My Family Journal

06 May 2013

What Joy in Life Comes From God?

These are truths I know today. On some tomorrow, I am certain to revise them, but for today, these truths bring me peace and joy.

Life on earth changes when

you move from caution in believing in God, to commitment to belief in God.
you stop wondering HOW to trust in God, and start placing your trust in God.
you no longer question the feasibility of praying without ceasing, and simply open your eyes, ears, heart and soul to God's unceasing presence.
you know and accept that loving God means loving all of God's people and creation, and failure to love even one of them makes your love for God less than real.
you learn that loving God above all others, means you love all others even more.
you no longer need to see winners and losers; you no longer need to see everything as right or wrong; and you start to see multiple perspectives, each stemming from a legitimate baseline, where legitimacy lies in the beliefs and values of the holders, and each holder is one of God's own.
you not only pray without ceasing, but you also seek the wisdom of God that lies within your soul, your "True Self," your "Immortal Diamond" in the words of Father Richard Rohr.

Life on earth has ended, and heaven is your home when You and Your True Self/Immortal Diamond/Soul are one and the same.

What joy in life comes from God?

Having simple faith in God.
Trusting God without hesitation.
Prayer and other time spent listening for God.
Loving God and loving all of my neighbors and all of God's creation, and rejoicing in how much more love I feel than I did before.
Loving the peace that comes from knowing that I am comfortable with other peoples ideas, beliefs, perspectives, and knowing that I find comfort in sharing my ideas, beliefs, and perspectives, and trusting that I only need to press mine over others if I have once loved their ideas, beliefs, or perspectives, or am confident that their ideas, beliefs or perspectives are a sure and present danger to the ideas, beliefs, or perspectives I love.

My greatest joy in life comes from seeking my True Self/Immortal Diamond/Soul. It isn't easy. We are so accustomed to judging and being judged. It is so easy to wonder, "what will others think?" or "how can I convince them that I am competent (or loving, or successful, and the list goes on)?"

But giving up this search for my Immortal Diamond is no joy at all, and dwelling on my failings isn't either. Seeking our Soul is a lifelong journey. Even Mother Teresa was sure she had not fully found it before her death. What I know, however, is that few, if any, of us find it BEFORE death, but God wants all of us to find it in death. And God seems to know how to get what he wants.

Henri Nouwen's "twins" (in God's Greatest Gift) debated the fears and joys of leaving their mother's womb to enter an unknown world. Our debates ask if there are more fears or more joys in leaving this world to enter God's eternal kingdom. For me, God's Greatest Gift is the joy of heaven, the joy of finally knowing your True Self, Your Immortal Diamond, Your Soul, and the second greatest gift is found in the seeking of your immortal diamond. God has granted each of us one certain joy, and this is it, guaranteed!

17 January 2012

Learning "Shame Resilience"

Brene Brown, in her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, closes chapter 3 with, "If we're working toward relationships based in love, belonging, and story, we have to start in the same place, "I am worthy."

So, where am I in this quest to be worthy? To give and receive love? To belong? Where am I in the ability to muster courage, and to give compassion and feel connected? Those might be tough questions to answer, but only because of a lack of courage to answer them, which answers the questions. That means, I begin to study my lack of "shame resilience."

Lack of? How about the complete dearth of shame resilience?

Step 1: "Who do I become when I am backed into the shame corner?" (I am plageurizing up the whazoo here, and I fully acknowledge it, but I need to go through these steps, and you will see in question #3, why here).

I become that child anxiously assessing what is right and wrong, wondering if I am doing what is right, or will I be punished? I am that child wondering who is going to laugh at me next and why? I am that teen wondering how I will avoid the embarrassment of making a mistake, of saying the wrong thing, of giving the wrong answer. I am that young mother who feels more like she is one of the children in the household. I am the newby who wonders how old she has to be in order to be seen as competent enough to make a decision or offer an acceptable suggestion. This is a start. This blog is not long enough to hold all of the situations I could recall, if I just kept on recalling and writing. But these will suffice to finish this little survey.

Question #2: How do I protect myself when backed into the shame corner? While I HAVE retaliated a couple . . . few? . . . times, my most common reaction is to quit the team, leave the party, avoid going to that place again, hide, keep it a secret, ask others not to "tell on me," and physically, I think I always tip my face down, just a little. The old classroom technique that says, "Don't call on me."

Now, that third question: "Who do you call to work through the mean-nasties or the cry-n-hides or the people-pleasing?" (I really need to acknowledge the author, Brene Brown: Her words, not mine!) Sometimes, my journal. Sometimes . . . what do little kids call it. . . "my secret friend?" Sometimes, God. Maybe on a rare occasion, my husband. Most of the time, no one. Guess this is one area I really need to work on.

Final question: "What's the most courageous thing that you could do for yourself when you feel small and hurt?"

You can't see or hear me, so you missed my huge SIGHHHH. How do I answer this question? Use my feeling words? Make a request? Both? Something else? So, when my solution to a problem was flatly ignored, I repeated it a few times, then finally said, "I don't understand why you aren't considering my solution." I think that was a courageous thing to do. It worked, too. They tried my solution and the problem was solved.

