A better day - and a chance to take stock

All the sickies seem to have turned a corner.

Happy Old Year!

There were many blessings and challenges in 2010.  New, dear friendships.  Loved ones moved away.  Sometimes both of those things together.  New beginnings: weddings and pregnancies among dear friends, for instance.  Relationships transformed: long-sought reconciliation; a final, beloved parent gone home to be with is bride and his savior for all eternity.  Old friendships renewed, via a visit to San Antonio for our goddaughter's Confirmation.  A new approach to old and new issues: Teri and I spent 3 months dialoguing every day, for the first time since our Marriage Encounter over 22 years ago; I reentered therapy to find a better solution to some of my struggles, including the depression that began to plague me this year.  And a milestone birthday spent with people we love, even if it didn't include some of the ones who were most important to us.

This annual ritual of taking stock of the past 12 months is, of course, an arbitrary thing.  The boundary points we establish between the weeks and months and years are convenient, useful constructs that allow us to get our minds around the passage of our lives.  Today is already a "new year," in the sense that a trip around the sun can be considered to start anywhere along our orbit and to be completed at the same point approximately 365.25 days later.  No need to limit it to a particular time of day, either.

Yet it's still useful to have a "new beginning" point that doesn't happen so frequently, and I plan to take full advantage of this one.  I plan to nurture thinking patterns that help me be the person I want to be, think I should be, rather than undermine me.    

And I plan to continue some things that I've begun previously.  I will keep turning away from the darkness of doubt and despair.  I plan to grow as a person, as a beloved son of a loving God and a follower of my Savior, and to pray consistently and fervently for those I love.  I plan to continue to embrace the relationships that mean the most to me, and to resume using the tools that best help me to nurture the most important of those relationships.  (That latter part isn't entirely up to me - one of them is a two-person tool - but I need to do my part in encouraging us to use it.)

Thus will I discover all that 2011 will bring . . .

Ringing in the new year, not so merrily

It's hard when your loved ones are sick and there's nothing you can do to help.  Our youngest grandkids have been sharing very well this visit.  Unfortunately, what they've been sharing is the stomach flu.  That's actually the easier thing, though, for us if not for their parents.

What's harder is to see our oldest daughter going through withdrawal because her specialist in Indianapolis can't seem to make sure she gets her prescription in time.

There's very little we can do to help with any of that, except to be present and supportive and sympathetic.

Wonderful Christmas

We had a truly blessed weekend.  Friday evening, everyone was over to open gifts, as our oldest grandsons needed to take advantage of the opportunity to see Uncle Nic while he's here; they were headed to their respective other families for the remainder of the holidays around 9 on Friday night.  It was great to have everyone there (well - almost; Josh had to work).

The music really couldn't have gone better.  A friend who'd never attended any of our services was thrilled with midnight Mass, deeply appreciative of everything from the (hour of) pre-service music to the beauty of the liturgy.  It was pretty fabulous.  Then it was a shorter-than-usual night's sleep for me, as I needed to be up early to work on part of Christmas dinner that I just didn't have time to get done in advance as I'd planned.  Another wonderful liturgy on Christmas morning and, following an unexpected delay due to Emma awaking from her nap sick, everyone except the two grandsons were back for dinner.  We wrapped up the evening with friends, concluding with a marathon game of Bones.

I set the alarm Sunday morning to do music for both Masses, then managed a short nap before we took 4 of the grandchildren to see Tangled - which was entertaining, if typically Disneyesque.  Came home to watch the DVR'ed Ravens' game (only takes half as long!) and then we had a simple dinner of leftovers followed by our first-ever viewing of Holiday Inn, which was a little uncomfortable due to the use of blackface and stereotyped roles.  But I was surprised by the number of tunes I recognized, in addition to the well-known White Christmas. I thought Holiday Inn's integration of story and production  held together better than in its better-known successor (mostly - the inclusion of the war footage wasn't so effective), even if it doesn't seem to have withstood the test of time as well.

*Sigh*

I've apparently got to let go of things on my agenda for my time off - things that are important to me, like Christmas cards and having cookies and planning Christmas dinner and everything else we're still two weeks behind on - because apparently there are more important things for me to do with my time off.  I shouldn't complain; it's good stuff.  It just wasn't my plan, and it's happening this afternoon with a house full of 8 kids when what I want instead of this new agenda or my old one is just a few hours of SLEEP.

I know I'm not supposed to say "FML"

I know if my world feels smaller and smaller and colder and harder that I'm doing it wrong . . .

Still nothing from Cassie. Teri reports that Cassie "wants to shop" today, so I'm requested to please go to work early so I can get in my half day and be home around noon.  Haven't the foggiest idea what that means, exactly, but it feels like I'm, well, of no value as a dad and grandfather except as a babysitter.  (I'd add "husband" but then I'd also have to add "cook" and "handyman.")

Got home from 3+ hours of rehearsals last night to discover that mrs tg and middle daughter had gone to the movie at the top of my list this season. While I'm glad they went out together, what it means for me is that not only did I not get to see this movie with Teri, but I will now get to either miss it entirely or go see it by myself another time without her.

The only time I've felt good in the last 36 hours is when I've been doing music, and even there I seem to have issues going on.

My makeshift Advent "wreath" has been put away to make room for other decorations.

Still haven't found my wedding band.

So I've been up for an hour, am showered, and just waiting for it to be late enough to go into work and get my half day in.  I have a little work I can do from home, which I suppose I'll start in on in a few minutes, for lack of any more appealing options. After I pray . . .

Discussing doubt

So how is it possible, after all my experiences that have reinforced my faith over the decades, that I could have doubt?

Hell if I know.  But in general, talking about it isn't my favorite way to spend a lunch hour . . .

Silly annoyances

The last day has brought some disappointments along with the blessings. I'm hoping that writing about them will help put them in perspective.

Our mouse issue, which we thought we'd taken care of, instead seems to have grown worse, as we're seeing evidence of them in new places.  Gross.  We're taking more aggressive action now, but I have to figure out where they're getting in.

Cassie and her wee ones got into town safely, but she's apparently decided to stay at her mother-in-law's place, and we didn't even see her and the kids yesterday.  I fully support her staying wherever she think is best for Nic to be, and I can understand she didn't want to go out, but we couldn't get invited over to say hi?

