Thursday, December 8, 2011

I Have Come For You


I extend my blessing upon those who are sick and hurting and broken
When you don’t have the strength to stand on your own
Reach out for my hand
My strength is yours
I have come for you

I extend my blessing upon those who are cold and hungry and impoverished
When you don’t have the courage to face another day on your own
Reach out for my hand
My courage is yours
I have come for you

I extend my blessing upon those who are constantly burdened with worry
When you can’t find the space or time for a moment of peace
Reach out for my hand
My peace is yours
I have come for you

I extend my blessing upon those who weep for all that’s been lost in their lives
When the tears won’t stop and the despair seems never ending
Reach out for my hand
My joy is yours
I have come for you

When all that surrounds you is darkness
My light is yours
When all that you feel is hatred
My love is yours
When all that you know is doubt
My hope is yours
Everything that I have to give is yours
I have come for you

Monday, December 5, 2011

Going soft in my old age...

One great benefit to working full time is that I'm getting sloppier. I used to be the kind of wife who was always reminding my husband that he should pick up after himself and not leave so much junk just laying around the house. And my husband's really not that big of a slob; he was just messy compared to me. I would try to tell him that even if it didn't really matter to him whether the house was tidy or clean or organized, it did matter to me, which should make it more important to him. But somehow the message just never got through all the way. He would pick up and clean up and organize on random days, when he had time, when there wasn't something more important on his mind, but he just wasn't as on top of it as I was. And some days that just irked me.

However, while I was reminding my husband that he should be more consistent in picking up after himself, I was only working five or six hours a day and commuting ten minutes or less, while he was working eight or nine hours a day and commuting a half hour or more.

Now that Craig is going to school and only working part time, he gets home earlier than I do. I'm the one working eight hours now, and he's home almost every evening before I am. He still doesn't really want to tidy up the house every day and make sure everything's in it's place because that's just not at the top of his priority list. But the big positive is... it's not at the top of my list either.

I'm not saying that I'm a slob now, just because I'm working longer hours, but it is definitely forcing me to mellow out a little. Right now, there are dirty towels all over the place in the bathroom, and the clean towels are all in piles in the office, waiting to be put away. We only make our bed on weekends or when we've just washed the sheets. The dishes don't get washed every day; sometimes we skip a day. And some weekends, we don't really do any housework because the dust and grime in our home will still be waiting for us the next weekend when we have a little more time and energy.

This state of affairs would never have been acceptable to me in the past; it would have really made me feel stressed. But now I just don't care as much about that stuff. Is it important? Sure. I want to take care of my home and live in clean and comfortable environment. But does it have to be perfect all the time? Hell no. This realization is such a relief to me. And hopefully my mellowing out a little is a relief to my husband as well.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Election Day Approaches

As election season approaches, I hear people saying, "How can I support this Republican? He's only looking out for the rich guy." Or, "How can I vote for a Democrat? I'm tired of my taxes supporting bums who won't work for their own living."

There are so many big words we can throw around on both sides to decide who's wrong and who's right: socialism, racism, taxes, family values, war on terror, immigration reform, bank bailouts, home foreclosures, jobs programs, Obamacare, on and on and on. You can pull out any argument in the book for why we should or should not be voting for a certain party, a certain candidate, a certain set of political ideals.

As someone who originally was registered as a Republican, then re-registered as a Democrat so I could vote for Hillary Clinton in the presidential primaries, I now find myself unsure whether I want to vote for any candidate, in any party, ever.

Rather than asking myself how I could possibly support a Republican or a Democrat, I find myself examining candidates and thinking of each one of them, "How can I support someone who is so power-hungry? How can I vote for someone who is so willing to say anything to get a vote, who will stand for something one day, then do a complete turn around in the next election to keep up with current trends? How can I say that I want someone leading in my country who is willing to lie and cheat and take bribes and use others to have that position of leadership?"

And I have started to believe that the best outcome for our country might be if we as a nation banded together to say we will not vote for liars, we will not vote for self-serving narcissists, and we will not vote for the man who has the most money to be able to make himself look attractive.

What if we all just stopped voting for national politicians until they got the message that we're not interested in supporting the criminality and negligence of the United States Congress and White House?

It won't ever happen, but would it be better if it did?

