Category: A Different Kind of Real

{Dust to Dust}

This is the week I learned that our children do not belong to us.
We are not gods, to create a small being in our image.
They come to us

needy and helpless, and we are
Caretakers.  Lives, made up of
oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus, even
heart, mind, and soul;
each are but dust returning to dust.

Arrogantly we live
day after day, with these small persons
believing that each meal, healthy or otherwise,
each book carefully chosen and lovingly read,
each activity selected so diligently,
each pastime and hobby, talent nurtured,

each word spoken into their small world

will stop them, and

start them,

make them
do; our Possession

to be molded, shaped, crafted
carefully controlling every encounter while they are young.
As if it changes anything.
Eventually they will choose Life or Death.

Unthinking, we are judiciously creating a small being
In Our Image.

This is the week I lost.

I knew,
I gave,
I wept,
I died,
I let go.
This is the week everything changed forever;
Inside me something broke
open;
the illusion of control.

This is the week, I gave them back;
to be “mine” is to lose them forever.

Yes, this is the week I lost.
And yet, here they are. Still
living and breathing, asleep in their beds.

and I am (still) full of hope, leaning on it

confident of this:

They are not mine, they are
released from my sweaty grip.

This is the week everything changed forever,

as mother became
helpless, child became

person, and everything changed, forever.

{When Up is Down}

Up is down

And down is up.  God is real

To me.  And doesn’t exist

To others.  I pray
And God does not answer. Others pray

And seem to know.

Up is down

And down is up.

I have too much.
Others don’t have enough.  I am stuffed
Others hungry.

My heart aches and others seem to dance,
always dance.

They say I am a good mother
I believe otherwise.

They say he was a good man,

I say bad, very bad.
We have everything but we feel empty.

Good and bad
Up and down.

What is? 
What is not?

{an apology to God}

this is an apology

to God, I suppose.

if I’ve learned anything over the last few months

reading the Bible end to end, it is that

God is faithful.

He never promised us that life would be

pain free,

or without problems. Only

to be there

with us, behind us, ahead of us, around us;

I’m clinging to him.

{on feeling the crazies and hoping, still}

some days just are.

crazy that is,

when you wonder how to catch your breath.  and realize
in a shocking moment that you may not be taking in h20.  and yet miraculously you’re still

alive.

panic, dread and fear threaten to consume. some internal, perfectionist voice screaming: this can’t be right?
how can parenting

be so hard?
early, before the dawn you rose up out of bed.  in the dark, sipping

hot coffee, you read about being called. and you prayed to be wise. knowing.

a steward of the precious lives, entrusted.

my head says, poor me.  life is so difficult.  wisdom scarce. challenges too many,

i want to flee.
bail. feeling hopeless, helpless but God promises
to be a SHIELD.

you read: “He lifts my head.”

i am shocked, perplexed by these words, from Henri JM Nouwen who said he was “impressed by the enormous abyss between my insights and my life.”

some days

are about longing for wisdom, dreaming and hopeful, still

in the midst of the crazy years.

{reflecting on the past year and turning 46}

I have come far. I have run hard. I feel strong.

I am proud of my learning to harness perseverance and need. Twenty seven pounds ago, I hated myself and today I feel lithe and strong.  All this, accomplished with an iron will, though a little obsessively neurotic at times.  I know, I am strong. And this is good, this self-love, for one who loathed herself for most of her life.

But I know there is more — to know, to learn, more to my life.  I am always pressing life for more and this dissatisfaction, while frustrating at times,  is  also who I am.  I accept it.  

I have been running, strong.  But perhaps away from or around, not through Jesus and the community of believers I am a part of these days. Even as I join — leaning into community, giving myself away, so that I see pieces and part of me all over the place.  In words and images, in relationships — all good things, still I have held something important back.

“I am not in love with the church” she said. And as I read this offering, words from a deeply thoughtful writer whom I read trembling with her conviction, every time.  Her words, like good writers do, carve into my heart.  I was undone by them, slayed.  Broken by her words, I had to acknowledge its truth.

In me.