I had a major schedule conflict last night.  When Jubilee discussed our potential gig at St. Luke, I already knew about our love circle's Christmas party, and so I told everybody I wouldn't be available for Evensong.  But after missing a gig because of being out of town, and then getting snowed out of evening prayer at both Maria Stein and St. Helen last week, as well as being out of town for the previous two Sundays' evening prayer at St. Helen, I just wanted to sing with Jubilee last night.  Unfortunately, it meant leaving a lot of folks I love at the party after only being there for an hour, including 3 of our oldest 4 grandkids (Dylan was out to dinner with his folks for his birthday).  So I ate way less than I wanted, including skipping dessert, so I wouldn't have anything interfering with "the bellows," and the party was over by the time we finished with the service at St. Luke.  And I missed seeing Michael and Christopher as magi and Kyra as Joseph (!) in the kids' pageant. But it was also very good for me to be where I was.  Afterward, someone mentioned how glad she was that I was there, especially observing that Shout to the Lord just hadn't been the same at rehearsal with only piano and bass. I had to agree with some of the attendees who mentioned that it was just what they needed, because it was just what I needed, too.

Then I got home, to discover that someone had left chocolate where Potter could get it, on the coffee table.  While it isn't good for him, it wouldn't have been any big deal, except that he also knocked off the glass centerpiece full of potpourri.  I went ahead and cleaned it up before anyone got home, and am just glad he didn't get cut on the glass.  But oh, did he know he was in trouble.  He didn't even come out of his kennel to greet me when I came in.

Probably the most frustrating thing was realizing late last night that I still hadn't put my wedding ring back on.  It's a new band that Teri bought me last year, much more weighty and nice than either of the bands I'd previously worn.  Well, after searching both pair of pants I wore yesterday and the two most likely places it could have fallen out of my pocket (my car and Teri's recliner), it's still missing.    :(

This morning there was something else, that made me think, "Okay, that's it, I need to write about all this now and get beyond it."  And now I can't even remember what that was.  I don't know whether to be grateful that it was so trivial or worried that it isn't and that it'll come crashing back into me later.

I must remind myself that none of these annoyances is any big deal compared to a) what we've already been through this season or b) the many blessings in our lives that outweigh them all.

More about dad

Like I said, my bride (of 30 years) and I were on-again, off-again during high school, and mostly off-again thereafter.  It was nearly two years before we started dating again, through a miscommunicated message from a friend.  She was actually seeing someone when I called, so we caught up on each other's lives and wished one another good luck.  It was a spring evening a few weeks later, when she'd broken up with whomever she was seeing, that we first saw each other again.  On this day after our anniversary, I'm tempted to dwell dreamily on the way we just looked into one another's eyes that first evening.

But this post is supposed to be more about the way dad seemed glad to see me back in his daughter's life again, how he encouraged our relationship.  Before the year was over we were married, and dad continually supported us, even through things that I don't know how I'd have handled had I been in his shoes.

Bringing it home

Self-forgiveness probably bears at least a little discussion of its own.

There are a whole host of things that self-forgiveness isn't, separate from what forgiveness of others isn't, which bear recognizing.  These are unhealthy - not alternatives, really, but behaviors that we may engage in:

• Rationalizing away our hurtful actions
• Minimizing their effect
• Justifying them
• Transferring blame to others
• Making excuses
• Compensating with other actions

Okay, that list could go on for a while, and it occurs to me that these items are all different ways that active abusers live with themselves and perpetuate their abuse cycles.

And of course, some of the things that aren't the same as forgiving others also aren't the same as forgiving myself.  One thing that comes to mind is forgetting. Sometimes we might, in fact, succeed in blocking out of our memory some of our own most hurtful actions, but that interferes with self-forgiveness and healing rather than facilitating them.

The thing is, I keep reading from multiple sources that we should be quicker to forgive others and not so quick to forgive ourselves.  I think that's true because it's important that we address and correct the things that cause us to hurt others.  But I also think that, for me, self-forgiveness is more about fully receiving the forgiveness that I've been offered by those I've offended, especially including God. Psychology seems to direct quite a bit of attention to the concept of self-forgiveness, but I don't see any biblical basis for it save one - though it's a biggie: love your neighbor as yourself.  If I am to forgive my neighbor, then I must forgive myself. 

And that means not holding my offense against myself, not calling to mind the hurt I've done, not dwelling on my shortcomings any more.

(3/24/2105: Why is that still so damned hard!?)

And some more . . .

I often hear people focus on whether someone deserves to be forgiven.  "Have they done enough to make up for their offense?" seems to be the underlying question.  I tend to think this question arises chiefly from the mis-association of forgiveness with trust.  It may well be healthy for us to require some evidence of trustworthiness before investing our faith in someone again.  But I can, probably should, and often do make the decision to forgive someone independently of any decision to trust them again.  My self-trust is a great example of that, in reverse.

I'm convinced that the Christian approach to forgiveness of others is meant to be independent of any action on the offender's part.  It's grace: unmerited favor.  It is a gift, to be freely offered as it has been freely offered to us.

Oddly, the burden of unforgiveness often does more harm to the person originally offended than it does to their offender.  And this burden is often heavier and does more damage than that of the original offense.

In a nutshell

As I've thought more about it over the past few days, and experienced it more deeply from those who have come to offer it to me gradually, I've decided that, basically, forgiveness is the decision not to hold someone's offense(s) against them (any more).

Earliest memories of dad

Teri and I first dated in high school.  She also had a brother named Tom, and one of her older sisters had a long-term boyfriend also named Tommy, so I was the third Thomas to be hanging around the house.  She was one of nine siblings, though (at least) the oldest two were no longer living at home when we started dating.  I remember being intimidated meeting them for the first time, but really don't recall anything about the encounter.  But I do recall being welcomed to their home for dinner, and coming over to swim in the summer while we were dating.  Not too often for the latter, though, as we had an on-again-off-again high school relationship, and so there were no summer-long stretches of going over to their house to swim several times a week.  But dad was friendly and welcoming from the beginning.

