Christianity

Nobody’s Perfect

 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Corinthians 12:9

I’ve felt a real SHIFT recently.  It didn’t come all at once but I could sense my heart moving DIFFERENTLY. Is this something that comes with age? No – it is NOT age!  I prefer to call it an increase in the collection of LIVED experience. This coming weekend I will be celebrating another year added to my maturation of KNOWING.

The last year has been a personal push and pull but, after some much needed self reflection and trusted feedback, I have made some quiet decisions that make me feel a LITTLE more settled.  I don’t feel AS lost.

Personal PEACE has always been hard to maintain. For a time, I was totally and completely OBSESSED with exercising. Yoga, weightlifting, walking, sit ups, squats  stretches – EVERY single day.  My muscles had no time to heal. I also cycled through eating less, eating more, eating healthier, and fasting (AKA  STARVING myself).  This left me with too little protein to support the high activity so I was CONSTANTLY dizzy.  My body shape morphed rapidly and accordingly, as did my personality. 

Meditation, mood tracking apps and journaling didn’t last long.  I’m all disordered and couldn’t sufficiently rein them in. I committed myself to going outside and standing with my face to the sun for 10 minutes a day – even in the deep crispness of winter. I committed to SHOWERING.  SERIOUSLY. If you get it, if you relate to ANY of THIS, you are my kindred. WELCOME. Pull up a chair. I KNOW, RIGHT?

I kept up with the yoga during my sick leave, four years ago, and I read 142 books. I expected to return to work rejuvenated. Instead  I was EXHAUSTED and have remained so through Covid right to THIS moment.  

Breathe in. 1-2-3-4-5-6.

Hold. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.

Breathe out. 1-2-3-4-5-6.

I think, I HOPE, I’m finally starting to TOUCH it. INNER PEACE.  I’m still working on all the ‘forgive yourself for not knowing then, what you know now.’ There’s A LOT to wade through there. 

I didn’t know the venom my oldest brother directed at me EVERY moment of my childhood was traumatizing. Since his death 10 years ago,   I’m only now deciphering how my relationship with him impacted my whole life. My relationships. My choices.

When I get trapped by the SELF WORTH devil,  it IS hard to escape unscathed. It’s way too easy to list all the things I’ve done wrong in my life and worse, all I’ve failed to do as a parent.  It’s truly something to be able to sort out the blessings from the pain of our lives because the blessing often roots in the hurt.  It ain’t so easy to just ‘turn that frown upside down’. So much baggage hangs from the sad lines on my face.

The only thing that has really kept me from sinking is my desire for God. Does that sound weird? Yup. It sounds weird, doesn’t it? Desiring God.

I saw a Meme somewhere recently that took me by surprise. It said, 

“What a great joy it is to laugh with someone and consciously notice how much their existence means to you.” It drew out tears. Maybe I’m just an emotional jellyfish, but they were real and beautiful, a salty wet ocean that reminded me again of my faith. My constant yearning for God.

In the moments I despise myself most,  I most clearly realize how much I need to depend on God to LOVE me for who I AM.  I am NOT the perfect daughter, sister, wife, mother, aunt, pastor, or friend.  Imperfections and weakness seethe through me, they battle with me to be let out. When my most hated parts wear me down, I am reckless, snappy, snarky, hateful, and so very angry.  But you see, when I come back to myself, shake it off, straighten my blouse, God is still loving me like crazy. ‘Good job, kid. You made it through. What will you do now?’

My answer will always be, ‘Well Almighty One, I will share love.’ God’s love is the constant, stable reality that even accepts us at our worst, when we feel like failures, when we feel sinful. Our weakness pulls us closer to God. I can feel my godspark soul shine brightly through the shroud of self-disgust and radiate outward, guiding me (AND YOU, TOO) to be empathetic, and to embrace others in their weakness too.  We can pause, breathe, and wonder at the gravity of human worth, the simple joy that comes in accepting one another as God does.

Our imperfections can bring us closer to God and to others, especially to those we might look down on. Our flaws help us grow compassion and the ability to give and receive love.

This is the PEACE I feel I’ve been shifting toward.  God is perfect.  We are perfectly designed to be what God created us to BE. The divine Spirit dwells within OUR bodys, which are still full of sin.  God has chosen, for now, that we, the forgiven, still be imperfect. It’s the now and not yet of God’s realm within us. You are a Spirit-filled ‘work in progress’.  We are not yet what we will someday be. 