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Serve the Word

I am a word person, so my mind is constantly filled with words seeking out their place in the universe. Individual words, unexpected combinations, short phrases with mysterious meanings.

And when one word or combination or phrase strikes me just so, it seems to be asking to be written down. And as a word person, I live to serve the word. So depending on the mood of the day, I will either pick up a pencil and one of my scattered notepads, or rest my fingers on the laptop keyboard and implore of these words, "Speak!"

Yet, although the words have wished it, and I have seconded the opinion, all too often nothing comes forth, or that which does is, to put it plainly, lame.

In this instance, the mind-numbing television shows and pointless wanderings on the web have won yet again. My mind is melting into a meaningless mush unless and until I deliberately act to stop it.

And I remember fondly those moments in the past when I would leave the computer to its own company and instead gaze out the window at a downpour of rain or sit in the park admiring the way leaves grow, change, and fall.

These are the perfect moments in life that are all too often missed and brushed aside for important things like shopping and TV and video games and internet perusal.

And after all these thoughts have passed through my mind, I resolve yet again to shun more and more the distractions that the world shoves in my face in favor of a more fertile and thriving heart, soul and mind.

Friday, November 11, 2011

Foundations

If my parents had been raised Mormon, they would have raised me Mormon. And as a Mormon, I would believe wholeheartedly in the words that Joseph Smith wrote in the Book of Mormon. I would believe that he saw the angel Moroni, found the golden plates with the words of God inscribed upon them, and translated them as the book of Mormon using his seer stones. Joseph Smith's writings and revelations would inspire my faith in God, if I had been raised a Mormon.

If my parents had been raised as Muslims, they would have raised me as a Muslim. And as a Muslim, I would have grown up reading the teachings of  Muhammad found in the Quran. I would believe that he saw the angel Gabriel, flew on a winged horse to Mecca, and visited heaven and hell. As the last prophet of God, Muhammad and his teachings would be the foundation of my faith.

If my parents had been raised in Buddhism, they would have raised me in Buddhism. And as a Buddhist, I would be taught that Siddhartha Gautama was the Supreme Buddha. I would know all about his enlightenment that occurred after he had meditated for 49 days under the Bhodi tree. I would grow up hearing stories of the Buddha's powers of telepathy, super-hearing and levitation. Based on these miraculous signs I would choose to follow the Buddha and all his teachings.

But because my parents were raised Christian, they raised me Christian. As Christians, we believe that the virgin Mary gave birth to God's son and the sky was filled with angels singing his praise. We believe that Jesus performed numerous miracles of healing, exorcisms, and control over the natural elements. After he died, he came back to life. These are the signs we believe in that tell us that he was indeed God in the flesh.

Because my parents were raised as Christians and raised me as a Christian, I understand that the only signs, miracles, prophecies, and angel-sightings that are actual facts are the ones recorded in the Christian Bible. The others are either myths, lies, or gross exaggerations of the truth. This doesn't actually make any sense to me logically or emotionally, but I know it's true because it's what I've been taught. Thank God I was born a Christian.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

What it means this year

I've been thinking about Christmas already, trying to figure out how I feel about this year.
       What it means this year.
       What I am celebrating this year.

Because I'm not very good at doing things the traditional way. I want to think about things and dig into them to figure out what's really going on. Call me a party-pooper, but I hope that I find myself digging and pondering and struggling with questions every Christmas. I don't ever want to just do Christmas like we're supposed to do Christmas.

This year, the path my thoughts have followed has somehow led me to the Beatitudes. Every time I read this passage, I feel as though I'm reading a summary of everything that Jesus that was trying to tell us.

          Like it's the whole point.

And if it's the whole point of what Jesus taught, then isn't it the whole point of Christmas as well?

The Bible I use puts it like this:

God blesses those who realize their need for him, for the Kingdom of Heaven is given to them.
God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
God blesses those who are gentle and lowly, for the whole earth will belong to them.
God blesses those who are hungry and thirsty for justice, for they will receive it in full.
God blesses those who are merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
God blesses those whose hearts are pure, for they will see God.
God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called the children of God.
God blesses those who are persecuted because they live for God, for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.

I just really feel so strongly right now that this is the whole point.
         This is Jesus.
         This is the reason for celebrating.
         This is the reason for remembering.
         This is God's Love.