That time is past

I awoke this morning - the third or fourth time - with my sinuses giving me grief and my head foggy from the Nyquil.  My first thought upon waking was something about what they might do medically to help dad today.  Then I quickly remembered that he is beyond need of such assistance now, though the way I first thought of it was "it's too late for that."

A loved one passes

This one is going to take a few posts, as I have neither the time nor the skill to sum up this man's meaning to me in just one.

How do I describe the debt I owe to my father-in-law?  If he had done nothing more than escort my bride down the aisle and place her hand in mine, I would have owed him more than I could ever repay.  He loved and raised the girl who became the woman who is now my partner in life.

What forgiveness is

Well, there's no sense in starting from scratch.  It isn't as if this is the first time I've ever written on the topic of forgiveness, and surely a sentence or two of those posts must be pertinent to the topic at hand.  So let me start with a couple of thoughts that I've previously written that may be relevant to the question of what forgiveness is:

May 04, 2007

(T)here is a difference between someone offering us forgiveness and us receiving it. Many of us never truly receive the love, forgiveness and reconciliation offered us . . . (F)orgiveness is a process, not usually an instantaneous event. When I've been deeply hurt by someone, forgiving them doesn't mean I don't feel hurt or angry, at least right away. It does, however, mean that I never stop wanting the best for them.  Or, rather, once I've forgiven, I want the best for them once again.

January 19, 2010

Even if . . . someone has only tolerated me for the sake of family harmony . . . they have treated me with compassion.  Though they aren't quite the same thing, compassion often goes hand-in-hand with forgiveness.

Okay, there are some key insights applicable to what forgiveness is. But I don't think any of these thoughts hits the central root of forgiveness. In chewing on this since Monday one thing has become much clearer to me:

Forgiveness is a decision, a choice we make.

We make a choice to forgive or not to forgive someone for the hurt they've done to us.  When we say things like "I could never forgive" someone for something, what we're really saying is that we can't picture ourselves ever being willing to make the choice to forgive that person for the specified offense.

So forgiveness is a decision or choice to do, or maybe to not do, something or things:

• While forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting, it probably does mean choosing not to call to mind and dwell on how I've been wronged.  It isn't that I've forgotten it, but I've probably chosen not to recall it.  I'm not going to keep turning this offense over in my mind, looking at it from every angle, recalculating the total damage.
• It might also be the decision to let go of the hurt someone has caused rather than to embrace it.  Not to deny the hurt, but to choose not to let it define that person for us.  
• And yes, I really believe it is the decision to want what is truly best for the person who has hurt me, and not in a way that is dismissive.  
• It doesn't mean denying that I've been hurt, but includes the decision not to let that hurt have any more power over me.  As a result, the hurt becomes more a thing that I've experienced in the past rather than something I choose to relive.
• For me, it includes an understanding that judging the one who hurt me is not good for me.

This idea of forgiveness as a decision to let go of the hurt we've received and restore a sense of good will toward the person who has hurt us seems to me to be pretty close to what forgiveness really is all about.  

I still feel it may be a process that we often go through gradually.  Some people seem to think that it's a decision completed in a moment, but I find that, for me, forgiving the most grievous hurts I've received has happened only by repeating this decision over time.  Each time I become a little more free of the burden I've been carrying - I've known for a very long time that unforgiveness is a terrible load to bear -  until at last I am completely clear of it.  Perhaps that may begin to be the case with my self-judgment, as well.

Okay, I may end up writing some more on this, and have also revised my previous post as a few additional thoughts and corrections have popped up.  Remembering the things that forgiveness isn't in light of what it is remains important for living a healthy, forgiving life.

And on that note: on this Thanksgiving day, I'm grateful for the forgiveness I've received, that I've been blessed to choose, and that which is still in progress . . . 

A message of thanksgiving

Last night at our prayer meeting, we had an extended quiet time following our prayer and praise, before receiving the first word gift.  I felt led to look for a scripture passage on the theme of finding God's presence in the quiet, and opened my Bible to the Psalms to look for one.  Before I got there, I found Psalm 145, and since Sunday was the feast of Christ the King, this also seemed appropriate to share.  But before I could open my mouth to read it, one of the other men there shared a message in prophecy, so I set down my Bible and began writing down this message, as we do each week; my co-leader wasn't there to take care of this for us as he usually would.  The message spoke of the importance of always giving thanks for the many blessings which God rains down upon us.  Keeping our attention fixed on God in gratitude for this wondrous love bears witness to his greatness and glory, draws others toward God's great love, and keeps our hearts positioned to receive the further blessings God may wish to bestow.

Only after writing this down did I pick my Bible back up and start to read from Psalm 145:

I will extol you, my God and king; I will bless your name forever.
Every day I will bless you; I will praise your name forever.
Great is the LORD and worthy of high praise; God's grandeur is beyond understanding.
One generation praises your deeds to the next and proclaims your mighty works.
They speak of the splendor of your majestic glory, tell of your wonderful deeds.
They speak of your fearsome power and attest to your great deeds.
They publish the renown of your abounding goodness and joyfully sing of your justice.
The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love.
The LORD is good to all, compassionate to every creature.
All your works give you thanks, O LORD and your faithful bless you.
They speak of the glory of your reign and tell of your great works,
Making known to all your power, the glorious splendor of your rule. (Ps 145, 1-12, NAB)

Now I imagine that my friend already had the wonderful feast of Thanksgiving on his mind when he shared his message, but it was the furthest thing from my mind as I considered sharing this psalm, and I hadn't even turned the page to notice how this theme resounded in these verses.

For all my recent doubt, I cannot manage to explain how two independently delivered messages can resonate so perfectly, except by the Spirit's guidance.

Thank you, God, for your wonderful blessings and incredible love!

What forgiveness isn't (tweaked 11/25)

Okay, I've struggled to cut myself some slack.  In my therapy session yesterday, we pretty quickly got to the obvious observation that I've never really forgiven myself, though I probably once thought I had. In fact, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have been considered to have completed my former course of therapy had I not been convinced that I had.

