Category Archives: Grace

Lent Day 9: Insomnia and Catharsis

Posted on 1 March 2012 | 2 comments

I haven’t had insomnia this badly since I was in college. For this week, I am averaging about three good hours of sleep. At least, unlike college, I am not so jittery I can’t stay horizontal, so I am rested, but not well-rested.Our hotel situation worked out strangely, in that many of the AWP Conference goers received king-size beds instead of two double beds for groups of three adult-size people. I refuse to sleep in a king-size bed with two friends, no matter how close they are, so I volunteered to sleep on the floor. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor, but it isn’t as conducive to good sleep as I would like.

Tonight’s keynote address is with Margaret Atwood, the author of one of my favorite books, Oryx and Crake, and another book I have found becoming frighteningly realistic, The Handmaid’s Tale. After her address, several of us are going to go out for a bit. My plan is to exhaust myself and have a couple of nice hard ciders, so that I will be sure to get some sleep tonight. I also plan to run in the morning. I haven’t been exercising much the past couple of weeks, and I think the extra energy I’m not spending may be contributing to my insomnia. We’ll see.

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Chicago is a spiritual meditation. Chicago is cathartic.

Stop Here to Get Chocolate-Covered Gummi Bears

Don't Forget to Exit I-90 Before This Toll Booth

Expect a Beautiful View of the Lake

Bring Plenty of Supplies

Eat at Lou Malnati's on State Street

Eat at Trendy Cafes

Consume the All American Breakfast of Sausage, Eggs, and Hash Browns

Wash It Down With My First Greek Coffee

Don't Swirl Well Enough

Watch A Worker-Artist Clean A Goddess

Watch Him Work Some More

Make Black & White Photos During a Session in a Ballroom

Revel in Beauty Whenever & Wherever She Shows Her Face

Hope and pray and wish and dream that I can sleep tonight.

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Posted in Art, Beer, Christianity, Cider, Coffee, CW, Food, Goals, Grace, Lent, Mental Health, Paleo/Primal, Religion, Running, Spirituality, Writing

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Lent Day 8: Remember Your Baptism and Be Grateful

Posted on 29 February 2012 | 1 comment

Each day, I try to read at least a chapter from each of several books in which I am immersing myself at the moment. One of the books I am reading right now is Reluctant Pilgrim by Enuma Okoro. Okoro’s voice reminds me a bit of the writerly voice I strive for: honest, quirky, humorous, serious when necessary, and compassionately smart. She achieves this voice in a way that I hope one day I will. In tonight’s reading, her thoughts about baptism reminded me of my own:

It is fascinating to me as a writer that the portal into the life of God is through water and word. Somehow the Holy Ghost shacks up in our souls with a verbal lease-to-buy agreement (depending on your tradition), and we are sealed to God for eternal life. I’m not going to pretend I get all that. But I do find the thought of it absolutely beautiful. Whenever I hear the words “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever” during a baptismal service at church, I clutch my heart and gush as though I’ve just seen a baby panda rescued by a fleet of tiny forest nymph-like fairy angels.

I was baptized when I was somewhere around five years old after “accepting Jesus into my heart” at the ripe old age of four. I had no idea what I was getting into (had I known the many twists and turns my spiritual journey would take, I might have run away) when I asked my mom to pray with me in the living room of our small ranch home. She was sitting in the brown recliner, watching television, and I had been reading my Bible in my room. I remember walking out and asking her about being “saved.” She invited me to climb up into the chair with her, and I think I remember sitting on the foot rest portion of the recliner while she sat in the seat. I think I remember her praying a prayer of forgiveness and confession, and I think I remember praying it, line by line, after her. I know I remember feeling holy when we had finished, like I had done something life altering and important. I remember.

After getting saved, everyone knows the way to seal or bind that salvation is through baptism, so I was the youngest person in the membership class at Hartford City First Church of the Nazarene (we quickly migrated to Methodism). I learned the quick and dirty version of what it meant to be a Christian, and shortly after the class, all of us who had taken it were baptized.

I wore a little white sundress that might have had blue trim and possibly had some fabric applique fruits on the front. The sun shined warm on my summer-tan skin. The slight breeze kept blowing my skirt, as I walked barefooted in the sand on the beach at Taylor Lake. The water was thick and brown with algae covering the surface in spots. The beach was clear as the brightness shimmered off the calm surface. I felt so important. I was making a public profession of my faith in Jesus. I had somehow missed the part about dying to attain life; I just knew I loved Jesus and wanted everyone else to know it, too.

