You remember yesterday/last night/actually early this morning, when I was musing about how I want to leave a mark in the world, to do something important and worthy with my life? The gist was that I couldn't really fully put into words what I was longing for, but I've found it! I found the words to explain my mission! Whenever I read the Hands Free Mama blog, it's perfect timing for something, either a struggle I'm going through or a thought or philosophy taking shape that needed a little guidance and a shove in the final direction. This time, I came across this article called Your Most Important Role, In Case Someone Forgets, and I'll go ahead and copy the sections that jumped out at me the loudest.

I ended up taking that two-hour drive with Scott. I can’t even remember if he got the job; I only remember the look of gratitude on his face when he dropped me off, saying he would have been way more nervous if he’d gone alone. All I’d done was simply remind him of what he already knew—the good stuff we tend to forget about ourselves in times of doubt, stress, uncertainty, and fear.

Over the past two decades, I’ve referred to that experience many times: As a special education teacher looking into the eyes of a young man who killed his pet … as a mother whose Noticer of Life child admitted she felt “different” from the rest … as a confidant whose friend confessed dark truths she thought made her unworthy of happiness and true love.

“You might not be able to see it right now, but you hold great value,” I’d said to all of these precious people. “I see your value. And I am here to remind you when you forget.”

I have a dear friend who has written a literary masterpiece coming out in April that “illuminates one highly dysfunctional family’s tentative, desperate crawl toward a life of meaning and worth.” My friend says it happened largely because I believed in her. What Katrina doesn’t understand is that I had no choice. Her gift was so obvious and so needed in this hurting world I simply could not let her give up.

While working on the manuscript for my third book a few weeks ago, I needed grammar assistance. I knew exactly who to go to for help.

“Thank you, literary genius,” I texted Katrina after she provided exactly what I needed.

“You’re welcome, soul changer,” she wrote back.

I began to cry.

Out of all the things I could be in this world, I couldn’t think of anything better than that.

Soul changer

I never had to ask my friend what she meant by the term.

I knew exactly what it meant because of the experiences I had with my husband, my former student, and my child.

It means seeing someone’s inner light when he cannot see it for himself. It means putting your hands protectively around her light through upheavals and uncertainties so the precious light doesn’t diminish. It means reminding people of the beautiful things they know, but tend to forget, about themselves.

And I don’t do it for others due to noble reasons; I do it because it is what I hope someone will do for me. And because certain people in my life have done it for me.

One night Avery was playing her guitar and singing her heart out. Suddenly, I remembered an uplifting video I wanted to show her. As a self-professed “fan of adorable old people,” I knew Avery would enjoy seeing this video showing the impact of familiar songs on despondent seniors in a retirement home. The video was so touching and so personal, the newscaster lost his composure at the end of the segment.

After seeing the way the guitar-playing music therapist brought foot taping and hand clapping to the nearly lifeless seniors who began to sing along, Avery jumped up with excitement. “Music therapist? I never knew there was such a thing! I could do that, Mama! I want to do that!”

“There is very strong connection between music and memories,” I repeated from the news clip. “Just imagine. You could transport elderly people back to a beautiful time in their lives. You could help them remember their best memories and remind them of who they are.”

Soul changer

It suddenly occurred to me that we all have instruments in which we can change people’s souls. Some instruments are more obvious than others, but we all have them. Sadly, some people may never even know they’ve changed someone’s soul.

Soul changers

Thank goodness, they are all around us. Thank goodness, they are within us.

My friends, what an important role each of you play in this often-hurting world. You have the power and the instrument to help someone remember these critical truths: You are worthy. You hold value. You are not alone. 

Perhaps you do it with strong hugs or comfort food delivered right to their doors.
Perhaps you do it with a make-up brush and healing hands.
Perhaps you do it with long drives, quiet presence, or faithful prayers.
Maybe it is your green thumb or the tender way you wipe tears.
Maybe it’s the way you remember people’s names and say them with love.
Maybe it’s the way you bring humor to heavy situations or drop everything when needed.
Maybe it’s the way you always know when to pick up the phone or send a hand-written card.

Soul changers

Sometimes all we need to believe in ourselves is one person to remind us of what we already know.

And like a familiar tune from long ago, just a few notes is all we need to start tapping our toes and singing the lyrics we never forgot. And low and behold, we find it’s just the anthem we need to carry on.

That, my dear friends, is what I want to be. That is the essence of what I found myself longing for after hearing Rachel Scott's story, after watching The Mission for the first time and every time after when I listened to the soundtrack with my eyes closed. That's the quintessential Mark Maker that I want to be, the one people remember as the changer and caretaker of souls. Even just one.

I know that I truly loved my work with The Healing Journey, even though it brought up a lot of difficult things for me in the dark of night, and I know that I would have thrown my whole self into my massage therapy, had I been able to complete the training. I continually gravitate toward these professions of healing and helping, because that's who I am. That's what I wanna be. Now that my body is in a state of constant rebellion I can't accomplish the goals I once had for myself, but the delicious thing is that I can be a soul changer and a caretaker of hearts even from the depths of my own pain and from the cushions of my couch. It doesn't seem like such an unattainable goal after all, framed in this kind of concept. The very very best part? I know that I've already met this goal many times over, but each time will be beautiful all over again. Also, when you invest in the people around you, they tend to turn around and take care of you right back, which I've experienced much of. Now that I'm more dependent than ever, I have a lot of good people who have my back. Give and receive, ebb and flow.

