dailyprompt

Starshine

The Friday before the  New 2024 Year celebration was the twelfth and FINAL day of Christmas. The following Sunday was the Epiphany, commemorating the arrival of distinguished foreigners from the East, who were WISE in watching the sky and attuned to ancient prophecy. They made it  to Bethlehem, where they finally set eyes on the child whose birth was signaled by the appearance of a PECULIAR star.  The star remained and burned brightly above the infant Jesus. A sign of wonder to behold. 

Although Christmastide has ended it is still the season after Epiphany – a season of revelation and discovery before we delve into observing Christ’s road to a cross, a story of suffering and salvation through him.   

For a while now, I’ve been reflecting on the entirety of  the yuletide season. As I’ve gotten a LITTLE older, I am learning to accept that nothing EVER goes exactly as planned.  Personally, Christmas has never really been the same since my brother’s 2012, November passing.

Each year, as I begin to pull out our Christmas decorations, I think about HIS funeral because it corresponds with THAT TIME. We were in Orleans, Ontario at the Lutheran Church of the Resurrection. The WHOLE chancel area behind the altar, the focal point of the worship service,  is surrounded by floor to ceiling clear WINDOWS. It felt like we were sitting outside among the trees.  

As my Pastor father preached it began to snow the FIRST snow of the season.  It wasn’t a gentle, slow, large flaked, magical snowfall, rather, it blew VIOLENTLY, harder and harder as my father spoke, as if God was making a nod to my brother’s adventurous and turbulent spirit, a final, gusty and powerful leave- taking.  It FELT like my brother’s spirit was WITH us.  It STILL FEELS LIKE his spirit is WITH us.  I’ve heard countless stories of felt presence of loved ones passed – butterflies, cardinals, feathers, unexpected items reappearing from nowhere.   And WHY NOT?  The spirit that dwells in each of us is ETERNAL.  Signs and wonders to behold.

The STAR at Jesus’ birth was a sign pointing to the wonder of God’s PRESENCE born among us.  This SAME presence is ALWAYS with us. That’s what Jesus promises.  We are never alone.  The Holy Spirit fills us, teaches us, accompanies us, and guides us.  The spirit dwells IN us. Christmas tends to heighten my awareness of Christ’s indwelling, the Holy Spirit that fans the flame of my soul, and is part of my Christ-mind, my inner Godspark.

Two thousand years ago, John the Baptist, who was renowned for his preaching, and later for preparing the world for the expected Messiah, baptized people with WATER a sign of REPENTANCE.  John encouraged people to look their sin in the eye and make the CHOICE to grow past it.

To repent, in Christian terms, means to intentionally change your mind and turn around, to head in a NEW direction that contributes to an ever better and more intimate relationship with God.  For me, this suggests choosing to notice the voice of the Holy Spirit calling to me from WITHIN myself.

Christians believe that during baptism the extraordinary Holy Spirit enters into ordinary water and washes all our sins away with a promise that we are God’s children, adopted to continue the work of Christ in God’s ongoing creation, and that we will be forgiven whenever we repent and turn to God in truth and hope. 

We consider baptism a divine gift. Not everyone has the OPPORTUNITY or the WILL to receive this gift. Not everyone who IS baptized recognizes or chooses to unwrap and embrace the indwelling quality of the Holy Spirit.  Life itself comes from being FILLED with the breath, the holy wind, the Spirit of God. It’s what ANIMATES us at the moment of our creation.  The presence of the Holy Spirit is NATURALLY in ALL of us, baptized or not.  Baptism can give us the special ability and the will to seek and perpetuate our own sacred origins.

What animates YOU? What do you equate with signs of divine sparks dwelling in you?  The Spirit burns from within. Sometimes we feel the urgency. Sometimes we simply see the glow and feel the WARMTH.

In spite of all the things that didn’t happen the way they were planned this Christmas- Jesus’ paradise approaches.  It GLIMMERS. The Holy Spirit keeps on showing up.  That warm, loving, energized feeling of hope BURSTING forth from our own inner depths – awakened countless times in me over the last month or so.  

When sharing a meal, my son carefully cut a piece of lemon meringue pie for my neurodiverse daughter, who lives with MANY challenges.  He gently invited her to try to pick it up and put it on her plate because, “I really think you can do it yourself. It’s all lined up. Give it a try.  Here’s a good fork. I’ll standby in case you need help.”  And she DID IT!  My son empowered her with KINDNESS.  The magnitude of this moment may escape you but it overwhelms ME with spiritual glimmers of gratitude, hope, love and even joy. Into THIS mother’s arguing, disappointed, shame filled and exhausted heart, the Spirit WELLS up and whispers something new.   A NEW dawn on a familiar journey.  The WILL to keep going. It changes everything from the inside out. 

At my church, it was the first time since Christmas 2019 that Christmas Eve service was in person or not stormed out.  A flush of gladness swept through me at the sight of a full church, families united, children now grown, and hushed Candlelight.  