Having waded out until the water was about chest deep, I remember feeling calm, at home, peaceful. The pastor pinched my nose and covered my mouth with his palm. He spoke, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” Dunk. “Amen.” I went under the surface, I was lifted back up, and I was a new little girl. I had been born, died, and resurrected in Christ. I was a new creation. The old was gone, and the new had come.

This moment is one of the many reasons why I love swimming and being near water, why it is my lifeblood. Each time I swim, I can remember my baptism and be grateful. Each time I look out the window to see the river across the street, I can remember my baptism and be grateful. When I think about the spiritual formula presented by Okoro, I realize why words are so important in my life as well: water and words are the portal into life with God. Through those two elements, I remember my baptism. Each time I remember my baptism, I renew my faith, and it is absolutely beautiful.

Peace.

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Posted in Baptism, Children, Christianity, Grace, Lent, Religion, Spirituality, Swimming

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Lent Day 7: A Day of Busy

Posted on 29 February 2012 | 2 comments

Today I was busy from 5AM until, well, right now. I had so much to do before I leave for Chicago in the morning, I wasn’t sure I would get it all finished. And, actually, I didn’t quite. I still have to get up early and go make copies of things for the substitute. I also need to finish filling out my student teachers’ evaluations, which will be easy because they are amazing this time around.

Spiritually, I am not sure there is anything I can think of to write about. I prayed, I read, I loved, I ate, I celebrated life. Simple things I do each day. I did get a little crazy and eat ice cream for dinner.

It was a toss up between this and Chunky Monkey.

This is why my serious thought about Lent or spirituality actually came this morning, during the morning prayer in the words of Jean Vanier, founder of the L’Arche communities, which are featured in some of Henri Nouwen‘s works:

Almost everyone finds their early days in a community ideal. It all seems perfect. They feel they are surrounded by saints, heroes, or at the least, most exceptional -people who are everything they want to be themselves. And then comes the let-down. The greater their idealization of the community at the start, the greater the disenchantment. If -people manage to get through this second period, they come to a third phase — that of realism and of true commitment. They no longer see other members of the community as saints or devils, but as -people — each with a mixture of good and bad, darkness and light, each growing and each with their own hope. The community is neither heaven nor hell, but planted firmly on earth, and they are ready to walk in it, and with it. They accept the community and the other members as they are; they are confident that together they can grow towards something more beautiful.

More than any other quote I’ve encountered, this one exemplifies my relationship with Burris Laboratory School. I am (finally) in the stage where I think I can recognize that my colleagues aren’t “saints or devils,” but I can see them as people who walk the earth much in the same way I do. I know Vanier’s thoughts were written/uttered about spiritual communities, but in many ways I need to see my workplace as a spiritual place, not in the creepy “I want God back in schools” kind of way, but in the way Matt talked about on Sunday. I have been placed by God at Burris and I need to put my whole heart into my work, which for me means I need to see the spiritual relevance of the place. And what is more spiritual than shaping and forming the intellectual development and curiosity of our fellow humans? Thinking in this fashion helps hold me much more accountable.

Peace.

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Posted in Christianity, Grace, Lent, Relationships, Religion, School, Spirituality, Teaching, Work

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Lent Day 6: Joy and Confession

Posted on 27 February 2012 | 3 comments

I am sure you are thinking, What a strange juxtaposition for a title! Joy and confession? How do those two go together? I am not entirely sure theydogo together completely, but I can tell you that I am beginning to experience pure joy again. I find myself laughing with reckless abandon more, and I find myself getting incredibly grumpy and sad less. And it hasn’t simply been the past six days while praying three times a day, following the liturgical hours; this joy has been slowly growing—like the bright green moss on the hillside by the river—since the new year started. I posted the other day, maybe yesterday, how I feel like I am finally taking control over my moods, rather than them controlling me, but just today, I felt complete joy. I actually threw my head back and laughed my big belly laugh. And I wasn’t embarrassed by it. Which, in turn, gave me more joy. I am no longer the shadow person I have been.

Part of my joy comes from observing Lent and knowing that in a few short weeks, we’ll be celebrating the resurrection of Jesus. But another good portion of my joy comes from suggestions picked up from Pema Chodron’s The Wisdom of No Escape and the Path of Lovingkindness. InWisdom, Chodron advocates making friends with those parts of us that cause us anger, aggression, or aversion, because those attributes that irritate us about others are the same that irritate us about ourselves. Through the act of making friends with those attributes, and no longer trying to rid ourselves of those attributes, we learn to give kindness to others. Our desire to rid ourselves of those qualities results in an aggression toward those qualities when we see them in others. We become unkind to both others and ourselves. Because Chodron teaches how to be kind, I feel like I can begin to honestly look at myself and decipher what it is that I don’t like about myself, recognize that those features are simply part of who I am, make peace with that, and eventually stop trying to remove those attributes from myself and from others, thereby gaining a kindness and a sense of peace in regards to myself and others.

