immersion

“Your profession is not what brings 

home your paycheck. Your profession is what 

you were put on earth to do with such 

passion and such intensity that it 

becomes spiritual in calling.”     

Vincent Van Gogh

  I asked for a copy of this image as a birthday present.  I can't recall ever asking for a specific thing before. I had seen it in a show 2 years ago - framed with the Van Gogh quote along the bottom - and I was completely captivated by it. The image is actually the cover of a book**, which includes lots of amazing underwater shots -  but what I asked for (and got) was a large, framed copy of the image just by itself. 

Anyway, I don't know what Rod and Sonya of Eve Studios named this image, but what came to mind while I stared at it was 'immersion'. Here is a bit of what it says to me so far...

It speaks to me about living risky and immersed, exposed and vulnerable.  Plunging in anyway, somehow staying on track in spite of yourself.  Knowing that there are costs and being willing to pay them. Looking fear and complacency right in the eye and saying (with intensity and conviction) ' you two are LOUD, but maybe you don't get to have the last word ..." 

I think this image gave me a visual representation I could associate with courageously living differently. I don't always feel that courage, but there ARE times when it is intensely present, brimming over even.

The profession reference in the quote (for me, anyway) speaks to living at and being part of  Flatlanders Inn. As I recall, when I saw this image for the first time, I had recently experienced yet another encounter with someone who looked at me like I had three heads because we choose to live where and how we do. This image gave me a visual - something to rest in and help me feel okay in my own skin and about our choices, okay to be our family -  just the way we are, and to immerse ourselves into something deep and life-altering without guarantees or even the support we sometimes wish we had more of.  We know that what we're doing isn't normal, and we know that many people won't or can't open themselves to something that seems so different.  (It isn't actually that different, but fear and complacency are loud, great convincers for humans!)

At the same time, there is so much grace communicated; its as if the model is suspended in the water. There is a sureness about her that seems out of place. As a viewer, if you've ever been in a swimming pool, you know she can't be suspended, its impossible - you know she's sinking and that her limbs must be moving. It makes me wonder: do our human attempts to do things that feel risky, unstable, like guaranteed failure, things that look just plain ridiculous... do they look this beautiful if captured in a certain moment, through a certain lens or from a certain perspective? Can we be graceful when we feel clumsy, laborious, unsure?  Do faith and trust help the whole thing to appear graceful when its also cloudy and confusing?  Is that part of what it means for calling to be spiritual - that there is a lot of risk and uncertainty in it?

Anyway, as of my birthday last week, I get to be inspired by this image every single day.  The ways to engage with it are endless..... I'm thankful to Lorrie, Lisa, Karen, Bren, Cory, and Bek for all pitching in so that I could contemplate 'immersion' every day!

** Those photo books are still available, by the way, and the proceeds from sales support water projects in the developing world. (Go here for more info if you're interested in the book - i think the shipping is free!)  You can also search out the H2Oohhh exhibit page on Facebook for more info.

mattering

Source: pinterest.com

Every year a theme word seems to find me.  A word that describes something I've been observing in my life, in my thoughts, in the environment and relationships around me. It becomes my word of the year.  It kinda emerges from stuff around me and informs whatever might be ahead of me.

The word this year is 'MATTER'.  

As in YOU matter, I matter, WE matter.

Our stories matter, too. 

It's so easy to marginalize people and ideas and stories. Its so easy to push aside our own sadnesses, our victories, our defeats, our resilience. It all matters, but we treat it as insignificant. We do it to ourselves and we do it to others.

Whether it's through my counselling practice or other areas of life,  I've been realizing how common it is to feel overlooked, how often we overlook ourselves, how easily we discount our experiences or our feelings. We label and judge our own and others' behaviour and actions. I find myself being attentive to it lately, wondering why some things get to count and others don't. Why it's easier to believe crap about ourselves than courage?  Why do some events or beliefs carry more weight than others? Why is it so easy to rob dignity from others and their experiences, to say that it doesn't matter?

When I started thinking that MATTER was the new word of the year, I was reluctant about it.  I didn't want to be self-centred or individualistic. 