For I have tried so hard to love, prayed for it even.  Known how right it is to love the bride of Christ, the church.

But I avoid her, even as I am the butt of pastors jokes about introverts on a Sunday morning. Oh how I hate the “greet perfect strangers” time of the church week.  Yes, I resent it, but really deep down this isn’t about being shy.  I don’t love the Bride of Christ.

I look down, avoid eye contact, trying not to see her.

I am shaken by my stone cold heart.

He said, love others as you love yourself. And these words fell on a heart that was running, afraid to love.

I’ve come far, run hard and strong toward God– I love Him and He fills me.  He gathers up all my fear, the anxious heart that grips me strong, that is not allowing change to come into me.

I am strong but I am weak.  He longs for me to step closer, sit longer, open up, be.  Allow the eucharist to transform me in the quiet of space that I

don’t fill, don’t control, where I don’t speak.

Let God transform.

“You’re running on your own strength,”  the Holy One whispered to me, over and over this week.  And I know that I am.  Admitting it is a small, sweet release of pressure that has built up as I got strong.  I was even frightened by my strength.

“Lay down ego and pride and the feelings of being not good enough.

Lay down your mind that swirls, a windstorm of thoughts that never stop, making you feel slightly crazy all the time. 

Lay down the hopes, the dreams, the plans.

Lay down control, learn from me. 

Lay down desire for powerful influence.

Lay down comparison that kills joy and everything good, that makes your mouth taste bitter.

Lay down fear that frequently cripples.

Lay down the need to be seen as smart.

Lay down,

kneel

acknowledge the ugliness inside you.”

Hear me: YOU ARE PERFECT.

Stop

running on your own strength.  

Let me be your refuge and strength.

Surrender to the Cross

ever and always being in a state of

becoming.”

And so, I am learning this.  I’ll admit the thought of letting go frightens me but I long to truly love God, myself and my neighbor, as we’re commanded, so much so that this becomes a sweet surrender.

And it is to be daily.

{I Believe}

I believe in God.

I believe in God, and  what Jesus did, being human.

Living fully, dying to atone for my messes,

of which there are many.  That Jesus

lives and now is with God the Father.  It is at times confusing and

other days

simple.  Just believe.

Or choose not to, that is your right.

I believe God speaks — within time, even to me

as God has spoke to many throughout the ages.

I want my life, the writings and images that I capture in time

to be

worship.

Revealing both the goodness and the devastation of this one life I have. Because

that–is–real.

I hope in God.  I hope in God to reveal

him or herself to me.  And then

what I share might help others as much as it has

utterly transformed me.

Running Toward Life

Writing the first words, after being gone is a little terrifying. I am

out of sync. And that’s the greatest crime, the cardinal rule. Bloggers write.  Regularly, with precision and passion

without pausing.

But I took time off.

I had to do it and I know that I was doing the right thing.

I did it in order to learn, to read (I read half the Bible), spend time with my kids, and figure out why it is so hard for me to just be.

For it is more important who I am than what I think. 

It is more important how I treat people than how I lay down words on a page.

It is most important that I am being the person. than that I am writing about her.

Now I feel creaky, rusty even to even put these few words here.  To begin the offering of myself again to others.

Oh don’t get me wrong, I’ve had thousands of words come.  Most still a jumble

in my head.  And heart, as I ran more than 180 miles this summer the words came.

My head and heart and soul are full.

And I’m hopeful, for I am a gentler, (hopefully) wiser, more circumspect and certainly more confident person

after taking a break.

I look forward to joining up with you again soon

with chapters of the book, more poetry and ongoing spiritual musings. And some of the hundreds of photographs that I enjoyed taking.

MELODY

{Fly Away From Me: On Children}

I woke up this morning, the sun creeping in earlier than I wanted.  Coming out of my dreams, I felt grief wash over my body, sore from running daily; I felt the years wash over me physically.  And fear.

I am afraid for all the time—lost.  Gone.

My children are almost grownup into people, yet not ready to face the challenges of being adult.  But more and more they are absent from me and I feel their absence, the loss, physically — These babies I fed from my breast, nurtured if feebly the best I knew how.  Babies I brought in to the world through the tearing of my flesh and blood.  They are young adults and the time is gone.