Suddenly the next 28 years don't seem so much of a burden anymore.

"'You can't guarantee things like that! After all, when we had all the books we needed, we still insisted on finding the highest cliff to jump off. But we do need a breather. We do need knowledge. And perhaps in a thousand years we might pick smaller cliffs to jump off. The books are to remind us what asses and fools we are. They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talk to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine percent of them is in a book. Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.'"

"He glanced back at the wall. How like a mirror, too, her face. Impossible; for how many people did you know that refracted your own light to you? People were more often--he searched for a simile, found one in his work--torches, blazing away until they whiffed out. How rarely did other people's faces take of you and throw back to you your own expression, your own innermost trembling thought?"

"'Picture it. Nineteenth-century man with his horses, dogs, carts, slow motion. Then, in the twentieth century, speed up your camera. Books cut shorter. Condensations. Digests. Tabloids. Everything boils down to the gag, the snap ending. Classics cut to fit fifteen-minute radio shows, then cut again to fill a two-minute book column, winding up at last as a ten- or twelve-line dictionary resume. I exaggerate, of course. The dictionaries were for reference. But many were those whose sole knowledge of Hamlet (you know the title certainly, Montag; it is probably only a faint rumor of a title to you, Mrs. Montag), whose sole knowledge, as I say, of Hamlet was a one-page digest book that claimed: now at last you can read all the classics; keep up with your neighbors. Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.'"

"'Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul ha somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.'"

My friend that died was only 19. We grew up together in our small church, so even though I didn't get to know him well personally as we got older, his loss is a hard blow. He died of a single gunshot wound in the wee hours of Monday morning, and his parents are devastated.

I texted BJ yesterday, wondering when the funeral/memorial service would be. She told me what she knew, then mentioned that there was a grief counseling session for the youth of the church going on right then. Although I was grieving more for D than M at that point, I hopped in my car and beelined it over there. It was good, and I'm glad I went. We shared stories and memories of M for a good hour before loading ourselves in cars and visiting his parents to share our good memories. They were encouraged by the sharing, but I could see how torn up they were. It must be hard, to have memories of their son constantly surrounding them... even with D, I'm so far removed from the situation that my grieving comes in spurts. If I were back home with the S's, the agony of my heart would be unceasing.

The language that I'm hearing over and over again is, no surprise, that of the hope of seeing these two again. SDA's believe in the resurrection of the righteous at the second coming of Jesus, that death is but a "dreamless sleep" until then, and that the righteous will spend all eternity in heaven. I was raised hearing and reading and believing this version of things, but as I sat in that room with all the other teary-eyed young people and adults, I realized, much as I did when SOULS came last year, that I don't believe that anymore.

When C came home, I turned to him and said, "I think I'm an atheist." He replied, "...Congratulations?"

I should make it clear that C has never pressured me in any way to leave my beliefs or my church and adopt his viewpoint. He's listened to what I have to say, sat through my explanations of Bible passages and church doctrine, and even listened attentively as I read him Case for a Creator on the trip to and from the Renaissance Festival. He has not hesitated to share his side of things, of course, but his point of view is that I can believe whatever I want, but the important thing is that I believe it for myself and because I have thought it out myself. He doesn't want me to believe and follow something just because other people are influencing me to do so (which includes being afraid of disappointing people by adopting a different viewpoint). Have his beliefs influenced me? Absolutely yes, but that's because as I've begun to question and think for myself these past few years, my church's version of things made less and less sense. God made less and less sense. I began to cobble together my own philosophy, based on my observations of the world around me, and then when I was exposed to C's point of view, well... the two were very similar.

I'm not set in any particular belief system at this point. I'm still... in flux, I guess you could say. I'm not an atheist in reality, for I still believe in the existence of God, or a higher power, or whatever, but... although I believe in God, I don't believe in God. Do you see the distinction?

Honestly? I've found that I'm much happier, balanced, and accepting now that I've left Christianity. The whole "atheists are immoral heathens" thing is so not true. Atheists are some of the best people that I know. I know some really good Christians, too, but I think it has more to do with the person than the belief system. Don't get me wrong-- Christianity has a great philosophy, and if people would live life the way that Jesus espoused the world would be a heck of a lot better place. And that's what I'm trying to do-- live the life that Jesus advocated... except without the God part.

I've heard that without God you can't love other people, that there's no source of goodness without him.  Since I no longer believe that I'm an unworthy person who needs saving from myself, I'm free to see the goodness and love that I have inside of me. It comes from me, from a decision to love the people around me, and so many other people have made that decision independent of any kind of divine mandate or indwelling. Atheists, the supposedly heartless immorals, have done a damn lot of good in the world for no reason other than that they saw the suffering and neediness of their fellow human beings and wanted to relieve it.

I've also heard that being an atheist diminishes the sanctity of life, makes it just some happenstance thing that has no consequence or bearing. While I suppose that's true, in a way (for they don't believe that they are the metaphorical center of the universe as Christians do), I think it brings as great or greater a reverence for life as the belief of creation by a personal deity. Consider these two quotes:

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.” ― Lawrence M. Krauss

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?” ― Richard Dawkins

The thing that really bothered me, the thing that really disturbed my previous lines of thinking, was a quote from Epicurus that I stumbled across that put a voice to the quailing doubts and angry questions I have about God. I began vacillating and questioning while I lived in ID, but there was too much at stake there for me to give full expression to most of my doubts. I broke out of one of the church's doctrines while there, and received a mighty backlash from it. That taught me not to rock the boat. But once I moved away, once the reputation of a wonderful family didn't rest upon my actions, I was free to pursue a path that made sense to me, one that resonated with both my being and my mind. I didn't come across this quote until that time, and it's probably a good thing, because if I had found it while I was still up north... I think all hell would have broken loose. It would have put me in quite the hard place emotionally and mentally, I can assure you.