Anyway, he started by having me consider how the abuse I received as a child and young man played a role in my subsequent behavior, and I'm pretty sure he agreed with my analysis that using that to excuse myself wouldn't be a healthy approach.  So then we started focusing on the concept of what forgiveness really is, as opposed to what a lot of us may equate it with.  Here are a few things that we discussed that I know aren't quite the same as forgiveness.  We'll start with a couple obvious ones:

• Forgetting:  "Forgive and forget," is a really popular phrase of choice.  The thing is, we can't fully control that, and we'd be pretty ill equipped for life if we actually did that.  Forgetting the events that have hurt us would keep us from learning and leave us to vulnerable in the world. But here's a thought we didn't consider: maybe there's a difference between forgetting a thing and choosing not to call it to mind at every occasion. Hmm, maybe I should've saved this one for later in the list, because that will bear some further examination . . .
• Removal of consequences:  Even if we've forgiven someone, there are often consequences to their actions that still must play out.  For instance, even if I've forgiven someone I may decide that it's necessary to handle similar situations in a different way.  I might make that decision for the benefit of the person who has hurt me, or for the protection of others for whom I responsible, or just because of what is healthy for me.  So there are often consequences that remain in effect even if forgiveness is offered freely.
• Restoration of relationship:  This one is two-sided, and partly falls into the previous topic.   There are some ways in which someone may hurt another, that prevents them from ever being in relationship with the other person again.  On the other hand, I have first-hand experience of someone choosing to be in a relationship with me who never really forgave me.  
• Excusing or minimizing the hurtful behavior, or excusing the person who committed it.  Forgiveness doesn't mean saying that what was done to us was okay or or not that bad.  Nor does it mean saying that it's okay or understandable that the offender committed those acts. 
• Trust:  This seems contradictory, at first glance, and if I hadn't experienced it I probably would have argued against it.  
• You might think that we can never trust someone again whom we haven't forgiven, and yet I've found that I can indeed trust someone to never do the thing that hurt me again, and yet not have truly forgiven them for having done it in the first place.  I know it's possible, because it's how I feel about myself.  I know I've taken the steps I needed to address my actions and keep from ever repeating them again, and yet I haven't fully forgiven myself for doing them in the first place.  I knew how hurtful I was being, even as I minimized that in my mind, and I should never have done it.  And I can see that it would be possible to feel the same way about someone else, though I've never had that experience.  
• On the other hand, it's also possible to forgive someone and still not trust them not to repeat the offense.  In that case, one would likely make choices to help someone not repeat their hurtful behavior, as much for their sake as to avoid receiving further hurt at their hands.

It seems odd to me that I could have written sixteen previous posts on the topic of forgiveness without having clearly articulated for myself what forgiveness really means.  I'll need to read through them and see if I once had a better sense of it and have just failed to apply it to myself.  But in writing through these things that it clearly doesn't mean, I'm beginning to get a sense of what I really think it might be.  But that will be long enough to save for a separate post.

A conflict

So the week that we've been so anticipating has already developed into a considerable difference of opinion between Teri and me.  It isn't that we're "arguing," exactly.  It's more a matter of not being of one mind.  I can't do anything about it, except to yield on something I think is important.  But I understand how she feels, too.

(2/25/2015 - I have no idea what this was about.)

Exercising the contributive identity

Though all the dog lovers out there might hate me for saying it, I think maybe I should learn something from the way Michael Vick seems to be handling his past.  It seems he manages to keep from being consumed by guilt over the wrongs he's done, without minimizing them.  Of course, it could be that he still doesn't really think what he did was "all that bad," and by comparison, I guess I'd tend to agree . . . (the reader will please note that I am not suggesting that cruel treatment of animals is not a terrible evil, but its practitioners likely compare it against murder, torture, rape, and many forms of child abuse to conclude that it isn't as harmful as other things . . . )

There's Fr. Spitzer's "comparative identity" kicking in again.  And I really think that this concept must be at the root of effectively dealing with my shameful past.

There's some important reconciling of my thought processes to be done here . . .

Agreeing with Thomas Wolfe

This morning I had a friend request from a classmate from grade- and high-school.  I'd seen Gary since then, at least once that I remember, at our 25-year high school reunion.  It was good to see him, along with the couple other folks from our grade school who'd gone to the same high school.  His friend request was a pleasant surprise, and I enjoyed strolling through his friends list to see other familiar folks, many of whom I haven't laid eyes on in 35 years.  Among them was my first crush, with whom I share a birthday, along with my closest friend from my junior high years and a number of other people it might be nice to say "hi" to after all these decades.

The thing is, back then, I was pretty much an outcast - I mean, there was only one of these folks I ever really thought of as a friend.  I know, now, that this wasn't their fault.  I'm sure most of them would be somewhat glad to hear from me now, in a "blast from the past, glad we made it" sort of sense.  And I'm not the social misfit now that I was then.

Yet, I feel lonelier than ever, as if the mere act of reaching out to these once-familiar strangers and saying, "Hi.  How are you?" with no intention of acknowledging my interim history, would be disingenuous. Maybe that'd balance differently for me if I hadn't just learned of my late MIL's lifelong feelings, but that may be just as well. In truth, I still feel somewhat the same about every reconnection I've made since then.

I'm sure many of us have had our demons to battle.  "The brighter the light, the darker the shadow," as Fr. Dave quoted Carl Jung a few weeks ago, and that's certainly been true for me.  The darkness I've lived since they knew me is the reason I probably won't FB friend anyone from my childhood, even though I've long since emerged from it.

Ennui

I think I was more . . . what? . . .

when I just judged myself harshly, what was I more?

comfortable with my status quo?  satisfied with my life?  that's not exactly right . . .

appreciative of it?

maybe so . . .

It's a gray, cold, rainy day.  Matches my mood.

Time, time, time . . . See what's become of me
while I looked around for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
But look around: leaves are brown
and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

. . .

Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away,
simply pretend that you can build them again.

Ineffective guilt management

I really could have gone the rest of my life not knowing that she went the rest of hers without ever forgiving me.

Why did you think I needed to know that??

