renegotiating experience

I've been reading a book about Narrative practices, and this struck me tonight; I wanted to remember it.

I have proposed that the deconstruction of taken for granted ways of thinking and being presents persons with options for the negotiation and renegotiation of their experience of life in terms of alternative modes of thought and practices of life. I have further proposed that this deconstruction frees persons to more actively monitor the real effects of their ways of being and thinking, and that this has the potential to provide them with the opportunity to have more to say about which ways they might live, and which ways they might think. 

            Michael White, in Narratives of Therapists Lives 

perspective

I often captivated by stories that have been passed on through the oral tradition.  This is one of my favourites;


Six blind men were discussing exactly what they believed an elephant to be, since each had heard how strange the creature was, yet none had ever seen one before. So the blind men agreed to find an elephant and discover what the animal was really like.

from: http://pwoessner.com/
wp-content/uploads/2009/12/elephant.jpg

It didn't take the blind men long to find an elephant at a nearby market. The first blind man approached the beast and felt the animal's firm flat side. "It seems to me that the elephant is just like a wall," he said to his friends.
The second blind man reached out and touched one of the elephant's tusks. "No, this is round and smooth and sharp - the elephant is like a spear."
Intrigued, the third blind man stepped up to the elephant and touched its trunk. "Well, I can't agree with either of you; I feel a squirming writhing thing - surely the elephant is just like a snake."
The fourth blind man was of course by now quite puzzled. So he reached out, and felt the elephant's leg. "You are all talking complete nonsense," he said, "because clearly the elephant is just like a tree."
Utterly confused, the fifth blind man stepped forward and grabbed one of the elephant's ears. "You must all be mad - an elephant is exactly like a fan."
Duly, the sixth man approached, and, holding the beast's tail, disagreed again. "It's nothing like any of your descriptions - the elephant is just like a rope."

And all six blind men continued to argue, based on their own particular experiences, as to what they thought an elephant was like. It was an argument that they were never able to resolve.


 Each of them was concerned only with their own idea. None of them had the full picture, and none could see any of the other's point of view. 


Each man saw the elephant as something different, each blind man was partially correct, but mostly missing the larger truth.  Each man was more concerned about his perspective and his correctness than learning all that could be learned.


I got this version of the story from this site. 


Maybe you needed perspective today, too?

more about mattering

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,

gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking

so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously

give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,

our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson, in Return to Love: Reflections on a Course in Miracles

(I've also seen these words attributed to Nelson Mandela)

thankful

Saturday morning, I heard the sad news that my friend Christina had passed away.  I spent the day rather dishevelled and in a fog.  

Can I tell you a little about Christina?  I know she'd love that her picture is on a blog, and her stories are being told.  She loved being remembered, noticed, appreciated.  

She loved being loved!

I met her in 2009, shortly after our family moved to Flatlanders Inn. She came for our Wednesday potluck. After we'd eaten she asked when the women's prayer group was meeting.  Turns out she thought it was Friday and was looking for another event in the church, she hadn't even meant to come to Flats.... but then she kept coming, every Wednesday night for the next two years.  She'd bring food to share, sometimes chicken nuggets or instant potatoes, but she always wanted to contribute!

Both Christina and I had mothers who had struggled with mental illness and who had passed away many years ago. We discovered this story-in-common early in our friendship.  We hardly ever discussed it, but every so often if the topic of care or childhood would come up, she'd say something about the kind of mutual understanding we shared. Trust grew between us, in the way that it does, winding and testing.  Getting stronger with shared experience, shared laughter, shared hearts, shared hurts. 

 Christina was an artist, and she had this deep longing to communicate brokenness AND hope in every piece she created.
When our artspace opened up, she was became a regular attender at the art drop in. She loved Jesus.  When she was feeling strong, she wanted to pray for you, looking for ways to encourage and bless everyone she met.  When she was feeling low, she asked people to pray for her often.

Christina loved Christian trinkets. She couldn't resist buying a t-shirt or hat that had words or images about love or peace. Her jewellery collection was extensive and included lots of crosses.  If you got curious about the stuff she loved, you'd learn that she just wanted to communicate the love and hope of God to everyone.  She had a mixed up relationship with 'stuff', and it consumed a lot of her energy. ... and often the energy of her friends!   Flatlanders experimented with storing some of her treasures - but in the end, we sent them back to her place because of the tension it brought into our relationship.  

Some of my favourite Christina memories; 

...having coffee in portage place
...sorting through her stuff and hanging clothes on very specific hangers, in very specific order, in a very specific way :)
...rummaging through her purse for some lost item
...the time she made a huge pot of soup for flatlanders and everyone loved it

...being shown a new photo or artistic piece and hearing the story of how it came to be

... the way she would choose an outfit and accessories, usually including a hat!

...seeing the abandon she danced with every sunday in church, even when her arm was injured

I'm pretty sure our last phone conversation was a prayer.  I have guilt over the phone calls I didn't answer and the messages I didn't return, but I know that our friendship was real and mutual - we were honest with each other.  'Be strong' was a phrase said between us often.

Christina gave me a celtic cross from her jewellery collection.  When she was alive, I wore it because I was grateful that she was in my life.  Now that she's gone, I'll wear it in her memory and in thankfulness for all that I learned from her. 