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"  - Epicurus [341–270 B.C.]

I guess I'll end with that. It sums it up pretty well for me.

I know that at the memorial on Friday (and whenever D's memorial is) I'll be hearing a lot about the Second Coming, and that's fine. To me, all this talk about seeing them again and Satan out there working hard, etc. simply sounds like people trying to make sense of the bad stuff that happens in the world, and clinging to a comforting thought because they cannot face the finality of loss. But I know that they really, really believe it, and it brings them comfort and hope, so... I'm not going to say a word. Not a peep from me.

To be brutally honest, though? I do miss having that comfort... the thought of seeing the ones I love again. I just don't want to truly say goodbye.

‎"It takes courage to live as your authentic self. Some people, even family members, may not want to accept the real you. But if you don’t live that way, you become less of yourself and less to those around you. Walking to the beat of your own drum allows you to use all your gifts and be there for others. Every choice you make contains the choice to be authentic. When you choose to live as who you really are, you become your best self." 
{Don Shapiro, Life Is A Fork In The Road}

(A friend posted this on the HJ fb page, and it was too good not to tuck away for posterity... and it totally reaffirms my "Contentment" post.)

"You didn't lose your smile, it was under your nose the whole time. You just forgot it was there."

I've been thinking about my life lately.

Questioning, more like.

I just finished up the book "The Dirty Life: On Farming, Food, and Love", which was exceptional. I found myself, however, incredibly baffled and bemused as to why the author, someone so like me, would choose to settle down with someone so infuriatingly crazy as this Mark fellow.

To be fair, she does have misgivings--many, many misgivings. But she ultimately decides that the man she loves and the life he offers her is worth the sacrifice of giving up a part of herself and the goals and ideas she once held.

Here's a few interesting excerpts:

"Mark joked that I was going to Hawaii for my solo honeymoon, but it was a hollow joke. I think we both knew there was a real possibility that I wasn't coming back. I imagined my friends would sigh, say it was just like me, that they'd expected it all along; my parents would roll their eyes and forgive me for putting them through all that drama, and debate the proper thing to do with the wedding gifts.

At the center of my attachment to travel had always been the belief that indeed there is such a thing as escape. You can change everything with one slim ticket. The last time I'd been in the Maui airport, I'd been a girl, twenty years old, and as I walked toward my luggage, I wondered if I would find my free, young self waiting for me there among the airport greeters with their leis, or if I'd murdered her by getting married to a farmer and a farm. I supposed I would find out. Travel tends to grant clarity. Remove all that distracting context and you find yourself staring at cold hunks of truth."

"Watching that guy's collard flutter into his basket was the moment I got married, in my heart. There is no such thing as escape after all, only an exchange of one set of difficulties for another. It wasn't Mark or the farm or the marriage that I was trying to shake loose from but my own imperfect self, and even if I kept moving, she would dog me all the way around the world, forever."

As I said, she is so much like me. And this, too, seems to be the conclusion that I am evolving towards.

"It's never the way you think it'll be, Mark used to tell me. Not as perfect as you hope or as scary as you fear."

I've been having those panicky second thoughts lately.

You see, the euphoric feelings have dimmed, and I am left with the mundane, the every day... the more or less steady, predictable rhythm of responsibilities and the flow of those around me.

I have a hard time with mundane.

There's been quite a bit of drama in the HJ lately, a large portion of it traceable to an individual who, apparently, can't quite thrive without drama of some sort... even if she has to create it.

Now, I'm not one to create drama, but it's easy to sniff disdainfully at someone's handicap until you realize it's your own.

I've come to realize that I'm rather at a loss when not desperately pressed in circumstance. Or, at the very least, depressed. The sheer euphoria of positive feelings, of resolution, so close on the heels of misery, pain, and strain is addicting, to say the least. It's like picking a fight just to make up.

At first I thought this was an inherent flaw, but I realize now that it is a logical outflow of my upbringing. The domestic violence cycle, or even just the dysfunction cycle, goes like this:

The abuse is awful, to be sure, but the reconciliation and the honeymoon phase stand in such sharp relief that it's... well, it's like a drug. And it's hope. Hope that things will get better, that the bad won't come again. I go through this same up and down dance with my depression.

The kicker is that, should the hoped for peace come to pass... you've now become so accustomed to the cycle that you don't know how to live with that peace. At least, I don't. I'm always waiting for the axe to fall, craving it, even. (Could possibly be a part of PTSD, as well...)

And C is so steady, so... steady. I don't know how to handle it. The life he offers me... so... steady. It's obsessively, compulsively compelling at times, yet uneasily repellent at other times. I'm the one that goes up and down, back and forth. He hasn't wavered in his intentions at all.

(P.S.- That cycle totally describes the home front, with R and the kids and Mom... sigh. I was party to that just last Christmas.)

But when I'm wavering, I remember that he is good for me and I am good for him. I have a freedom with him that I have not had with any other relationship. He lifts me up, I lift him up. And, importantly for me, he puts up with all my crazy, and holds me through it. I've been revealing more and more facets of who I truly am to him of late, and he's still implacably by my side. Go figure.

