Not in a position to be angry

A few days ago I drafted the title of this post. I know I had something in mind, something on my heart, something I wanted to share with others. I think it was from a book I have been reading: Do yourself a favor and forgive. I have mentioned that I have been studying forgiveness, and I know my heart has changed greatly and my patience has increased. I no longer condemn others for perceived shortcomings--although I border on chiding them for being so hard on themselves and over-apologizing. :) Yeah, that wasn't me even a decade ago.

I remember getting the oil changed in my first car. My husband was along for the experience, and as my best friend, he was also responsible for serving as my mirror that day. Thankfully, I don't remember the particulars anymore (that's another post for another day), I do however remember my husband telling me as the service agent walked away that I was being unreasonable. I think I was demanding services I thought I was entitled and had not received. I embarrassed and shamed the service agent into providing them at low or no cost. The service point is long out of business. I remember the anger, the rage, the impetuous girl who wasn't getting her way. I remember being told by my mirror that it wasn't an appropriate way to behave. I was selfish.

Slowly, but surely, I began to change. I remember as a child the joy one or the other of my parents felt by getting a buy-one, get one discount--but it wasn't advertised. The clerk had only charged for one of the stacked items--she hadn't noticed there were two in our basket. It happened another time with a laundry basket. I thought, by example, that this was the greatest thing ever. It carried into my early adulthood.

A year or two ago I was shopping at our local discount store with my parents. I found a great bargain and purchased two beautiful Dhurri rag rugs that day (these are not the same rugs in the link, but an example), but ask the clerk told me my total, I was sure it couldn't be right--I had a few other small items, but the rugs were nearly $10 each. My bill was well under $20.00. I stopped and asked the clerk if she had charged me for both rugs as I had rolled them together to make it easier to carry them. She had not, thanked me for noticing and added the second rug to my bill. I gladly paid and left. My parents were somewhat surprised by this. One indicated that I had passed up a deal by correcting the mistake. And yet inside, I knew what I had done. It wasn't the first time I had caught and corrected a mistake like this one since that day at the oil change place, but I had indeed changed. I was happy to catch and correct the error, even though I paid more cash in the end. I was happy to have ensured that things were done the right way in the transaction. Maybe it's because I've been responsible for budgets and accounting. Maybe because I have kept sales inventory during a brief stint as a direct seller that I knew someone would pay for the mistake had I not pointed it out. I would have carried that with me and been reminded of the wrong every time I looked at the rugs in my kitchen.

This has been a long way of talking about forgiveness and anger. I believe that anger comes from unforgiveness. I believe that we are so much more prone to upset, insult and injury when we carry anger with us. I heard on the radio this morning a point that hit home: Forgiveness was not created for those we forgive--it was created by God for us, so that we may let go of anger, frustration and disappointment. It is a process, and it involves forgiving others, our perceived transgressions, and forgiving ourselves for giving safe harbor to anger and resentment.

Finding strength and rejecting depression

It's been a hard week. May has always been a busy month for my husband and me. We celebrated our fifteenth wedding anniversary this month, and took a week's vacation to get away and celebrate. I was ready to return home at the end of our travels, but far from ready to get back in the swing of things, mainly emotionally.

This time last year we were mourning the loss of my father-in-law, yet celebrating his journey to his heavenly rest, and we were still holding on to hope for my mother's peaceful passing from this world as she was home in hospice care for her end stage lung cancer. It wasn't easy then, but I could defer a lot of the pain and sorrow and depression by my activity in caring for her and tempering a searing work situation of my own.

I buckled yesterday to my self pity and sorrow. The fall began in earnest on Sunday, Mother's Day. I cannot say for certain what is wrong with me, only that I need somehow to get through and let go. Did I take a deferral on the sorrow last year? I seriously don't know how to put words to what I feel. Each day I pray for grace and strength to get me through.