There is strength in weakness and joy is at the ready in your divinely held heart. 💖

 “Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own” Philippians 3:12
Details

Oh Poop

Here’s the thing. I’m just going to conclude that you ARE enough and you are LOVED. If that’s all you need today, great. As you were. 🖖Nanoo, nanoo.

If you are still with me, PLEASE tell me it’s not just me who gets caught up in the smorgasbord of self-help and advice, streaming from cyber space? I spend an inordinate amount of time on my devices, reading HUNDREDS of tantalizing comments on topics including parenting teens, cleaning tips, and mental health. Ridiculously, I’m a member of a group called “going grey gracefully” while I sport just a few downy silvers on my head.  I NEVER comment or post on these sites. I’m quite comfortable LURKING because, good heavens, what if someone ENGAGES with me? Then they will KNOW.  BUT, I find (wayward) pleasure in conversing with myself about the delightful humour and discovery as well as the SHOCKING (gossipy) negative JUDGEMENTS voiced online (especially) when someone is genuinely asking for help or just has weird humour. I like weird humour and honesty the best. 

I’ve always enjoyed ‘People watching’. Scrolling the Socials just takes it to a new and more in depth level of SEEING and identifying with the vulnerability of humans. I religiously follow cleaning tips knowing full well I’m NOT going to clean any better – BUT, I find others who are just like me in that group. A backward solidarity develops. It quite ODDLY helps.

Before I was introduced to social media I partook in the risk free watching of reality TV shows. When my kids were tiny I watched ‘Jon and Kate Plus 8’. As a young professional I watched ‘What Not to Wear’ and any home makeover and house cleaning shows.  I liked ‘The People’s Court’, and survival challenges, and, oh, how I GLORIED in, ‘You Are What You Eat,’ a shameful show that involved unhealthy individuals presenting their POOP in tupperware containers for examination! Egad! What is this affliction?

As far as I can reckon, at least personally, this behaviour is seeking validation for the way we REALLY live. Online offerings become (for me, anyway) the village that teaches us HOW TO COPE- especially for those of us who are at a distance from mentors, family, and close friends.   I’ve spent my entire adult life far from my circle of trusted people.  We can’t help measuring our lives against the Instagram-ready backdrop of people living their BEST LIVES.  Advice is coming from goodness only knows where and our vulnerable brains can’t always filter out the NONSENSE from the TRUTH.

Unfortunately, (I find) social media does much more convicting and condemning than it does praising or affirming. Of course there ARE some absolutely wonderful sharing platforms and groups that are healthy and helpful. My mentally ill brain always gravitates toward the SHOULDS rather than the truly gracious spaces. I fixate on promises of mindfulness and peace even when it’s from a Facebook, self-proclaimed expert.

I know that even though it can be an all-consuming crutch, I WON’T STOP scrolling because it absurdly feeds my need for CONNECTION with others.

It really BUGS me how much I actually NEED others because I prefer being alone. But, I also like laughing, learning, and sharing with others.

We are social animals.  We are designed to live in community. This DOES NOT mean CONSTANTLY being in the presence of others. We CAN retreat.  Sharing our solo experiences when we’re ready, through art, the written word, or our storytelling, IS being in COMMUNITY too. YOU, as you read this blog are unwittingly connecting with my heart. (Cue the segue into faith talk – stop here if you don’t want to go there. PS. You are enough and you are loved.)

Our hearts matter. Your deepest you, your godspark, your spirit, your soul MATTERS. Online platitudes and judgements are often inefficient bandaids to hold ourselves together. It’s best (I think) to use social media for entertainment and inspiration. Know that most of the ‘people’ preaching the hard fast truth are not necessarily right. Do your own research and think YOUR OWN thoughts.  All of us have sensitive inwardness that can so easily be hurt.

I’m a Christian, so when I speak about spirit, original life source, and universal connection, I’m referring to God whom I worship. Regardless of your faith resonances, we have a lot in common.

We matter in the great order of things. We all began with the Great SOURCE of all being.  As big as this spirit energy is, one of the greatest and wonderful mysteries is that this All in All, beginning and goodness of everything, from beetle bugs to star shine, knows us individually and personally.