Okay, poor example. Another one: I could respond, "Since I don't want to feel like I am more stupid than everyone else, do any of you have any tips on how to be quick-witted in the use of puns?" Now, that is a scarey option. Why don't I just walk out the door, saying, "I'm just not quick-witted enough to hang out with you people?" That sounds like my current non-resilient methodology. How about, "Sorry I'm not laughing, but I don't understand your pun." That is really a dead-end remark. Okay, I have it: "I am feeling really embarrassed because my need for competence is not being met." Now I see ten pair of eyes staring at me incredulously. So, from here, I am supposed to make a request. . . "Would someone please explain that pun to me?"

I'm not getting very far on question 4. I think I will sleep on it. Or at least, I will try to sleep. Maybe I need to be patient . . . and read the rest of the book. I'll do that tomorrow and in the coming days. 62 years don't need immediate change, but change as soon as possible. I'll go to the safe One, God.

21 October 2011

The Grace of Christ & the Love of God Be With you

A knock on the door interrupted my conversation with my mother as she looked up and whispered, “Oh no, I don’t remember her name.”

I went to the door, invited her in and introduced myself. “It’s nice to meet you,” she replied. “I’m Jan from down the street. I thought your parents would enjoy some soup I made today.” After a short conversation, I thanked her, and she began to leave, then turned, and added, “ I learned this from your Mom, you know.” My puzzled look cued her to explain. “Shortly after I moved here, I fell ill. Your Mom didn’t even know me, but she brought me soups and pies. It was so nice, I knew that when I had the opportunity, I wanted to do the same for others.”

When Mom died three weeks later, I knew that she was safe in God's hands. Her reputation for assuring that others were cared for was her chariot to heaven. At the memorial service and days later at the funeral, I greeted the guests, one after another speaking of her compassion and generosity. Then looking up above the display of family photos, I saw her smiling down on her family and friends. Her reward was more than eternal life with God. It included the joy of seeing her family comforted by hundreds of neighbors and friends who remembered the woman who brought delicious food to them whenever they needed a helping hand.

God's grace sent us the Messiah, that by faith and through our love of God and neighbor, we may enjoy our relationship with God forever. Titus 3:7

07 August 2011

The Lost Love, The Prodigal Love

There was once a family, two parents and three children. The oldest child said to his family, "I want to begin my adult life, with family, home, and a career I love." Then the second child said to his family, "I am an adult now, and I want to start my family, buy a home, and begin to search and choose my career." Finally, the third child said to her family, "I, too, am an adult. I have chosen my career, and I am ready to begin my family."

So the parents said, "Go, with God's blessing and our's, for that is what each of us must do when the time of adulthood arrives." So the oldest child packed his bags and left for distant lands. There, he formed his family and found great success in his career. Likewise, the second child packed his bags, and though the lands he settled were not so distant, the career path was full and his family, like his elder brother's, began to grow. Finally, the the third child packed her bags, found favor with a fine young man, and with her career blossoming began to build her family.

And the parents said, "Our lives have been fruitful. Our children are strong, and healthy, becoming independent, and bound to increase the size of our family and, with that, our opportunities to spread the love we feel to many, to their spouses and their children, not to mention extended family members."

After some time had gone by, the children found their lives filled with activities and obligations that overflowed the vase of time available. When one of them would hunger for love, he or she would find it within the narrow lands now occupied by his or her small family and circle of friends. What need to look beyond this immediate place for love? Each personal vessel was adequately filled with love in his or her own home and local community.

Then an invitation arrived. Parents, some distance away now, not necessarily geographically, but psychologically, at the least, sought reunion. This family, growing in size, success, and independence, had grown in distance, too, and if each of the children did not notice it, certainly the parents did.

One child responded that with multiple schedules to meet and obligations to fulfill, a reunion was simply out of the question. Another child noted how this distance traveled, not necessarily geographically, but psychologically, at the least, established a seeming barrier to such an event as a reunion. And yet another child expressed concern at hob-nobbing with individuals whose style seemed incompatible with his or her own.

So the parents, noting the wide chasms within their family, curled up in their quilts for comfort and attempted to wipe away their tears of sadness. To them, love was forever, and love for their children was unconditional. Not unkind words, nor harsh judgement, nor absence could erase the love they felt for each of the children they had brought into this world. They understood, that people are different, and that liking one another or feeling respect for certain behaviors of others would be too much to expect of mere mortals.

But God gave to each of us the ability to love everyone, and expected us to share it with each other. Love doesn't mean you like someone. It doesn't require us to respect their behaviors. Love lives to grow, and the more we love the people we know, the more we can love the people we don't know. When love is given away, it multiplies, increasing all love given and all love received.

Somehow, this message of love reached each of these children, their spouses and all of their families. And while the children were still a long way off, the parents saw them, and their hearts pounded, as they raced toward them, embraced them, and kissed them. And each of the children, in his or her home that night, prayed, "God, forgive me for I have forgotten your greatest commandments. Today, through the love of my parents, You have reminded me that if I cannot love my brother or my sister, then surely, I cannot love You."