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that when we believe that we matter, we are more likely to find our purpose and connect with it. We're more likely to live as if it's NOT just  'all about me and what I want' when we believe that we matter. How's that for irony? When we're feeling invalid and unworthy, we're more likely to lose our way and get off track, focusing primarily on ourselves and getting our empty tank re-filled. 

Knowing that we matter equips us; not knowing it diminishes us.

MATTER is my word of the year because I want to continue growing in my understanding of mattering.  Other words like significance, belonging, confidence are similar, but somehow the essence of mattering; believing that we/I matter - that's what has been speaking to me lately. I'm looking forward to how this word will continue to shape me, my practice, and my relationships in the year ahead.

Other 'year words' have been decentered (2010), tension (2009), sustain (2008), and clarity (2007).

from http://dynamiccollaborations.files.wordpress.com

be not ashamed

This is from Brene Brown's blog called Ordinary Courage.

Sometimes, I wonder whether we want to integrate the whole of our life experiences or only certain parts.  Are we selective about what we 'let show' about our history, bringing some parts out and making sure they're on display like some people do with their fine china? Do we  lock other parts up behind a door under the stairs where no one will accidentally come upon them?

I think Brene is on to something here, and I think it looks - practically - like forgetting about fine china and hidden closets and just owning that whatever is behind us and within us all makes up one life.  Trying to separate and be choosy about what gets seen is never going to be something other than incomplete and partial. 

She hits the nail on the head - if we are only letting certain parts of ourselves and our stories matter, we are going to miss out on some of the best parts of human experience; love, belonging, joy .... probably some others, too.  Or we're only getting a small glimpse of those experiences ....   It's only by embracing the vulnerability of being our real, complete selves that we can hope to enter into the fullness of of being human.

grow (5 minute friday)

Its 5 minute friday, according to the Gypsy Mama.  I haven't done one of these in a while.. today's prompt: GROW.
The idea is to write for five unedited minutes about the prompt, and not worry about how right or good it is, just WRITE.


go.


 I found out this week that I am a right-brain thinker, and one of the characteristics of that is being drawn toward and captivated by symbols, ideas, and images. Here's one .... 

Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope! (Romans 15:13, the message)

I am enamoured with that concept of green hope. Budding, peeking out, fighting to survive but destined to make it, stronger from the struggle .... I'm especially captivated by the knowledge that I follow and trust a god who can be described as the God of green hope.  In one of my readings this week, I found a few paragraphs on the theology of hope. I think it said something about never forgetting about God's intention to offer hope and to work out restoration.  Do you ever see that picture in your mind, God as gardener, pruning and tending, making sure that nothing interferes with the new thing, the green bud that is springing from a seed of restoration he's planted in you, in your life, for this time and season?  
Maybe take a second to pause and imagine it.  What is the seed that is coming to life these days in your life?  What buds are forming in your transformation?


GROW.


Check out more 5 minute friday posts.. 

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...

the paths we take

How often I found where I should be going only by setting out for somewhere else.     B.Fuller

I recently asked a talented friend of mine if she'd consider doing a series of images (any media or canvas) for me to hang in my office. I'd been keeping a list of ideas on a very precious pink sticky note for the last year or so.  The ideas are relevant to both counselor and client; metaphors or symbols that might speak to anyone who happens to be sitting in that office. She enthusiastically agreed, even though I can only afford to pay her a pittance.  The first image was done last week.  

Apparently, as soon as she knew 'path' was one of the ideas, this whole painting sprung immediately into her mind. 

This week, I've been contemplating the path our life has taken over the past few years. Walking around in the peaceful, sleepy village of Caronport reminds me of our first year in another Saskatchewan town a few years ago. At first I couldn't put my finger on the sense of familiarity I kept noticing every time I was outside, but then I remembered that these feelings of safety, peace, and hope were with me in our first year in Hepburn.