*Matthew 5:3-10, New Living Translation

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Love the Questions

Do we belong to religions because they help us be good? Do we belong to a certain church because it shows us a way to freedom, a way to be the best we can be, a way to live with integrity and values?

Or do we belong to a church or religion of some type because it feels good to be part of a group of people who all claim to agree with each other about something? But what if you don't agree with everything that your religion preaches? What if you think about things in a way that other people in your group would say are wrong?

Is it your obligation to the group to mold your thoughts to align more closely with theirs? Or do you need to just stay quiet, and keep those straying thoughts to yourself? Or is it best to speak up and tell others what you've thought of, ready for whatever response they may have?

When you are raised in or have come to associate with a certain religious group, how do you decide which thoughts and beliefs are truly yours and which of them is the direct product of being instructed and influenced by those around you, especially the people preaching from the pulpit? More importantly, when the words of God are being delivered to you through a man, a preacher, a priest, how do you retain the ability to discern what the voice of God truly sounds like versus what the man up front thinks the voice of God sounds like, or what the people surrounding you have come to agree the voice of God sounds like?

If you spend every Sunday in church listening to a sermon telling you what the Bible says or what you should be thinking about or paying attention to or giving your money for, how do you keep your heart and mind open to hearing God speak into your life in ways that might sound completely different, that might even lead you in the opposite direction?

Keep in mind that these are all questions. No answers. I don't have those. I don't necessarily need those. I love the questions; I thrive in the questions.

These questions can be rhetorical, and that's okay. Or not, and that's okay.

Saturday, October 22, 2011

I've been discovering things. Sometimes I discover things about how I do my life that I don't necessarily appreciate or take pride in. I realized this last week, that I am a wimp.

I always think of myself as a strong, independent woman. I'm stubborn and willful, so I pretend that those qualities make me strong. But I find over and over again in my life that when I run into a situation that feels precarious, I almost always attempt to run away and hide, rather than face and overcome the situation.

I'm not saying that I run away from every hard thing that comes up in life. I will always be committed to my marriage no matter what happens. There are some things that are too important to even consider the possibility of running away.

But I get so scared of the mere possibility of failing, the idea that maybe I won't be successful, I'll make a fool of myself, I'll be criticized for being less than capable. These things I cannot handle. So I freaked out about my job last week. It got really busy, and there are still so many things for me to learn. And I just felt like I couldn't do anything; my brain got all mushy, and I felt confused by everything that crossed my desk. And I just wanted to run away.

I did work through it; I'm still there. But it was a big wake-up call to realize how extreme my fear of failure is, how easily I can allow myself to crack under pressure. I felt like a wimp, and I felt ashamed of how quickly I was willing to wimp out. 

Grow, grow, grow. I want to grow-- into my womanhood, into my maturity, into wisdom. God give me the strength and the courage.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

After A Long, Dry Summer

 
 
Autumn has finally appeared
Sweeping in with its burst of fresh air;
So with jubilation after a long, dry summer,
I step out
To feel, to see, to hear
The world becoming perfect around me,
And I inhale and I exhale,
For all is well.

And every inch of sky around me
Takes a breath,
Breathing deeper,
Breathing fuller,
Breathing sweet gusts of wind,
Breathing swirls of leaves and twigs dancing,
Breathing the new fall air.

As the skies darken just a shade
And the wind brushes away the lingering summer,
A few timid beads of rain clear the way
For a bold outpouring of life-showers.

And in the scattered drops—
Pittering and pattering on the streets,
In the yards, through the trees, and on every rooftop—
Are a million different drumbeats
Driving a million different songs
And my legs and arms want me to dance to all of them

Do you think anyone would notice
If I began dancing down the street
On this beautiful autumnal day?

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Generation Smart Phone

We have generation Y, generation X, and I think the next set of kids should be called Generation Smart Phone. I don't have a clue how to use a smart phone; I'll just be honest and up front about this. If you handed me one right now, I would know that you touch the screen to navigate- I've got that much figured out. But beyond that I would just be guessing about how to find things on that phone, and I would probably guess wrong about half the time.

