU HURT ME over and over and over again?  Did you have any faith, REALLY?  The AA steps are steeped in God language – regardless of changing the words to ‘higher power’ and ‘making amends’ – faith in something bigger and benevolent is the undertone. [that’s my uninformed impression – I don’t really know anything – just that it confuses me] Anyway, it doesn’t seem to fit with who I THOUGHT you were. Well, YOU didn’t know ME EITHER.  So here we are.

I sound angry.  I AM angry.  I can be angry and still love you.  I can be hurt and still forgive you.  I forgive you.  I love you.

Were you scared, big brother? Did you have second thoughts?  Were you sad? Did you make your peace?  Were you anxious for whatever would come next?  You should know that you highly UNDERESTIMATED the IMPACT your death would have on all of us still left to this life.  Thank you for including my name in your final note, listed with the people you loved.  It provided great comfort.  I understand liking and loving are different. I can accept that.  I’m so sorry that you were just SO exhausted by the WORK of living that relief, even death, was a welcome companion.  I hope that in your last moments you didn’t feel alone.  I hope LOVE held you and holds you STILL.

  Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine.

Unbidden

30 Again [Jesus] said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? 31 It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. 32 Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade.” Mark 4:30-32

My side lawn used to house three ENORMOUS trees that stood in a perfect row. Two flanked the driveway and the other stood by the little parking spot next to the garage. I agreed to have them TAKEN DOWN because they had signs of rot and were encroaching on the buildings.  






Many people in my congregation thought they were walnut trees but NONE produced nuts and one had thorny branches and enormous white sprays that attracted SWARMS of bees in the spring. I was curious so I did some research.  Whoever planted those trees in our yard either didn’t think it through or they had a twisted sense of humour.   If I’m right [I’M RIGHT], one tree was a honey locust and the others were a ‘tree of heaven’ pair.  HILARIOUS.  I’ll tell you why.  All three trees created prolific seedlings not only in our lawn and flower beds but also in those of our neighbours and, in fact, the whole village.  They were invasive and grew with great speed. The roots went DEEP and held FAST.  It took A LOT of work to dig up their roots and pull them up from the ground. There were SO MANY little saplings springing up that it felt like a PLAGUE.  It was IRRITATING and NO amount of hard work could STOP them from growing.  










Once someone told me that it was a pastor who did the planting. The house has always been owned by the church I serve and their pastors traditionally take up residence in it. I guess the pastor responsible thought AFFLICTING the parsonage with a tree named after the promise of honey and the plague of locusts from the Bible was FUNNY.  At any rate, the whole tree thing seemed clearly  PLANNED. The honey locust dripped sticky, messy sap on the roof of the garage and the sidewalk and, although the other two trees were tall and appeared to reach HIGH into the heavens, they were a stubborn, HELLISH nuisance. Amusing, right?  I was pretty sure I hated those trees.










The scripture I preached a couple Sundays ago was Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed.  I couldn’t help but think of THESE trees.  A mustard plant begins as a small, inconsequential seed, hidden in the ground. Some varieties can RISE up to be a very LARGE bush. They aren’t REGAL looking or anything, just very ORDINARY, naturally occurring plants that grow like WEEDS.  I’m no farmer but I know that the LAST thing a crop needs is tree-like weeds that steal sunshine and invite a bunch of birds and pests to pick around. Yet Jesus compares the mysterious in-breaking, sweeping [firmament- dimension-precinct-dominion-realm-‘kin’dom] Kingdom OF GOD to a mustard seed.  An IRRITANT. 










Those trees had grown like weeds.  Even though they were uprooted, SOMEHOW through the miracle of nature, their offspring always continued, and, TO THIS DAY, pop up EVERYWHERE – through the boards of our deck, pushing into the bottom of our trailer, lodging tightly between the walls of the house and the steps.  Those trees left a LEGACY of irritants, seeds with aggressive SWARMING behaviour and the ability to TRANSFORM landscapes by sprouting and spreading despite our best efforts to STOP them.















Jesus teaches that the kingdom of God is LIKE THIS.  It pops up everywhere and spreads like weeds whether we TRY to stop it or not.  





What does this mean for us who CHOOSE to put our energy towards the growth of GOD’S hopes and dreams for humanity and creation?  How do we nurture the growth of human decency, justice and love? How do WE teach the way of humility and welcome diversity rather than stifle or silence voices that are difficult to hear? 





I consulted several dictionaries and thesauri to inform my understanding of weeds.  I was DELIGHTED to discover that the same concepts can be directly applied to our Christian concept of God’s in-breaking kingdom within us and among us.  Jesus knew what he was talking about.





The kingdom of God is like ‘a plant out of place.’  It is like a plant ‘that interferes with human activities.’ It is like a plant ‘whose perceived negative characteristics might appear to outweigh its positive characteristics’, OR a plant ‘whose positive characteristics have not yet been discovered’!!!