Am I really just frightened of having someone who won't walk away, or give in to drama?

You know, I'd really like to learn how to live in the mundane and be at peace with it. I find myself in an arena of choice... is it worth it, this man that I love and the steady, stable life that he's offering me?

I just haven't had the gumption to get on here and hammer out my problems the wordy way.

Monday-- I was sick. Again. I did some stuff that I can't remember (dishes mostly, I think), but pretty much just wrapped myself up in a blanket and watched Glee with S and D. Turns out I'm hooked. (I'd been avoiding it since Mom and J got hooked-- a fairly easy feat, since I don't watch tv.) But now S's Netflix account has run out, and none of us have the money to renew it, so I guess that's that. Got somewhere between three and five hours of sleep. Yuck.

Tuesday-- Worked for E in the morning, which was good. Group was tough, but that's the way it goes sometimes. I'll be working on revamping our sessions a bit, and cobbling together a legitimate curriculum, which I'm stoked about. L was over and we hung out, but I conked out early, due to the previous night's lack of sleep.

Wednesday-- The day R was allowed to come home again. Haven't heard word yet. Wound up in the emergency room that morning, since the discomfort and random symptoms I'd been experiencing for who knows how long coalesced into a rather serious bladder infection. At least, I assumed it was serious when my urine was bloody. Got that taken care of just in time to jet off to a speaking presentation with E, after which we found out that the HJ got a partly unexpected grant for quite a chunk of change, and do you know what that means?! Not only does it mean we get to open up more groups (hurrah!), but it means that yours truly has a job! And not just any job, oh no. It means that E's going to stick me as the Director of the teen division. A director, y'all! You may kiss my hand now. (As my friend used to say, "Kiss my hand and call me Sensai.") So that means added responsibility, but that also means that I can call a cease-fire on the desperate job hunt.

School starts in two weeks, and I'll have the HJ as my part time job. I'm stoked, because that means that I won't have to divide my attentions between work, school, and volunteering like I thought I would. This means that I can throw way more energy into HJ than I thought I'd be able to. This means that I get to run another teen group in a different location.

That in mind, I was thinking after the meeting (it was a United Way meeting that totally inspired me to give back and get involved and help people) about how I'm getting involved in these various things... but I really came away from that meeting lit up about the possibilities. I've always wanted to make a mark on the world, to change it for the better somehow... to "change the world", as cliche as that sounds. It was on Wednesday, though, that I realized that this is the city I have chosen to make my home, and that I can change this city for the better. I can make a difference. I can literally make Y a better place to live. Do you know how cool that is?! These seemingly random involvements suddenly connected in my mind like a series of dots that paint a picture of a positive impact on my community... by impacting individuals.

So that was cool.

Thursday-- took my first "date" with C and we headed to the beach. We got there around 1-something, spent a few hours walking through a favored (rather touristy) location of mine, and then we headed to the beach for a few hours. C didn't think to bring shorts or sandals for some reason, so he was the only fully clothed person on the beach-- jeans and work boots. It was rather funny, or so I thought. I was able to stretch out on the sand and read (and get a little sunburnt), listen to the waves, and dive headfirst into the water (at C's encouragement). It fed my spirit, truly.

My affirmation from Wednesday's group was, "The most important things in life aren't things."

While I was in the water, I really felt that sink in deeply. Memories kept rushing at me as I walked along the water's edge and bobbed within the waves. The memories were all of happy times I'd spent with family and various groups of people there in that very city, on those very beaches. I realized that the experiences I'm stockpiling, the people I'm connecting and building relationships with, are so much more valuable than anything I could ever buy.

C was a little grumpy, but he got a nap in on the beach and on the drive home, so he picked up after that.

I got home and wanted to sleep, but I wanted to get a few licks in on some HJ stuff I'm doing, and then I wanted to blog... and now look what time it is!

Tomorrow I intend to go apply for food stamps and med care (so I don't have to keep asking R for money!), and I'll be taking the twins door to door.

My Magic Box affirmation for the week: "Growth begins when we begin to accept our own weaknesses."

Last week's was: "All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on."

The week before: "Sometimes it's the things you can't do that bring out the brilliance of what you can!"

Before that: "Courage does not mean that you are not afraid. Doing something that you are not afraid of is easy. Doing or facing something that you are afraid of takes courage."

Soundtrack to my day: Drive, by Incubus

I feel like these affirmations have been seeds planted, growing courage in me, resulting in my determination to step out and to try working again. (To try to FIND work, rather!)

Last night, we read a couple of awesome poems that I wanted to stick in here, so I don't lose them. (And maybe someone else will read them and it'll be just what they needed.)

The first is called Our Deepest Fear, by Marianne Williamson, and it hits the nail right on the head for me.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

The other one is long, so I'll stick it in a post of it's own. ("It's"... possessive... that means an apostrophe, yeah?)

Here's my song for the day.

Sometimes
I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear
And I can't help but ask myself how much I'll let the fear
Take the wheel and steer

It's driven me before
And it seems to have a vague, haunting mass appeal
But lately I'm beginning to find that I
Should be the one behind the wheel

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes, yeah
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there

So if I decide to waiver my chance to be one of the hive
Will I choose water over wine and hold my own and drive?


It's driven me before
And it seems to be the way that everyone else gets around
But lately I'm beginning to find that
When I drive myself my light is found

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes, yeah
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there

Would you choose water over wine
Hold the wheel and drive

Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
With open arms and open eyes, yeah
Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there
I'll be there

"Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak.

Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen."

{Winston Churchill}

Take a photograph,
It'll be the last,
Not a dollar or a crowd could ever keep me here,

I don't have a past
I just have a chance,
Not a family or honest plea remains to say,

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Is it you I want or just the notion
Of a heart to wrap around so I can find my way around?

Safe to say from here,
You're getting closer now,
We are never sad 'cause we are not allowed to be

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

To lie here under you,
Is all that I could ever do,
To lie here under you is all,
To lie here under you is all that i could ever do,
To lie here under you is all,

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day,
All the world is waiting for the sun,
All the world is waiting for the sun,
All the world is waiting for the sun.

Quote session from the book I'm reading today!

All quotes are from Chapter 2-- "Exploring the Power of Love, Belonging, and Being Enough"

"When we can let go of what other people think and own our story, we gain access to our worthiness--the feeling that we are enough just as we are and that we are worthy of love and belonging. When we spend a lifetime trying to distance ourselves from the parts of our lives that don't fit in with who we think we're supposed to be, we stand outside of our story and hustle for our worthiness by constantly performing, perfecting, pleasing, and proving. Our sense of worthiness--that critically important piece that gives us access to love and belonging--lives inside of our story.

The greatest challenge for most of us is believing that we are worthy now, right this minute. Worthiness doesn't have prerequisites. So many of us have knowingly created/unknowingly allowed/been handed down a long list of worthiness prerequisites:
-I'll be worthy when I lose twenty pounds.
-I'll be worthy if I can get pregnant.
-I'll be worthy if I can get/stay sober.
-I'll be worthy if everyone thinks I'm a good parent.
(etc.)

Here's what is truly at the heart of Wholeheartedness: Worthy now. Not if. Not when. We are worthy of love and belonging now. Right this minute. As is.

In addition to letting go of the ifs and whens, another critical piece of owning our story and claiming our worthiness is cultivating a better understanding of love and belonging. Oddly enough, we desperately need both, but rarely talk about what they really are and how they work..."

"A deep sense of love and belonging is an irreducible need of all women, men, and children. We are biologically, cognitively, physically, and spiritually wired to love, to be loved, and to belong. When those needs are not met, we don't function as we were meant to. We break. We fall apart. We numb. We ache. We hurt others. We get sick. There are certainly other causes of illness, numbing, and hurt, but the absence of love and belonging will always lead to suffering."

"Love:
We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness, and affection.
Love is not something we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow, a connection that can only be cultivated between two people when it exists within each one of them--we can only love others as much as we love ourselves.
Shame, blame, disrespect, betrayal, and the withholding of affection damage the roots from which love grows. Love can only survive these injuries if they are acknowledged, healed, and rare.


Belonging:
Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval, which are not only hollow substitutes for belonging, but often barriers to it. Because true belonging only happens when we present our authentic, imperfect selves to the world, our sense of belonging can never be greater than our level of self-acceptance."

"It's worth noting that I use the words innate and primal in the definition of belonging. I'm convinced that belonging is in our DNA, most likely connected to our most primitive survival instinct. Given how difficult it is to cultivate self-acceptance in our perfectionist society and how our need for belonging is hard-wired, it's no wonder that we spend our lives trying to fit in and gain approval.

It's so much easier to say, 'I'll be whoever or whatever you need me to be, as long as I feel like I'm a part of this.' From gangs (to church--my insertion here) to gossiping, we'll do what it takes to fit in if we believe it will meet our need for belonging. But it doesn't. We can only belong when we offer our most authentic selves and when we're embraced for who we are."

I like to walk while I talk to God. It does so much more for me than kneeling by my bed.

On the trip here, I read a book... a really good book. It stirred in my heart a longing for something more-- to really know and experience the love of God, and to let that love flow through and spill over into every day... to really love the people around me. Every single person.

I can't do that, I'll confess it right now. No. I don't know what it is to truly love, just as I struggle with what it is to truly trust.

But God's been working with me on that.

As I look back on this past season of my life, I see a predominant theme: Trust.

God has been asking me, "Will you trust me?"

The more we work through, the quicker my answer comes back, "Yes."

It's hard, though. It's hard to trust something that you can't tangibly see, that doesn't always make sense, and that is, quite frankly, under the greatest of attacks. The whole world tells me not to believe in God, to forget about this "religion thing" and move on with my life. Try to recoup the years that I missed while I've been "deprived", and have some fun before I die.

But here's the thing... I've been looking at the actions and underlying messages that are coming through, and all I see is emptiness. Hollow, meaningless banter and canned laughter that does little to disguise the purposelessness of it all.

I want to live with fervor, passion, and meaning. Every day. And I think it's possible. But the key is love.

And here's the thing... I've been looking at the churches around me, at the actions and underlying messages that are coming through, and all I see is emptiness. Hollow, meaningless platitudes and thinly veiled attempts at control and manipulation. That, that is purposeless beyond purposelessness, when the people who are supposed to have found the answer and the antidote have only found a prettier avenue to walk down to Sheol.

I have seen, though, that this last season God has been working with me on trust. And, just as clearly, I see that the next step is love.

God, teach me to love, please. In a real, practical way, show me what love is. I cannot give what I do not have, and I cannot share what I do not understand. God... teach me about love. Please. I want to learn.