Then there's my nephew. His fingers whiz across the smart phone screen like he's a thirty-something workaholic who never leaves home without it, even on vacations. He's jumping around between apps, showing us pictures and video, playing some angry birds like a pro. All of his finger tapping and sliding across the screen confuses me; it's so fast! And he's just smiling and saying excitedly, "Look at this!"

Well, kind of. He doesn't actually say, look at this, at least not in proper adult English. He's only two and he still speaks in his own language that everyone but his parents needs a translator to understand. He speaks gibberish. He still poops in a diaper, eats in a high chair, rides in a car seat. He still has a long way to go before he learns all the basics of life. But smartphones? That's easy! That's baby stuff!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

End Times

Somehow or other, I found myself having a conversation this morning with my husband about the end times. You know, the end of the world, the apocalypse. Randomly, it just came up. My husband feels as though the end times are coming soon, that we are living in the last days. However, I feel that the end times probably won't exist unless and until we physically blow up our planet with nuclear bombs.

So the argument we had is, (a very friendly and civil argument, no worries) is the world we live in worse now than it has ever been? Do we have more war, more upheaval, more economic distress, more natural catastrophes, more man-made destruction on our planet than we ever have before? His argument was yes, we are destroying the earth and ourselves in ways like no other civilization has. Look at our wars, our pollution, the disparity between rich and poor, the way that the world economy is collapsing before our very eyes.

My opinion was that no, we are not living in a world that is truly any different than any other time in human history. People are always the same; they are always destroying themselves and the world around them. It just looks different now, because we have different resources available with which to accomplish our destruction. I said, look back a thousand years at the dark ages, the Crusades, the Black Death.

My main argument was that we don't ever have an accurate perspective on history. We always feel so big and important and all-knowing in whatever place and time and civilization we are in, but we can never truly see and understand what came before us or what lies ahead. We have ideas about it, we have words that have been passed down, we have these vague history lessons that hit on all the key points, but can we really imagine what it would have been like to be alive a thousand years ago, two thousand years ago? If we could gain that kind of perspective, would we still believe that our world now is so dangerous? Would we be so upset about our hurricanes and earthquakes, our pollution, our economic turmoil, our climate change, our melting ice-caps, our current civilization's penchant for criminal activity, corruption, drug use and violence?

Would we really believe the end times were coming now if we could truly know what it had been like to live through the Dark Ages, seen people dying all around us from the Black Death (at least a third of Europe's population within six years), lived in fear of the Crusaders roaming the countryside looking for non-Catholics to convert or kill?

My husband could very well be right, and the current popular interpretation of the Bible prophesies could be accurate. Maybe the end of the world will occur during our lifetimes, but I'm just not sure. 

But maybe the end of the world happens over and over again on our planet, every time a generation or a culture decides to destroy itself. Perhaps every time a nation chooses war over peace, that is an end time. Maybe when the people of the world stand by and watch a genocide happening without stepping in to provide safe harbor, that is an end time. And maybe it's possible that every time a person dies on the street, in the slums, with nothing, that is an end time because someone, somewhere could have been there, could have chosen to love that person, could have chosen to help that person. 

Maybe the end times happen every day, every time a person forgets what being human means and slips back into behaving like an animal. So perhaps every time I am more important than you, I am creating an end time.

The hope in all this, if this is so, is that we can choose differently, each of us; we can choose whether we live in the end or whether we create beginnings. We can choose to tear down or to build. We can choose our own personal war or peace. We can choose between humanity or our own base animal instinct.

I choose to believe in this hope.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

A Wise Man Once Said...

This passage is taken from the book, "State of Fear" by Michael Crichton.

Let's remember where we live, Kenner was saying. We live on the third planet from a medium-size sun. Our planet is five billion years old, and it has been changing constantly all during that time. The Earth is now on its third atmosphere.

The first atmosphere was helium and hydrogen. It dissipated early on, because the planet was so hot. Then, as the planet cooled, volcanic eruptions produced a second atmosphere of steam and carbon dioxide. Later the water vapor condensed, forming the oceans that cover most of the planet. Then, around three billion years ago, some bacteria evolved to consume carbon dioxide and excrete a higly toxic gas, oxygen. Other bacteria released nitrogen. The atmospheric concentration of these gases slowly increased. Organisms that could not adapt died out.