In the Christian Bible, the Jewish Torah, the Muslim Quran, and holy books I have never known, prophets claim that the same source of life for all creation knits us together in the womb of our Mothers and breathes spirit life into us individually and collectively.

Like our ancestors we live filled with the eternal Spirit, Soul, universal love and goodness of our original life source. Our lives are full of purpose.

When we are aimlessly scrolling for reflections of ourselves in the best and the worst of social media, when we feel small or insignificant or are suffering in any way, we tend to forget where we came from. The great source knows us before we are even aware of ourselves. We live unique lives that cannot really be equated with or far removed from the experiences of others. Being in community and relationship in all our diversity is BEAUTIFUL.

As advanced as we are in medicine and science, mystery surrounds how each child has a distinct personality and skills, as well as a soul, a lasting energy. I believe these parts of us are Spirit-breathed. We can put cells together, but creating a soul is beyond us. We can manipulate biology, but a soul’s formation is in the hands of the great mystery.

We BELONG to one another.  Our individual life journeys involve SHARING our hearts, our skills, and our faith in goodness. We can share our dedication to hope and our mission to create a better world TOGETHER. Instead of pointing fingers, lifting up inadequacies, and drawing attention to how much or how little our poop stinks, we can help one another name what IS UNIQUE about us and assist each other in finding purpose and peace.

We are here by the design of the greatest and best mystery there is. We were loved before we knew anything else. We will continue to be loved when what we know fades. We will be loved into ETERNITY whether our house IS clean or our teenager is lippy, or NOT.

In the meantime, know you ARE NOT ALONE in the expanses of the internet world. We have each other. Even our life source is with us, beating in our hearts, laughing in our souls, and living each moment in each breath you breathe. I BELIEVE IT. I hope that you, too, can allow that belief to ground you through everything you face in life. You ARE ENOUGH and you are LOVED.

Drown Proofing

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour”

William Blake

My parents are die hard campers. Until quite recently, they slept in sleeping bags on the floor of their tent with only a ‘luxurious’ thin piece of foam under their 80+ year old bodies.  They always took pride in roughing it out.  Dad went logging for deadfall in the bush. He sawed up knotty wood and let my brothers help chop it and set it up to dry around the fire.  Everything from toast to spaghetti was cooked there.  Even the water we lugged to the campsite was fire boiled to heat for dish water and general washing. 

Dad took us fishing in his Kevlar canoe, portaging into the unknown to find good fishing holes.  We learned to fix wriggling worm bits on our hooks and to fillet a fish on shore using a flat rock or the edge of our paddle as a cutting surface.  We slept in a canvas tent, lined up like sardines, wearing long underwear, hoodies, and socks, trying to hold our pee all night as we listened to the shuffling of wildlife around us and tried not to feel the uneven, rocky, rooty ground beneath our hips. Bug spray was unheard of. 

I looked forward to our camping trips.  We were together and close, and relaxed. The hard work looked fun when my Mom and Dad did it with poise and their practiced rhythm.

My teenage children experienced their grandparents camping ways when they were young.  After an unsettling trip with a nightly bear visit, we bought a hard top trailer and have never heard the end of it.  Until Covid, we camped annually with them and my brother on a nearby site (even when we started to live in the trailer section).

We’ve been binge watching the ALONE series on TV.  I love it. It reminds me of my childhood summers. 10 contestants are dropped in remote, harsh areas, with 10 survival items of their choice, a pile of camera equipment to be their own film crew, and a satellite radio to tap out when they can’t do it anymore.  They have to source their own water and food, build their own shelter, and light and tend a fire to survive- rustic camping to the ‘nth’ degree.

It really helps me appreciate what our ancestors endured. ALONE is a survival show. It’s very entertaining to observe and think about how we’d do things if in their shoes.   But, a funny thing happens to these survivalists.  While all alone, fighting to survive they discover that life isn’t just about surviving.  Through their struggle and hard work they connect with nature and find their own purpose, their loves, and their deepest self. They proclaim that they have found their peace with the land. They notice how important each morsel of food and each drop of water is for their body. They pause, breathe, and take in beauty. They say thank you.  It makes me cry. 