These moments of CONNECTION, belonging, familiarity – that’s the Spirit pulling us together HEART to HEART. When we see the dignity of one another- that IS divine recognition from within. Signs of wonder. They refresh us.

In the year ahead, we can embrace a little bit of the freshness of something new.  We are gathered together and brooded over in HOLY ways we cannot understand.  The sacred moves US to create hope in ways we cannot understand.  

We are the holy undivided family that encommpasses the whole of creation.  We come from the same source, we BELONG to one another.  How will we reach out to help others move away from lives of falseness, hate, and hurt and be restored to the way of truth and love?  How will we invite them into repentance, reparation, and reconciliation?  How will we work together to create a future based on mutual care, liberty and justice?  Can we listen to one another with LOVE this year? I think that renewal, the opening of hearts to the divine, IS the WAY to restore ALL parts of the Creator’s beloved community.  Can we remember that we are still washed in STARSHINE, born from unfathomable POWER and filled with holy light that SHINES ever brighter as we SHARE it? I hope this year that YOU will behold the signs and wonders of divine love that shine brightly and eternally.  Check out the night sky and watch the hidden tenderness of humanity. Signs and wonders ARE everywhere.

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.

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?

My Can Of Worms

What could you let go of, for the sake of harmony?

What could you let go of, for the sake of harmony?

For the sake of harmony, the first thing I would let go of is the need to have the LAST WORD.  Good or bad, it doesn’t matter.  I’m not sure if I’m balanced enough to pull it off.

Letting go is easily one of the hardest things anyone with a personality disorder struggles with.   I have been categorized by my professional mental health POSSE as a textbook example of someone living with Borderline Personality Disorder.  I was not awarded that title until the occasion of my midlife crisis. Ahem. Sniff. 

I’m fine, REALLY. Actually, the diagnosis made A WHOLE LOT OF sense of A WHOLE LOT OF chaos and personal behaviours that I had A WHOLE LOT OF trouble forgiving myself for.  BPD was the answer I needed to take control of my life. HURRAH HURRAH!

My unique BPD diagnosis reveals that I have a preoccupied attachment style that sports high anxiety and fear of abandonment. Relationships are intense or avoided. I need to feel approved and accepted by others. This is complicated for a pastor, BUT HEY, why not add more people and more responsibility to my life? I mean, I’m uncomfortable anyway. 

People like me have an internal push and pull to be close while fearing being hurt and abandoned. My BPD type is Petulant and Destructive. I am quickly annoyed and frustrated, and I tend to interrupt. I am both humble and inflexible.  HUH? I know, right? In addition, I act without thinking, I have a high risk of hurting myself, and generally saturate myself in negative self-talk that leads to body dysmorphia, restrictive eating, as well as binging.

I can’t dismiss my mental health conditions, but I can benefit from some serious self-awareness.  I have to let go of thinking I can handle this all by myself.

Enter  IFS – Internal Family Systems Therapy. This is the only kind of therapy that works for me, and I’ve tried PLENTY. Here’s how it works: 

think of all your internal parts/voices/urges as you would a family. They might include a protector, a peacekeeper, an angry one, a left out one, etc.etc. IFS uses the terms Firefighters, Exiles, and Managers.   All parts are relative to your actual SELF.  I like the Christianized version that designates the self as one’s soul.  I always call this my GODSPARK.  It is everything your parts need to be in harmonious union.

Using IFS language, harmony refers to blending, a suitable arrangement of parts that fosters peace, balance, and equilibrium.

YUP. That’s quite a can of worms to reflect with, there… 

Are we talking about harmony without or within? Pastor Me appreciated a Bible verse that was read this Sunday.  In his letter to the Romans, St. Paul writes,

15I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.

Romans 7:15 NRSV

I hope that I will let go of shame, blame  fear, anger, negativity, and being so hard on myself.  I hate it. I hope to grow into understanding and start doing what I know is right and what I want to do in order to live lovingly and productively for my family, my church, and myself.

Until then, let’s say I could let go of the TV remote for the sake of harmony tonight and leave it at that.

Peace friends.

Who’s Procrastinating?

On what subject(s) are you an authority?

It’s Friday night. I’m a minister. I haven’t started to write my Sunday sermon yet. I mean, I have ideas. I’ve been thinking about it all week. I can see it in my head. I’ll do it tomorrow. For sure. It’ll be my last chance. I’ll be editing until 10 minutes before the service starts. It’s fine. I do my best work under pressure.

I get all the unnecessary things done while I’m NOT writing my sermon. I reduced our living room furniture by one couch and a chair. Everything is nicely rearranged. I have a floorplan ready to bring in and move around some more stuff – my piano is a biggie – what good is a piano if it’s tucked away and blocked by pet habitats and all their paraphernalia?

Did I mention that I organized the medicine cabinet and a book shelf? I took a quick drive to look at the lake. All’s well there, by the way. I dumped the contents of a junk drawer on the counter and sorted through it. I found the cassette tape of our wedding and the little light bulbs for the salt lamp. Impressive finds! I took a little run to the pet store to get poo bags and dog treats. All ready for our walk tomorrow!