Tonight I walked past the student housing on campus and chuckled when I remembered our tour here before we decided to move to Flatlanders.  Our kids didn't want to live in such a small house... They ended up living in a much, much smaller space!
   I remembered my son's face lighting up when he saw the bus the high school students travel around in for sports events ... I think he'd have done well here.               
        But our path took us back to Winnipeg, back to the North End we thought we'd left behind two years earlier. 

In class, I'm thinking about thesis and research, and being encouraged to narrow, ever narrow the topic.  It's so hard, because there are so many things I want to study, so many possibilities for future research and community work. I reflect on how much has changed since I sent in that tentative application for a Masters program, and wonder where this path is leading .... 

                                                              For who is God except the Lord?

      Who but our God is a solid rock?

 God is my strong fortress,

      and he makes my way perfect.

 He makes me as surefooted as a deer,

      enabling me to stand on mountain heights.

 He trains my hands for battle;

      he strengthens my arm to draw a bronze bow.

 You have made a wide path for my feet

      to keep them from slipping.

2 Sam 22, NLT

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)

a song and truth - (un)answered prayer

this song, by JJ Heller, has been on my heart lately. The different music teams each week have been playing it in church. The lyrics have come into my mind often; its been on mental 'repeat'.


The opening words - 'I have unanswered prayers' - bring tears to my eyes every time I listen.  Mostly because I DO have unanswered prayer.  Unhealed places.  Trouble I wish wasn't there. A mended heart that feels so fragile sometimes.  Places in me and near me where hardheartedness prevails, in spite of so many attempts and pleas to soften and overcome it.

But thats not what this post is about.  Yes, I ... we .. have unanswered prayers.  But we also have ANSWERED PRAYERS.  Here are a few I was dwelling on yesterday....

A friend is celebrating three weeks clean.  I had the chance to throw my arms around her yesterday, and say again - with all my heart: " I BELIEVE IN YOU'.   And to thank her for the privilege of being part of her journey. And to thank the spirit of God, who orchestrates and dwells in these experiences.  My friend and I have shared raw, deep, scary moments together - lots of them not nearly as mushy as these few words might make it seem.  She still has a long road ahead.  But no matter what, I KNOW ANSWERED PRAYER.

I just heard about a young lady who stayed at Flats only for a week last year.  At the time, I worried about her presence among us, about her influence on my kids.  She scared me, and I never figured out how to connect with her.  But someone else who lived here at the time did know how to connect.  At the time, it seemed superficial - no impact was mentioned or even evident.  But we recently learned that this young lady has taken huge, leaping steps since her week with us a year and a half ago.  She is in a brand new place, having left behind  a few vices that had power over her life back then.  We can't take credit for this.  I KNOW ANSWERED PRAYER.

We spent the weekend retreating and planning with the Flatlanders long term team.  I am so excited about next year!  We've learned from mistakes, experimented with trust, and figured out a little bit about how to 'offer ourselves to each other' in authentic ways.  We've celebrated that we sometimes recognize the kingdom of god happening right in our midst.  How did we come together? Who pulled all the strings for us to be in the same book (we aren't all on the same page all the time!), with such relevant experiences, strengths, and abilities? I KNOW ANSWERED PRAYER.

I was asked to share my 'giving birth legacy' today ... 'because all women know things they don't realize about having babies'... and as I paused to think about the 16 years since I first gave birth, I realized just how much I KNOW ANSWERED PRAYER.

There is so much more...

I have unanswered prayers.
I also have answered prayers.
When my world is shaking, HEAVEN STANDS.
Listen to the song..... :)

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.

appreciation

Someone emailed this video to me today, thought it was worth sharing. 
the person who sent it to me added the disclaimer: 'get the kleenex first' ....

easter

The words below are not mine, they're from another blog I've read for a few years called The Carnival in my Head - Kathy Escobar's site.  