This Sunday I preached about Jesus walking on the water and Peter sinking into the depths until Jesus takes his hand.  Peter was eager to get beside Jesus. He didn’t realize that Jesus was already with him and physically drawing near.  Jesus didn’t stop the storm on the water when Peter called to him.  Jesus didn’t make it any easier for Peter to walk on the water. Instead, Peter gets a lesson in drown proofing.  

Remember learning that?  Let out all your breath. Sink, let your arms rise up keeping your body horizontal, touch bottom, push off with your feet, break the surface, breathe, repeat.  This uses a lot less energy than treading water, floating or swimming.  We must remember the power of the water, have respect for nature and trust our amazing bodies.

Staying calm, taking steps to survive, recalling reasons to keep existing (love, truth, learning, helping, healing), biding the time, quelling the fear – this, THIS is how Jesus accompanies us through the worst storms.

Jesus is always moving toward us, staying with us through everything. When we are afraid, Jesus takes hold of us and helps us to drown proof.

It’s hard to trust in creation’s unity – the circular motion of God, the tangible world, and our souls.  Camping, forest bathing, hiking, communing with the creatures and the stuff of the natural world help us to re-center and remember that God is all in all.  Humanity needs to hone drown proofing skills.  It’s how we keep the strength of our faith.  We are never alone.  With God’s help, we will find a way forward in a world so full of hurt and fear.

But when [Peter] saw the wind, he was afraid 
and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.

Matthew 14:30-31 NIV

Me and Pastor Nadine. The masks we wear.

How would you describe yourself to someone?

I know how OTHERS would describe me. It’s much harder from my perspective. Whoever  provides these writing prompts asks questions I’d dare not explore without invitation.  I wasn’t going to write about this one, in fact I vowed to avoid it, however, since completing my morning obligations, I’ve been sitting here on my couch with my phone, doing NOTHING at all to help my spirit. Maybe this will stir me to do SOMETHING. My blog, Nuanced Niddy, has become something of a journal and confessional space that I find FREEING.

I am on my ‘day off’ from my PAID work.  I’m always the mom of 4 teenagers and wife to a hard working man. He’s also very stressed and does his best at the end of the day to do his part. Thank God he cooks. We’d live on toast if he didn’t.  

There’s a lot to do. Every room of my house is dirty, the refrigerator and the bathrooms need serious attention and the yard is a disaster. It all requires so much energy. STARTING is too overwhelming. 

Time spent focusing on my WORK work keeps me from tackling THIS embarrassing mess.  I feel bad for my kids. They live here too. I’m not sure why I don’t enlist their help.  As it is, I don’t ever let anyone from OUTSIDE past the porch. My family doesn’t care.  They let anyone see. This mortifies me.

As a churchy public ‘celebrity’ of sorts, I carry myself mostly in my ‘SWITCHED ON’ position. It’s exhausting but weirdly easier to be ‘HER’. Pastor Nadine doesn’t need to be so concerned with the rest of herself.  Not that she’s inauthentic, but when I am ‘her’ I don’t have to be me.  I have a hard time with ME.

While Pastor Nadine is jolly, intelligent, strong, chatty, likeable, funny, experienced and interesting, that’s really only a well practiced MASK.

I am often depressed.  I am mentally ill.  I don’t fit in. I don’t believe people like me or respect me. I’m anxious, terrified by things that better adjusted people can do with ease. I’m a horrible judge of character.  I am either too quiet or I share too much (like this).  I’m impulsive (like cutting my own hair at midnight). I’m never satisfied with my body, I’m moody, I’m high maintenance. I like attention and I hate attention.

Pastor Nadine and I share some important qualities.  We care, A LOT.  We want to be helpful.  We have deep faith in an all LOVING God.  We love our family. We love being in God’s good creation.  Working for justice and peace drives us.

I happen to have Borderline Personality Disorder.  It’s complicated. It is a very uncomfortable condition.  It’s not something that attracts people, that’s for sure. EVERYONE wears different masks for different situations.  I think we all have different PARTS of ourselves that contribute to the WHOLE of oneself. A part of me always insists that I keep smiling, keep working, keep surviving. A part of me desperately wants me to RUN or to QUIT.  Having a personality disorder doesn’t mean I’m so different. It DOES mean that my ‘parts’ are not functioning properly.  Mental health and physical health EQUALLY require relief. Some ailments need surgery, some need medication and counseling.  ALL health issues need our empathy and compassion.

