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.

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.

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.

praise and lament

When I read the bible lately, I read the psalms.  Sometimes I mean to read somewhere else (I'm in the midst of a distance course on the Pentateuch, I should spend time there for sure!) - but I find myself drawn over and over to the psalms.  The range of emotion that is captured there for us captivates me.  It helps me to accept - sometimes even appreciate -  the range of emotion that I frequently experience in a day.  


There is lament - wailing and weeping could accompany an audible version of the Psalms.  Deep questions about Why...?  Where...?  When, how long ...?  are recorded alongside accounts of just how distraught, abandoned, and confused the writers feel.  




There is praise - generous statements about God's faithfulness, mercy, goodness and compassion are recorded as fact and as faith.  The writers gain confidence as they remember and declare that God is indeed good. We are reminded of God's actions and presence, and we're reminded that we aren't God.  Like a child is comforted by a parents nearness, so are we comforted when we remember how God has acted throughout history and in our own lives.


The pattern of lament and hymn is repeated over and over throughout individual psalms and throughout the whole book.  Its an affirmation of emotion, of grief as well as grace.  It's an expression of sorrow touched repeatedly by faithfulness and presence.   


In my recent reading, I've become more convinced about the nature of some of our deepest human longings - feelings of abandonment and isolation lay at the core of much human grief.  And God, in his love and mercy, repeatedly responds.  He is there.  We are not alone, not abandoned.  We are sheltered, safe, protected.  We forget (lots!), and we are reminded.


  Hear me as I pray, O Lord.
      Be merciful and answer me!
  My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me.”
      And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.”
  Do not turn your back on me.
      Do not reject your servant in anger.
      You have always been my helper.
   Don’t leave me now; don’t abandon me,
      O God of my salvation!
  Even if my father and mother abandon me,  the Lord will hold me close.
- from psalm 27

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.

more valid ...

Do you ever feel totally 'invalid' as a person?  Like you mess up more than you contribute, like you're always having things to apologize for and you're always dropping the ball somewhere? 

I feel like that alot!

I had one of those mornings where you wake up and just know in your gut that your alarm hasn't gone off and you're late.  I teach aerobics on Tuesdays at 6:15am and my last task last night was to double check the alarm, but for whatever reason it didn't ring today.  I opened my eyes and thought ... 'its way too light to be earlier than 5:15!'.. then the mad scramble to get in touch with someone and tell them the 'leader' is not going to make it.  Not the greatest start to the day!

i chatted with a beautiful friend yesterday, and she was talking about how church sermons so often leave us feeling like Losers - we should be doing more, we should be more mature, we're not using our gifts... blah blah blah.  I don't know if I've heard a lot of sermons like that lately, but I do know that I don't need a sermon to feel like that.  It's my default mode.  it's ever present.  I don't need an external voice saying those things; my inner dialogue says them all the time. 

The two of us wished for more 'celebratory' conversations and messages.  Not an absence of challenge, but an increase of joy and rejoicing over the great things that happen in daily life and relationship.

(Incidentally, I stumbled upon a new blog recently.  The author has a campaign called I AM ENOUGH.  It's pretty cool.)

I did haul my sorry self out of bed shortly after I realized that I wasn't going to get where I was supposed to be.  I decided to go for a walk - not a run like I often do, but a nice, leisurely, prayer-y WALK.  I was gone for over an hour!  As soon as I stepped out, I knew I made the right choice.

I cleared my head of all the noise.  I heard the traffic, smelled the morning, felt the green of summer, and tasted broken but beautiful joy.  Somewhere on a walking path in Point Douglas, I stopped feeling like a loser and started to feel celebratory and blessed.  As I was 'rounding the corner to our building, one of our neighbors came out. Our chat went like this...

him - 'What are you doing out alone?!'
me - 'walking.'
him - 'I've told you before - I don't like you going for your walks/runs alone all the time.  You could get hurt'
me - 'thanks for caring.'
him - 'We got some extra food from the food bank over at our place.  No one can use it.  You guys want it?'
me - 'sure.'
him - 'k, see ya later, I'll bring it to the drop in.'

a  pretty simple exchange.  But one that reminded me that I'm known in my neighborhood.  And the caring for and supporting is not only going from me/us to them.. It's two way.  Thats is a beautiful ... maybe even VALID - thing in my book.

thanks for reading. 

Here is a photo I took today - I came upstairs to find one of our 'roomies' napping on the couch.  I couldn't resist the opportunity...

.... what the random?!.. and SOAR

This week, the Flatlanders community and WCV are hosting a team of students as they explore inner city winnipeg as part of SOAR Heartland.  They are joining in our daily life and hanging out with members of our community.  Today was fun.  We hung out with Larry  and talked about worship.  (I'm learning how well known Larry is - you might know him as the poet who sits at River and Osborne)

The discussion was interesting, and Larry did end up taking out his poetry book (its usually attached to the back of his wheelchair) and compiling some of our discussion in there.  While I sent the students (some of them led by my husband, who seems to be loving teaching and sharing about our neighborhood!) out on a 'prayer artifacts walk', I typed up Larry's compilation.  Here is an excerpt;

Worship … A Group Poem

Worship is an Act of Love

Worship comes from the source of humanity

Worship is Light .... what we do to encourage life

Worship is putting God’s glory into action

In every human interaction

Worship is a conversation,

Not just with God, but our fellow human

Worship is being submissive

An act of mission

Worship is a declaration

Worship is a lifestyle

A means to reconcile

When your mind is focused on God, that is worship of the heart

Growing close to God intentionally

All our hearts in harmony.

Larry is a great poet and a great teacher.  Look for him if you're in the village ... he'll gladly write you a poem!  He is not homeless (as a recent article in ChristianWeek suggested), but he won't mind if you pay him nicely for his creativity.
***********

Spending time with this group sent me looking through the archives of this blog for the last time I was part of leading a group of young people in this community... except I didn't even live in Winnipeg back then!  I wrote these words  a couple of years ago when I led a team of Saskatchewan college students on an inner city exposure trip...

"I must say I LOVE THE NORTH END OF WINNIPEG!!

This trip has reconnected me with some intense emotions from back in the day when I worked (in this neighborhood) .. My heart is so at home here, and I've been startled at some of the events our team feels unsure about, because my steps in this place are sure and confident. This is the place where I learned to rely fully on the Lord each and every day... Re-establishing that familiar connection on familiar streets - even with familiar faces - feels right and good.... but also brings many other mixed up emotions, too!"

... funny how things work out, huh? :)


If you're still reading.. here is a little snippet from Jamie's blog - its from an interview with Stuart Murray, who has written a book called 'The Naked Anabaptist'...

" My argument is that, in our post-Christendom western culture, the moment has arrived when the Anabaptist tradition is needed more than ever before. It is not the only tradition needed as we face new challenges and new opportunities, but it offers gifts to the wider church. These include a deep-rooted commitment to peacemaking in a fragmented society, experience on the margins of society in a context where all Christians are becoming marginal, a commitment to simplicity and community in a consumerist and individualistic culture, and a focus on the life and teaching of Jesus in societies that are sick of institutional Christianity but still intrigued by Jesus. It is not necessary to become Anabaptists to receive these gifts and to explore ways of working on these issues in many traditions and contexts. "

... words of encouragement to a homeless anabaptist... !

Thanks for reading.