Christina taught me about beauty, about suffering, about joy, about intimacy, about vulnerability, about prayer, about Jesus.

She taught me about Jesus because I saw him in her all the time.

Be at peace, dear Christina, you will be missed by so many.
We love you.

                    ...until we meet again...

Anyway

from http://ptskjohnson.blogspot.com

I love these words from Mother Theresa.  

I needed to be reminded of them today.  

Maybe you did too?

HAAALLLOOOOOO

We have an empty building in our parking lot.  We once thought it'd be renovated it like  the one we live in has been renovated.  I called it a 'container for dreams' - an empty, unused, huge building has so much potential!  But a few months ago, it was decided that the building needed to come down.  It's been slated for demolition any time before winter for the last few months.

Beside the building - the yellow warehouse its called - was well used shortcut to Main Street.  Not only was it a short cut, it was a bit of a hang out space. (or a sleeping place if you're homeless)  Activities back there could be a little sketchy.  Sometimes, it was an innocent drinking party or some guys cutting the insulation off their copper wire before bringing it in to the scrap metal dealer. Other times, there'd be someone relieving themselves or couples having a good time - with hardly an clothes on.   I only had to 'walk in' on a couple of very bizarre sights back there before I developed the habit of saying 'HAALLOOOO' nice and loud when I entered from either direction.  Better if people know you're nearby, I decided.  What I wasn't prepared to do was stop using the short cut.  I wasn't crazy about my kids using it, though.

Local newscasts in our city have all been reporting the suspicious death - now called a homicide - of a 24 year old woman named April Hornbrook.   Her body was found in the area that houses our short cut to Main St. - beside the yellow warehouse, basically in our back yard. Any local news carrier has articles about the death, and CTV has Andy's TV interview in our memorial garden posted right now.

At our house meeting today, we opened up the discussion to see how our community is dealing with this happening right under our noses.   We wanted to create a space for processing and responding to this tragedy together.  It was a bit of a crazy weekend, investigators asking all of us what we'd seen, police tape all over the place, tv cameras poking into people's faces after church on Sunday - not a run of the mill weekend, even for us.  First on our minds are thoughts and prayers for April's family.  Twice today, we've gathered in small groups just to sit and remember this girl, to pray for her family, and to ask that God would help her family find a measure of peace and closure.  We've prayed for our neighborhood more than usual, because this crime was so very 'near'.  We've prayed for justice, mercy, healing, and grace.   Processing together is helpful, especially toward our desire to avoid becoming desensitized when there is a lot of crime in our area.

Mostly though, we have no idea how to collectively or individually respond well. What are you supposed to do when a murder victim is found in your backyard?  What is the best way we could be of help those who are grieving?  Is there a way we can care for our community in this time of sadness?  We'd love it if you'd join us in praying for April's family, for safety and healing in our neighborhood, and for us as we seek to respond well.

shame

ever feel ashamed of yourself?  I'm not talking about guilt here, not some fleeting ooops-I-wish-I-hadn't-done/said-that feeling.  I'm talking about shame - the deeper feeling that peeks out every so often and says accusing things like: 'you're not valid. you're a pretender. maybe you shouldn't have been confident.... where do you get the idea that you have a right to contribute? I'm not going to let you forget where you've come from, or that you're a poor excuse for a _______  .'

photography found at: http://www.orkut.com.br/Mai

A couple of weeks ago, I had an experience that was causing me to want to curl up and not be seen.  I was wishing I could hide inside my own skin.  The memory of it would come into my mind and I'd have to suppress the desire to run away, to go find some covers to hide under.  As if by running, I could hide from my own thoughts.


When I get into this space, I inevitably feel like the people around me don't have any idea what I'm experiencing.  And that they can see right into me. They've got their acts together, they wouldn't have anything to do with what I'm wincing at the mere thought of.


So, before our family holiday, I called up a friend (at 10pm!) and asked if she had any wine and a few minutes for me. She graciously said yes (to both requests!), and even thanked me for coming over! Then I  told one of my sisters my secret.  (I could only tell one of them,  it was all I could manage.)  My husband also knew.  And I gave myself space to cry - several times, because I've learned that in some mysterious and beautiful way,  crying untangles the knot that lives in my stomach in times of grief.  Both my friend and my sister told me that they understood it was a huge deal for me, this thing I wanted to hide from.  They both shared similar experiences. And they both loved me anyway. They both found ways to say that their perception of me was not altered, and they both found gentle ways to encourage me to let it go.


It wasn't long before the memory didn't have the same power over me.  I can think about it now and not want to hide or even wince.  Someone told me once (a therapist someone) that I showed signs of having been shamed - often - in my life.  She was right.  But, you know, those shaming patterns don't have to live forever.  Over the years, I've learned how to practice vulnerability in some pretty freeing ways.  And, I've been acting - with a great many stumbles - on some decisions about what and who will have power over me.  


The stuff thats happened over the course of my life - for a long time I wanted to bury it.  And finally, I just accepted that it was what it was.  And that I was going to keep having to cope with it; in new ways as I changed and as the years progressed. It wasn't healthy to believe that there would come a day when it would be behind me forever. I had to let go of the 'I've dealt with it' mentality and replace it with a 'I'm dealing with it' perspective. 