When I was born the nurses likened me to a tiger lily.  I appeared so tiny and fragile like a lily but I was strong like a tiger.  I still like that description.  Strength and vulnerability marry well.  How would I describe myself to someone else? I’m just like you.  I’m someone doing the best that I can to follow the way of loving YOU and all people, including myself.  God willing.

Cry Laughing (mental health)

It seems I am always tired, angry, and laughing too loud.  Depression is EXHAUSTING. During this current bout of it, I listened to an audiobook for the first time. If you’re wondering, I find that it takes just as much focus as actually reading the words.  The lovely part is that there is a storytelling presence. It feels intimate. It feels like a connection, like someone sitting next to you, keeping your heaviness in check, engaging in a relationship. Listening to this voice feels like you have a FRIEND.

It disturbs me that I was listening to the authour of a ”TELL ALL” memoir narrate her own words this week, and I was feeling all kinds of validation and solidarity with her when I heard about the death of Sinéad O’Connor.  GULP. It was HER voice, HER memoir, “Rememberings” that I’d been listening to.  It makes me shiver in shock.

I’ve admired Sinéad since I was a teenager.  Back then, she was mesmerizing and terrifying. She was so angry on behalf of the causes she supported that she stopped at NOTHING to clearly advocate.  She was about the age of my older brother.  It wowed me that she was so young and passionate about things I’d not given a thought to, if I was even aware of them. 

I’ve just invested hours into getting to know her, to understand her more, to LOVE her, and to look forward to MORE from her.  My respect for her has done nothing but expand. She endured SO MUCH.  And now THIS.

Despite abuse and misogyny, she spoke TRUTH. She did everything she did on her own terms.  Despite multiple mental illness diagnoses, she kept on keeping on. She was a mother, a woman of faith, and an advocate for the helpless.

My parishioners are familiar with what I call our Godsparks – the Holy Spirit dwelling IN each of us. Sinéad expressed that she strongly felt the Spirit, the Comforter whom Jesus promised, in and around her.  She said that when she was speaking, the divine in her spoke to the divine in another. Her music was her ministry, and  she followed her Godspark wherever it led. 

During coffee time after church this morning, a friend and I were discussing how no one goes untouched by trauma.  We may not be aware of what influences our behaviour or that of others. I know I wasn’t.  We are so quick to label and judge.  Mental illness is still so STIGMATIZED that we who have serious risks often go unchecked.  Even under close supervision, disaster can strike.

No medical cause for her death has been offered, but we know Sinéad O’Connor lost her son to mental illness by suicide.  I lost my brother to mental illness by suicide, too.  Suicidal ideation is sneaky.  I’ve always maintained that I could NEVER go through with it.

This week reminded me of my own vulnerability. There WAS a time in my first pastorate when I was young, I was married, and I held the world.  YET, one snowy night on a back road, my little sports car started to get hard to handle. I was sliding and DECIDED there was nothing I could do. I didn’t even try.  I GAVE UP.  I just surrendered to the darkness. I let go of the wheel and let whatever was coming COME.  I denied being clinically  depressed.  I hadn’t sought diagnosis, treatment, or any help at all.  Thankfully, the car slid off the road, cleared the ditch, and sunk deeply into the snow just inches from a tree.  I liked the adrenaline rush and the attention I got when I shared the carefully edited story about what happened.

Mental illness, unresolved trauma, impulsive behaviour – it can MESS with your brain even unto death.

We do a lot of praying in church. I pray almost constantly wherever I am.  When things go sideways, my impulse isn’t to blame God. Instead, I CONVINCE myself that I must be praying WRONG, or I’m so BAD that God’s not listening. Really awful theology, I know.

Two things that will stick with me from that memoir I listened to this week. First, Sinéad O’Connor thought ‘cry laughing’ was the best expression of the mania and depression of so many mental illnesses. “Nothing feels better than cry laughing,” she said. She also said, “God doesn’t always GET to answering our prayers IN TIME because sometimes God is TOO busy WEEPING.”  Indeed.

Look after yourselves.  Pray. Feel your Godspark at work and let God answer prayer in, with, and through you.  Peace friends.