In worship with mom and the kids tonight, I read this little gem from the first chapter of The Messiah. It's a seed for the harvest that will come later, and I want to record it to remember.

"The law of selfless love was broken in heaven itself. Sin began as selfishness. Lucifer, the brightest and mightiest angel, wanted more. He wanted to be the most important being in heaven. He tried to gain control of the other angels by breaking their loyalty to God. He wanted the angels looking at him.

He began implying that God was demanding worship and loyalty. He painted God as a self-centered dictator who tolerated no questions and no doubts. (This SO aptly describes the picture of God I've had for so long, it's unreal!) With these suggestions, Satan deceived the angels. With the same ideas, he would deceive humans. He led them to doubt God's word and to question his goodness. He tricked them into seeing a God of justice and awesome majesty as cruel and unforgiving. By misrepresenting God's character, Satan pulled humans into his rebellion. The long dark night of earth's history began.

The only way to lighten the shadows was to show that Satan's description of God was wrong. This couldn't be done by force. Force has no place in God's plans. He wants only a response of love, and love does not happen on demand. Love cannot be forced or ordered of anyone. Love is returned only when love is offered.

To know God is to love him. So the way to lead humans back to God was to show humans what God was really like. This could be done by only one Being in the universe. Only Jesus, who knew the limitless love of his Father, could make that love clear to all others.

The plan to save humans was not an afterthought. It was in place before Adam and Eve sinned. The plan was a natural result of the law of selfless love. God's throne and the operation of the universe was founded on this principle. From eternity, God and Jesus knew of Lucifer's fall and that his lies would lead humans to rebel also.

God didn't create sin. He did not want it to exist. But he knew that it would happen and made a plan to deal with that most critical emergency. His plan revealed the great love he had for this world and for humanity. He promised to give his one and only Son, 'that whoever believes in him may not be lost, but have eternal life.' (John 3:16)

Satan in his selfishness wanted to be more important, more honored. He wanted to become a god. Jesus, in his selfless love, did not care about glory or honor. He became a human being."

(All emphasis mine.)

Not without design does God write the music of our lives. Be it ours to learn the tune, and not be dismayed at the "rests." They are not to be slurred over, not to be omitted, not to destroy the melody, not to change the keynote. If we look up, God Himself will beat the time for us. With the eye on Him, we shall strike the next note full and clear.


If we sadly say to ourselves, "There is no music in a 'rest,'" let us not forget "there is the making of music in it." The making of music is often a slow and painful process in this life. How patiently God works to teach us! How long He waits for us to learn the lesson!


-Ruskin

So shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; 
It shall not return to Me void, 
But it shall accomplish what I please,
And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. 


“ For you shall go out with joy,
And be led out with peace;
The mountains and the hills 
Shall break forth into singing before you, 
 And all the trees of the field shall clap their hands."


{Isaiah 55:11, 12}

I've been reading Pilgrim's Progress through again lately. Since I haven't been feeling well for a day or two, I've made quite a bit of progress. (I'd say I'm about half through.)

I came to the part where Christian's burden is released- when he climbs to the top of Golgotha and views the Suffering One on the cross.

It occurred to me... I don't think I really get it. I've read the story of the crucifixion, and it has impacted me- don't get me wrong! But I don't think I truly, truly "get it".

I'm also reading another book, called "He Loves Me!", and I came across this series of quotes this morning.

"...it was not so incredible to Abraham when the God who had touched his life asked him to sacrifice his only son. All the other gods in Canaan did it, why not his? But this God was not a false god like the others deemed interested in human sacrifice. This was the true God. He was going to reveal himself to Abraham and wanted him to know this God had nothing in common with Molech, Baal, or Asherah."

"Abraham had faced the ultimate test in his growing trust in God. Even though he was willing to sacrifice Isaac, he discovered that God didn't really want or need the sacrifice." (The author means the act of a human sacrifice, not Abraham's willingness to sacrifice all for God.)

"In this one act, God drew a line that separated him from all the false gods men had ever created. The false gods demanded sacrifices for their own appeasement. This God provided the sacrifice we needed to finally cover our shame and allow us to know him as he really is."

That's when I knew that I didn't get it. I thought, Man, I'm so visual! If only there were some way that I could see it, I know it would impact me...


So I watched The Passion of the Christ, for the first time ever.

I'd been putting it off. I was scared. I knew that, once I watched it, those images would be seared into my brain forever...

And now I get it.

At least, more than I did before.

I cried. No, more than that- I sobbed, I screamed, I wept and I pleaded with the soldiers on the screen to just stop hurting him!! That's God! What are you doing?!

And as I watched Jesus being tortured, I thought about pain. I thought about the fact that I'm hurting today, and it's hard to walk. I compared my pain to his pain... yeah, right. Mine is but a wisp of a shadow, even when solely comparing the physical aspect. How could I ever claim that God does not understand pain??

I also thought about the marvelous machinery of the human body. I thought about how Jesus was there, creating Adam... tenderly and meticulously sculpting and arranging the various tissues, muscles and nerves. I thought a lot about nerve endings. I thought about how desperately, wickedly ironic it was that the very aspects of God's creation he formed with such delicate care were now being exploited and used against him. God made pain to protect... and now, he was subjected to the utmost limits of it.

I thought about my healing. I thought about how much hope I have found, how much happiness and joy... and I realized that this... this... unspeakably horrific and unutterably heroic moment in time is the underpinning and undergirding- the very backbone- of all the good things I have found. How can something so good come out of something so ghastly?