The Kingdom of heaven is like a weed.  It produces large numbers of seeds. These seeds ‘might remain dormant, but are viable in the soil for long periods of time.’  Perhaps the way of truth and love that we find demonstrated by Jesus IS undesirable in particular situations.  Maybe THAT way of living conflicts with our preferences, needs, and goals.  Surely a life lived speaking truth to power CAN be hazardous, unappealing, and difficult to control and simply unwanted in certain societal ‘environments’, but STILL the realm of God grows forth from our hearts, from the earth, and from the ever-blooming fruit of the Holy Spirit that animates EVERYTHING.










Did you know that some seeds of weeds have unique, God-given structures that ENABLE them to be transported and be easily spread?  For example, like burrs to CLING to animals?  The Holy Spirit is like a burr that clings to the seed, or even the seeds themselves that are consumed and SHAT OUT with ABANDON – ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE so that God’s love spreads and propagates EVEN in unexpected and difficult places without us so much as lifting a finger to help it move along? SHAT OUT! I LOVE THIS VULGAR, EARTHY, ORDINARY TRUTH!





Soon after the parsonage trees were taken down we started to MISS them.  The inside of our parked vehicles became HOTTER.  Our deck and backyard had NO shade.  We LONGED for the visual of their branches waving and the sound of the breeze through their leaves.  NO more robins or squirrels nested in our front yard.  We MISSED the extra birdsong and the chatter.  In the spring when things started blooming, we missed the sweet locust tree and were grieved knowing we had DESTROYED a HAVEN for the bees that used to collect pollen from its blossoms’ and nestle into its bark for rest.  Those trees had grown like weeds.  The municipality said a new tree would be planted to replace them, a promise yet unfulfilled.  If I so-desired, I could simply allow the weeds to grow back. I’m seriously considering this!





The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, a weed, an irritant – like the honey locust and the tree of heaven – a real and present tangible LIFE that is ALWAYS open to us to experience and SHARE.  Following Jesus can be HIGHLY disruptive to our comfort and our entrenchment in the status quo.  Asking questions, seeking justice, taking risks for the sake of others – is HARD. It’s NECESSARY. The world needs US to be like that mustard seed – relentless in our mission to invite others into God’s love, into the way of humility, peace, and belonging.  





A weed will grow without our help, even if untended – gradually, mysteriously, even unnoticed until – WHOOPS, there it is. Likewise, the realm of God is always expanding. It grows not just to look nice – but to BENEFIT creation with shelter and security.  Perhaps it is an univited, unmajestic, nuisance to some, but to so many OTHERS it is a much needed reality providing shelter, safety, and happiness. 





Jesus says that seeds sprout and grow even though the farmer really has NO clue how this miracle happens.  The earth produces from itself.  The earth has the power of TRANSFORMATION.  Farmers have to trust the soil, the earth, the ground, the mystery.  The kingdom of God is the same.    The seeds grow on their own REGARDLESS of what we do.  The purpose of sharing the fruit of God’s metaphorical garden is simply to ENCOURAGE this love and growth in our tired world.  We are invited to sow the seeds God provides. Carry the burrs and spread the shit.  This is GOOD news. We don’t know how it all works.  The mustard seed doesn’t push up out of the ground as a full bush and neither does the kingdom of God! We have hope because the new life of the kingdom is already growing here and will carry us through to the harvest of eternal life when the kingdom is realized in its FULLNESS.  It’s IMPOSSIBLE to mess THIS up! The kingdom will keep on growing even amidst our mistakes, the growth of God’s kingdom CANNOT be uprooted.





Sometimes the irritants will get our goat – and sometimes we ourselves must be the irritant for justice and love to grow.  Maybe nobody WISHES for big old weeds – but I can’t deny that the pesky honey locust and the trees of heaven – in their fullness – provided sanctuary and a place for life to FLOURISH in HARMONY.  Let’s look at the seeds that have already been planted and recognize what they have done over time and will continue to grow in the future and let’s accept with CONFIDENCE, the invitation to continue sowing and our INCLUSION in the spreading of God’s expansive and unbidden love.  






			

	
	



			
				


			
		

		
Don’t Ask
	


		

		



Smalltalk is hard.  Some topics hit deep water and sink quickly, especially when it comes to questions about parenting and home life. Perhaps it’s because of my mental health challenges or just my introverted tendencies.





It doesn’t help that I live in (what feels to me like) a fishbowl environment.  As a pastor in a small village, it can FEEL like everyone knows my business. (If that’s true, I’m sure nobody analyzes my every move, RIGHT?) 😬





Unresolved shame is ALWAYS lurking.  It always keeps me tethered. I usually give dismissive or extremely vague answers to well- meaning people for whom, I’M CERTAIN, breezy questions are normative. After all, it’s a staple for basic human connection.