I like the way Petersen talks about living creatively together in Galatians 6; 'Live creatively, friends. If someone falls into sin, forgivingly restore him, saving your critical comments for yourself. You might be needing forgiveness before the day's out. Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and so complete Christ's law. If you think you are too good for that, you are badly deceived.'


This post was inspired by a site I found by reading the very worst missionary's post about Second Chances.  Check out this site - dedicated to gracious living and being people of many chances.
thanks for reading! don't be shy to leave comments.

rethinking proverbs 31

 Until now, I’ve believed that the woman from Proverbs 31 was the consummate traditional homemaker.  She is called ‘the virtuous wife’ in the KJV, a ‘woman of noble character’ in the NLT, the ‘capable wife’ in the NRSV, a ‘worthy woman’ in the NASB.  Directly from the Hebrew, ‘woman of abilities’ is my best translation. Today, I studied her again and learned a great deal – I saw her in a brand new light.

Proverbs 31 starts out with a king’s mother giving him advice. She’s cautioning her son not to neglect his responsibilities as king.  Her advice (in my very rough translation) is ‘women and/or booze will take you down, my son. Don’t let it happen! You have a job to do in this world!’

What is this important job the king and his future wife are to be committed to?

Speak out for those who cannot speak, and also for the rights of all the destitute.  Also, make sure you’re able to judge righteously, and defend the rights of the poor and needy (vs. 8-9)

If mom has her way, the king and his virtuous wife (assuming he finds her!) will both be committed to this purpose.  The relationship will include mutual support, not desperate clinginess. This woman won’t derive worthiness or identity entirely from her husband, and because of this they will both be able to contribute to their (joint) task with greater capability, resolve, competence, and purpose. This woman seems healthy and well rounded; she might embody what developmental theorists would call ‘resolved’ or ‘mature’  … because she knows who she is and has the ability to be selfless.  She has a solid identity, which paves the way for genuine intimacy, and opens the door for all sorts of good stuff to enter her home and life.

In the past I’ve read Proverbs 31 and seen a woman who kept it all together, did all the right things, managed her household, business, and other interests - while sewing her own clothing … and I thought I must be a disorganized schmuck.

Today, reading from the king's mothers perspective and keeping their mutual purpose in mind... i saw her in a brand new light.

** The images in this post come from an artist's blog called

Blue, Purple, & Scarlett.  **

Every Girl, Every Boy

For every girl who is tired of acting weak when she is strong, there is a boy tired of appearing strong when he feels vulnerable.  For every boy who is burdened with the constant expectation of knowing everything, there is a girl tired of people not trusting her intelligence.  For every girl who is tired of being of being called over-sensitive, there is a boy who fears to be gentle, to weep.  For every boy for whom competition is the only way to prove his masculinity, there is a girl who is called unfeminine when she competes.  For every girl who throws out her E-Z-Bake Oven, there is a boy who wishes to find one.  For every boy struggling not to let advertising dictate his desires, there is a girl facing the ad industry’s attacks on her self-esteem.  For every girl who takes a step toward her liberation, there is a boy who finds the way to freedom a little easier.

(Adapted from a poem by Nancy R. Smith, see www.crimethinc.com)

crazymaking

even before becoming a counsellor, I had come up with the term 'crazymaking' as a way of describing what its like to be in an relationship where emotional abuse is present.   It's like walking on a tightrope while balancing a stack of plates on your head and wearing high heels - as a lifestyle. And doing it with a smile on your face, because you're pretty sure that the deep ache you feel isn't valid, so pretending and covering up your emotions is almost always necessary.

I've had this post brewing for quite a while. It comes from some of my in class learning, some  experiences with people in my life, some of my own experiences, and a little bit from things I've heard from clients.  (care has been taken to ensure there is nothing identifying written here.)

I feel compelled to talk about emotional abuse.  It deserves attention because it's often overlooked, and people generally think it's not valid in the same way as physical violence or sexual violence is.  Does emotional violence really compare?  I might have said no in the past.... but I've come to see things differently.  Even though other kinds of abuse leaves scars and bruises, the remnants of emotional abuse are no less permanent.  I've heard folks who have been emotionally abused say that they WISH they had bruises, some tangible evidence that might validate the pain.  

Emotionally abused women often don't recognize the abuse as abuse for a long time.  Partly because its their 'normal'.  And partly because they're too busy trying to make things right, constantly trying to flex and adapt to a changing reality.  The ways that they are wrong, bad, and 'the problem' seem never ending, and they're often trying some new strategy to keep the chaos at bay.  They often see themselves as the problem in every situation, because thats what they're told.  Over, and over, and over.   Friends and family, in a sincere effort to be supportive,  often reinforce the message that the victim needs to change/is the problem.

I could say more, but a friend told me I could share some of her thoughts as long as I keep her identity secret.

"That’s the thing about being in a relationship with an abuser – you don’t matter.  Its best to just face that fact and accept it.  You don’t matter.  Your partner finds every possible way to tell you that, to get you to embrace this truth. It's the secret to getting along, he says.  Sometimes with gentleness, sometimes with humor, sometimes with venom that reverberates in your brain for years.   Problem is:  ITS NOT TRUE!!  It's only the truth of the relationship you’re in.  Somewhere, you know that, you just lose touch with it in the midst of turmoil and ongoing stress. And sometimes, he is so very good to you, that you wonder if you made the abuse up.  How could these two faces belong to the same person, you ask yourself.  But you know. the difference between the two faces is obvious, to you most of all.  you know the subtle change.  The cheek twitch.  The clenched hands.  The tone of voice.  You know both of them -  intimately."