I’m running out of time and as I woke I felt the years,

Weighty, heavy, lost.

Lost to the days of over working; long workaholic driven years of loving work more than I loved being at home.  I have forgotten those toddler years, unable to recall the first word, first steps, first book, I simply cannot remember.  Write everything down they said, but I thought I’d remember.

I was wrong.

Lost, because of so many days of a drunken cloud, a constant buzz from self-medicating.

I was trying to forget the sadness, the feelings of inadequacy. Feeling doubt in a world of devoted, sure people. Feeling the loss of losing the faith of my parents and not being courageous enough (yet) to find my own.

I lost many years of my children’s lives to being a drunk.

I woke this morning feeling the weight of it, a grief that is carved deeply within.  It is a heart ache, and with a cry  I wanted to start fresh.  A second chance; to rewind back fifteen years to hearing that I was pregnant for the first time.  I was surprised that my body, which I had loathed all my life, was capable of giving life.  And then I felt annoyed at the interruption to my career.  And then it came eventually; the felt joy and disbelief.

Now that baby girl, my little bird, is a young woman.  She is gone more than she is here and each interaction feels like our last.  I know we have just a few more years.  I think: hang on to love and do what you can to keep things open and safe.  I want to have a home, a heart that welcomes; A home of second chances, and third and fourth.  Arms open wide.

The days are slipping away, the chances are running out.

Even as I know this I know that I cannot clutch at her.  I must open my hands, joyfully and watch her fly. I will pray that she will want to return.

As I get up and face another day, it is to keep the nest warm and welcoming.    Yes, I woke up this morning already grieving. I knew.

My little bird is practicing her flight away from me.

{“Advice” to Friends Getting Hitched: Things I’ve Learned Along the Way}

I don’t like to give people advice, but here are a few things that I have learned along the way, working on year nineteen of sharing life with Tom.

Life is a process of becoming who you really are.  This is amazing,  and sharing it with another person is an incredible honor and joy.

Joining two lives in marriage is hard work.  The best thing about our marriage, I think, is that we have active, respectful, honest and loving communication. Keep talking!  Tell each other the truth in love. Say I’m sorry.  Be able to say I was wrong.

Forever is an amazing concept. If you believe that there is no “out,” then you can and will work through anything with God’s help. And don’t be afraid or too proud to ask for help from others.

Pray for each other. Affirm each other.  Say what you like about one another out loud, because it matters.

Know that you cannot change the other person, so accept them unconditionally. 

Know that you should never stop growing and changing yourself—spiritually, physically, and emotionally. You have been given a partner that is right for you but not perfect.  You’re going to annoy the hell out of each other!  And you will sharpen one another, becoming better people, if you are willing to continually grow.

Respect one another’s family of origin, but hold it loosely and do not be imprisoned by it.  You can make any family culture that you choose. You are not bound by the family you came from but you will bring all of that into your marriage.  This too must be valued and understood.

Keep your own interests, friends, avocations and vocation.  Your differences will make life more interesting. You don’t have to like or even enjoy everything that the other one does, but be willing to try new things together.  Anyone can change (their interests and what they enjoy doing!)

Cook together. Clean together. Divide chores by abilities and interests not by conventional gender rules.

Children will not solve any problems. 

Live within your means.  And do not go into debt to have vacations, toys, or anything physical except eventually a house. Take the Dave Ramsey course and stick with it!!!! Living within your means could be the most important thing you do together as a couple.

Experience God’s community with people further along in life, so that you can observe and learn as well as receive love and encouragement.

Remember the power of scripture to breathe hope, peace and healing into your lives.  

Always be patient and kind (in words and actions), not jealous.

Don’t be too proud to admit you are wrong.

Don’t rudely demand your own way.

If you are irritable, figure out why.

Don’t keep track of the wrongs, yours or theirs.

Celebrate and be happy when truth wins out.

Never give up on each other.

Never lose faith in one another.

Always be hopeful about your relationship.