"By his stripes, we are healed."

As sobs racked my body, I realized with great clarity that this is the cost of healing. And he wanted to give that gift to me. He did it willingly... so that I might be free.

Amazing love... how can it be that you, my God, would die... for me?

What kind of God is this? What kind of person goes through that... willingly? What kind of a person is woven from the fibers of such pure LOVE that, after hours upon hours of unspeakable tortures, and in the midst of yet another brutal assault, they can crack open swollen, blood-drenched lips to rasp out, "Forgive them"?

If I never knew before, I know now... and I will serve this God for as long as I live.

Now I understand why the apostles were so fervent. They got it.

"One can obey God and yet not trust him, and in doing so miss out on a relationship with him. One cannot, however, trust God and be disobedient to him. For we shall see that all disobedience flows out of mistrust in God's nature and of his intentions toward us.

Thus the experience in the Garden wasn't to demand their obedience but to incubate their trust. He knew that the first step toward him might well be a step away from him in disobedience. He knew the lesson would be painful and costly- for him most of all- but he chose it because he desired people who would relate to him in love rather than obey him in fear. It would have been far easier to accomplish the latter, but God knew that love could flourish only where trust does, and that real trust could emerge only where people were free to reject it."

It really is easier to obey God out of fear than to trust him, and, in effect, to love him. Easier, sure... but way, way less fulfilling.

I would not trade my life now (and the consequent relationship with God) for any of the previous years of my life... no matter how much I thought I had what I wanted.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I can bring good even out of your mistakes. Your finite mind tends to look backward, longing to undo decisions you have come to regret. This is a waste of time and energy, leading only to frustration. Instead of floundering in the past, release your mistakes to Me. Look to Me in trust, anticipating that My infinite creativity can weave both good choices and bad into a lovely design.


Because you are human, you will continue to make mistakes. Thinking that you should live an error-free life is symptomatic of pride. Your failures can be a source of blessing, humbling you and giving you empathy for other people in their weaknesses. Best of all, failure highlights your dependence on Me. I am able to bring beauty out of the morass of your mistakes. Trust Me, and watch to see what I will do."
(Romans 8:28; Micah 7:7)

Hmm. Really? Pride, huh? I don't know, God... I still don't want to make mistakes, period. Even if you can turn them into something beautiful.

But I will. I will trust you, and watch to see what you do.

So today, I feel like I'm in high school all over again.

Not that I'm in a school environment, but the emotions (or are they feelings?) coursing through me are so similar it's like I've stepped back in time.

Perhaps it's because I stayed up late and slept in. (I never used to call 8 am "late", but I sure do now!)

Perhaps it's everything swirling around and happening at once-- I haven't had time to process through stuff.

Perhaps it's being alone in our home, with just the cats to keep me company.

Perhaps it's the uncertainty of my future looming before me, as hard as I am trying to keep trusting God about it.

But I keep telling myself that feelings aren't the dictators of my reality. They're there, sure enough. I can't deny that. But they don't have to define me, or how I respond and react, or how I interpret events. They're tools. Status updates, I guess. But they're not my destiny.

So this morning's devotional was perfect.

"Stop trying to work things out before their times have come. Accept the limitations of living one day at a time. When something comes to your attention, ask Me whether or not it is part of today's agenda. If it isn't, release it into My care and go on about today's duties. When you follow this practice, there will be a beautiful simplicity about your life: a time for everything, and everything in its time.

A life lived close to Me is not complicated or cluttered. When your focus is on My Presence, many things that once troubled you lose their power over you. Though the world around you is messy and confusing, remember that I have overcome the world. I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace."

(Ecclesiastes 3:1; John 16:33)

Yes. A time for everything, and everything it its time. Why is it so easy to forget that? I don't want to be harried, rushing hither and thither in mad pursuit of control.

It sounds so simple. In practice? Not so much... but I'm trying.

"And there is so much to fear--
We fear the unknown.
We fear being unknown.
We fear not having enough.
We fear getting caught.
We fear we'll never find the right person to marry.
We fear debilitating or life-threatening diseases.
We fear for our children's safety.
We fear what other people think of us.
We fear they won't.
We fear crime.
We fear losing a loved one.
We fear authority.
We fear that we won't get the things we desire most.
We fear what others might do to us.
We fear rejection.
We fear failure.
We fear being taken advantage of.
We fear being alone.
We fear losing our jobs.
We fear people finding out we're not all we claim to be.
We fear something bad might happen to us.
We fear not fitting in.
We fear death."

"This is a time in your life when you must learn to let go: of loved ones, of possessions, of control. In order to let go of something that is precious to you, you need to rest in My Presence, where you are complete. Take time to bask in the Light of My Love. As you relax more and more, your grasping hand gradually opens up, releasing your prized possession into my care.
You can feel secure, even in the midst of cataclysmic changes, through awareness of my continual Presence. The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: I am the same yesterday, today, and forever. As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you."

So, get this.... I submitted my will to God's.

Yeah. I did it.

I mean, I've read about it countless times. It sounds so good, so Christian. It's the way you're supposed to do things if you're a Jesus follower, right?

Which is why I'd been trying and trying for years to do it. And I had. Kinda. As much as I could.

I realize now, though, that it is definitely dependent and in proportion to the level of trust you have towards God. I didn't trust God. Thus, I couldn't ever really hand over the reins and say, "Here. Take control."

Why would I? I would only get hurt... again.