Dispirited Deliberation. Faith & Depression

I was out shopping for yarn the other day (it was July 20th – I’m crocheting my first dress), and my daughter took the picture you see above.  It’s JULY.  I’m just not prepared to shift to Halloween. 

In Canada, we celebrate Thanksgiving first.  I’m not even ready to think about the Fall holidays. Seeing this had a hugely negative impact on my day, my mood, and my view of the world.  What is wrong with people?  I sound like Charlie Brown (I often feel like him, too).  All this commercialization, this rush to start the party early, leaves little room to appreciate the liminal space, the time between the now and the not yet.

Please take a second to breathe. Inhale, 2,3,4,5. Hold 2,3,4,5. Exhale 2,3,4,5. Notice your breath, your beating heart, each muscle, tendon, and joint.  Breathe in again. Feel the rush of newly oxygenated blood pulse through your veins.

THIS, THIS IS our personal miracle. Every breath depends on the mechanics of our body, intricately laced together and given life by the energy of our great SOURCE.  For me, this translates into GOD.

In church today, I preached on Jesus’ parable about wheat and weeds growing together, treated EQUALLY, only to be separated by the owner of the field at the harvest.  We each have a tangled up bunch of weeds and fruit in our hearts.  On the last day, all that causes sin in the world and inside of us will be burned away as we come into the full GOODNESS intended for us.  

Waiting sucks.

I’m prone to depression and I’ve had a hard week.  Smiling on the outside.  Dispirited within.  Preaching victory. Living in torment.

How do you suppose we can be both Spirit-filled and dispirited?  If God is dwelling in me, why am I so miserable? It doesn’t make sense. Suffering doesn’t make sense.  I know my suffering pales in the face of the war, disaster, and fatal prognosis endured by others. But I’m a long-suffering woman. That’s what I’ve concluded, and I come from a long line of the same.

Long suffering has changed what I believe about God. God makes me extremely frustrated.

The hope I’m supposed to glory in just isn’t realized fast enough. Why must we ENDURE life rather than LIVE it with abundant blessing?

Have you heard of Job? (J-oh-b).  He’s a Biblical Old Testament Prophet who could write the book on enduring pain. In a very short time, he lost everything. His 10 children were suddenly killed.  All of his livestock was also killed. Then, yup, all of his servants were killed. At the same time, he lost his wealth, his health (he was covered in boils), and the support of his grieving wife. His friends blamed him for his suffering. “You must’ve really made God angry. Sucks to be you, man, ” they said.

Like his friends, Job thought that all suffering was divine punishment for sin. Job hadn’t sinned – but boy did he suffer – not for punishment, but simply because pain is in the human experience.

Why the *!#*!#! doesn’t God fix this?  God’s wisdom is far beyond mine. Like Job, I can make the choice to trust God and draw strength from that divine spark in my heart.  I can choose to persevere. I’m a stubborn one.  I will continue to voice my disapproval of the vacuous gods of consumerism.  

Yup. I am despondent, I’m melancholy.  God didn’t defend the reality of pain or explain why it remains in the order of things. God only tells Job to have faith. Be patient, live, love, and leave the rest to the divine.

Deep breath. 2,3,4 5

Good grief, Is this enough?

God, I hope so.

“And now my soul is poured out within me;
    days of affliction have taken hold of me. The night racks my bones,
    and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.  My inward parts are in turmoil and are never still;
    days of affliction come to meet me. I go about in sunless gloom;
    I stand up in the assembly and cry for help. My lyre is turned to mourning and my pipe to the voice of those who weep.

Job 30:16-17, 27-28, 31 NRSV

“Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.” 

Job 13:15

Frolicking Faith (paired with Depression)

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” 

Philippians 4:8

I woke up this morning with a heavy head. It didn’t take long for the familiar gnawing to start in my gut and radiate to behind my eyes where tears sit at the ready.  I want to eat, eat, eat, (I’m eating right now – but I’m not hungry), and I just can’t DO the THINGS. If I have to see anyone today, they won’t know that I’m stuck in this cloud again. I should’ve been an actress because man, am I GOOD.

There is comfort to be found, if not in my lived moment, then in scripture. I think, in my young adulthood, the big draw to ministry was the realization of the Spirit’s indwelling in me and a desire to help relieve suffering. As a person who lives with borderline personality disorder, I fix myself on God’s unchangeable love. I do not need to fear abandonment (even though I do) because God will never leave me alone.  We all carry a divine spark. Knowing this brings relief, even if only at a cerebral level – it’s a good starting place.