It’s me (perhaps in my disordered thinking) that assumes people CARE too much about my answers. (It must be very annoying and off-putting to others when I cut the smalltalk game short). I’m the one who feels judgment instead of accepting simple social pleasantries.





This time of year, it seems EVERYONE is asking about what kids are doing next. In June, we saw a barrage of high-school graduation photos from proud parents and grandparents on every social media platform. Every photo caused me a baseless ping of anxiety, panic, and disparagement.





I struggle with feelings of parental inadequacy and workplace imposter syndrome. Granted, everyone, regardless of where they fall on the spectrum of mental health, probably feel a little ‘LESS THAN’ from time to time.  With BPD, I have a hard time sorting it through, capping the negativity, and shutting down the feelings of overwhelming shame and resentment. I can’t LET GO. 





I am extremely sensitive to remarks with even the TINIEST hint of finger pointing.  I long for my shortcomings to go entirely unnoticed. Sometimes, little digs escalate (in my head) into gaping bottomless pits.





I have to push myself to take stock. Nobody is living THEIR perfect life. 





I have so much to be thankful for.  Focusing on gratitude improves not only my passing moods but also my health and my life.





I have four teenaged children who love and trust their family, who are concerned for the world, and treat God’s creation with respect.  Each is growing up at their own pace and on their own terms. Yup – we are far removed from what is typical for many other families, but our design is RIGHT for US.





College, university, jobs, and extracurriculars are frequent conversation topics with extended family and anyone not living under our roof.  I am proud of my kids for who they are. It is my dysfunctional fear that keeps me from sharing their plans. Sharing doesn’t have to involve COMPARING.  God created us to be unique. Diversity is what unifies us. 





The world is far from accepting differences – variance in race, ethnicity, culture, gender, age, ability, and social status are issues that need enormous work before true equity can be realized.  Keep at it. Community activity, work associations, church, friends, and FAMILY are all starting points where sparks develop and momentum from God’s indwelling goodness begin to take off.





My family is a gift and a grace.  Our collective struggles are small in the context of a difficult world.  Although this truth doesn’t solve my aversion to smalltalk, it does remind me that we are NEVER ALONE. Our story is always worth sharing because it may help someone else to see JUST THAT.





Smalltalk isn’t going to disappear.  I will do my best to embrace it for the sake of relationship building. Just know that the look on my face, my tense body, and general discomfort aren’t personal. It’s me, not you. Here’s an awkward but truly heartfelt ((HUG)).





God bless



			

	
	



			
				
	

		
	



			
		

		
“SHOULD” is a dirty word.
	


		

		






My psychiatrist thinks Thursday is my day OFF, but it’s not.  I like how happy it makes HIM to think I follow such a healthy routine, so I don’t correct him. Truthfully, I don’t have a consistent day set ASIDE to rest.  There is NO time to rest, even if I’m NOT working.  





Keeping up with all my mindfulness tasks is a JOB in and of itself – yoga, meditation, listening to music and podcasts, reading, dog walking, fresh air, sunshine, volunteering with ponies, seeing friends and extended family, or even just calling them, writing, crocheting, playing guitar, drawing, EVEN praying – crammed all together in a day or two ARE work.  Add housekeeping and family management to that and I’m DONE.  Actual work at my JOB can be a welcome distraction from my self-improvement schedule and home life.





Sometimes I fall prey to the jaws of my own anxiety and feelings of guilt.  The SHOULDS begin to PROD at me even when I’m trying so hard to ignore them.  You should be working, they nag. You SHOULD be at the office, there’s so much to organize, so much to prepare, so many calls you COULD make.  It’s a nice day, you SHOULD walk around the village and visit ALL your parishioners.  They’d appreciate it.  You should go NOW. Isn’t so and so due for surgery?  Didn’t somebody just have a bad fall?  What about checking in with so and so’s recent widow? Isn’t there a get together, an event, a cause you SHOULD be supporting?  You should be MORE involved in the community.  There’s still half a day left – GO to the coffee shop, the community center, the park.  Be visible.  Be AVAILABLE.  It’s good for you.  People need YOU, Nadine! They are hard pressed for SOMEONE to minister to them.  Get off your self-absorbed butt and get to work!





No?  Well then, at LEAST mow the lawn, weed the flowerbeds, sweep the deck, do the dishes, do the laundry, prepare the recycling, take out the garbage, get the mail, scrub the floor, clean out the fridge.  I never dust.  My conscience has NOTHING to say about dust.





I’m dialing back on one of my antidepressant medications.  It’s going great. Gosh I’m edgy.  EVERY feeling is augmented.  Shame is ugly.  I COULD blame my meds.  That’s what I’ll tell my therapist.  Oh- those meds!  They wreak havoc on everything ‘MINE’.  