Ineffective pain management

So I wake up at 4 am, ribs aching, needing ibuprofen.  I eat cookie and grab another, and get out the milk so I won't be taking my pill on an empty stomach.  On a quick check of FB, I see a post from Cassie that I really felt called for a reply.  Our girl is really struggling, though not any more than you'd expect an Army wife with three young children to struggle on her husband's first deployment to a war zone.  I wanted to share a message of support, but thought it best not to publicly post what I wanted to tell her.  So I spent the next 40 minutes carefully crafting what I wanted to say, including beginning to discuss her request that we watch the younger kids for her between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  


Then I fat-fingered a set of keystrokes and lost my message (FB, you really can't ask me "Are you sure?" before I leave a page where I've been writing?), and then spent the next 40 minutes redrafting my message.  By now I'm really beat, and even though I'm not really feeling any better, I send my message and head off to bed.  There I have a really fitful and uncomfortable two-and-a-half hours, after which I get up to get ready to go to St. Helen and pull music for this communion service at Trinity, when what I really want to do is just get a couple more restful hours of sleep.  


Then I walk into the kitchen, where I see the package of cookies sitting there open.  And the milk sitting open on the counter.


And my pill.


No wonder it never really kicked in.

A need for a more perfect union

I keep waiting for this recent breakthrough, for which I've longed for so many years, to start making the difference in our relationship that I've always imagined it would.  Over and over again I'm amazed as we express the common groundwork we've laid throughout the course of our life.  I hear the echoes of our hearts and our minds beating the same song.  And yet we feel like musicians who can't quite find the groove, each of us intent on the song, yet not able to play it together in a way that lets it just resonate in our lives.  The countermelodies we're interested in exploring don't work together.  We use similar words to describe what we think the song should sound like, but when we actually play it, it's as if we've had a different vision for it all along.

Our different day-to-day interests matter.  At the end of every day, you can't wait to unwind in front of the television, and while there are shows I enjoy, there aren't any that make me say "I'm really looking forward to relaxing for a while and watching the TV."  Certainly not every night!  You realize, right, that there's going to be something "interesting," and even worthwhile, on the television every night, right?  You're not going to miss anything important by choosing not to watch all of whatever tonight's programs might be . . .

The last two days in a row, you've had really great days.  I've admired you (still do) for the way you've lived them, caring for those you love - including me - yet setting your boundaries.  I've had tough but good days, too - for which I don't feel particularly appreciated, btw.  And yet the things we wanted at the end of each day didn't bring us together.  Would that have been different if we'd done the dishes together Wednesday, instead of me finishing them as you came back upstairs at 10:30?  I didn't resent doing them; I was glad to, and I really appreciate that you planned to do at least some of them before you came to bed, even after the day you'd put in.  I'm not complaining about doing this chore, but about how we ended our day in different activities. Would it have made a difference if your biggest concern on the way home from Shelly's party last night wasn't whether the Springsteen special I was finally catching on the DVR was going to keep you from watching your shows, and run off to them as soon as we finished dialoguing? In this case, probably not, as I had work to do, but I'm concerned about the trend of our interests taking us in different directions.  There we were, both nights, in different places, with different interests and priorities at work in our lives.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not going to build this into a crisis for us.  It has been status quo for too long for that, and doesn't keep me from loving you deeply.  But I'm also not going to pretend it isn't something we need to give some attention.  It has been going on for enough years that I know it's more than something for us to keep a cautious eye on.  I also understand that just because I may be the one it bothers, that doesn't make this just "my problem."  ME is supposed to help us keep from living our life as "married but separate."  We're supposed to find enough common ground to leave us room within our unity for our different interests.   But I'm growing concerned that our common interests aren't "daily" enough . . .

So what can we do about that?  Is daily dialogue going to give us a chance to explore my frustration and build more bridges in daily life?  If not, what's the point?

Mostly, I think it's important for you to know this: I'm feeling a little lonely.

Dear blog,

I'm sorry.  I know you deserve better.  I'll make you a deal.  You get the rest of my life to give me a break, and I'll take better care of you!

Seriously, though, I haven't even had time to work on therapy homework.

A relationship - a healthy one, at least - isn't merely a means to an end.

Tardy lesson?

I've figured out something important.  Now I just hope it isn't too late, but there's precious little I can do about it if it is.

Resilience Quotient

Okay, I'm continuing to tryout this recommended book, The Resilience Factor.  I've just finished the second chapter, which included a survey to evaluate various characteristics which affect one's resilience.  When I glanced over the list of sections, I was sure that I was going to score lowest on one particular factor: impulse control.  In fact, that was far and away my highest score, and one of only two in which I scored above the average range.  The other was optimism, which I would've expected a year ago but not so much of late.  There were a couple other areas in which I was at the very top edge of the average range.  And there was only one - emotional regulation - in which I was in the lower half of the average range.

I'm not concluding that this book will be useless for me.  But I am very close to concluding that I should look for another resource that better addresses my weak points.  Or maybe the things that I've been dealing with will be fairly easily addressed now that I'm getting some help in doing so.

Growing, a little, I hope

I'm amazed - again - at how going to work on one trouble area can open my eyes to recognize other things I need to be aware of.  So, first I begin to see that a problematic behavior is an emotional crutch.  Then I begin to find some tools to help keep from picking up that crutch.  That allows me to see more about the what underlies the emotions that I've been using it to manage.

But that wouldn't work on my own, because even though I recognized the behavior as a crutch, I lacked the tools to keep from grabbing for it.

Storm

The sky grows darker as noon approaches
The wind whips the fallen leaves down the wet street
and forces the rain through the fabric of my jeans.
I refuse to bow to it, to cower in the face of this storm.
It offers me no threat - to comfort, security or survival -
that I will fear.

Something new I'm learning

Self control is like a muscle.  You can't just keep using it forever.  It gets fatigued, and needs to rest and recover.

Self control is applied in 3 basic circumstances:

• To do things we know we should (chores, disciplines, etc.)
• To avoid things we know we should avoid (vices, unhealthy choices, etc.)
• To manage negative emotions (anger, depression, etc.)

The third of these will almost always trump the other two.  Someone who uses food to manage their emotional responses will not be able to exercise their will power to stay away from food when an emotional situation arises that they aren't otherwise equipped to deal with, no matter how well they may understand that it is best for them. 

I find this very helpful to understand.