"Every time I experience a verbal attack,  I walk around as if in a fog or daze for days.  I forget the difference between up and down.  I become even more forgetful than I naturally am.. or maybe the absentmindedness is a response to a lifetime of abuse?  I don’t know.  I feel so little, so worthless, so confused. I can hardly string sentences together.  I try to look for the consistencies and the pattern, something to work on, a starting place.  But inconsistency is the only consistency.  How do you do any repairs on a moving target?  You just keep doing the dance.  until one day, you can't dance anymore."

 I'm learning about emotional abuse.  I'm learning that it's real and deserves attention. I'm also learning that there's hope.  IF both victim and abuser are willing to take honest inventory of things.  To take responsibility and do the hard work of emotional change, rerouting learned responses.  Boundaries need to be established and supports set up.  Both parties need to talk about violence and power -  what's happened between them and what they want to replace it with.  I'm not writing a textbook or authoring a study here, but what I've learned so far tells me that the key ingredients to healing are genuine repentance, a strong commitment to changing the patterns that have maybe existed for a lifetime, outside supports/help, and most of all - love.

Love that looks like this: Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance ... Such love has no fear, because perfect love expels all fear.

Decolonizing

I've been wondering about structural change and social issues since I moved to the inner city over 10 years ago.    This new word I learned - decolonize - seems like a really important theme in the grand scheme of things.

Is there agreement that colonial perspectives are still alive and well in our country?  What would it be like if Canadians were freed from their colonizing mindset and the subtle but pervasive reach of colonial principles?  How could that ever be achieved?

There is something about the gospel, about the stories and the life of Jesus that reminds me of 'decolonizing'.  I wonder what others think....

the sacred fire still burns

I've known for a couple of days that my next post would be about spending a couple of days at the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's first event last week.  But I haven't known exactly how to put words to what I was feeling, or what I learned.  (warning - long post ahead!  I hope you'll do more than skim ...)

I had some really neat experiences, because I attended both days with different Residential School survivors.  Some walked down to the Statement Gathering location and made statements.  I was blown away by the sensitivity and priority that was shown to the survivors throughout the whole event. As the emotional support staff were leading one of my friends to the room with the audio recording equipment, he pointed to me and said 'Her - she can come.  She knows me better.'  What an honor!  Over the course of time, my friend and I have had many conversations about his experiences in residential school, and then experiences at all the other institutions that followed....  A certain residential school story about two siblings (a boy and a girl) who came to his school is so revealing.  The pair knew that they were not allowed to speak or interact, but they were seen whispering on the play ground.  They were strapped and then not seen for days.  After a while, they were found in the woods, dead from wounds received at the hands of overzealous disciplinarians.Stories like this are horrible enough when they are removed and impersonal - somehow its different when your friend is telling you about his experience of it.   Yes, this all really happened in Canada. This particular story was right in Manitoba.  And it happened sometime in the early 1970's.  For real.

I was shocked to learn during the event that the mortality rate at residential schools was 24% overall.  One BC school I read about had a 50% mortality rate.  Half the kids who attended that school died.  Brings new meaning to the term 'survivor', doesn't it?  We are accustomed to those kind of third world stats, but these things happened right in our homeland .. you know, the True North - Strong and Free.

I have always been angry about the apathy and complacency of many in the Canadian church about our history.  Now, I feel ready to be more ACTIVE.  Of course, I want to remember that most of all, I am a worshipper and follower of Jesus - not an activist.  Somewhere,  I saw these piercing words - 'there is no one so blind as the one who REFUSES to see.'  Sounds like something Jesus would say - it was certainly revealed through stories about his life.

During the TRC event, I was part of another event with some leaders from a Vineyard church in South Africa .. in Soweto, to be exact.    The Truth and Reconciliation Commission originated in South Africa - Canada is following in their footsteps in this pursuit of genuine restoration.  It was interesting to hear our South African guests talk about the unbelieving and indignant responses of Canadian visitors when confronted with past and present Apartheid realities, while not paying any attention to the First Nations situation 'back home'.  They revealed that they had no qualms about pointing out the inconsistency, fairly begging Canadians to open their eyes.

We went to a rainy early morning ceremony one day.  I was moved by the drummers from the four corners of the earth standing together - Red, Yellow, Black, and White - playing first in turn and then in unison. 

 I see the legacy of Canada's Residential School policy outside my door each and every day.  Today,  I walked down Main St. and saw one of our friends standing in the middle of the busy street, with traffic passing by and honking on each side of him.  Drivers were yelling, swearing.  He just refused to move.  He just stubbornly stood there, solvent rag in hand. In light of my reflections on the TRC, I read his posture and expression to be saying.. 'Notice me.  See me.  STOP.  THINK.  Pay attention, I'm angry, hurting, and not going away.'  I wished I wasn't the only person on the curb shouting above the traffic for him to get off the road and care about himself.  Later that day, he stopped by and gave me a funny little gift.  I hung it on my wall to help me remember to pray for him.

