small comforts

Yesterday's scripture meditation asks the question, "What is it that you fear most?  What fears do you hear expressed by others?"; fitting.  I have the gift of providing a space where people share their fears on a regular basis. 

["Listening is in short supply in the world today;

people are not used to being listening to"-- Eugene Peterson] 

Hour after hour, I walk with people through the twists and turns of their life, identifying and then challenging their fears--hopefully overcoming them.  There are times we are successful and others where we are not.  I carry those fears with me.  I appreciate and respect this dynamic.  It's a one way street.

The things I fear most stay heavily guarded, in a chamber deep within myself.  Twice within the same hour, one of my fears was stirred but with polar emotions attached.

There is comfort in working with your best friend.  When something exciting happens, she is there to share it with. 

And then, when something sad happens, she is there again.

["How can I lead people into the quiet place beside still

waters if I am in perpetual motion"--Eugene Peterson]

A reminder to slow down, practice mindfulness.  Reconnect with myself, those I am closest to, my faith.

"I knew exactly how she felt. When you're different, sometimes you don't see the millions of people who accept you for what you are. All you notice is the one person who doesn't." -- Change of Heart

The idea for a few different posts have been swirling through my head for the last few days.  But, none seemed like enough to write about fully, perhaps this is the thread.  This quote resonated with me.  I used to avoid situations in which my differences shown through (and sometimes still do).  It would be 90 degrees and I would wear pants, because I rationalized that at least then people couldn't see how my knees turned in....

though, I probably drew more attention for wearing pants in that heat...

I am trying to embrace my differences more these days.  Granted, I am by no means happy with my current level of mobility--I have some things coming up later in the summer which are motivating me to do something about it.  I haven't quite gotten around to stretching, (as I was painfully reminded eariler in the day), but I did ride the bike and participate in an hr of Lenten Boot Camp today, both of which are steps in the right direction.

Three times this week I was told, by different people, in different contexts, that I have an old soul. That I see things in a way that others my age do not.  Gift (or a curse) likely caused by my history.  Perhaps, I (we) have done this all before...this could be the reason while there are some people in our lives that it seems like we have known forever...because perhaps we have.  If not in another life, while waiting for this one to begin. 

The crosses we bear

A table set for quiet reflection

Several times during this morning's service, I thought to myself, "I've got to talk about that later..."  And now 12hrs later, the themes are still rolling around in my mind. I will do my best to make sense of them as concisely as possible.

The first came as part of Marjorie's sermon.  It was a children's sermon about crosses and the message was that we should try to see the world through the cross--to see the world and one another as Jesus does--with compassion and love.

The second, and perhaps more striking moment came during bible study. [note:  I grew up Catholic--there was no such thing as bible study, in fact reading the bible was something you did as a punishment.  Sure, there was lots of religious education (I know a lot about what the Church wanted me to know), but never dialogue and room for interpretation--so, this was all new].  We took various translations of Mark 8:31-38 and compared them, identifying what in each interpretation spoke to us.  Basically, what is being asked of us in this passage, is that you have to give it up to God--He is in "the driver's seat"--as one version put it--and goes on to ask what good is it to have everything in life, but lose your soul?  This made me think of my parents.  The conversation I'd had with my mother earlier in the week.  Authenticity. Materialism. 


We all have crosses to bear, and it is in bearing them with strength,and taking that leap of faith, that He truly is in control, we become closer to God.   Mine are different than yours, yet we find ourselves in the same place, just traveled another path.  Admittedly, I have trouble giving up control.  Perhaps this is part of the reason, I do not feel His presence--I am fighting too hard against Him, my faith is too week.

The photograph shows a candle lit in the center of the table, the candle sits on top of a stone (God is our rock), there are broken pieces of pottery representing the ourselves, broken and worn (scraps of burlap), as we make our way to God.

A return to reason

"It's the way he hates you. It's so...familiar" ... "Maybe he just sees me as I really am." -- Mockingjay

I finally finished this book tonight. My head (as previously mentioned) has been a disaster as of late, so reading has been out of the question--though, probably would have been better, safer, for me. When these waves hit me, they are somewhat similar to the episodes Peeta experiences in the final book. Memories that make him pause, asking, "Real or Not Real".

Sometimes I wonder if it be better to just lock myself away until the wave passes, come out for public appearances, but otherwise cut me off from the rest of the world. No phone, no email, nothing. I cause damage in these times. Upset the balance of things, too caught up in what is Not Real. To do this is not realistic, however. I must learn to bring myself back more quickly. To play the game. Find out what is real--before I become hijacked by my emotions.

Real.
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