Rosie KNOWS the truth.  She’s the pony who listened to ALL my bull yesterday.  She could tell I was uncomfortable in my own skin – getting too close to touching my OWN rawness.  Deep in a pit of self-judgement and loathing.  Her eyes held me.  I got lost in her gaze.  She trained me up ‘real good’.  It wasn’t a calm day at the farm and the horses were startling easily.  





But Rosie overcame that.  I can’t take ANY credit because I was a mess.  First, as per usual, she gave me a hassle on our promenade to the arena.  She didn’t WANT to stand where I asked. She KNOWS that she can easily OUT LEAD me. But something shifted.  After rubbing her itchy bum on the support beam, she urged ME to groom her.  She let ME lean in, scratch her ears and murmur at her. She was STILL.  She was PATIENT (she’s usually sassy).  When I turned away SHE stepped toward me, put HER nose on my shoulder, she coaxed me to ENJOY her contact, she nuzzled and listened to me breathe out. She was so EMPATHETIC and KIND. Thank God for her.










Today the SHOULDS are still bugging me.  I’m mostly ready for Sunday.  I’m procrastinating though.  This is PRIME sermon writing time.  The scripture readings are about taking time for rest, for Sabbath restoration and healing.  Jesus says the commandment about keeping the Sabbath is a gift for US.  GOD DOESN’T NEED REST.  But God knows that WE DO.  





In a few days my edginess will dissipate.  I’ll settle down.  The shoulds won’t be so LOUD.  Let the Spirit fill your troubled heart with the same empathy and kindness I found in my pony friend.  Medication or not, it WILL see you through the rough patches and bolster your tender heart for every tomorrow. 

			

	
	



			
				


			
		

		
Labyrinth Liberty
	


		

		










“You make known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.”  
Psalm 16:10a





Despite the cold and the rain, I was invited to step OUTSIDE to walk the well- storied labyrinth of my afternoon companion, and, like signing a COSMIC GUEST book,  place a stone of MY choosing along the spiraling path.









I LOVE that it was raining. My hands were muddied by the ROCK I’d picked from the yard. (Also from the wet, dirty frisby which the DOG OF THE MANOR kept pushing into my thigh!  Attention ME!)  





My glasses were SPRINKLED with rain drops. To QUOTE Taylor Swift, my hair had gone “back to its FACTORY settings”. (She’s GOOD with words.  I like that.)  My host started at the MOUTH of the labyrinth, walking  ahead of me to show me how it was done.  





She has lovingly built and added to her original labyrinth with CARE and REVERENCE over several years.  I believe the meaning it holds for HER and her personal ENERGY causes the labyrinth ITSELF to vibrate with a feeling of transcendence.  It is a place where BODY meets SPIRIT, where creative, sacred magic is birthed.





Her labyrinth PERFECTLY compliments the land in which it is now weathered and embedded.   A stand of two mature pine trees with SWEEPING branches are the centerpiece. Their dropped needles had long prepared the ground for JUST such an artistic and spiritual expression.  Seeing their PERFECTION in that space felt as if the trees themselves had conjured the labyrinth. Perhaps it was their DESTINY to frame the centrum, the core. If I wasn’t so self conscious I might have sat on the ground or sprawled out on my back on the pine needles to look up through the trees and watch the raindrops fall on my face.  










The center is traditionally the place to PAUSE and rest, to listen, to pray, and to receive the whispers of our HEARTS. Whatever the spirit evokes is what we CARRY OUT on our journey back along the path to the entrance.  The path ONLY leads to the ONE place.  Walking it is a decision to make a spiritual pilgrimage to your heart, to your SOUL.  For many, it invites a mystical, spiritual experience of calm, wholeness, and HARMONY with the SOURCE of all things.





Since I’m Christian, I quite EASILY imagined the labyrinth to be a physical representation of MY faith journey.  A journey which brings me into an EVER-CLOSER, more intimate relationship with GOD.  Traveling the path brought me a feeling of connection to my spiritual ANCESTORS who navigated their way through life by TRUSTING God to see THEM through, and those who walked BESIDE JESUS who would CONTINUE to follow and share the WAY of Jesus. (without whom Christianity would NEVER have been born!)  My friend’s labyrinth coaxed me to take a few moments to seek spiritual growth and healing while contemplating the path to ETERNITY.  





NOT YOUR CUP OF TEA?  That’s alright.  Labyrinths have MANY interpretations.  I like them ALL.  I think that regardless of specifics, the path provides a METAPHOR for whatever IS sacred in our lives.  Walking in we CARRY our burdens.  At the center we RELEASE what weighs us down.  We feel LIGHTER and more peaceful as we walk the path OUT, ready to face whatever comes NEXT in our lives, be it challenges or JOY.  