Meanwhile, the planet's land masses, floating on huge tectonic plates, eventually came together in a configuration that interfered with the circulation of ocean currents. It began to get cold for the first time. The first ice appeared two billion years ago. 


And for the last seven hundred thousand years, our planet has been in a geological ice age, characterized by advancing and retreating glacial ice. No one is entirely sure why, but ice now covers the planet every hundred thousand years, with smaller advances every twenty thousand or so. The last advance was twenty thousand years ago, so we're due for the next one.


And even today, after five billion years, our planet remains amazingly active. We have five hundred volcanoes, and an eruption every two weeks. Earthquakes are continuous: a million and a half a year, a moderate Richter 5 quake every six hours, a big earthquake every ten days. Tsunamis race across the Pacific Ocean every three months.


Our atmosphere is as violent as the land beneath it. At any moment there are one thousand five hundred electrical storms across the planet. Eleven lightning bolts strike the ground each second. A tornado tears across the surface every six hours. And every four days, a giant cyclonic storm, hundreds of miles in diameter, spins over the ocean and wreaks havoc on the land.


The nasty little apes that call themselves human beings can do nothing except run and hide. For these same apes to imagine they can stabilize this atmosphere is arrogant beyond belief. They can't control the climate.


The reality is, they run from the storms.

This is just one example of why Michael Crichton has become one of my literary heroes. His words are like poetry to me, expressing the nature, the truth, the complexity of our beautiful universe with so few words. In the space of one page of a novel, Crichton gave me a whole new way of thinking about how I relate to the natural world and my role in it. And although some may disagree with what he has to say, the point is that he's not afraid to write words that inevitably make the reader think. And thinking, pondering, wondering, or contemplating can never be wrong.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

I didn't realize...

I didn't realize that I was still mourning the loss of my job at the school district. I got laid off, what, like three months ago? I started missing my job then, wishing I could keep it, thinking of all the things I loved about it, everything that made it the perfect job for me.

But I did find another job, working at the bank. And even though I was in a funk one week at work, it has all smoothed over, and now I'm doing a lovely job. I enjoy my job; I like showing up each morning. I look forward to the things I'm going to learn and the people I'm going to see. It's a good job, and I know it is where I'm supposed to be right now, at this phase in life.

However, yesterday I went back to my old workplace to drop off a book that I had borrowed, and when I left, I found myself crying. I didn't know that I still had tears to shed for my old job three months after receiving my lay-off notice.

Then today, I got a message from the school district, and they have a job for me. I can go back and work at school if I want. But it's not the right time anymore; it's not what I need right now. But that doesn't stop the tears, wishing I could go back, wishing that it was the place I was supposed to be.

So I find myself crying yet again. I just didn't expect it to be like this. I didn't think that I still felt this sad about leaving my job at the school district. I guess when I call back to tell them I'm not available, that will be the final closure, the final goodbye to my coworkers at the school district and all the beautiful children that I've cared for so much.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

It doesn't make any sense...

The ideal place in life has apparently alluded me. I've been so hopeful, so trusting, so sure that everything is coming out right, according to a plan, leading me to a place of security and comfort. But maybe we never really come to that place and only delude ourselves when we imagine we have or soon will.

My friends and family keep asking me how my new job is going, and it has been great. It really has, until this week. As a bank teller, your number one job is to balance every night. I have no problem doing that, until this week. I don't even know what's going on. I didn't change anything I was doing; I haven't been sloppy. I keep looking back at my work day, trying to figure out what I'm doing wrong, what I missed, which transaction I might have screwed up on. It just doesn't make any sense because I'm good at my job. I know I am; my supervisors tell me I am. I have complete confidence in my abilities to rock this job all the way.

People who are bad at balancing mess up on change. I'm not bad at balancing; I haven't ever been off by three cents, seven cents, twenty-five cents. Monday and Friday both I was off by one hundred dollars even. How the hell does that happen? Counting hundred dollar bills is not hard. Counting fifties is not hard. If it was any other denomination it wouldn't be exactly a hundred both times. It just doesn't make sense.

So, I have this great new job that I love, that I'm doing really well at; I've already been sent to a training that cost my employer $300. I've already started learning new accounts and feel like I'm picking it up really quickly. But on Monday, I'm going to have to ask my supervisor if I should start looking for a new job.