Last night, our doorbell rang.  A young street worker was there, I hadn't met her before.  She had heard that we have beds here, and wondered if she could stay the night.  When we asked how long she wanted to stay, she drunkenly said .. 'forever'.  Instead, we took her down to a shelter, but invited her to get to know us and come by for visits and coffee.  I got to hear some of her story - starting to use crack at age 11, being in care all her life, not knowing how to stop using and start facing....  two days, two tragic stories.  There are resilience stories too - I pray for more and more of those.

Genuine reconciliation requires that we face our denial, and that we do away with the blame game.  It requires participation from those who have been offended and those who have offended. It requires eyes that see. 

That fire pictured at the top of this post burned day and night throughout the entire Winnipeg TRC event.  My prayer is that a sacred flame will stay lit as Canadians and Jesus followers recognize their role in genuine reconciliation.  My prayer is that it will burn strong and bright as we all realize its not too late.  May we realize that Aboriginal leaders are our nations most important 'natural resource'.

* my lovely friend Jess, whose sensitivity I have experienced first-hand, reflects with great insight here

* I introduced myself to Dora Dueck at the event.  She did quite a lot of reflecting on her experience there, too.  Read one of her posts here.

If you live in Winnipeg...

You need to check out the forks later this week!  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission is putting on their first event in our city.  There is much to absorb and learn, and the fact that this event crisscrosses the 'Forgiven' Summit that I posted about yesterday is meaningful.. things are happening in our country!  It's exciting.  It seems to me like an answer to many prayers, much weeping, and a lot of desperate crying out to God.

There will be events, storytellers, powwows, music, listening, and lots more from Wed-Sat.  Check out the website here.

i've just printed off the daily programs and highlighted the things I don't want to miss.  I have the advantage of being a 10 minute bike ride away, so hopefully I can take in lots of things.  No one in the Winnipeg area should miss the opportuntiy to engage at least once over the 4 days!

On Wed. night, the music lineup includes Blue Rodeo - hopefully we'll be heading over there after the Bean Gallery Coffee House/House Concert!

I'm going to try and be there each day for the 9am drumming - I have come to adore ceremonial drumming since WCV's What Love Does conference in October.  Also, at 2pm each day, there is a 'releasing tears prayer' in the Oodena Circle.  I'm hoping to make it at least a couple of times.  There is an academic conference on Thursday; Prairie Perspectives on Residential Schools.  The interfaith tent has a discussion about Traditional Spiritualities in conversation with Christianity on Thursday at 10:45.

Maybe I'll even take in a sash making workshop one afternoon!

let forgiveness be my sword...

I went to a forgiveness ceremony at Thunderbird House today.  It's part of a journey towards a National Summit being held in Ottawa in June.  It was so inspiring and good.  As soon as I sat down, I felt like I was in a sacred moment, the sense of privilege was overwhelming.

About a year ago, Prime Minister Harper issued an public and sweeping apology to the First Nations Community for historic wrongs, most especially the Residential Schools and Assimilation policies that have done such extensive harm.  He also asked for forgiveness.

The June Summit being held in Ottawa, and the ceremony I attended today, are part of a response to that request for forgiveness.  A movement is afoot to encourage Aboriginal Canadians to let go of anger and to forgive.  To actively participate in reconciliation...

There were moving songs about redemption and unity, about the Creator who is honored when we forgive and hurt when we don't.  The oral tradition was alive and well, and we heard about forgiveness as an ancient teaching and a modern teacher, as a gift and a sword.  The people gathered were asked to release their right to judge and be angry.

We were reminded, in the place of Louis Riel's story, that the Metis People are a unique expression of reconciliation and 'New Canada'; that Metis leaders have unique and influential voices for our time.

The drum was played several times, and I learned from some of the ladies sitting by me that women were the keepers of the songs in days gone by.  Men went to hunt and might be gone for long periods, the women were needed to preserve and care for the tradition.

More info here.

Also, there is a service and potluck meal at St. Lukes on Nassau Street on Saturday (24th) night, 5pm.

Have you checked out the Truth and Reconciliation Commission?  There is a Winnipeg event being planned at the Forks in June.  Other events will happen across Canada in the year ahead.  This is something that would be important to attend for all Canadians.

The pamphlet I picked up today says these good words;



                         Releasing Forgiveness

Healing A Nation

Embracing Freedom

AMEN.

wealth of stories

Narrative is a currency. Our society seems to be returning to a more narrative approach in theology, in conflict studies, in psychology, in churches ...  I find it fascinating and engaging.

Our family's lifestyle happens to make us filthy rich in the currency of narrative... (I'm so thankful that we're rich in something!! ....)  Stories abound in day to day life in our community.

Today, I had a chance to share some stories and to be reminded of how powerful and important they are...  here are a couple of gooders.

********************

During our street community drop in, a regular attender had recently experienced loss in her personal life.  I asked her about it, and I'll admit, I did ask a couple of questions in order to engage her.  She angrily turned to me and said :

'Why are you christians always asking QUESTIONS?  Can't you just leave all of us alone?  When I don't answer you its because I don't want to talk to you.  I'm tired of you bugging me, why don't you just get lost?!?'

