Pine Trees ~ 18 months later

About 18 month ago I posted a blog entry called Pine Trees. This is a follow-up entry that's been rolling around in my head for awhile. In the original post I talked about my sorrow at cutting out our diseased trees. I knew it had to be done, but I really didn't want to because somehow even in their diseased state they were still a comfort to me.

This metaphor spoke powerful words to my soul at the time, for I had come to a place where I was ready (and able) to deal with several painful memories (25 year old ones!!) that when remembered brought back the same emotional reaction and sorrow as when the memory was first made.

As I reflect back on those memories, today their sting is all but gone. I can remember without the painful emotions and it feels good. Some of these memories were about misunderstood grief. Some were about great loss, disappointment, and failure.

I've come to realize that forgiveness is such a big part of dealing with painful memories and beginning to "have life more abundantly" and "to have it to the full" (John 10:10b). I struggled with the concept of forgiveness for many years (and still do at times) because it never made sense to me. If I forgave the person, then somehow it felt like I was saying everything was "okay" and that the offense was no longer wrong.

Some years back I heard a teaching that began my trek toward genuine forgiveness. The gentleman spoke on the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation. This was a revolutionary concept for me. For in my mind they were one and the same thing ~ intermingled and intertwined. The cloudy murky concept slowing (!!) began to change.

Forgiveness is a singular activity. It is something I do within me, and I don't need the other person to participate in the process for me to forgive. Reconciliation is a bilateral process, requiring the participation of both parties. For there to be genuine reconciliation, I need to forgive and the other person needs to show godly sorrow over what he or she has done...reconciliation is optional and depends on the attitude of the offender. (p. 46 - Real Solutions for Forgiving the Unforgivable - David Stoop)

I began to grasp the idea that releasing others from their debt (forgiving their debt) actually released me from my own death grip (which incidentally I didn't realize I was bound until I was free). I was able to genuinely say, "God I forgive xx for the debt they owe me. They no longer owe me anything. I release them from whatever debt I hoped they would pay."

"To 'for-give' is, in the English language, an extended, expanded, strengthened form of the verb to give. By intensifying the verb we speak of giving at its deepest level, of self-giving, of giving forth and giving up deeply held parts of the self." We give up the right to revenge, to perfection, to justice, and instead we give forth to ourselves - or to the other person - freedom from the past and an openness toward the future. Forgiveness is a gift we give ourselves and others. (p. 19 - David Stoop)

Yes, it was a gift I gave myself. In letting go and "cutting out the diseased trees" this area is now open and free. I'm now ready to receive the planting of something new and something healthy.

* * *

By the way, this spring my husband and I planted an Oklahoma redbud in place of one of our pine trees. Our new redbud looks healthy and strong and even survived those fierce winds we had several week ago. The tree bent over almost to a 90 degree angle, but it straightened right up when the winds subsided. It was a beautiful thing to see.

Equality and Equal Standing

Here is my first installment on church memories, which influenced me for good and calling me to live out Jesus’ commands.

During the Christmas Eve service back in December I noticed that all the acolytes were female. Tears welled up as I remembered the times I, too, served as an acolyte back in the 1970s. My oldest sister was the first female acolyte at my church. I followed in her footsteps several years later along with my middle sister. (For those unfamiliar with the liturgical worship service, acolytes assist the priest as they prepare the sacraments for Holy Communion. Acolytes also light the sanctuary candles, carry the financial offerings from the people to the priest, and present the crucifix during the processional.)

Anyway, as I watched those young ladies during the Christmas Eve service I was gratified to see females continuing to perform this service at the Lord's Table. I am grateful to have been raised in a church that allowed women to serve right beside men. From a relatively young age I saw the verse written by Paul, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” lived out in practice. Galations 3:26-29

I married a man with courage and insight to question cultural teachings passed down through the generations regarding out-of-balance gender roles. I’m grateful for this. His intellect and adept logic keep me on my toes, yet he listens to me and learns from me as I do from him…equality and equal standing.

My mother and father also influenced my thinking regarding gender equality (probably more than they realize) though they would not describe themselves as feminists. Dad and I often discussed politics, economics, and religion. He encouraged me to pursue a career of my choice and erected no barriers based on my gender.

My mom taught me that Jesus was the first women’s liberator. Her comment now makes sense in retrospect as this was in the 70s during the modern feminist movement. Jesus’ respect of women was radical during the first century. He loved his women followers just as he did his male followers. He welcomed women into his midst, called them to follow him, touched them, conversed with them, healed them, ate with them, visited their homes, and received gifts from them. He also trusted a woman to be a reliable witness of his resurrection during a time when women were considered unreliable witnesses and easily deceived.

Doesn’t it seem that Jesus restored women’s dignity? He telegraphed a value statement, i.e. communicated value to them by his actions. He invited them to be at “his table” by eating with them, speaking to them, listening to them.

Respecting the value of both men and women and abolishing barriers that prevent each from fulfilling their life's mission seems a worthy cause and a foundational principle worth choosing.

