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...

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' ....

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.

Forgive

From the forgiveness summit website... 


In agreement with the apology presented by the Prime Minister of Canada on June 11, 2008, we, as Canadians, recognize that the treatment of children in Indian Residential Schools is a sad chapter in our history. Today, we recognize that this policy of assimilation was wrong, has caused great harm, and has no place in our country. We sincerely apologize and ask the forgiveness of the Aboriginal peoples of this country for failing them so profoundly. In addition to the apology of our government, we as members of the Church of Canada, through whose hands these policies and all their abuses were carried out, repent. We and our forefathers have sinned, we did not live what we preached. For this we also humbly ask the forgiveness of the First Peoples of this land.

You can add your name to this apology. You SHOULD add your name to this apology.

http://i4give-services.com/index.php

First Nations response..
We have heard your apologies for the terrible treatment of our people and families caused by the Indian Residential School policies. We believe your apologies are sincere. We also know that true forgiveness can help us all to heal from the painful past and move into a future of hope and relationships characterized by mutual respect and new honour. We know that our decision to forgive you can pave the way for freedom from the negative past not only for our people, but for many other peoples and nations.

We forgive you.
 
You can also sign this page if it applies to you. http://i4give-services.com/index.php?t=f

pausing ... a photo post

The last month or so has been pretty intense.  Not overwhelming kind of intense, but a really focused time, with a few projects on the go.  I actually enjoy seasons like this!  Nevertheless, this week is an intentional time of pause and reflection.  Here are a few photos of what we've been up to....

We hosted a team of local students on an innercity ministry exposure week. 

Here we are on day one ...

I sent the team on a prayer artifacts walk early in the week.

This is one of the artifacts... a piece of metal found nearby, both a reminder of

how scrap metal is a source of income for some people in our neighborhood, but also

a profound image of the 'incompleteness' that is common to all of us.

We visited with some neighbors in a nearby housing complex.

It was a spontaneous time, and ended up being a great afternoon where

we learned that 'unplanned' can lead to great opportunities. (and great photos!)

The whole week was an exercise in trusting for me, as my preference would be

to schedule and orchestrate in 8 minute blocks.. but I resisted my tendencies and it was great.

The theme of our week was 'Beauty in Unlikely Places - Seeing beyond the Stereotypes'

We were building towards a shared meal with new friends on Good Friday.  It was a success!  We served about 50 people and made some good connections.

The week ended with a Walk of the Cross.  Nate led us to several nearby locations where

neighbors and friends were remembered, and their stories told.  This was poignant not only because of

Passion Week, but also because we'd been reflecting as a team during the week about the importance of relationship because it honors people who are often stereotyped or judged in our society.

This is just me :)

It was taken at my sister Lisa's place, on a night when my three sisters and I got

together with our mom's sisters.  I wore this colorful scarf because it was my mom's.

I've carried it around with me all these years (along with a few other momentos...)

This year makes 20 years since she died.

One of my favorite faces at our drop in....

One of the big projects I worked on this month was an Adult Series in our church..

I facilitated discussion about Addiction as a Spiritual disorder...

I 'assigned' a creative response project for the Easter Sunday class.

This is my husbands painting

... a little interpretation? ... addiction blocks out the light of relationship, the beauty of life.  There is a 'boulder' in front of the Light.. but as it was on Easter Sunday, it can be rolled away to reveal a radically different and renewed Life.

he's deeper than he lets on, that sweet hubby of mine...!

and this was my creative response.  it comes mostly from a worship song I adore called

Stand on The Rock... I just wanted a visual reminder of what is fundamental for me in the midst of great insights and theories about human behavior...

Out on a walk by the Red River...

'mom, can i take this signpost home and put it in my room?'

 ... 'NO...!!'

'okay, then at least take my picture with it!'

.... its so catchy!

I listen to this all the time now!  Enjoy....

the struggle is holy

Often when people hear that I'm a student, they ask how I can fit it all in.. how can graduate studies be integrated into family life? It's an interesting question, and its even more interesting that it is THE question or assumption often raised.

The truth though, is that fitting things together isn't nearly as hard as other elements of studying... right now, it's the content and nature of the studies that is the most challenging. The further I go, the more I read, the more inadequate I feel for this program and this work. Sorting THAT out is way more taxing than making sure I find time to write papers as well as spend time with my family and community!

A recent video on Alberta Prime Time, a news show, discussed the Canadian regulation of the field I'm studying - Marriage and Family Therapy. A psychologist was on the show as a guest, suggesting that MFTs don't require unique regulation because they are simply a different approach to providing therapy, one that can be encompassed within existing regulations. The Canadian president of the MFT ass'n (she is from Manitoba!) disagreed, emphasizing the unique specialized training we receive about relationships and relational patterns.