The Resilience Factor

Well, I had this book recommended to me - pretty enthusiastically, actually - so I went ahead and ordered it from Amazon and have started reading it.  The introduction didn't especially resonate with me, but I figured I'd keep reading, and maybe things would start clicking as I got into the meat of the book.

Well, I've just finished the first chapter, and it seems like an excellent book for developing life skills that I mostly seem to already have . . . We'll see, I guess.  I'm not reaching any conclusions yet, nor setting the book aside.  I'm pretty sure I'm going to find skills in it that will be important for me to have.

Pride, humility

Wow.  I so see myself in both principals of today's gospel.

I'm every bit as vain as the Pharisee.
I'm as aware of my failings as the tax collector.

More arguing with lyrics

I never thought I could have it so good.
You were the song that my soul understood.
But time is a river that flows through the woods
and it led us to places we both understood
would be gone before too long . . . 


When we were young we thought life was a game,
but then somebody leaves you and your never the same.
All of places and people belong
to the puzzle, but one of the pieces is gone
And it's you . . . 


These verses from Phish's Happy could get me dwelling on all the people who aren't in my life anymore, through death or more evitable circumstances.  I could find myself lamenting their absence, pining for them.  It'd be an easy and timely thought process to embrace.  I think it'd be an example of filtering, of only looking at the negative, and I don't think it's the right way to reflect on the gifts of love that I've been so fortunate as to have flood my life on so many occasions.

Because the other side of the story is that those wonderful pieces of the puzzle of my life will never be gone. Dear friends and family members who have since moved on, in one way and another, still fill the parts of my life that would only be empty had I not known and loved them in the first place.

And perhaps that is the point of coming back to the refrain:

We want you to be happy
Don't live inside the gloom
We want you to be happy
Come step outside your room


I don't know if it's what they meant, but we can get caught up in building a shrine to our memories, longing for the beloved ones of our past to fill a place for us in our present that really isn't vacant in the same way anymore.  In doing so, we fail to step out into today, and become the greatest obstacle to our own happiness. And maybe, as we instead choose to live out in the daylight, we find them in the very place they're meant to occupy for us now.

Oh, there's one other thing that I need to "argue" with in this set of lyrics, though the metaphor is a little hard to express.  My bride is the song that my soul is to learn to understand.  Harmonizing with her may seem a challenge sometimes, yet training my soul and my skill to do so ever more perfectly is the joy of my life!

Problematic thought patterns

So I have this list of different ways of thinking that can change our understanding of reality and interfere with our ability to simply live a fulfilling life.  The idea is to look over them and see which ones I might be prone to.  Here are the ones I think might fit me, to varying degrees.

• Filtering - the tendency to focus only on the negative aspects of a situation and overlook the positive (or vice versa).  Personal example: I'm invited to minister in music with the parish youth group.  I focus on why I can't support them, rather than the positive of what it means for me to even consider the question in its proper light.
• Overgeneralization - the tendency to draw conclusions that are way beyond the known facts of a situation.  Personal example:  If my cycling buddies haven't e-mailed about a ride in a while, it must be because they've gotten tired of me falling behind because of being out of form, etc.
• Catastrophizing - the tendency to look at things as much worse than they are.  Personal example: Panicking over not being able to find the problematic thought patterns sheet because of the impression it would leave if I lost my first "assignment."
• Mind reading - the tendency to believe you know what other people are thinking or feeling, and to act accordingly without checking out your hunches.  (For me, it's more a matter of thinking that I know what people are likely to think or feel, or of assuming that others think or feel the same way I do.)  Personal example: At my worst moments, I assume people who learn about my past will despise me.  (At my best moments, I merely don't assume one way or the other.)  I couple this with catastrophizing.
• Emotional Reasoning - the tendency to believe that what you feel must be true, automatically.  Personal example:  When Teri stays up late to watch TV regularly, I tend to assume that it's because these shows are more important to her than I am.
• Personalization - The tendency to believe the everything people do or say is some kind of reaction to you.  Personal example: See emotional reasoning example.

I think those are probably the ones that are most a part of my thought patterns.

Robert Frost

Criminal Minds just quoted Robert Frost.  I memorized this poem in grade school:

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are, I think I know.
His house is in the village, though.
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
to stop without a farmhouse near,
between the woods and frozen lake,
the darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
to ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
but I have promises to keep
and miles to go before I sleep,
and miles to go before I sleep.

Oops.  I had to correct three words: see was mind, the darkest was this darkest, and easy was gentle.  Not too bad, I guess.  I'm not remembering from that long ago, though: my grandkids had a great picture book of this poem.

I, too, have miles to go before I sleep.  Probably good for me to remember that.

Rubber Ducky

Rubber Ducky, you're the one, 

You make bathtime so much fun, 

Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you! 

(woh woh, bee doh!) 

Rubber Ducky, joy of joys, 

When I squeeze you, you make noise! 

Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true! 

(doo doo doo doooo, doo doo) 

Every day 

when I make my way 

to the tubby 

I find a little fella 

who's cute and yella 

and chubby 

(rub-a-dub-a-dubby!)

 

Rubber Ducky, you're so fine 

And I'm lucky that you're mine 

Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of you. 

Rubber Ducky, you're so fine 

And I'm lucky that you're mine 

Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of - 

Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of - 

Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you! 

(doo doo, be doo.)

Irresponsible impression

Great: one session with the new therapist, and I already can't find my homework assignment.  Nice first impression.

Saturday's annoyance

Okay, I was in the doghouse already, I suppose for making Sunday's meal before Saturday's was figured out.  But the thing was, there was good reason: I've already lost out on my tomato sauce by not making that a priority, so now I no longer have good tomatoes from the garden to make it with.  Now that we'd spent money on the apples, I wasn't going to throw those away, too, because of not making that a priority, either.  And the bread from market was only going to be good for about another day for the drip beef sandwiches.

And here's the other thing: I'd told the mrs. really early in the day that I was planning to go to 5:00 Mass, and we'd worked out what her schedule of events for the day was, which didn't include Mass. Now, it wasn't that I expected her to cook dinner while I was at Mass.  Quite the opposite.  I'd've bet a pretty big chunk of money that I was going to have to cook when I got home.  But I cooked the steak, and she did the mac and cheese when she got home from seeing her young friend off to homecoming.  I had to run to the store while dinner was being served, as we didn't have the blueberries for the applesauce as of yet, and when I got home I was displaced from my usual position at the table.