You know, there’s some research about how the labyrinth engages RIGHT BRAIN ACTIVITY.  Walking the path gives us a BREAK from the logical, analytical, fact-based activity of our LEFT brain.  Without these constraints and DISTRACTIONS, our INTUITION, IMAGINATION and CREATIVITY are set loose.  COOL, right?  Maybe THIS is WHY many are able to solve problems, feel an inner peace, and spiritual clarity while the FUN part of their brain comes to the fore.  We let go of all the DAMN thoughts and take NOTICE of each breath, each footfall, each touch of the natural world, and each stirring of our hearts.










I read somewhere that the labyrinth is like returning to the WOMB and being REBORN. Personally, entering the mouth KINDA felt like birth.  I collected myself with deep, indulgent breaths, cleared my head and GAZED upon the journey, the POTENTIAL, the life ahead of me.  As I walked inwards, it was like experiencing the ebb and flow of life, the TURNS, the ‘ALMOST there but NOT yets’ of the journey.  Unburdening and the peace I felt at the center is how I imagine DEATH to feel.  The lightness and rejoicing in the path becomes the ‘FOREVER with God in paradise’, the RENEWAL of old energy, the everlasting electricity of the SELF that is IN me.










My friend has beautified her labyrinth with gorgeous rocks, art, and wind chimes.  Walking it in the rain ignited ALL of my senses.  I could SEE the beauty, HEAR the wind chimes, the birds,  and the rain.  I could SMELL the earth, and the perfume of wet grass and vegetation.  I held my signature stone in my palm. I caressed its smoothness and its edges, the grit of the mud.  I TOUCHED the wind chimes and the bark of the trees, the natural floor beneath my feet. 





BEST OF ALL, as I journeyed the glorious path of MINDFULNESS,  I TASTED the sweet, SWEET smack of FREEDOM that ONLY comes in loving yourself to the CORE.  The taste LINGERS for a long, LONG while and leaves me wanting more, More, MORE!  





“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment.  Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” 
1 Peter 3a, 4






			

	
	



			
				


			
		

		
The Righteous Riddance of Rascally Rodents.
	


		

		











Okay, DON’T panic… look at the picture. Do you SEE it? DO YOU SEE IT?! I’d like everyone to just stop a minute and notice my incredible CALMNESS. Now, breathe out…OLD ME would be crumpled in a defeated, inconsolable heap, weeping over the UNKNOWN time and EXTENT of CONTAMINATION that has ALREADY occurred. I KNOW. There should be a BADGE to sew on my sleeve for staying calm amidst the judgemental internal voices that SCREAM, “How could you let THIS happen? What is WRONG with you? You are such a BAD mother. How are you going to FIX this?”





Here’s the scoop. My daughter’s gerbils CAN’T be LEFT in an enclosure together. We recently put them in a permanent split with a screen in between so they could STILL do all of their gerbily things with a semblance of the SOCIAL graces they need. One, of course, figured out how to CHEW the screen.





We have a FEW pet cams. My daughter just HAPPENED to check one at some ungodly hour to see IF the gerbils were behaving.  THEY were. All good.  Then, to her surprise, she watched the little RASCAL who was caught on camera in the picture above,  zip in and out and bop around before mysteriously DISAPPEARING.





I can’t help but picture our tiny TARGET as part of the creaturly choir described by John’s vision in the Biblical book of Revelation wherein  “every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea and all that is in them,” voiced praise to God in unison. I imagine our mousekin raising it’s tiny hands in the air and squeaking, “To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!” Revelation 5:13





I’M STILL OKAY. The wheels are turning. My MISSION is SURE. BeRID this house of the unharnessed VARMINTS within. NO WORRIES. The path is straightforward. Then, my daughter says, “YOU CAN’T KILL THEM.” To which I responded, “OF COURSE I WON’T”. What a HORRIBLE assumption! 👀





I firmly believe in the worth of all things living SO I did the live trap thing. My husband got one that can hold up to 30 mice. SO ADORABLE! They can SHARE the space and be released TOGETHER and carry on their mousey business somewhere ELSE. It was a GOOD plan, in THEORY.





Night after night, NO sign of mice. I offered stuff suggested online: peanut butter, chocolate, hotdogs, and seeds, to no avail. I didn’t realize mice and I enjoyed many of the SAME kind of morsels as I do. I moved the trap from the gerbil room to the kitchen, and throughout the basement. NOTHING was stirring.





MICE are WAY smarter than we might think. I guess that’s why science often runs tests using mice as STAND-INS for people. BEAST representing BEAST. With all the eclipse talk this week came discussions about animal behaviour and circadian rhythms. How might the SUDDEN afternoon darkness affect the animals? Will they forget to eat and go to bed hungry? Will they get all keyed up because their routine is interrupted or simply hide as if it is nighttime? Can I somehow take advantage of this celestial happening to CATCH my little house squatters? Will a herd of 30 mice fall into a trance and file themselves right INTO my trap?