As she said this, the whole room went quiet (or at least it felt like that to me!) and I felt tears stinging the backs of my eyes.  I wanted to hide under a chair, or run upstairs to my pillow, or yell back.
I kept myself together though, and said (in a voice that was abnormally quiet for me!) that I wasn't trying to upset her, I just had been wondering how she was doing and had been praying for her.  I can't remember the details of our exchange after the yelling, but I distinctly recall sitting there for a few long minutes (they felt like hours)  not really knowing what to do. 

After a while, she turned to me and calmly started to talk about her grief.  And about what she was really angry at.  I talked a little about losses in my life.  We shared a special moment, and the connection was genuine. It was nice.

I wish I could say that in the months that have passed, we've become closer and spent happy hours talking together and drinking tea. 

but nope, that's not the way this story has gone .. at least so far.  I have a feeling that there are some profound lessons to come, though...

***************

My friend Andy told the story of John, a guy who was around Main Street a lot when Andy first became part of this community in the late '90s. 

John's reputation preceded him, and everyone around knew him as a fighter and a drunk - he had the distinction of being disliked by street people and store owners alike. 

He pushed a decorated shopping cart around, and in it was all that he possessed.  He often turned conversations into songs.  Andy started to get to know him, and after a while, and after hearing A LOT of stories, began to realize that there was some truth to his tales... or at least some of them.  Maybe John hadn't been really close friends with John Lennon, but he had done some touring with high profile rock bands. 
And he really had been a well known realtor in the city once upon a time, with lots of properties and wealth. 
Andy shared the story because he learned firsthand how easy it is to judge and assume.  And  how much we miss out on if all we notice is appearance.

family, community, home

Some flatlanders have been reading this book together called "Schools for Conversion: Marks of the New Monasticism." Its been delightful to read and share together. Last week, we read the chapter on Hospitality to the Stranger and found many parallels to transitional members we have in our community.
The chapter opens with a heartwarming story of a couple who struggle through a friendship with a mentally ill friend named John, who they finally end up inviting into their home, into their family. The journey begins when a stormy night finds them unable to abide his homelessness, his lack of safety and support.

"We were tormented. Surely we couldn't take him into our home, could we?

He smells bad.. but a shower would fix that. He's paranoid.. but who isn't sometimes?

He hoards things.. well, we have closet space to share. .. finally we realized the truth -

that John had become our friend, and that it would devastate us if anything

happened to him." (page 40)

The end of the story is so hope filled and inspiring... the three become a beautiful family, eventually sharing victories and life changes TOGETHER. Eventually, John's habits change, and his once destructive patterns diminish as a result of supportive, loving community. The circle is completed as John offers hospitality to others from a place of love and acceptance.

A couple of posts earlier this week highlighted the tension that is so apparent. What about the stories that are not quite so hope filled? What about when the 'family' is ready, willing, able .. and the 'John' wants desperately to embrace their offer yet ... can't? What about when the family is unraveling at expense of the offering, yet still knows that they would be devastated if anything happened to their loved one - so they keep offering and offering while 'John' runs away? What if they've sought him out, time and again, wanting to be like the shepherd who goes after the 'one lamb', but now the seeking has become all consuming?

What does it mean to truly offer dignity? How do we truly offer love and respect to all, even to the point of respecting the most destructive and unnecessary of choices? Another passage from a different chapter of this book comes to mind, where Shane Claiborne discussed Jesus' response to the Rich Man;

"I think it broke Jesus' heart to let the man walk away. The text says that

Jesus looked at the man and loved him as he walked away.

Jesus doesn't run after him and say, 'hey.. its a journey..

just give half.' He doesn't say, 'just start with 10%' ..

he simply lets the man choose ..." (page 33)

Granted this passage and claiborne's reference to it are not about offering radical hospitality, but still... what does it look like to respect the choices of those we love? And keep loving them? What if I was writing all this about my own child? would my internal process be different than it is because I'm writing about people who are not 'mine'? Should this be so?

I don't have answers to these questions.. only tension.

However, I do have this verse I've been meditating on and praying all week:

"... no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love Him. - these things are revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God." (1 Corinthians)

the tension - not wanting 'me' to be more important than 'us'

Have you ever felt pulled in different directions? I have been wrestling lately. Who am I to believe something different than what I've been taught? Who am I to act in ways that haven't been modeled to me? Who am I to be different?

In class last week, we had this discussion about being 'neighbors'. A quote from an author named Rowan Williams was the centrepiece of the discussion;

"instead of being concerned about one's neighbor,

be occupied with one's own faults."

This is a helpful idea for the counselling field; we must always be taking careful measures to avoid judging, assuming, not believing the best about clients. That's probably why this quote was highlighted for us. And it is a good reminder to not compete, criticize, or compare ourselves with others.

But for me, I had this picture in my mind of someone with a neighbor on either side, one neighbor needing mercy and love, the other neighbor full of condemnation and judgement for the needy neighbor. This idea illustrates the tension I feel each day as I observe situations and realities in the community I live in and as I reflect on the lack of understanding for this reality that I've always been surrounded with. What is the friend in the middle to do, how does s/he 'be a neighbor' to both neighbors? If s/he's only occupied with himself (or herself) and feels reluctant to address the harm being caused by the judging neighbor, is s/he really a neighbor to the needy neighbor? Or to either neighbor? If s/he does speak out, isn't s/he also judging? The outcome of the discussion with my classmates was that engaging with both neighbors in loving ways might lead to confronting the harm being done, and that this is indeed a neighborly pursuit. hmm. It was a lively conversation, one that got a lot of us thinking.