I was planning to write something about Easter, but I kinda thought her words said it better than I would ... Happy Resurrection Day!

to me, holy week is about downward mobility as a path to life.    Jesus, the promised messiah, rides into Jerusalem a hero and goes out on a cross next to two criminals.  he washes his followers feet.  he’s flat on his face crying out for mercy just like the rest of us.  he takes the path of most resistance instead of the path of least.   he embodies the message that going down, not rising above, is the message of the kingdom.  and we all know this a brutal message in so many ways because of what it actually requires of us.

the ways of the kingdom are utterly contrary to the ways of the world.

so in the spirit of easter; the beauty of the cross, i thought i’d share what the cross means to me this year.  not the crosses on my wall or on my necklaces i always wear, but The Cross.  the cross that was carried when Jesus could barely walk.  the cross that his hands and feet were nailed to.  the cross that he took his last breath on.  the cross at the top of hill that was surrounded by people who just a few days before were sure he was somehow going to save them in the way they expected. the cross that took his life momentarily but not in the end.

there’s no doubt in my mind i need to continually remember what the cross really means, not in a happy-clappy-trite-only-on-easter way, but in the deep places of my heart and experience that extends far beyond holy week.

this year, the cross reminds me that:

• yeah, without pain and suffering, it’s really hard to experience new life.  all the end-around-ways we try to avoid things are a big waste of time.
• my natural tendency is to find a way to take an easier way out.  even Jesus tried.
• i always want to move up, not down.  down is harder.  down hurts.  down is confusing.
• God uses the weirdest things to make a point.
• shame must be scorned.  Jesus didn’t hang on that cross so i/we could live in shame.
• love looks like sacrifice.  not talking about sacrifice.  actually sacrificing. damn, it’s easier to talk about it.
• love hurts.
• God’s way of redeeming injustice and my ways are two different things.
• victory needs a new definition; i’m almost positive it isn’t the one was taught to me in most of my christian experience.
• the world’s, the church’s , addiction to strength, power, and upward-mobility thinking need some serious shifting.
• Jesus modeled what we are actually supposed to do as his followers.  imagine what would the world look like if we actually did it?|
• without hope, we perish.
• yeah, it is finished.  like, really finished.   and that it is a mind-bender if i embrace what that really means, not just for me but for everyone.
• out of death and darkness, hope and new life emerges. sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

the centrality of risk

today was a reading and studying day.  The class I am slaving (joyfully!) on at the moment is about the Pentateuch - the first five books of the Old Testament.

Writing a little helps me wrap my mind around at least some of what I've read.  I've gone through hundreds of pages!  I was struck by Abraham today.

Since I took my first in depth bible study course many years ago (the inductive method), I have had Genesis 15:6 memorized... Abrahams faith was reckoned to him as righteousness.  It was because of Abraham's believing that all the things that transpired throughout the rest of the story were able to transpire... my class notes (written by Eric Ortlund, a fine Briercrest prof) say that "... all creation will enjoy none of what Yahweh promises unless Abram is willing to engage in an act of pure faith; ... to leave without knowing anything about where, or to what, he is going.... "

somehow,  Abraham teaches us that active belief = righteousness.  And, as we see over and over in Abraham's story, the belief isn't a perfect one.  There are lies and human twisting of the promise, deceits that attempt to manipulate outcomes, even manipulate God.  Yet,  an imperfect, but risk taking faith is the intersection where so much rests.  Belief - not behavior - is the foundation of our relationship with God.

Is that as important - or as comforting - a reminder for you all as it is for me?  Of course, behaviour and obedience matter - but the starting point of belief first is crucial; it determines how what follows will unfold.

I hear echoes of Abrahams risk taking story in the actions of the first disciples who respond positively to Jesus' call to 'come, follow me'.  They drop everything and follow a man who is more like a lunatic than a messiah ... and they keep following.  Their following is marred; they stumble lots.  But they are a righteous in spite of their failings, because of their believing.  (and because of God's mercy)

We are called on to sacrifice our comforts, our privileges, our ideas, our security - like Abraham did, like the disciples did. (and like many, many others)  This is righteousness, misguided as it usually is!  Even though we can't know fully what we're getting ourselves into, its that believing - initially and consistently -  that paves the way for everything that follows.  Paired with the lovingkindness (i like finding ways to use that word!) of God, its an amazing force of goodness and grace in the world.