I feel low today. St. Paul wrote his letter (quoted above) to the church in Philippi while he was in PRISON. Certainly he was in an uncomfortable place. Somehow he rejoiced ANYWAY.  His words remind us that reflecting on the good things, being thankful in each moment – whether marred by clouds or brightly lit – is to live out the incarnation of Christ.  

From my experience with depression I know that sometimes remembering the happy yesterdays can provide at least an iota, a small flicker of hope. Things won’t always be like this. THINGS WON’T ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS!

Yesterday was Sunday. It was a GOOD day.  In the middle of leading church, a childhood song popped into my mind.  It worked with my sermon about Jesus’ parable of the sower from Matthew’s account. Can you imagine God sowing seeds like a jolly farmer? God is like the sower who uses a ridiculous method to scatter seeds. There’s God, frolicking along, not worried about what kind of terrain on which the abundance of seed land. Imagine Oprah Winfrey and her joyfully anticipated giveaways – “Seeds for you, and seeds for you, and seeds for EVERYBODY!”  There goes God, frolicking along.

Anyway, the song in my head seemed appropriate. 

“Everyday, lambs at play,  in the fields where lilies grow.

 Frisk about, in and out, they are  happy, so!

Jesus’ little lambs are we, and he loves us, you and me. 

As we share in his care, we will happy be.”

Frolicking lambs across fields of plenty. That’s God’s picture of us. We mustn’t forget how it feels to frolic.

My depressed mind is clinging to the wealth of blessings from yesterday. Congregants indulged my need to sing said song.  I held a baby at coffee time, unbidden. He was placed in my lap. Bare toes, soft hair, that milky smell. That alone made the day a winner.

I was invited out to lunch with a couple of matriarch types and another ‘youngster’ like me. A lady in her 90ies DROVE us to a fairly new local restaurant I hadn’t been to yet.  The staff were lovely. The ladies at my table knew EVERYONE there and anyone more that entered. They laughed and shared their secrets with me (I think they were confessions). The trust, the fun loving, and the community felt like a good frolic.  We NEED each other. God is so, so good.

This bout of depression may last a while. By God’s grace, I’ll SURVIVE. I’m grateful for the ability to pull goodness into the deep pit. It will mingle with my Godspark and keep me company until I rise up again.

12 I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. 13 I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Philippians 4:12-13

Bop, Shoo Bop

What do you think gets better with age?

An earnest and rare charismatic Lutheran friend made us teach ‘Jesus is my rock’ to our young cabin group children at Church Camp. It was so long ago I can’t really remember the whole song. I AM Lutheran too. As far as I know, this isn’t a Lutheran song. Gosh, I hated singing this. It had ACTIONS 😬 A teenager’s dream.

“Jesus is my rock and he rolls my blues away. Bop shoo Bop, shoo Bop, Woo…”

HATED IT.  Yet, this is what came to mind with today’s prompt. When I look back on the life I’ve experienced so far, it’s easy to pick out the progression of my faith. FAITH gets better with age.  That stupid song is true.  Jesus is my best strength and my best solace in this world.

I wrote about mystic Julian of Norwich in a previous post. A friend sent me a lovely article today that reflects Julian’s perception of the ‘oneness’ of God’s creation.  When we are ‘oneing’ we are rediscovering the intrinsic love of God in all people and all creation.  I think I am inching closer to this concept every day. I desire to engage in ‘oneing’. In many faith groups, the acceptance of human goodness and unity is a long, chased after and continual goal.

What gets better with age?  I wanna say shoes, cheese, and stories. But shoes and cheese have little to do with faith – unless we stretch them into metaphors for learning about each other’s plight (walk a mile in my shoes) or perhaps the journey to oneness.  Cheese, the manna of my life, nourishes my body with creation’s goodness – but I have a real PROBLEM with SHARING it.

Stories are different. Our faith is based on stories that were important enough to first pass on orally and then captured, hand written on parchment. Faith Stories teach us who we are and WHOSE we are. (I’m talking about GOD, in case you didn’t catch that)

These stories portray the most gorgeous aspects of humanity: Kindness, empathy, acceptance,  and love.  Also, the stories don’t leave out the ugliest bits of us: envy, greed, and hatefulness. Stories of faith keep it real and relevant.