Did you know scientists FIRST learned about human circadian rhythms- the way our bodies respond to changes in lightness and darkness, by observing MICE? FASCINATING.





“All God’s critters got a place in the choir. Some sing low and some sing higher. Some sing it out loud on the telephone wire, and some just clap their hands, their paws, or anything they’ve got, now….” This ditty MUST be based on scripture.





In Ecclessiastes we are reminded “that we ourselves are but BEASTS”. Looking at my son’s bathroom tells the story well. “For what happens to the children of [humanity] and what happens to the beasts is the SAME; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the SAME breath, and [humanity] has NO advantage over the beasts”. Ecclesiastes 3:19-20





After a few days with no success I returned to Google for its STELLAR advice in ALL things. Committed to the cause of doing no harm, I discovered all the things I was doing WRONG. Here’s my compiled list.





    

  1. Rodent proof the house. Fill every hole or crack the size of a dime or larger that could lead to the outside. Seal them in! Otherwise you will fail to catch them.
    2. 




  2. Under no circumstances should I touch the trap with my bare hands. Human scent will tip off the mice. Wear rubber or surgical gloves while opening, closing, and placing the trap. Mmm, okay.
    3. 




  3. Never touch the bait with your bare hands. See above. Yup.yup.
    4. 




  4. Do not place a large amount of bait. A pea sized amount will encourage the mouse to fully enter the trap – I placed a whole feast. I thought I was being nice. – oh, and make sure you put the bait as far from the trap entrance as possible so no tails can be accidentally pinched or broken. My trap has two entrances both leading to the middle – not sure where to put it??
    5. 




  5. Place trap against the wall with entrance closest to the wall side. Make sure it is in the direct path of rodents, where you see their evidence. I see poo everywhere BUT along the walls.
    6. 




  6. Place traps every 2-3 feet. So – one trap isn’t gonna cut it then?
    7. 




  7. Check the traps hourly. Seriously? This is a big commitment. But, this is important. Mice can die from stress-induced disorders, exposure, or dehydration in just a few short hours.  So give them a water station within the trap…?
    8. 




  8. Keep captured mice calm by covering the dark and enclosed trap with a towel.
    9. 




  9. Release mice within 300 feet of where they are caught. What? That”s less than 2 miles, right? and goes against everything I’ve ever been told about it. Won’t they just come back? I guess not, since I’ve rodent proofed the house! Sorry neighbours. Relocated mice apparently don’t know where to find adequate food, water, or shelter and might become weak, be eaten, or be infested by parasites or disease for which they might lack natural immunity.
    10. 






WELL SHOOT.





I Pay HUNDREDS of dollars to keep our pet rodents healthy and LIVE their  best life. Despite scripture telling us that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God,” Luke 3:6 – the church I work for pays the same to ANNIHILATE any mice on site with indoor AND outdoor kill traps.





KILLING them seems so much EASIER. Especially since they will probably die by my efforts anyway…





They shouldn’t be in my house in the first place. They were not invited.  We don’t leave food lying around in the basement where they come in.  We HAVE A CAT, A DOG, a ZILLION deterrents, yet here they BE, snug as a bug in a rug.  I’m not referencing my son’s room at this time.





Maybe the mice were here FIRST. They’ve been coming and going through the seasons for as LONG as we’ve lived here. This is the FIRST time a mouse has made a play for the main floor. Perhaps they are planning an invasion. Perhaps they are OFFENDED by the fundamental wrongness my family persists in doing by claiming and confining animals for our OWN small pleasure. Whatever the case – these creatures of God, our siblings, deserve our compassion and respect.  I will continue in this quest to relocate the mice BEFORE they succeed in relocating ME.

			

	
	



			
				


			
		

		
Resurrection on Repeat
	


		

		










[Jesus answered them…,] “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”

John 12:24-25





Since you’re reading this, you probably ALREADY know that I suffer from anxiety, depression, etcetera.  If not, THEN, WELCOME! Thanks for coming.  FYI – I reference my own mental health and that of my loved ones alot. 





Above, I have quoted a bit of scripture from the Gospel attributed to the apostle named John. HIS version of Jesus is VERY SURE of his own divinity, his mission to gather in the whole world, and his coming fate on the Cross.  I guess this isn’t my FAVORITE picture of Jesus. I prefer the human, SUFFERING servant, the ‘learn as you go’ kind of Jesus, found particularly in the Gospels of Mark and Luke. Anyway, this bit from John is PART of what I preached (I’m a pastor) about to my congregation this past Sunday.  