(Side note: My next spiritual read is Thich Nhat Hahn’s Living Buddha, Living Christ.)

How can Inotexperience joy when I have made friends with my whole self, with all of my attributes?

This is where confession comes in. First, I must closely self-examine to figure out what those attributes are that I don’t like about myself. Once I decipher that, I must confess those qualities to myself, to others, to God even. Through this confession, I name my weaknesses or those things which cause me pain. I claim them out loud. I call them what they are. Then I make friends with them, not “comfortable, hey let’s go have some pizza and beers friends,” but I acknowledge that those qualities are a part of who I am, and I sit with them. Get to know them. Make friends, like “sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but I am not trying to kick you out” friends. My weaknesses and I learn to coexist after I confess them. And through our coexistence they eventually cease to be a cause for anger or malice or injury. They just are.

I confess that there are a whole bucket of attributes of my personality of my life that irritate me, that I need to make friends with. And I hope that once I make friends with those facets, they will just sit at the other end of that couch and be quiet. That’s my biggest flaw: I don’t know when to be quiet. Maybe I need to take a silent retreat. Every day. One of the things I appreciate about this Buddhist idea of embracing our own flaws is that I don’t end up with a bucket of shame at what I’ve confessed about myself. I end up, instead, with a changed heart. Too many times, Christians miss this bit and would rather shame someone than encourage their wholeness. That, in and of itself, is a shame.

This whole discussion brings me around to what prompted these thoughts. Part of the evening prayer, which I have been praying for six days without recognizing this part, says, “You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices, O Son of God, O Giver of Life, your glory fills the whole world.” I think this part jumped out at me tonight, because for the first time in a long time, my heart feels light and joyful. I’m going to cling to that joy.

Peace.

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Posted in Buddhism, Christianity, Grace, Lent, Mental Health, New Year, Play, Reading, Relationships, Religion

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Lent Day 5: Work and Lunch

Posted on 26 February 2012 | 1 comment

Today at church, Matt talked about work and the ways in which our attitudes and actions at our jobs reflect our Christian faith. He brought his sermon to a close with four main points:

  1. Your work has eternal implications even if it has no apparent eternal value.
  2. How you perform at work is as important as where you work.
  3. How you perform at work is as important as how you act at work.
  4. Putting your heart into your work allows God to bless your work.

The thread of the sermon that struck me the most was, again, this idea of being placed somewhere to do a work, like Nehemiah, who was working so hard on a great work that he couldn’t come down off the wall. How can I put my whole self into my work? How can I let my work reflect my spirituality in a way that witnesses Christ’s love to my colleagues? I know it isn’t the way I’ve been working, nor the way I’ve acted in the past. I just need to keep reminding myself that I need to remember whose I am before acting or speaking. I am a new creation, so I should act like one.

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After church I went to my parents’ house and spent a few hours with them while we planned our summer vacation. We got everything taken care of, except for the tickets to the Minor League AAA All Star Game. Supposedly they are on sale, but it seems as if we may just have to mail in the order form, which seems odd in this digital age. We tried to call today, but they didn’t have access to the tickets. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll be able to get them ordered when the box office is open.

When I was finished at my parents’ house, I met Merideth’s mom, Alane, at Ivanhoe’s for lunch. I got the half fruit plate and it was HUGE! There is no way anyone could ever eat the whole fruit plate, unless I just can’t put away fruit like other people can. Alane had the grilled cheese which she said was really delicious, but she couldn’t finish hers either.

We had a nice chat.

There is no easy way to move on when someone dies. Dave wasn’t my dad, he certainly wasn’t my husband, but he was my friend, and I miss him. I can only try to imagine the pain, the sadness, the overwhelming grief of his very close friends and family, and all I can say is that sometimes things are hard, they don’t get easier fast, and sometimes they never get easier. Sometimes our losses are so deep and so painful, they just sit there seething, chafing under the surface, and I, personally, have no way of helping someone through that type of pain other than just sitting across the table from them and opening my heart to try to absorb some of it. And even then I feel so inadequate. So fucking cheap and fraudulent. I don’t understand, so I just sit and try to love.

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I’m emotionally spent today, so I don’t have any excellent spiritual insights to give. Instead, I invite you to give yours. What did you learn today? Something I could learn from? What bit of knowledge, what gem, did you receive?

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Posted in Christianity, Family, Food, Goals, Grace, Lent, Relationships, Religion, School, Teaching

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