Community Reinvestment and Church Memories

I’ve decided on a theme that I hope will inspire me to write short postings on a more frequent basis. I’m hoping to write about memories of my church experience which influenced me for good. The idea was born out of a very angry moment today which at first glance seems totally unrelated.

I don’t intend to write about political issues on this blog, but this one really bothers me and I need to get it off my chest.

I read a blog entry on Bruce Prescott’s blog, Mainstream Baptist, regarding a proposal by Bush Administration appointees to essentially gut the CRA (Community Reinvestment Act). The CRA is a 1977 federal law that prohibits banks from discriminating against low- and moderate-income neighborhoods. This law was enacted because banks through their own bank policy “red-lined” minority areas and offered them neither credit nor banking services. With the original CRA requirements, banks with $250 million of assets had to provide services to all communities in which they were chartered. With the proposed change 90% of banks will no longer fall under CRA. I don't trust this generation of business people to voluntarily offer just and equitable lending and banking services on their own anymore than we as a country trusted business 25 years ago.

As a country I don't believe we have squarely faced our spotted history of racism, abuse, and discriminatory attitudes. Yes, we acknowledge them, but usually with a “that happened a long time ago and it’s in the past.” My belief is that people are ultimately driven by wealth, power, and reputation. Unless curbed these instincts divide instead of build up. They separate the “haves” from the “have nots” which eventually results in the consolidation of wealth and power. These misperceptions of superiority breed oppressive and abusive behaviors. I guess I’m a progressive at heart because I believe in good government. I believe that government can bring about good laws and regulations that curb (keep in check) the excessive instincts of humans and serve the common good.

I believe the church has a responsibility here also. Although I’m not currently an active member of a church congregation (more on that later – I hope), I still believe in the church’s ability to bring about good on this earth. I believe in the church’s unique place to provide an environment that encourages and challenges people to live the ideals spoken by Jesus in his Sermon on the Mount. He called people to live differently and to make decision differently. The differently is living “self-sacrificing” lives. I don’t think this means to hate oneself. Quite the contrary, to deny selfish instincts and selfish behaviors; to practice vigorous honesty which means to acknowledge (confess with no excuses) and repent of (turn from) self-centered living. I believe Jesus knew self-centered living eventually destroys the soul. These behaviors not only destroy the individual, but can poison and destroy those around the individual.

Okay enough ranting….Onto my new theme. I was close to tears and angry when I read the blog entry, but in keeping with my overarching theme of “Small Glimpses of Goodness” I decided to write on memories growing up in the church. I’m hoping to mine those memories from my church experience that have influenced me for good and have called me to live out Jesus’ commands.

Advent

Today I read a new blog, Velveteen Rabbi, recommended by RLP. Velveteen Rabbi recently wrote a post prompted by her experience at an Advent service with a friend. She ponders questions about taking pleasure in the rituals of other faiths. A wonderfully thought provoking post.

I loved her description of the Advent candle lighting ritual.

Peter and his congregation lit the first candle in the enormous evergreen wreath that hangs from the vaulted ceiling of their church. Next week, two candles. Then three. Then four. And on Christmas Eve near midnight, they'll light the central candle, the final light, from which flame will be brought down to light the small tapers of everyone in the room.

Leaving aside for the moment the matter of Jesus, who is naturally a problematic figure for most Jews, I love this Advent ritual. It speaks to me. November has been a dark and in many ways difficult month; in my own personal world I feel the need for light, and when I steel myself to listen to the news it's clear the larger world needs some light too. This lighting of candles to celebrate the gradual revelation of spirit is a metaphor made manifest. Last year I was at Peter's church on Christmas Eve, and the experience of watching the light come down from the rafters and fill the room, tiny flame by tiny flame, was powerful. (Velvateen Rabbi)

Oh, how it brings back such sweet memories of Advent past. As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in the Episcopal Church. My church was a relatively small parish of about 100 people. I loved the little church and have many fond memories of the people and community we shared.

Our church sanctuary was beautiful: a large stone altar in the center and a lectern and pulpit to either side. Above the altar hung a large austere silver cross. It descended down from a naturally lit vaulted ceiling.

Anyway, the advent season…the candle lighting service…purple, pink, white…such sweetness…such reverence. I’m transported back to those times I participated in this wonderful ritual. I’m grateful for Velveteen’s beautiful description. Precious, simple, yet profound.

Come Into My Keep

I wrote this last fall while attending a class at a friend's church. Through the class I experienced a connection of sorts with God's Agape Love and through this some long locked away memories seemed to lose their painful hold on me.

The word "keep" is a theme of the poem. Initially, the word "keep" sounded weird because I never use the noun form of this word, but recently I learned from a friend that the definition of the noun form is "the stronghold of a castle". It changed the whole picture of the poem for me.

~*~*~ Come Into My Keep ~*~*~

No need of yours is too great for Me;
No need of yours too deep.
Come always and forever into My Keep
for I will attend you there.