I love all the reading and the research and the mulling of everything over while the words I will preach are simmering. I love writing, and I love preaching. God always has something fresh to add at the last minute. God is helpful that way. It’s all good. I know how it will end. Whatever comes out will emphasize that “You are not alone. God loves you just the way you are!”

This kind of procrastination is a process, a routine. Living my moments, savouring all the little Gospel connections, feeling the Spirit’s sparks, forming the stories and illustrations that will pop so that hopefully, maybe, someone might be moved in Spirit when they hear the delivery of the final draft.

I am informed by my own delaying tactics. My thoughts need time to vacillate and ruminate. I’m really good at this. Procrastination is a necessary tool. Perhaps it is a subject for which I can speak as an authority. Procrastination is my superpower. Thanks be to God!

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.

Self-Care or Self-Sabotage?

How do you practice self-care?

Five years ago, I actually had time to focus on my self-care. It was great, except I was on medical leave to recover from ‘continuing to work’ for a year after being diagnosed with a kind of liver disease related to toxemia.

The year I spent working after the fresh diagnosis was the beginning of a huge mental breakdown. I lost 100 lbs while restricting food in order to lose weight for the sake of my liver.

By the time I agreed to medical leave, I’d become a shadow of myself. While on leave, I was required to seek much needed help from the psychiatrist I still see today for my ever-looming battle with disordered eating and severe episodes of depression.

So, I set out on a six month journey of self-care. I walked the dog every day. I took time to eat healthy foods. I started daily yoga. A fitness guru friend trained me to lift weights every 3 days. I spent time enjoying reading. I spent a lot of time outdoors. It was Super Duper FANTASTIC.

When I returned to work I WAS much healthier. I wanted to continue keeping my self-care routines. I was DEDICATED.

There is a line between self-care and self-sabotage. I didn’t have time to do ALL the lovely and soul- nurturing THINGS. Self-care became a CHORE. It was another impossible box to check. It sent me spinning.

We need to be attentive to our bodies and our thoughts. Pushing ourselves to fit everything in is not helpful. So, now, I’m learning to be accepting and comfortable with my inability to do it all. I can do that sometimes when I stop and breathe and notice all that my senses are experiencing.

The Angst of Self Worth

Daily writing prompt
How do you waste the most time every day?
View all responses

I’m embarrassed and a little anxious to admit that I waste too much valuable time on negative self talk and reactive arguing with my family. Terrible. I NEED to be right. I NEED to be validated. I NEED to know that I count. I know this stems from years of low self esteem. I have spent a lot of time competing for attention and tolerating the worst of it just to remain guarded and feel safe in my own skin.

I question myself at nauseum. Did I say the right thing? Did my facial expression reveal my inner thoughts? Do I look professional? Am I too casual? Did anyone notice me swearing?

Then there are the shouldn’t-s. You shouldn’t have said that, ate that, bought that, texted that, worn that, tolerated that. You shouldn’t have waved at that person. You shouldn’t laugh so loud.

Being distracted by personal negativity often keeps me from seeing the good stuff that’s happening all around. I miss too many moments that could be GREAT because ALL MY PARTS are too loud and I can’t hear the voice of calm and wellness. I even forget about my faith – and that’s something. I believe in God’s steadfast presence in me and in ALL, yet I let my fear of abandonment win out over my desire to love. When someone I care about tries to get me to knock it off, I waste even MORE time fighting with them. It’s such a miserable waste of time to be closed off to being, feeling, and living happy and well.

I hope we all remember our innate and divine worth and rise above our human crap to live openly and compassionately with others as well as with ourselves. Chin up.

Dough boy

Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?

My childhood memories are full of the good ‘healthy’ stuff of the 70s and 80s. My family camped every summer. We’d hunt for perfectly shaped sticks to cook our dough boys. Strange name. It’s like Bannock dough made from teabisk mix. Our sticks had to be straight and just the right thickness. We’d carve off the bark and carefully wrap dough around it, then cook them like toasting marshmallows over the fire bed. They puffed and browned. The best treat ever. Slice one open while it’s hot. Add a little butter and strawberry jam – yum. The best of my childhood races to mind.

Those dreamy blues

Write about your first crush.

After all these years, I can still feel the flutter of excitement in my gut that my six year old brain thought was true love. He wore brown plaid with brown pants and a white ball cap atop a mop of brown hair. He had the darkest, prettiest eyelashes and the dreamiest big blue eyes. Golly. He and one of my girlfriends headed up a game every recess where they were our ‘parents’ and we had to listen to them. She got to wear his white hat. I wanted to wear that hat.

My house was on his way home. He often stopped there to play with me (and my brothers and their friends), especially in the winter. He wore a dark gray parka with light gray fur around the hood that got covered with snow as we rolled around the yard.

Once, his mother arranged a play date for us at his house. It was awkward. A lot of sitting on the couch in silence.

I moved the next year. I called him my boyfriend for several years. Young love. I wonder what ever happened to him? Sigh.