May your love endure through every circumstance.

 {1 Corinthians 13:4-6 paraphrased by me.}

Like I said, advice is just words—there are no easy answers.  Every marriage is different, the challenges and joys that you will face will be as unique as the two of you.

Pray often. Stay in community.

With all my love,

MELODY

July 30, 2012

{A [Love] letter to the little girl still inside me}

This post was written as a part of the SheLoves synchroblog: A Love Letter to my Body.

(A “synchroblog” simply means people writing simultaneously on the same topic.)

Dearest Child, I wish you knew when you were still young and free that the world isn’t out to get you — in fact, the world doesn’t care much about you at all. This knowledge would have been your sweet, honeyed redemption.

What you needed saving from child is my hate. For as long as I can remember, yes that’s how long, I have detested you.  

A daily incantation.

Eyes that don’t work, pale freckled, dimpled skin that burns all too quickly in the sun, unruly hair. And soon enough came along your body plump and frumpy, then shapely hips, eventually budding breasts. But the worst was …

your lips shriveled, withered from disuse because fear gripped you, self-loathing frothed up, a bitter gaseous belief that you are hideous and unlovely.  You believed that you don’t deserve love.  You were told not to speak without first finding perfection.  And you feared, if you spoke you would voice out loud your own dread and the hatred that boiled within.

No, I couldn’t tame you, no matter how much I tried.  I couldn’t stop

the thoughts that sprouted in your head, pouring out of your mouth, only to be told to shut up often, with a languid intensity SHUT YOUR MOUTH you sassy, impetuous, cheeky little girl.

Darling, it’s not your fault that no one taught you tenderness or the sweetness of grace. So, every day since then, I have looked in the mirror and thought you are hideous and enormous, you take up too much space, because Mamma, she lived that lie too and so we always knew it was true.

YOU TAKE UP TOO MUCH SPACE IN THE ROOM.

So I tried to make you small; have small thoughts, be the smallest in the room.

JUST LIKE MAMMA.

For she always hated

most of all,

herself,

so how could you ever hope to be all right? She was always trying to be small too.

She tried diets, fasts and near starvation; then binging, secrets and humiliation. Constant shame and mortification, your body became repulsive and massive, wrong.

Shrink it.  Starve it.  Loathe it.

JUST LIKE MAMMA.

And what of love?  Or grace?

Do you believe they are real? Believe that this body of ours is fearfully and wonderfully made by a perfect creator God. Perhaps we are exactly what he intended?

And if you find absolution or even tolerance, what then?

At forty-five, bone weary and sick, tired of hating you, I woke up. And understood finally, my persecutor, my father,

is

long

dead.

And if he is dead, why don’t you live?

Open your heart? Open your mouth?

So I took a long hard look at you and knew, if I hated you, dear girl, I hate myself.

But I can do something about this.

I am strong and getting stronger. I am in control of these pudgy arms and legs, all inherited. Did you hear me dearest, we are strong! Do I love you? I don’t know. Not just yet, but I can wake up knowingly.

I’m beginning to believe that we are worth saving. 

I open my mouth, my brain; my heart is quaking in unsteady disbelief that these thoughts of mine are worth hearing.  I wake up more each day, dreaming

word upon word, I scribble them down.

And I run.  Just months ago I woke up and knew  I can run.  And so that is what I do!  And as my body shrinks down, my mouth opens wide, with a shout.  I want you to know, I know you! I see you!

You are powerful my sweet young self – you are worthwhile.  You are understood and acceptable, yes, you are loved.

Your mind, your heart, this

mouth deserves to be opened wide. So scream, howl and roar, take up some space!  Because even if the world doesn’t care about you, I do.  And that is what matters

for now.

Your eyes were made to see a hurting, broken world. Your heart feels pain because it is alive. Your mind and mouth were made for voicing something.  And you will do it, in time and well. Your body was made for loving and being loved, so let some love in. You are fearfully and wonderfully, even perfectly made.

You are loved, by me.