But now, now that God has answered my challenge and, one baby step at a time, brought me to a place where I can say that I actually trust him (who would have thunk it?), I find that I can actually say, with genuine honesty, "I want what you want for me."

So I submitted.

It started the other day, when I was so worn out and worn down with people. I went for a walk, and sat by a creek. I fumed a while, then calmed down and just listened to the water... thought about God... started praying. Inside, I wanted to surrender, but I didn't know quite how, or what to say. I wanted it to be genuine, not some rote thing to make my life run a little smoother. So I sat a while longer. I asked God to help me.

Then, I felt that I could genuinely give God the permission to be in control of my life that day. After I did, I sat a while longer, and a beautiful, wordless revelation came to me.

Even if I don't feel any better... God is still in control.

Whoa. What? 

This is a foreign concept to me. All my life, my emotions have been... the determiners of my reality, I guess. I feel this way, thus it is. I feel like a failure, so I must be. 

They were my barometer to determine what was going on around me. They were my reflexes to keep me safe. They shaped my world. I had nothing else.

But now... I didn't feel any better emotionally as I sat by that stream. I was still tired, frazzled, and worn. But there was a solidity underlying it all now, and I just knew.... even if I don't feel any better, it's okay. That's okay. My emotions will change eventually. No matter what I'm feeling, God's in control. Happy, sad, indifferent, grieving, whatever.

Hello, epiphany!

That realization led to others in quick succession. I realized that I've been so stressing over this guy because I've been trying to take it into my own hands. I surrendered that, too. I had tried doing that with GM, but I wasn't able to really trust God with it at that point, so I just kept worrying and stressing.

When I saw this guy again the other day, I realized... I have peace. I have peace! I'm able to be okay with him now because I know that God's got this, and he'll let us know one way or the other. I'm just keeping a sharp eye and ear out. Seriously, if this isn't the guy/relationship for me, it's because there's something better.

It's so nice to be able to relax around him again. Whew.

And then, this morning... I didn't get the job in North Dakota. And I have peace. I surrendered this to God. I asked him to do the best thing, to open and close doors accordingly. He did, and so I'm not worried. I'm not going to school this fall, either, 'cause that door closed. So... it's okay.

It's really a trip to live life this way. It almost feels like cheating. And, while I know that these feelings of happiness and contentment won't last forever, I'm enjoying them while I have them.

My new goal with my sponsor is to learn to live one day at a time, and to enjoy one moment at a time. I'm starting to pray about that. I want to be sensitive to God throughout the day, but when I'm so living in the future, it's impossible.

Well, the amazing thing is, D gave me a beautiful devotional at racquetball yesterday (a late birthday present), and here's the reading for today. It's perfect. :)

"Trust Me one day at a time. This keeps you close to Me, responsive to My will. Trust is not a natural response, especially for those who have been deeply wounded. My Spirit within you is your resident Tutor, helping you in this supernatural endeavor. Yield to His gentle touch, be sensitive to His prompting.

Exert your will to trust Me in all circumstances. Don't let your need to understand distract you from My Presence. I will equip you to get through this day victoriously, as you live in deep dependence on Me. Tomorrow is busy worrying about itself; don't get tangled up in its worry-webs. Trust Me one day at a time."

Thanks, God. I'm excited about our future together.

An excerpt from Katie's most recent post at The Journey. It strikes me somewhere tender.

I look at the joy that is spilling out of her wrinkled face and I repeat the words that she has spoken in my head and that doesn’t make sense. She is hurt and she is suffering and she is laughing about it and sparkling with beauty and radiating Joy.

That doesn’t make sense. Not to me. Not yet.

But she already knows what I am just learning. That even this, it is from Him. Even this, it is Holy ground. This thing that I label suffering, it is really Joy.

“Does disaster come to a city unless the Lord has planned it?” Amos 3:6

I live with these human eyes, and with these human eyes of mine I label. I label one thing as good and one thing as bad. I label moments as blessing or burden. And I forget that all this labeling, it is not my right, not my place, not mine to do. To declare what is a gift in my life and what is a curse is to eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, to sit in the garden full of abundance and beauty and choose the forbidden. The knowledge of good and evil, that was never intended for me. Could I, like Jja Ja Maria just quit my labeling and say, "Whatever God wants. Whatever HE wants!"

.............

I see it deep in Jja Ja’s eyes, she knows. Even this suffering, He did this. He did this, not because He doesn’t know the ache – He does. He did this, a gift to me.

For the good of me. For the good of her. For the good of us, those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. For the good of all this world and the glory that is His.

And I know in that moment, I can choose to label the ripped open heel and the ripped open family or I can choose to count it as a gift, God’s grace. And the beauty is not in the circumstance or the label but the fact that in His graciousness He is here with me anyway, regardless of the circumstance or the way I choose to view it. The grace of being near to Him in trial, as long as I can chose to see it, is certainly the greatest grace of all.

This is what Jja Ja knows and this is what I am learning. God’s grace is not blessing, earthly reassure, our security or even the security of our children. God’s grace is not that all is “well” and right in my eyes. God’s grace is not when He saves us but that He saved us.

Here I am face to face with Jesus in the dirt and all I have to do is choose to see, accept the grace offered freely. His compassion and His mercy, this Grace, it never fails. Each moment each breath, is a gift simply and only because I get to spend it with Him.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

Whatever He wants. And I am thankful.

No... I don't understand this yet, either. Even reading it, it somehow passes over my head.