No fear of yours is too strong for Me.
No fear of yours will turn Me away.
Come always and forever into My Keep
for I will attend you there.

Bring Me the burden you carry
for it is not too heavy for Me.
Nothing will scare Me.
Nothing will frighten Me.
Nothing is too awful for Me.
Just come always and forever into My Keep
for I will attend you there.

Let Me hold you.
Let Me kiss you.
Let Me comfort and dwell with you.

No struggle is too complex for Me,
No struggle too matted or mangled.
I am the God who saves.
I am the God who rescues.
I am the God who redeems from the pit.

Call out to Me; you will find Me
for I am a God who finds.

Forever and always come into My Keep
for you will find Me here.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~~*~*~~*~*~

Tickled

Today is my birthday. B and I went to our favorite place for our favorite drink. (Yes, it's Starbucks). Anyway, as we enjoyed our morning coffee I watched several birds out the window. Two in particular walked across the patio on an apparent mission. I've never paid much attention to birds walking. Their feet are completely unfurled when they walk, several appendages (?) pointing forward and one pointing backward. They seem remarkably stable. At one point one bird broke into a run and then just like that he was standing atop some monkey grass. The blades didn't even move. For some reason this scene just tickled me.

Some Hard Questions

Today was a rough day. I was in meetings from 8:30 - 11:00, then again from 3:00-4:30. Have a big deadline Wednesday, so I worked until 9:30pm tonight. A 12 hour day. Whew! When I work long days like this I become fearful that I will return to my "workaholic" days. During the worst times, my motives for working long hours were less about deadlines and more about attempting to "redeem" myself and seeking my boss' approval. One receives lots of kudos when they produce lots of work. For me the kudos were a way of "medicating the inner pain". It worked for awhile, but eventually my work owned me and it became a living hell.

I don't think tonight was about either of these, but I'm not entirely sure. Schedules are tight and there is a lot of work to do. The team is feeling the pressure, so everyone is a bit testy. Unfortunately, when time is short, resources are short, and money is tight then "placing blame" for any miscommunication is just around the corner. This is especially true when people are discouraged which is the case for this project. I'm finding myself both tempted and actually succumbing to the blame temptation. Perhaps I feel a little guilty for not providing enough direction to the team. I don't know.

I guess I need to ask myself some hard questions. The purpose is not to condemn but to clarify so I can get back on the road to working hard for the right reasons, recognizing and valuing my limitations, and humbly bowing out of the role of savior.

June in my Town

I just got back from a walk with my dogs. Today is simply beautiful and a welcome respite from the stress in my life at the moment. Normal June temperatures are in the high 80s, but today it is 70º.

This was one of those walks where all my senses were fully engaged. Traffic was unusually light, so I heard birds chirping and singing. It rained quite a bit in the last 24 hours, so everything is shining with a wonderful brightness. As I walked by some juniper bushes their fragrance just flooded my nose. Even the slight breeze was refreshing.

Anyway, it was an oasis of calm and beauty.

Vulnerability in Writing

When I first shared my blog with some friends, I sent the link with these introductory words, “For me writing feels like holding an egg. I want to share my thoughts, but I feel so vulnerable. It doesn’t take much pressure to break the egg and the life that goes with it. It then takes a lot of courage to be willing to hold another egg.“ They encouraged me to write an entry about this. So here goes.

When I offer words for others to read, I want to offer a glimpse into my soul. But in doing so, I risk rejection which is my greatest fear. A negative response unknowingly becomes a flaming arrow that ignites smoldering fears. Did I say too much? Am I being too honest and open? Do my dark and messy places cause discomfort in people for I know they bring me shame?

Over the years I have watched the agonizing process of several dear ones as they worked to complete their master’s theses and PhD dissertations. So much fear lurks below the surface. “Is this good enough? Is it researched enough? Do my words say what I need them to say?"

Several weeks before Christmas, I walked to the Great Reading Room on campus which is part of the original library. This room is truly magnificent in every dimension. The walls are lined with beautiful bookcases where theses and dissertations stand. It was with sweetness that I walked around the room and read the acknowledgements. These bound books represent a finished work and the pages reflect a portion of their lives. Each time they opened their writing to another's eyes, they offered the fragile egg and the life within.

I truly admire the humility and strength of these to journey forward in spite of sometimes life crushing criticism. Every time they share a chapter with their advisors, they hope for encouragement and a tiny breath of life to fan their flame. Sometimes their flames glowed so dimly that criticism without encouragement left only a tiny glow.

I think back on periods in my life when my "flame" was but a tiny, tiny ember. I am so very grateful for those people who believed in me and sent encouragement my way.

A bruised reed he will not break and
A smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
(Isaiah 42:3)

Neat Blog Entry

Just a quick note. I occasionally read the blog, Correction, which was recommended by Real Live Preacher on one of his blog entries. Anyway one recent entry recounts a meeting between these two bloggers. It's worth the read. Here's the link.
My Dinner with Real Live Preacher