I just wish that I could tell if I was making some kind of mistake, so I could fix it. I can't figure out what's going on. I don't know how to fix it. I just don't know what to do.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Next Step!

Every thing in life is changing and morphing into something new that I don't even recognize. I guess that's just the stage of life that Craig and I are in right now. It started back in January when Craig decided it was time to quit his job. Then he started going to college, I got laid off from my job, and I now have a new job.

At first, when I was looking at jobs, I really wanted to get a position in Salem, so we could move and be closer to our parents and siblings. But I am so glad that it didn't happen that way. Learning a new job is stressful enough. And I know I would be miserable right now if I was driving to Salem every day and looking for a new apartment also. I prayed really hard that I would get the job I was supposed to get, not necessarily the one I wanted to get, because I know from experience that sometimes what I want is not always what is actually best.

I really feel like I did get the job I was supposed to get, that this is the next right step on a path of faith and trust that my husband and I have been traveling on.

There are definitely things that will take getting used to with my new job. It's been about four years since I worked in banking, and there's a lot of details to remember and relearn. It's also been that long since I worked a full eight hours a day. And last year, I only worked four and a half hours a day, so my days feel pretty long, and my evenings at home feel really short. Oh well. I'll get used to it.

Honestly, one of the best things about getting this job was that I went shopping and bought myself a new set of clothes for work, so I actually get to feel cute every day! Yeah for new clothes!

I'm tired this week, but I'm happy and just feel so blessed that I have a job, I have benefits coming, I'll be able to accrue paid time off, and I have a position that will challenge me to grow and learn. What more can I ask?

Friday, July 29, 2011

Why Do I Get So Crazy?

Right now, my brain feels like mush. I've been so emotional this last week, so up and down, excited and depressed and anxious and happy. All of the sudden, I started getting calls left and right for job interviews. It had been a month since my last interview, so this was really exciting. But then, at the same time, I realized it felt really scary.

I knew I was coming upon yet another time of transition, but now it's so much closer. With multiple job interviews within just two weeks of each other, the chances that I get offered a job are increasing significantly. When I get offered a job, then we'll decide whether we're moving to Salem or staying in Albany. When I get offered a job, then I'll know whether I'm working part-time or full-time, whether we'll have health insurance or be uninsured, whether Craig will still need to work as much as possible to pay bills or whether he can concentrate more on school.

And I'm just not good at waiting to see what will be. I get myself so wound up, so excited and anxious at the same time. I keep finding myself changing my mind about what I want or what we need or what will work best for us right now. Because really, I just don't know. And I do keep praying and reminding myself to trust that whatever position I'm supposed to have is the one I will get. But that trust fades so fast! And then I have to remind myself again that I'm not controlling any of this, that I can't predict the result in any way, and that there's no point in getting myself all tied up in knots worrying about it.

But alas, I am tied up in knots. My brain doesn't want me to do anything but wait for the phone to ring so someone can offer me a job. I try to focus on getting things done, being active, planning my day, but I can't focus for long enough to get much done. So mostly I'm just sitting and waiting and worrying and hoping.

I feel like I have no energy because I'm letting myself be so stressed, letting myself worry. I keep crying over things I don't usually cry about; I keep getting stomach aches and indigestion no matter what I eat.

Why do I let myself get so crazy over things like this? Why does it have to involve so much emotional turmoil? Will I ever learn the art of letting life be as it is without wishing I could control every second of it?

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Forever seeking, forever questioning, forever discovering

I have found myself, over the last few years, asking a lot of questions about everything. I need the questions to know that I am living my own life, thinking my own thoughts, finding the path that is meant for me and me alone. But some of the questions have been harder than others. I find myself questioning my religion, my faith, the things I've been taught about God my entire life. And those questions can be scary. They can sometimes even feel wrong. But I believe firmly that questions which are truly openly seeking truth can never be wrong.

I have found myself torn between my faith and my practicality. I'm an imaginative and creative person, yet I am also very pragmatic, realistic, often driven by logic. So on the one hand I believe in unicorns and multiple universes within multiple dimensions of space and time. But on the other hand, I can't find it within myself to place the full weight of my faith into a religion based on the belief that a book written thousands of years ago, by many different authors, compiled into its current form by a committee of powerful men, is in every way factual and true.