And not far away, a small child heard his parent speak this prayer, and she too, spoke to God, saying, "God, please guide me, as I grow up, to always remember my brothers and my sisters, not in judgement but in love."

24 April 2011

"It is Finished"

Good Friday: April 22, 2011: As the Pastor read the story of Jesus' final hours, I noticed the black organza that covered the banner hanging to my right. A breeze blowing through the church blew the bottom half of the cloth off the banner. I wondered: Will the breeze continue to blow the cloth throughout the service? Or, if it stops, might it stop at the moment that Jesus dies in the well-known story of His crucifixion? I continued to look periodically, but found myself focused on the story during the scourge against Jesus. Sometime after the crucifixion, I looked up again to see that the breeze was no longer blowing the cloth. As the story reached the final moments of Jesus' earthly life, the cloth of mourning was still. The wind that had caused the cloth to flutter and expose the banner was quiet, as if to say, "It is finished."

Good Friday services are filled with emotion. The black organza blowing in the breeze, then resting in peace at such a moment, brought a feeling of peace to a moment of trauma.

01 March 2011

Diffuse Systemic Scleraderma

My Mom died at the age of 75 after suffering for several years with Diffuse Systemic Scleraderma. We knew it then as CREST Syndrome. CREST stood for the 5 aspects of the disease which a person could have. Mom had Calcinosis, Raynaud's Syndrome, Esophageal ??, and Scleraderma, but not the component that begins with the letter "T."

About two years before she died, she was placed on an experimental medication that my memory tells me cost the government (research?) $3,000 a month. In August of 2005, Mom returned to Mayo Clinic for evaluation, at least part of which was to determine the effect this experimental medication was having on her disease. The tests indicated that her disease was progressing: She was getting worse, fast. Their conclusion? This experimental medication did not work. They took her off the medication.

Less than a month later, in September 2005, Mom and Dad left, as usual, for their winter home in Texas. About the middle of September, I received the first of what was to be many telephone calls from my Dad. Each one was a repeat of the first: "Mom had a really bad night, and I didn't get any sleep. This has been going on for some time, and we can't keep going like this. We need help."

I always responded with, "I'll fly down as soon as I can get a flight." The call ended with an affirmation of that plan, only to be followed up within hours by another call. "We've talked it over. Don't come. We were just tired, and feeling hopeless. We have rested, and we are ok. There is nothing for you to do here. Don't spend the money now. Wait. We'll let you know if things get worse."

Finally, on Oct. 3rd, the number of these emergency calls convinced me to reject their conclusion that I should not fly to Texas to spend time with them. I stayed with them for 8 days, leaving at that time only because they insisted I needed to return to my home and family. Before leaving, I visited my mother's sister, who lived near them in Texas. In our conversation, I found an opening I considered safe for delivering to my mother's favorite sister the message I knew she wouldn't want to hear: "I don't think Mom is going to make it to Christmas. She might make it to Thanksgiving, but not much longer."

I returned home and immediately contacted my four siblings to give them the same message and encourage them to find an opportunity to visit as soon as possible. Three weeks later, on Nov. 3, 2005, while two of my sisters were flying home from their last visit to our mother's bedside, Mom died.

Less than 2 months after she discontinued her experimental medication, Mom's disease killed her. For about two years, taking this medication, Mom lived with her disease; was it because this experimental medication was slowing the pace of the disease? I suspect we will never know, but the drastic change from some deterioration to immediate decline followed by death within 2 months seems to indicate that this experimental medication was having a positive impact. Without a baseline to which we could compare the progression of her disease during those two years, we won't know the answer to this plaguing question.

My Mom kept a daily journal. My Dad still has all volumes of it, and I have read portions of it. She provides more detail than I am able to remember and record here. I wonder, with the lack of research on this disease, if her case with her notes could help someone else suffering from Diffuse Systemic Scleraderma experience a better outcome.

My Personal Post-Note:

Most of us must experience the death of a mother, and I know that God's presence was my most powerful crutch through this difficult time. It is only human, however, to carry the memory of regrets. I have two of them. #1: While visiting her, Mom wanted desperately to have her hair washed. She was too sensitive to cold temperatures to go to the shower and too weak to climb two stairs to reach a sink, so we never washed her hair. #2: When I said "good-bye," she was sleeping in her recliner. That was what she wanted me to believe, and I fell for it. I said "good-bye," in general to the space in which she and Dad were sitting, but I didn't go to her, hug her and give her my love and personal good-bye. These are hard failures to live with, but once again, I know God is giving me strength to accept my failures and live with them in peace, and in the joy of believing that she is better off where she is than she was when she was suffering from this awful disease.

13 February 2011

My Family Journal: Ephesians: We Are God's Temple

My Family Journal: Ephesians: We Are God's Temple: "A couple of years ago, my middle school Sunday Church School class built 'God's Temple' based on the book of Ephesians. Our interpretation ..."