When MY heart HURTS, when I am awash with grief, when I feel empty or like I am sinking, I HIDE behind my academia.  I lean on my brain INSTEAD of squeezing what I CAN out of my heart. The result? Well, I have some lingering thoughts that I need to lay down.





I have read this scripture passage aloud at the interment of EVERY person I have ever buried.  I listened to my father read it over the grave of my brother who succumbed TOO SOON to his mental illness.  It is always a struggle to read these words.  





I don’t HATE my life.  That’s one of the first things people in helping professions ask – ‘do you consider harming yourself?  Do you have thoughts of ending it?’  Thankfully, so far my answer has always been a solid NO.  Sometimes I manage my mental and physical illnesses better than at OTHER times, however, I have always been able to see HOPE blossoming in my life even when I am suffering.  But, like SO MANY others with mental illness, my brother could NOT.





My 20 year old daughter who LIVES WITH mental illness IS considered cognitively and developmentally neurodiverse. She IS generally happy and stable, but, I HAVE heard her TOO MANY times say that she hates her life.  When she was very young, her tiny body would flail out violently in extended episodes of frustration and her sweet voice would cry out with disturbing AGONY. Medication changed that – but  we sacrificed some of her spirit for the sake of her peace. It still troubles me.  Some choices for good, SMART.





My brother respected the church but I don’t really know if HE considered himself Christian. My daughter says she believes in God but NOT in the resurrection of Jesus.  How do my brother and daughter FIT into this ‘dying for life’ teaching?  I have a hard time seeing the fruit that has resulted from my brother’s death OR from my daughter’s hardships, let alone from the death of my Lord and Saviour, Jesus the Christ. It’s not easy for anyone to find good fruit in the rubble of pain.





Even though I am discerning, I emotionally shrink back from these confusing words and maybe you do too.  Read them again: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” What does this mean for my brother, my daughter, and ALL of our loved ones who are at-arms-length believers?  What about those who have NEVER heard the good news?  What about those whose suffering overwhelms them into lifelong misery UNTO death?





How DO we reconcile HARD loss or the death of people we love with the bearing of God’s good fruit? How can we possibly understand what it means that Jesus endured what he did for OUR sake and that it was necessary for OUR salvation?  It’s a lot to process. How can anyone see positive fruit amidst the terrible rubble?





DON’T PANIC. Let’s focus on LOVE.  How do WE share love WITH and FOR our neighbours? Do we approach ALL people with the spirit of equality, esteem and worthiness?  How I understand it, adhering to the Christian commandments and the doctrines of the church has a place and CAN be very GOOD, but love is best when it takes center stage in our lives.  Each one of us is created from the same STUFF – earth, stars, recycled butterflies (I read this in a poem) – you know, all the ELEMENTAL particles of life.  Christians believe that ALL people are created in God’s image out of divine love.  It is a free and holy GIFT.  Love is meant for goodness and for sharing HOWEVER that translates for us as individuals.  





Many people serve the purpose of love without EVER associating it with God.   God sees the goodness of our hearts and the service we do EVEN when WE think nothing of it.  Love is God’s gift to us regardless of whether WE are conscious of it.  Our works come from the love we feel and justice we serve for the sake of our neighbours whether we say it’s in the name of Christ OR NOT.  





Andy (my husband) and I have four ‘young ADULT’ children (ages 16-20).  They are each unique and we parent each of them according to THEIR needs.  One might be super independent.  One might not be.  One might be outgoing. Another is not.  Their comfort zones and abilities are ALL different.  We fiercely love EACH and every ONE of them with our WHOLE hearts.  We adjust our parenting to best suit their INDIVIDUAL needs.  If WE can do that, and God created us, can’t we trust that God parents us in this SAME way? God loves each one of us and God relates to us each individually – SOME are ALREADY folded into the ULTIMATE Source of EVERYTHING’s’ embrace, OTHERS, God is patiently and gently DRAWING IN.  Some will not realize the fullness of God’s love until their physical life ENDS. But God is always, always, ALWAYS evolving and adjusting and working, over and OVER to bring us into a cosmic relationship with the divine mystery and with each other.  





Even I (not a green thumb) CAN understand the agricultural reference that a seed is useless until it is BURIED in soil where it will sprout and reproduce, it will burst with life, multiply and GROW.  If it is never planted it will remain just an individual seed.  The stuff about hating and loving our lives is not as cryptic as my weary heart sometimes hears it.  I looked it up.  In the original GREEK the translation for “love and hate” is a sentiment that sounds MORE like ‘favouring OR rejecting’ the ways of worldly living or ‘favouring OR rejecting’ the ways of our eternal and holy purpose, our souls.  The word ‘Life,’ you see, in Greek,  suggests MORE than the physical reality but also the BREATH, the spiritual and the eternal life force. Jesus is speaking about OUR Godsparks! (my word)