This post was written as a part of the first ever SheLoves synchroblog: A Love Letter to my Body. (A “synchroblog” simply means we are writing simultaneously on the same topic.)  You can read others by going here.

{Enough, Continued …}

Part One of processing the book Enough is here.

I read the book “Enough” by Will Davis Jr and wrote my review.  I kinda thought that would be the end of it.  Lesson learned – my More Than Enough, my Plenty, my Abundance can be or IS someone else’s Enough. Such a neat  idea in theory, but what that means in a daily way didn’t fully sink in – not at all.

That book is messing with me!

I read in “Enough” that we are to be giving our ten percent to the church, but in reality for us we’re giving about five percent to our church and about one percent to other organizations.

I cannot stop thinking about that principle that is all over scripture.  What will it mean this month to give ten percent off the top, at the beginning before we pay our bills, and sort out how to live afterwards? These are things that we don’t really want to think about or do.

I woke up this morning thinking about this again, that we’re instructed in scripture to give ten percent and we’re to trust God to provide for our daily manna.

That means honestly taking a look at how we spend our money, where does it all go in a month? Many times for us it is frittered away on more video games, and frozen yoghurt, and iced coffees for the kids; on the conveniences of modern life, like dry cleaning and lawn care and mobile phones and eating out a few times.  For me, on buying books and not requesting them from the library.

What does it mean to take a cold hard look at our monthly spending and at the beginning give to God off of the top and then sort out the rest?

The first thing I remember from the book is that Davis suggested we look about our home for all the things we haven’t used or worn in the last year.  That job, to clear our home of these things so that they might possible become someone else’s Enough, is the task for this week. (Even though, I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO IT! I’m so lazy.)  We’re going to photograph all the things we don’t need and use, things that are just taking up space in our basement and garage, and give them away.  The task just as it stands is a daunting one and today with the sun shining and a long  empty day looming ahead, what I really want to do is hang out by the lake or something, anything but go through our stuff.  But I think this act of obedience is the thing that needs to be accomplished, today.

Davis spoke of slowing down, listening and being open to God speaking. 

Yesterday, I found out someone I know is sending their kid to a Shakespeare away camp.  (It feels like everyone sends their kids to summer camp away, except us.) And another person is sending their kids to Grandma and Grandpa for the duration of the summer.  When I heard that I felt envy and anger that we haven’t take our kids on a vacation in several years; although it is out of an act of obedience, where we decided we would never again live on credit.  That was a baby step of financially growing up, that we took a few years ago.  This means we don’t travel if we don’t have the cash the bank.  Yes, I wish to be able to take the kids to visit Grandma and Grandpa, that but for now this is not possible.  We have a child in college and we have many other obligations.

As I woke this morning I was angry and to be honest kind of thought I was mad at God.  Then I realized that we’re just being smart.  We save for retirement, we live within our means, we give (like I said not ten percent yet) and we try to respond to needs as they come before us.  Right now there is no margin for vacations.

It’s not God that is to blame for an unsustainable American Dream.

And if I feel angry that we don’t have Enough to go on a vacation with our kids this summer, I should focus that emotion toward clearing out of the house our More Than Enough so that others can be blessed.

MELODY

A part of the Patheos Book Club on the book “ENOUGH: Finding More By Living with Less” by Will Davis Jr.

{Blue Devils}

I live in a place of morbidity, where death
hangs round, a constant companion.  When you have lost
a parent you are constantly aware. Each moment, even pointless ones, are fraught with weighty meaning because

there may be no more.

And yet there has been so much pain,
roads traveled, days endured
the blue devils of hell traversed together.

Why do you call her MOTHER?
my daughter asks me, it’s cold and distant.
Because that is her name and that is what she has always been
[to me.]

Back again to knowledge.

The realization that this could be our last
conversation.  Life is always heavy, for I am daughter, caregiver, confidant, even adviser and she is
always,
will be
Mother.

Even when she is gone.

MHH

blue devils

pl n

1. a fit of depression or melancholy
2. an attack of delirium tremens

Collins English Dictionary – Complete and Unabridged © HarperCollins Publishers 1991, 1994, 1998, 2000, 2003