I realize that Christianity includes a huge spectrum of beliefs, but my view of the religion has been primarily informed by the churches I grew up in, the beliefs of my family, and the other Christians I have found myself surrounded with. And even though Christianity can be so broad, so varied, so diverse, I find that each individual group tends to look at the others with distaste and scorn, often believing that their own version of Christianity has captured the truth of the matter more completely and accurately than any of the other versions available. And so you find Christians preaching at other Christians and trying to convert people to the real form of Christianity and warning others who believe in God and Christ that they may still be in danger of hell because of their errant beliefs.

So as I find myself questioning- not the existence of divinity, not the essence of faith, but rather the details of the religion I grew up with- I also find myself pushing back against the voices of those who have formed my religion, telling me it's dangerous to ask questions, telling me that those other churches are mistaken, telling me that I'm straying too far and am in danger of losing my way. I hear those voices, but I can't bring myself to believe them because in them I hear so much fear and sometimes ignorance. For I know, in the depths of my heart, that a faith that can't be questioned is no faith at all.

In the midst of this journey of faith, I sometimes find myself looking up at a cross hanging before me in a church sanctuary and ask myself what it means to me, ask God to guide my discovery, for I don't ever want to search on my own. I gaze up at this cross and can no longer say that I believe, for certain, that a man named Jesus, who was also God, died on a cross and rose again for the salvation of my sins. There is no way to know for certain that this happened, and I cannot insult my own intelligence by forcing myself to believe that. But I also cannot look at that cross and tell myself that it means nothing. And so I ask God- whatever, wherever, whomever God may be- to guide my search, to direct my heart, to give me peace about where I end up.

Sometimes I hear an answer, just a whisper inside my soul, that reminds me that anything is possible, and this is the essence of God. This voice reminds me that truth is not the same as facts. I come away from gazing at the cross with this feeling that the message of the cross can be true, can be the definition of God and of love, whether any of the words of the Bible are factually accurate or not. I come away with the realization that the definition of Christ- salvation, redemption, sacrificial love- is an accurate description of something that is out there in the universe, calling to us to share in the beauty and truth of this love, whether it was ever with us in the form of man or not. It's still there somewhere, somehow, in some form or other, for us to reach out to, become a part of, for us to find our true life within it and through it.

This is where my questions have led me so far. But for me, the beauty of asking questions, of seeking truth, is knowing that it doesn't stop here. I know that the questions will always lead me into new territory, into new understanding, into new leaps of faith. I know that the questions will never find an end, that the answers will never find an end, that there is no bounds for truth. And this is beautiful and exciting to me.

Friday, June 24, 2011

It's Normal, Right?

Skinny Kate
I guess right now I just feel like I’m failing at everything. One of the things that I feel is my biggest failure is my weight. I have been continuously gaining weight for the last five years. Yes, I started out really small, so I’m not morbidly obese, yet. But because I keep gaining weight, I keep needing new clothes that actually fit. Except that every time I go out to buy new clothes, I feel intensely guilty for wanting new clothes and for being too materialistic and caring about how I look. And that’s all a load of crap. I shouldn’t have to feel like that because I’m not materialistic; I simply want to wear clothes that fit me.

But I do feel like that, so I only let myself try on clothes that are used or on the clearance rack or at least less than ten dollars, because anything more than that would be a frivolous waste of my money. Except that because I don’t have a job, then it’s not my money; it’s my husband’s money. And he hates that I keep buying new clothes, so I try to tell him that I can’t help it because I keep gaining weight. He doesn’t say it, but he must be thinking, “So stop gaining weight!”

Sometimes I figure if I don’t buy myself new clothes that fit, then it will be a bigger motivation to lose weight so I can fit into my clothes again. But that just makes me feel ugly, which makes me depressed, which makes it very hard to eat healthy amounts of food. So that doesn’t work.

Not so skinny Kate
Then I tell myself that it will be much easier to have a healthy body if I work on convincing myself to love my body just the way it is because then I would be less stressed, and less stress makes weight loss much easier. So at that point, I go ahead and buy clothes that are a little bigger and actually fit so that I can feel comfortable and attractive. The problem with that plan is that even if I love my body, it doesn’t do anything to stop the weight gain. So I still gain weight and my clothes still get too small and I still have to go shopping again to buy new clothes.