Faith ages well. With time, we experience the hills and valleys and those DAMN ROCKS that only JESUS can roll away! We become more aware of ourselves, others, creation, and our place in the order of galaxies and cosmos.  We become more humble and gentle. Social justice is our natural prerogative.

‘Oneing’ with the world looks more and more promising with each passing day. The gift of faith grows from within us. Our personal divine indwelling, our soul, our Godspark, responds to the Godspark in others. Day by day, blessed assurance until our precious Lord takes us home. 

‘Jesus is my rock and he rolls my blues away. Bop, shoo bop, shoo bop, whoo..” Can I hear an AMEN?

Moody Mess

😊😬😐😔😪😶

At my monthly check in with my psychiatrist, I told him that my mood has actually been OKAY for a while. It WAS true. I saw him while I was still riding a wave of adrenaline after a surprisingly positive weekend among the people of the church I minister to. 

With all my mood and personality disorders and my frequent depression, it is really something when I wholeheartedly feel hope, love  and connection with them. Having a good, relaxed time socially is always a challenge. But I was feeling it.

Maybe it’s because my ‘Mommy senses’ tingled when I held the new grandson of parishioners who are integral to our faith family. A measure of their joy rubbed off on me and I am still so thankful.

Yeah!  I held a perfect bundle of baby in my arms! I have longed for the pre-pandemic ease in which our interactions with the most vulnerable among us were not blanketed in fear. What a gift to count his tiny fingers and toes, to feel the warmth and weight of him and to marvel, to bask in the created perfection on my lap! God is good.

This was at a summer social so graciously hosted by members at their home.  The sound of the giant Jenga blocks falling, the giggles echoing, the joy and exuberance of the children diving, somersaulting, and splashing in the pool.  The watery trails of drips that followed them to their towels and snacks was nostalgic of when my own kids were small.  I found it deeply satisfying to witness.

Sitting together with leisurely chatting, roasting marshmallows singing together around a fire, not to mention the perfect weather was just fantastic! God is good.

The next day followed with our Cemetery Decoration service. I was overcome by the turnout and hospitality shown to the bereaved. The mingling of relaxed laughter and vulnerable,  unhidden tears was breathtaking.

How the sun, the breeze, the great outdoors, so comfortably provided us with a fittingly natural cathedral to do the work of remembering together. We stood on the holy ground of grief and faith together. Our church family graciously helping one another, teaming up to unpack an unrehearsed, gorgeously human service full of organic, heart felt love and tenderness. God is good.

So WHY, as I rode to my appointment did that familiar nagging ache of sadness and hopelessness clutch at my gut?  Believing in God’s love for me and the goodness so evident around me DOES NOT fix my mental health.

It’s weird, but after each high, I seem to go right into a low. I came home from that appointment and sucked back my extra pills that are designed to curb the nagging feeling.

It doesn’t negate the wonderful feelings of the weekend but it does stir up anger and questions I’d rather not dwell on.

Onward and upward.

You’re not alone.

, ,

Being

Favorite camping spot.

How important is spirituality in your life?

My spirituality is informed by my Christianity. However, you can easily be spiritual without being religious. I think it’s all about how we interpret our awareness of BEING.

I live and breathe my personal spirituality. It fuels my interpersonal relationships, my worldview, my faith, and my pastoral ministry. I believe in a Greater Power, the Uncreated Source of everything, a consciousness of something bigger than all of us. As a Christian, I’m referring to my God. The awareness of goodness, love, intrinsic worth, purpose, and eternity enacted in and through daily life is my spiritual goal.

My soul is always seeking the eternal who IS LOVE, who loves me. The energy, the supernatural vibration, the divine in me, my Godspark, keeps me constantly and eternally connected to God/the Source/ the All-Knowing and everything else that is also in energetic union through life and in death.

It’s important. Spirituality is my life’s purpose. Connection and unity is its desire. Spirituality makes me care about people, other creatures, and the environment. It drives me to seek kindness and justice in this world of pain. It helps me to act with humility and notice all the amazing things I’d miss if my mind wasn’t always head to head with God.