And so today, after much prayer throughout the night (thanks be to our dog, scared of a brief, passing storm), I had an encounter during my daily readings. Ps. 143:14 "For he heightens the strength of his people, to the praise of all his faithful, the children of Israel, the people close to him." Yet another lesson in my devotional suggested I need to keep my prayers short, direct, and focused: One will be answered after another. Finally, the radio program I hear between 8:00 and 8:30 on my way to work encouraged me to press on and to leave self pity and depression to the enemy where it belongs. Looking back will only derail my future and weaken my answer to my calling.

So, the question lays unanswered at the moment, "What's the plan?" While I don't have an answer at this time, I will keep focused and pray, Help me, God, to see the way forward, to meet the challenge of your call, and to exceed my earthbound expectations of myself.

The Stone that Was Rejected...

I feel as though I have been a writing machine these last weeks, just not here in my own blogspace. The class in families and aging that I took this spring is drawing to a close--one more page to write to hit the minimum, and after a good night's sleep, I am convinced I'll pass the minimum. I was greeted this morning with a reinforcement of yesterday's Mass readings in the form of Robert Sylvester's blog on the Notre Dame Initiative on Spirituality in the Professions site: http://spirlaw.wordpress.com/2012/04/30/the-stone-rejected/ I have felt that rejection so strongly and so deeply in the past two years. It began with our failed adoption process with our young great-nephews. Our family counselor projected the likelihood of failure based on their history and our--we were coming from two extremes toward one another. In the end, the story that our counselor helped us to write to understand the situation and to mitigate our overwhelming sadness and sense of failure has become the truth. That statement is misleading, in that I believe firmly it was the truth all along, but the world was pressuring me to make it my fault and my failure. I was not the right stone. I was rejected by the builder. For another time, for another situation, I am the cornerstone. From the failed adoption my life moved right into another failure, one that I shared a part but did not call my own. My mother's fading health and mental capacity, coupled with her failure to initiate Medicare Part B coverage in a timely manner from the time of her retirement date created a scenario which left me feeling hopeless, lost and at fault for my mother's illness. I didn't press her enough, I didn't care enough to force her to the doctor, I didn't take her back for her annual checkup. I didn't. She didn't either, and I don't hold blame for her. I don't hold blame for myself either. As a dear friend who has known great loss, and found great joy in its wake has reassured me, "It is what it is." The failings were amplified by my employment experience at the time. I did not fit the unspoken expectations. I was assured I was meeting the bar only later to be told it was a ploy to encourage and summon better performance. I can blame, I can gnash, I can snarl, I can strike back. I can accept: I am the stone rejected by the builder. I will be the cornerstone. I have had colleagues tell me that I had no support, was given no direction, was offered no help. That is not completely true. I had all the support I needed. I had the perfect directions. I was enveloped in help. The source was not my employer. I thank God and the love of Christ for taking my hand through the storm and for seeing me to safety. In all of this, at the very center core I have found forgiveness. I have offered forgiveness to others. I have forgiven. In what I view at the aftermath, one year later, I have found the direction I need and will be sustained in all that I do. I continue to learn. I continue to contribute. I continue to pray. I continue to love. I am the cornerstone.

Renewal through washing

Having just celebrated Easter on Sunday, I was awed by the power in the reminder of my baptism. I had attended Good Friday services, but stayed home with my husband on Saturday and did not attend the Vigil services. The sunshine came through the stained glass windows and covered me with light. As our priest blessed the sanctuary, the scent of incense filled me with hope, and then we renewed our baptismal vows. It is such a blessing to remind ourselves that we are forgiven. That we no longer need to bear the guilt of our transgressions as we are washed clean of our sins.

Did I ever tell you how much I don't care for basketball?

Oh, but I've learned to enjoy it. At the end of March, known for its basketball hoopla and madness, I was invited to attend our goddaughter's trip to the Lutheran Basketball Association of America (LBAA) National Tournament. It was close to home and while I had some competing priorities, everything fell into place so I could spend an afternoon and evening with our extended family of friends from Southern Indiana.