Watching that video was like having a brick dropped on my head in terms of awareness about just what I'm pursuing... MFTs are uniquely trained to be ... relationship experts. YIKES!!

this realization comes at about the same time I am looking around at my closest relationships (in my own family and marriage) and seeing the flaws as if through a microscope. It's not that I ever thought we were perfect, its more that I am becoming equipped to see just how deep the imperfection runs. And quite frankly, all this realizing and examining makes me want to throw in the towel. Looking within makes me cringe and I doubt how much help I could ever offer now that I'm so keenly aware of how much help I need.

I'm reminded of my word of the year - TENSION. As always, my confusion and questions find some resolution in my faith. (resolution is different than SOLUTIONS!)

When thinking about this imperfection through the lens of faith, and considering the Kingdom of God that is already here and yet isn't here yet, I find comfort. When looking around at the brokenness and beauty that co-exist so profoundly around me, I find comfort. When realizing that all of life's depth is a breathtaking mix of good and bad, pain and healing, ashes and restoration, praise and mourning ... that TENSION between poles really characterizes the things that make our existence and relationships so meaningful.

i've been thinking about how important it is that we grasp both our 'image of god-ness' AND our 'wretched-ness'.

Here's a quote from a Canadian author and MD;

"So far as marriages go, ours has been firmly at what may be called the 'conflictual' end of the spectrum. We have worked things out, but it took decades and a lot of energy. In retrospect, we shudder at how hurtful and dark it felt at times, and particularly how our struggles burdened our children's lives. ... Our marriage is now something we celebrate. Our ships, having been tossed and thrown about on heavy seas, have finally arrived safely in the same harbor. But the storms took thier toll on our children. At the end of his delightfully candid 1972 essay, 'My Own Marriage', the great American pshychotherapist and teacher Carl Rogers wrote of the difficulties his adult children were having in their relationships.'So, our growth together into a satisfying relationship for ourselves has constituted no guarantee for our children.'" - Gabor Mate, MD

In one of my class discussion groups, we shared from our personal lives as we interacted with the content. One of us just looked up at the group after a deep and heavy pause in the conversation and said ... 'the struggle is holy.' .... it sure is.....

The Urban Saint

"I've come to terms with the risks. I know my calling. I know what I'm supposed to be doing. I can't back away from what I've been designed to do because of some opposition." Harry Lehotsky, to a Winnipeg reporter.

I read Harry Lehotsky's bio this weekend. I recommend it. It was a bit hard for me to get into the way the book is written, but once I did, I was completely engaged.

Harry is an inner city pastor from a neighborhood adjacent to the one we live in. Over the years, I certainly heard a lot about him and was inspired over and over again by his actions and life. I remember inviting him to come and speak to our staff team over at ICYA. A couple of times, I brought young people who wanted to learn more about inner city ministry over to his office on Maryland. I heard him speak at Missionfest a few years ago. And I used to bring folks to the Ellice Cafe often, because Harry's vision for that place as a hub of community -where social position and other barriers didn't matter - was so meaningful.


I was driving when I heard on the radio that Harry had terminal cancer a few years ago, and I was immediately teary. I wept for the community that would lose one of its champions, for sons who weren't done needing their dad, for a wife whose dreams of grandparenting together would never be realized.

The book filled in a lot of gaps that I didn't know about in Harry's life. I knew a lot of the crazy stunts, but it was nice to learn more of the story behind the story. Some of the crazy things I've heard about were not even in the book, others I read about and had no idea.

Courageously crazy. That might be a good description of the Harry I just read about and the Harry I observed. I feel similar about Keith Green... we hear and sometimes shake our heads the outrageous stunts, but when we reflect on them a bit, we can see a heart that is breathtakingly committed to Christ and his Kingdom .... they reveal our fears by their lack of fear.

Some of the thoughts that grab hold of me in this book...

• Harry referring to himself as one who both comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable



• His constant invitation to be part of the neighborhood and love people - believing that more are called than are responding - responding to so many questions and affirmations with the suggestion that anyone can do it.



• realizing that his 'healing handprint' is all over Winnipeg's west end.



• the rawness of what deep commitment to a community and restoration can do to someone, revealing how deeply the hurts of a people and a community can 'undo' a person whose eyes truly see



• Harry was unabashedly committed to living and working in the same neighborhood. He challenged inner city missionaries who weren't willing to expose their families to poverty and other realities while those things were perfectly okay for the people who 'belonged' in that neighborhood. I was well on my way to having that same opinion long before I heard Harry talk about it, but he certainly inspired me. My husband and I still have to settle that debate - we thought moving to rural Saskatchewan would fix it once and for all, but ... isn't life funny, there are some things you just can't dodge! (I wonder if that's 'calling'?!?)



• considering the relationship between community activism and worship. Where is the line? Is there a line? What's the difference?



• Second chances, hope filled belief.. Harry exemplified a commitment to these in his relationships.

Have you read the book? What are your thoughts?

Do you know if you're in the right place and doing what you're designed to do?

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?