This post reminds me of a woman I am missing today... our internship program ended this past week, and one of our interns returned home to Southern Ontario.  Today is the first day without the familiar swish-swish of her slippers down our halls.... I've shed a mixture of sad and happy tears.  (sadness that she's not with us, happiness that there are so many wonderful things ahead of her!)

This lovely young lady demonstrated some incredible risk taking by coming to live in our neighborhood when her previous experience was so different from anything like this.  She took my advice to 'act like you belong here, because you do!' very seriously for 8 months.  She took relational risks, safety risks, comfort risks, and CREATIVE risks.  She modeled some really important qualities of discipleship, and she did it with grace, courage, and beauty.  She came to a strange place where she knew next to no one in order to completely give herself to learning and serving. Her final reflections grew from a risk-taker's heart, and they revealed deepened self understanding, and a greater awareness of God's presence.

Where are you at with risk taking these days?

mothering

so many times, I have pressed my lips into my kids hair... i've done it since they were small, small.  This is the way we stay connected, I say.  This is the way strength passes between us.  this is how our forever bond keeps going.

so many memories, the small ones that happen in families.  memories over dishes and favorite shows.  memories of favorite meals and favorite books.  memories of teaching and watching, learning and playing.

so many nights,  laying awake and praying, praying for their futures, for who they are becoming, prayingfor their path.

so many ways to say and show 'i love you'.  a look, a smile, a greeting, a touch, a favor, a backrub.

so many ways it aches to be a mom.  Who hurts this child of mine?  Why do they hurt each other, hurt me?  why are the choices so hard, why is the media so loud?

so many roads to feelings of inadequacy.  so many 'supposed tos', so many expectations of mothering.   so many comparisons.

so many tears.  so much joy. so much depth, richness.

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....

breakthrough

i guess when it rains it pours... no posts for a month, then two in two days :)

i am in the midst of some monumental thankfulness these days. Here are two reasons....

I have begun interning as a marriage and family therapist, and I cannot believe how much i love this work.  I have a internship that is so perfect for me I can hardly believe it.  Many of my fellow students intern in exchange for supervision, but I have a bona fide job ...  AND my clinical supervisor is at an agency in the mall a short walk from where I work.  It's beautiful.  But those details are not the best part.
The best part is the work I get to do, and the clients I get to work with. I have taken to telling people I would walk over hot coals every morning to get to this job.  I work in an inner city agency that offers free counseling.  People hear about us from all sorts of different sources, lots of times from outside the neighborhood.  Every single day I hear heartbreaking stories of trauma and pain.  And every single day, I hear heart-filling stories of strength, resilience, of facing realities with courage and determination.  I am familiar with the labels that get put on neighborhoods like the one I work in.  I wish those who perpetuate the stereotypes could sit in my office some days.  I wish they could hear what some of the families are overcoming, how much success they have in spite of tremendous obstacles.  I wish people could have a little insight into how much strength it takes to say NO to denial, numbing, and letting pain be in charge of your life.  I wish the general public was aware of how much energy it takes to turn your life around and maintain that turnaround... when the reasons it was messed up in the first place weren't your choice at all.  I appreciate our clients so much.

The other big thing I am thankful for is that our house sold!  We first listed it 27 months ago. Yes, that is over two years.  Two years of praying, wondering, feeling 'on hold', cursing, going into debt, and being on a roller coaster.  Two years of trusting and hoping amid all that agonizing.  We were always cared for and provided for... but we also were always teetering on the edge.  The edge of despair, the edge of sanity, the edge of a cliff!  We had gone on a spring walk in Point Douglas last weekend when we returned to a phone call on the Flats landline (we hardly ever use that phone because we usually rely on cell phones) that told us our agent was going to be faxing us an offer in the next couple of hours.  The conditions were lifted on Wednesday, and the new owners take possession next week!  So we waited, waited, waited, and waited some more for two years, then had to spring into action to get everything finalized in one week!  We are relieved and thankful.

Last fall, someone from church told me that she believed that Lord was speaking a message of breakthrough to our family, even though she didn't know that much about our circumstances.  Sitting quietly this week, taking in all the news we've gotten lately, it sure seems like breakthrough.