This week, I decided that I do need to actively try to lose weight or to at least stop the weight gain. Since I don’t have a job right now, I should have plenty of time to exercise and think about what I’m eating. So the last couple of days, I got quite a bit of good exercise, and I’ve been trying to eat smaller portions and less carbs. Great… except that anytime that I eat less food or less carbs, my body freaks out. More specifically my hormones and chemistry freak out.

So all day today, I have been depressed and crying, sitting on my ass not wanting to do anything because I am depressed because I exercised and ate healthier than usual for two days. And when I’m depressed I majorly crave carbs covered with melted cheese. And I know, without a doubt, that I could instantly become un-depressed if I simply went down to a taco place and got a few items filled with white flour and cheese and saucy stuff. That would fix the problem, guaranteed.

But then, also guaranteed, I would feel like a disgusting slob for eating that crap when I am supposed to be working on losing weight. I would feel intensely guilty for eating to try to get rid of my depression which was caused by trying to diet so that I could lose weight so that I wouldn’t have to keep feeling guilty about buying new clothes every time I go up a size.


So today I feel like there’s no way for me to win. I’m not making any money right now; I feel fat and unattractive; I can’t find any clothes that fit that are used or really cheap; I’ve been crying off and on all day; and I really just want to stuff my face to make it all go away. But I can’t because then I would have to hate myself.

Has anyone else had a day like this before? It’s normal, right?

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Working on Patience


I’m working on patience this week—in a major way. I’m ready to know what I’m doing next with work, start deciding where I’m going to live, start living life in a more predictable, planned out way. Because that’s how I like life—planned out ahead of time, no surprises, everything under control.

Last Friday I had an interview for a job I really want, and now I’m working on patience. All weekend I told myself, “I’ll bet they’ll call me on Monday.” No call Monday. So then I waited on Tuesday. No call Tuesday. So then I waited on Wednesday. Guess what? No. Call. Wednesday. Imagine that!

But I have to stop waiting for their call because it’s driving me bonkers. I want to put everything else on hold until I find out if I got this job or not. I just need to start pretending like they’re never going to call me, so I can relax a little each day instead of checking my phone every half hour to make sure I didn’t somehow miss the call.

And part of pretending like they’re not going to call me is actually finishing the process for collecting unemployment and searching for more positions to apply for. Part of accepting that they’re not going to call until they’re darn well ready is realizing that I may not be moving to Salem anytime soon, and that I may even get recalled to the school district in the meantime. Part of practicing patience this week is just starting to let life be whatever it is going to be right now without having to control every moment of every day. Sometimes life is just going to do what it wants to do, and I just have to hang on for the ride.

Part of being realistic about how my life is going right now is realizing that I might get a call any day now letting me know that they are not hiring me, and that I still have to look for a job.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

In Moments Like These...

Nothing Comes Out

I have these moments
When I feel my words pushing,
Digging at my skin,
Begging to come out,
So I can know,
So I can feel,
So I can see a little more
Of what is real.

I feel these words
Just underneath my skin,
But all too often
They won’t flow out,
They simply won’t begin.

Maybe it’s kind of like
These words are in a language
I haven’t learned yet,
So I feel them,
I know they are there,
But I can’t reach them,
I can’t release them,
I can’t let them
Fall onto the paper
Lying in front of me,
Pen at the ready.

Nothing comes out;
They just crawl through
My muscles and bones
Waiting, pushing, wanting.

In these moments,
Words all stopped up,
When my heart is aching to be heard,
I have to find another way
To hear, to see, to understand.

Can I be still enough
To hear anything
Beyond my own meager words?

Can I be present enough
To hear what’s already
Being spoken all around me,
The poetry, the dance, the music
In all that I see?

Can I let it all speak to me,
Let go of my need
To find my own words,
Set aside my paper and pen
To let all that is outside
Become part of my inside,
Learn a new language
So I can hear,
So I can see,
So I can understand
These words that are pushing,
Begging to come out?

Can I find it in myself
To partake fully of these moments,
To transform the truth
That lives around me
Into the witness
That flows out through me
So I can know,
So I can feel,
So I can see a little more
Of what is real?