The physical world feeds our material wants and desires.  Jesus is NOT suggesting that we seek out a life of poverty or abuse. Rather, when we accept even small sacrifices for the sake of what is holy, for God’s love of ALL  people and ALL of creation, then we reject what humanity has made of the world and embrace the inbreaking realm of God with our WHOLE SELVES, with our whole heart, with our Godsparky soul.  When we hold on to the things of this world, of our lives just as they are, when we would rather maintain the status quo than RISK something new, we will remain JUST as we are. When we let go of the things of this world right now, when we let love loose and share it abundantly – that’s when we TRULY live and find love forever abiding in God.  We can choose to live in the in-breaking and everlasting realm of God TODAY, rather than WAIT for death and heaven – There’s STILL promise for those unplanted grains though!- I’ve read about seeds sprouting BUMPER crops after many many MANY years of lying DORMANT.  Hope springs eternal.  It’s NEVER too late for new life to grow – even if we DIE first.










My daughter (also 20 – twins!) and I were walking our OLD puppy girl, Tessa, the day after the EARLY warmth in March gave way BACK to wintery weather. The birds who’d all come back were visibly TICKED. Many robins took cover under our trailer, all PUFFED and angry. The bit of snow was melting rapidly as the sun came out.  Our Tessa dog walks slowly and meanders. Following her lead,  we had ample time to look around. My daughter and I saw MANY signs of spring even though the birds were on a singing STRIKE. Trees and bushes full of BUDS, some beginning to PEEK out from their protective casings, new GREEN growth on the coniferous hedges, and sprouts POKING out of the earth, some already beginning to open despite the cold and snow.










The natural world is full of resurrection on repeat. Dying and rising with the seasons. Nourishing and growing for new life over and over and over AND OVER.





There is more to death than endings.  Sharing love, sharing the spirit of love that dwells within us, sharing our Godspark – draws ALL people IN TOGETHER.  We are bonded by a mystical union. We will know ultimate love when we endeavor to understand that life belongs with death and death is a natural part of living.  We need both death and resurrection for the world to turn.  For our souls to blossom.  For our goodness to continue on through the ages.  










Jesus says – Hey, you want to see me?  I’ll tell you how you’ll see me after I’ve been lifted up in death, in resurrection, in my ascension.  You’ll SEE ME IN EACH OTHER.  I’m going to die – like the planted seed.  Don’t look for me in the ground, in the seed in the tomb.  Look for me IN the GROWING plant,  – in the full ears of grain. That’s where you’ll find me.  Look at yourself and the fruit YOU are bearing. 





The fruit is meant to be  good.  We are meant to live in love and I am CONVINCED you WILL see Jesus there.  Jesus says he dies so that we can bear even better fruit.  Love lives on, in and through the generations.  Pass it on.










Which brings us back to the loving and hating our lives conundrum.  Dying to this life is an invitation into new life TODAY. Not the life WE orchestrate but the abundant life of living in God’s eternal and transcendent presence right NOW.  This death has nothing to do with the length of our physical life, but with the QUALITY of life.  It’s about living in LOVE.  Dying to our life to bear fruit and abiding within God’s FOREVER love NOW.  Our lives can be a glorious proclamation of love for God.  Even so, don’t forget that God loves everyone and everything in all of Creation NO MATTER WHAT.





In John’s Gospel, Jesus explains that seeking him, seeing him, does NOT mean avoiding pain and death. INSTEAD, we can choose to  trust that God WILL bring about LIFE. We may not be able to avoid suffering, but we can cling to Jesus’ promise that he WILL light our paths toward LIFE.  Jesus describes the CROSS as the gathering place for agony, glory, unity, and communion: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.”  Jesus willingly took the violence, the contempt, and the hatred of THIS world into HIS body, his sacrifice.   He held on to his message of UNIVERSAL love, grace, and liberation, knowing full well that the message would cost him his life.  He loved and he loved and he LOVED, all the way to his physical, bodily end and continues to LOVE US – IN, WITH, and THROUGH US.  The SPIRIT of Jesus DWELLS in each one of us. We’ve ALL got that mysterious Godspark that love ignites in our souls.





Jesus loves me whether I love or NOT.  Jesus loves you too, and Jesus loves my late brother and Jesus loves my daughter.  It’s challenging sometimes, especially on those low days where depression grips HARD –  but I choose to use my wavering trust to REMEMBER that Jesus wishes to see me — to see ALL of us — far more urgently than we’ll EVER long to see him.  This is my REFUGE and the promise I clutch to myself through the HURT.  We love because he loves first.  The cross pulls us toward God and toward each other whether we KNOW it or WANT it because, in the end- we ALL belong to God, the Creator, the ultimate source of everything, and WE are ALL a part of the mystery of the vastness of the COSMOS within God’s ever-EXPANDING circle of life and LOVE.