Just today, I re-read my last post and thought about how I might be saying something negative about my friend's family. I talked about how he jokingly referred to being taught to fear those different from himself. I was feeling bad because I didn't want to hurt or offend by being somewhat critical of teaching children to fear others. THAT is the tension, right there. I want to criticize our society (not my friend or his family), but a culture that says its okay to be fearful and protective at the expense of people and relationship. Its not okay! Its not okay to elevate 'me' over 'us'. And if you look around (with seeing eyes), you'll observe the hefty price being paid by many ... But at the same time, how can I be critical of anything when I have so many faults? How can any of us point fingers anywhere but at ourselves? And furthermore.. how do we go around pointing fingers at people and things that we are totally familiar and comfortable with? How do we change, how do we address the wrong we do each day and the ways that our own actions perpetuate and create the very things that we become so fearful of?


Sometimes, I leave posts at this point. I just ask questions, but don't offer anything else. Mostly because I usually have more questions than answers... but this time, I am going to push the envelope even further than I already have....


I'm gonna suggest that personal change is essential for all of us. We have to personally take responsibility for the ways we've judged, condemned, isolated, marginalized, oppressed, silenced, ignored, pushed aside ...... we have to take responsibility for the society we have created and the tremendous harm that is done all over the world because of our self involvement and complacency.

Structural changes can make a difference when personal changes have preceded them. They fall flat when they're expected to make a difference by themselves.



Could you take more responsibility for 'us'? That would be so good for community. That would be so good for the world.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ He said to him, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ He answered, ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbour as yourself.’ And he said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’
But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbour?’

Jesus replied, ‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.

The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.”

Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbour to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?’ He said, ‘The one who showed him mercy.’

Jesus said to him, ‘Go and do likewise.’

Responses

We've had some interesting responses from friends and family as we've settled in to community life in the inner city. I thought I'd share a few...

"Is this like a midlife crisis or something? Aren't you guys too young for a midlife crisis?"

"Main and where? there are no houses there. ARe you living in a condemned building?"

"So.. where are your kids going to live, then?"

"My car's been in the parking lot for half an hour, should we check if its still there?"

"You're the family that lives at Flatlanders? We're so excited to have you with us!"

"Let me know when you get a real house, then I'll visit you! Or maybe we could go to a restaurant to visit?"

"YOu live in a church? That must be convenient on Sundays!"

"It's so good to have a family here!"

"Wow, I guess that decision is the definition of calling!"

"Are you running away from something?"

"Why?"

"Your kids can sleep over at our place, 'cuz ours are sure not going there! We only have two of them, you know!"

"What do you do to feel safe?"

These responses have at times been hilarious, at other times heartbreaking. To be honest, I was simply unprepared for the level of skepticism we've encountered. Don't hear me emphasizing only the negative; there have been many encouragements and affirmations too! And don't hear me only questioning the questioners; we had to come to terms with our fair share of questions, too.

The vision for Flatlanders Inn includes many more families to living here in the years ahead. In fact two family units are going to be under construction by the end of the year. You know, my heart for that vision is growing daily; not only for what it means for the Flatlanders community, but also for what it could mean in the broader community.

Have you seen that MCC poster that has a bunch of sayings about building global community? One of the sayings reads: "Don't confuse your comfort with your safety." That line has played in my mind often lately!

I re-read Mark's account of the Gerasene (Gadarene?) demoniac this morning, and again at our worship night tonight. Mark spends more time on this story than do Luke and Matthew, I think it's because Mark is emphasizing the importance of the kingdom ministry of breaking down barriers. Early in his modeling to his followers, Jesus chose to take them to a place where there were many things they would have had no previous experience of; things that were completely UNSAFE for a good Jew. He exposed them to: demons, gentiles, pigs, blood, tombs - he brought them to the least safe place imagineable! (Imagine those boys getting out of the boat, mouths agape, minds racing, wondering what on earth this Jesus was leading them into! And wondering how they could ever get clean again!) By the end of this story, Jesus demonstrates some of what he was on earth to accomplish - some important aspects of the ministry that would ultimately be passed on to those who follow him. I love that he knew all the rules and methodically went about breaking them! I love that he showed - not just told, but SHOWED - how the rules were not only unhelpful, they weren't even in accordance with the scriptures they were supposedly founded upon.

I first printed off and pasted that passage in my journal over a year ago. I've been thinking on it for a while now, and there are still new things when I read it again. I love that story. My favorite part is when the madman is clothed (having been naked) and restored, sitting calmly, conversing with Jesus. I see that image in my head and the word DIGNITY comes to mind. What hope did he have if jesus hadn't come to him? There would have been no way he could have come anywhere near Jesus on his own - the dividing walls were just too big. Jesus had to make the first move for someone in his circumstances.

Jesus came, defying all logic and reason. He came to the man living in the tombs, and he comes to us.

oceans of irony

ever had one of those moments where you don't want to eavesdrop on someone, but its almost impossible NOT to? They're having a loud conversation in a quiet place, and you can't drown them out no matter how hard you try? And there's nowhere else to sit? You try to read your book, but you keep losing your place - you read the same page 16 times? ok.. so, you know what i mean..