But I took the responsibility for dinner dishes and then sat down to dialogue.  After about 5 minutes of yapping at me, she did the same.

Now here's the deal: technically, daily dialogue is a "10-and-10": ten minutes of writing, ten minutes of sharing.  Now, we're not legalistic about that.  Sometimes we'll write for less time than that; especially she will, because she's not fond of writing.  That's okay with me.  But after she'd been writing for at most a couple minutes, the text alarm on her phone goes off, and she starts replying on it.  I'm still writing, mind you.  I was really into what I was sharing with her, and just getting into the feelings part of it that usually concludes the question. (How do I feel about that, HDIF telling you that, etc.)  Well, now I'm feeling mad, and it has nothing to do with what I've just shared.  It's that she's interrupted our dialogue time with text messaging.  So when we get ready to exchange, I calmly tell her I'm feeling angry right now.  So she gets up in a huff and storms off.  When I tell her what I'm upset about, she tells me that she was finished anyway.  So now I don't know whether to be upset that she interrupted her writing time to text or that she shortchanged it so much - by more than half, in fact.

We did share before bed.  But I was still pissed, and of course she still doesn't think she did anything for me to be hurt over.  She clearly didn't feel like dialoguing in the first place, still ticked off over the events of earlier.  And she felt defensive, indicating she was cognizant that she was at least partly in the wrong.

Evening Contrails

The beautiful reds and purples span the horizon,
carry the last trace of the sun's glory, an echo
of a magnificent autumn day now completed.
Wending my way on this evening's errand, I notice
more evidence of air traffic, carrying trav'lers
to their destinations, or perhaps delivering
cargo - gifts and purchases -  to glad recipients.
Again their tails reflect what I can no longer see.
As they evidence that wondrous source of light and warmth,
the vista illustrates how a glorious beauty,
diminishing, reveals another, which it obscured.

Therapy II begins

So, is it possible to encapsulate one's entire life history in a one-hour initial therapy session, and do it in a way that keeps it in the context of my current issues, and not omit anything major?  If it's possible, I did it yesterday.

For the record, I don't think there's anything wrong with being in therapy.  I realize that The American Way is to stand on one's own two feet and not need any help from anybody, dammit.  But I think it'd be stupid to keep being miserable and making the same mistakes on your own, without taking advantage of the resources available to you.

More lyrics

Words to live by:

God Alone
John Keating


God alone!
God alone!
In Your courts, O my Lord, is my home.
You are my treasure, my portion, delight of my soul!
My life, my salvation, my fortress, my God and my all!

O, my soul, claim nothing as your own.
For you there is God, and God alone.

© 1989 Word of God Music

More lyrics

So trying to figure out another song on my wife's Lady A album, I ran across these lyrics.  I completely stopped paying attention to the song when I heard the lyric from programming 101: 


"Well hello world
How you been
Good to see you, my old friend
Sometimes I feel as cold as steel
And broken like I’m never gonna heal
And I see a light, a little grace, a little faith unfurls
Well hello world"

Fortunately I feel as if I'm turning this corner.

Don't let a couple seemingly negative posts in a row worry you.  Going back to therapy is the right solution for what ails me . . .

Love This Pain

It's amazing how a song that I don't especially agree with can still contain a line, a thought, that resonates within me.  Yesterday while driving, my wife had a Lady A CD in.  I'm not especially a fan of theirs, but the song Love This Pain grabbed my attention.  It seems to be about an unhealthy relationship, so as a whole it doesn't apply to me, but there were a couple lines that really struck me:

"It's like I love this life

When nothing's right, yeah something's wrong
It's like I'm just not me

If I can't be a sad, sad song
 . . . 

"It's like I love this pain a little too much
Love my heart all busted up
 . . . It's like I love this pain."

Yes, this describes why I need to reenter therapy.

Contrails

The car hurtles eastward on a clear, early morning.
On the periphery of my vision, the fields along the highway
have seemed shadowy, ephemeral.
The light beginning to spill over the distant horizon
reveals the nocturnal fog, which obscures

the details of the still blanketed landscape,

its tendrils extending their way overhead.
Bit by gradual bit, the sky grows slightly brighter.
Before long I'll need to protect my vision from the
glare of the morning sun's full glory.
For now, the vapor trails of a half-dozen jetliners
are the brightest spots in my field of view,
reflecting the sun's light from beyond the horizon,
giving testimony to its presence and power
more boldly than any solid object in sight.
These gleaming commas in the sky
encourage me to wait upon the promised day to come.
They overpoweringly pierce through the wisps above me,
like a promise of hope that eludes me,
enshrouded in my fog of doubt and self-judgment.

Staying the course

Overall, I've really so enjoying my daily dedicated time with the mrs., but periodically it kicks me in the head.

Yesterday's question about how we felt about our grades just naturally led me to put that in the context of the rest of my life.  I can't help but feel that the word that would be best served by having my picture next to it in the dictionary is "underachiever."  I dunno, maybe I think too much of myself and that label isn't as appropriate as it seems, or maybe I'm just not cutting myself some slack again (seriously).  

But the kicker was hearing my concerns and feelings virtually dismissed as "silly."

The thing about it was, that didn't really bother me as much as it might've in the past.  When she explained where she was coming from, it didn't feel nearly as dismissive as it did at first hearing.  

I think I'm alone now

"Sometimes you act as if you think you're alone . . . ," she said.

Yes, well, when I pour out my heart to you and receive the touching invitation to come watch Undercover Boss with you, I kind of feel that way.