I will admit, I wasn't going for the basketball by any means. I've never really caught the fever, so to speak. I remember a long ago Chicago Bulls run at the NBA Championship. I can't tell you the year, I can only say it was just at the tail of Michael Jordan's era, and now I can't even tell you if they won or lost. It was exciting, and I hadn't watched or kept up with any team sports at that time. By the next season, I think it was delayed by some sort of strike or disagreement, I had lost all interest.

Enter in the day long visit with friends on the nearby Valparaiso University campus. We met for lunch in Merrillville, and parted for a few hours after so they could go back to their hotel and recoup. I realized it had been more than two years since our last visit. Somewhat shameful on our part, but I also recognize how busy each of our families have been in that time, and the personal tragedies we've encountered. The kids are certainly growing up quickly and they make me happy and proud to be their godparents.

I sat with the mom and dad and watched part of a boys' game. They're tall eighth and seventh graders, and they're focused and strong. The girls' teams are really no different. We faced a delay of game and waited to watch our star's team play. Our goddaughter didn't get any court time in the game I watched--the opposing team was aggressive in a questionable way, the referees were making dubious calls against our team, or not making calls against the opposing team, and yet the team was on fire. The energy was not merely on the court, it was on the bench and in the fan section as well.

I've been having a difficult time getting the impact of that energy out of my head. I don't want it to leave, mind you. It has become a vital part of my day. The sweetness of the support for these young women who were on the court after delays which served only to increase their nerves was unbound. And its message has taken hold and carried forth outside the doors. This was such a blessing to my Holy Week observance. I can't count the number of times I chanted, " I! I believe!" in moments of quiet, and in my head. While sports were at hand, I believe the voices were lifted in support of the Creator, in support of all that is good, in support of what it means to have a shared vision, in support of what it means to Believe.

I! I believe! (In Basketball and so much more!)

Weekend in paradise

I was privileged to spend last weekend with my husband, watching him get his baseball 'geek' on as we like to say. It was the 2012 Cubs Convention in Chicago. Nik has grown into a major league fan of baseball, and he prefers to spend leisure time learning more about the sport and its players. For me, baseball is definitely a pasttime, and a way to pass time while being with Nik. I accompanied him for an overnight getaway, and we talked nearly all the way to Chicago and back and much of the time while we were there, except while waiting in autograph lines. We both brought books along and spent time catching up on our leisure reading.

I finished a book called Grace for the Good Girl that was recommended to me by a friend at my local gym. I knew all the symptoms of being a good girl, and what it meant when living my life and interacting with others. The book brought me closer to understanding why I act this way. For those of you not familiar with good girl behaviour, it means that we good girls have some concept of never doing wrong, and never wronging others, often to our own demise. I'm working to let go and give the need to be good over to Christ. It seems simple when I read Emily's (the author) words and reflections and when I myself meditate on the quotes from scripture and other sources she's included. But years, and I mean years of of conditioning have brought me to this day, and the undoing is not as simple as that, it seems. I've spent years touting my ability to change, and on the surface I can readily change and put on the good girl face to show the world how accomplished I've been. Inside, it creates tension and drama as I fight with myself over the face I'm presenting while showing the world that all is 'fine' (another four letter 'f' word that I'd like to remove from my vocabulary). It tortures my soul.

This morning I sat down to begin my day as usual, with a daily reading from the Gospel that is sent to me by subscription email. The passage is familiar: Mark 2:18-22, and reflects on the danger of putting new wine into old wineskins. In order for my change to be complete, I need to purchase new wineskins for my soul that I am fostering into health. Along this journey and change, it will be so important to keep lines of communication open, and to eschew the use of the word 'fine'. if I'm asked, I need to be honest with others and honest with myself. I need to understand that it's OK that my soul is hurting and it's OK for others to know about it. I can invite others to listen and to help rather than being the good, independent girl I turned into over the course of my youth.

Welcome, 2012. I hope you are well.

Turning over a new leaf? Sounds trite and cliche to me, yet it feels good to say it. But perhaps I'm turning over an old leaf as I move forward, now five (steps) days into the shiny new year.