I had one of those experiences recently. I really didn't want to overhear the conversation. What's worse is that it still hasn't left me... and its been over a week. So I'm going to blog about it and hope that it clears my thoughts...

A man and a woman, clearly from the same church and circle of friends, are talking while they wait for their respective children at an after school activity. We'll call them Fred and Betty. Fred is associated with law enforcement and the justice system somehow. (the irony of his involvement with anything called justice is nothing short of tragic....) Conversation starts out with Fred ridiculing the folks he works with, the ones he serves... the incarcerated criminal population. His tone is superior; seeping with condemnation and judgement. He refers to addictions, unhealthy patterns, family dynamics.. he says lots of things that might be factual. But the only thing I could hear was his 'if-only-everyone-was-like-me' attitude and the way he was empty of anything resembling compassion. (at least in this moment - I have no doubt Fred is a compassionate fellow at other times...)

He made 'us' seem like perfection served on wonder bread, while 'them' were seemingly undeserving of air to breathe. He clearly saw himself as successful, and therefore worthy; while the deadbeats he was talking about couldn't possibly attain this ideal; they're way too useless. In fact doing anything other than locking them up and ignoring them until they kill each other is a complete waste of time. (Its been a while but I think thats a direct quote.)

The whole while, Betty just clucked with understanding, her head bobbing up and down sympathetically. She threw in a few comments of her own, but she wasn't nearly as vile as Fred. She did liken a newcomer in her neighborhood to the subjects of Fred's distaste. Someone had the audacity to move in and sleep during the day while her kids played outside and were a menace to the community... you see, she was one of 'them', too. (My first thought was that perhaps the newcomer worked a night shift, and might need some support - but apparently this wasn't in the realm of possibilities for Betty.)

Need I mention that my blood was boiling? I would have said something, but I didn't trust myself to not spew some angry, teary insults of my own...

Fred and Betty's conversation continued, on a much lighter note after they had finished talking about the dregs of society..... now, they talked about their friends in common. Betty offered lots of helpful information about many people they both knew (read: gossip). Many of the people in their circle were described as struggling. I (and several other people in the room!) were treated to loads of personal information about broken marriages, teens battling drug addictions, people hospitalized for overdosing on performance enhancing drugs, extramarital affairs, and even a friend who couldn't get her eating disorder back under control. It was sad to hear about how much pain and hurt existed among Fred and Betty's shared friends.

It was even sadder how the two of them could find no commonality in the brokenness of the all people - some people received judgement and condemnation, others were good fodder for the gossip session. But no one warranted a single compassionate word.

There was something sickeningly absent from the entire conversation. Love.

I was desperately searching for it and I couldn't find a shred of it. Not in words, posture, tone, subtle hints... nada. Sad.

Did I mention that Fred and Betty are members of the same church? yeah. They go to this place where people worship and adore the God who said something about being love and having followers who would be known for their love.

yeah. no wonder I've been haunted by this conversation all week, hey?

Did I mention irony?

offering and do it anyway

A few days ago, I had my first solo meal at Flatlanders. It won't happen often, so I enjoyed the solitude and peace. (i much prefer loud and happy shared meals!) As I munched on a yummy salad and leftover potatoes, I reached for the Flatlanders Community Handbook. I pored over it a little more than I had in the past, because it was so quiet.

A concept that jumped out at me was 'offering ourselves'. Here's an excerpt from the handbook:

"Flatlanders Inn is an intentional Christian Community. Each person has purposefully chosen to live together and offer themselves to each other."

This concept of offering oneself is woven throughout the whole handbook. And I know its a fundamental concept to the whole place; I experience the reality of it lived out on a daily basis. I treasure it and am often blessed by the various expressions it takes each day.

So why was I stumbling over these words, returning to them over and over? I realized that I was being convicted.. there was that familiar, slightly painful, yet very gentle stab. As I allowed the understanding to deepen, I grew more aware of the 'ouch'. It was like I was looking within with eyes cringed, not wanting to see what I suspected was there....

Offering myself.. here's what I realized: I only want to do it on my terms, and I want a pretty hefty insurance policy on the whole thing. I want to allow the hurt I've experienced in the past to guide me, I want permission to use the 'experience is the best teacher' excuse to protect myself from others... and you know what? That's not who I want to be. That's not what I want to sow into the world, least of all into this beautiful community we get to be part of.

That stab of conviction? It eased as soon as it accomplished its purpose. But I sure hope it returns quickly if I lose sight of what it revealed.

I was journalling about all this today, and a poem I read somewhere along the way came to mind. I thought I'd share it . I actually found two versions online, one credited to Mother Theresa, and the other to Kent Keith. They're both below...

I don't know what the official title of the poem is, but I call it 'do it anyway'.

This version found written on the wall in Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.

Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.

It was never between you and them anyway.

******

The Original Version: The Paradoxical Commandments
by Dr. Kent M. Keith

People are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. Love them anyway.
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives. Do good anyway.
If you are successful, you win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway.
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway.
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway.
The biggest men and women with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest men and women with the smallest minds. Think big anyway.
People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for a few underdogs anyway.
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway.
People really need help but may attack you if you do help them. Help people anyway.
Give the world the best you have and you'll get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you have anyway.

I found both of these here. (I prefer Mother Theresa's version, how about you?!)

... In spite of (insert your fears here), OFFER YOURSELF ANYWAY.