The return of a Great Epic Writer

Lying in bed this morning, I was remembering our old high school group.  In our sophomore year, we used to write lengthy letters to one another, priding ourselves on both our verbosity and our emotional forthrightness.  It seems to me that the whole practice started off with the idea of writing "suicide" letters.  It wasn't that we were suicidal - at least, I don't think any of us were.  To a degree we were outcasts, misfits, who grouped together because we didn't really feel that we belonged in any of the cliques around us, but we weren't really depressed.  Rather, in the morbid fascination that so often characterizes teenagers even as we rush through that stage of life in utter incomprehension of our mortality, we decided to make sure we expressed the things that we wouldn't want to leave unsaid in the event that we died.  I think we had a sense that such expression was probably good for us emotionally.  I remember writing letters that were pages and pages long, filled with all of the concerns and anxiety that consume a teenager's consciousness, and receiving the same in return from my friends.  We were soon referring to ourselves as The Great Epic Writers.  Most of us were in a fairly unstructured, experimental, somewhat self-directed educational program, which usually left us with time during the school day to talk about some of the things we'd expressed to one another.

(It occurs me that we owe a huge apology to Maris St. Cyr, Sr. Jean Furr, Sr. Margaret Mary, Mr. Sakowicz, and Diana Kidd, the teachers whose educational vision maybe shouldn't have been entrusted to a bunch of adolescents.  I suppose this was basically a Montessori type program, or at least that it borrowed heavily from Montessori's concepts as they might apply at the high school level.  I don't know how much longer after our graduation the Beta program lasted at Spalding, but I'm pretty sure I didn't end up being a very good steward of such a great experiment.)

I wonder if my life might have turned out differently if we'd still been engaged in that letter writing exercise the following calendar year when - unbeknownst to my friends and not fully understood by me - my young, dark life turned black, but I guess there's no point in going there.

Anyway, I think that part of the reason I enjoy dialoguing so much hearkens back to these angsty high school days, which trained me for a future I never knew was coming.  It occurs to me now that writing those letters - sometimes a dozen or more pages long, pouring out our deepest fears and anxieties, joys and hopes - and then discussing them with one another, was exactly the model that Marriage Encounter uses to nurture the marital relationship on a daily basis.  Of course, we don't now have the kind of time available to us that we did as teenagers to simply feel and think and express - the "carefree timelessness" that Matthew Kelly identifies as the key to making our relationships thrive.  We have lives and responsibilities to attend to.  But carving out some time each day with my bride of (almost) thirty years, to again express our dreams and our worries - and most of all our put them in the context of our love for one another - is probably more important than everything else that we do, and this experience among my friends in high school has prepared me to recognize this communication mode as familiar and comfortable.

These days I find my mind filled with so many things that I could use my old friends' compassion and reassurance about.

The thing is, I know that not even my dear old friends could convince me of what I cannot seem to believe for myself.  I have plenty of affirmation in my life, from good friends old and new who have walked with me through the dark woods of my life, as well as from my loving wife and family.  Why would more input, from my friends from high school or earlier in my adulthood, make any more of a difference for me?  And so I believe that my current determination to reenter therapy is probably a far better course of action for me.

But I find I have something left that I'd want to say to my fellow Great Epic Writers: I'm sorry that I didn't make better use of the love and support you shared with me, to become someone whose actions are more deserving of respect than mine have been.  Should any of you ever read these words, it will likely be without knowing the depths to which I sank, and though that has been so long ago now, I still feel as if I owed you something better, along with myself and everyone who loves me, really.  I don't feel full of despair over it, but don't know that I will ever overcome my disappointment in myself if I haven't managed it over the last 15 years.  I can't change my past, and strive daily to be a person who lives rightly and loves better than I managed in my worst moments.  But you gave me better than I've ever managed to make of it.

Yet I'm determined to make the most of each day now, to be an instrument of healing and love and support for those around me and to continue to grow into the person I can yet become.  And I pray the same for each of you.  Will you pray for me, too?

More doubt

Christ will not say to me what he said to the Jews: You erred, not knowing the Scriptures and not knowing the power of God. For if, as Paul says, Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, and if the man who does not know Scripture does not know the power and wisdom of God, then ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ. - St. Jerome

I long for the days when I was confident in my faith, when I knew that God was real and that my faith was well-founded, when I had confidence that the historical accounts of the first apostles had been handed down whole and unfiltered, and that my sin and shortcomings were forgiven and fulfilled by a merciful and loving God.  It isn't that I'm ignorant of the Scriptures.  It's just that I'm ignorant.

The emotional lift I get from praising God, from singing and proclaiming His perfect love: is that real, or is that simply a matter of my brain bathing itself in its own chemicals?

The implications of this question for me, personally, are best left unexamined.

I pretty much hate it when I oversleep and don't have time for prayer in the morning . . .

Not 4 publication

I left our marriage encounter meeting on Saturday feeling reassured and secure.  Faye and Clive hosted and presented; their talk was on The Five Love Languages.  Gary Chapman's basic premise is that too many marriages fail because the way each member expresses their love doesn't align with how their partner best receives it, so they never recharge their respective "love tank."  But it isn't simply a matter of compatibility.  It's just important to know, so we can express our love in the way our partner can best receive it.  It's far easier to make an active decision how to express our love than to recognize and receive it in a way that isn't in our primary or secondary language.

I've been struggling to see how my marriage is going to rebalance in light of establishing a healthy view of the two of us for probably the first time in our lives together.  One of the things that has been a concern to me, the thing at the root of what I've had to be careful how I think about, is how few interests we share in common.  It has been the basis for that niggling thought I've had to put away: if I'd been a healthy young adult (for that matter, had either of us been), I doubt we would ever have been a couple.

But I learned on Saturday that we have the same primary and secondary love languages - though I wonder if that would have been the case had we taken our surveys based solely on our own natural  preferences, unfiltered by what we've learned to prefer in the context of our relationship together.  Still, I found it reassuring: (am going to overuse that word) that there's good reason we've managed to preserve our relationship through so much emotional devastation and despite our very different personalities and interests, and good reason to hope we'll be able to continue to thrive in the future.

So discovering that our coupleness is reinforced by our primary and secondary love language preferences helps me to understand how we've survived all that we have, how we can love each other so much in spite of everything.  Sunday morning we had a wonderful, intimate time together, and considering that 1) "physical touch" is our primary love language, 2) this has been the area of our relationship in which we struggle least, and 3) we were really aware of our need to be quiet for the sake of the others in the house,  that's really saying something.  (Hopefully rather than weirding the reader out, this will encourage you that you have something really nice to look forward to as time goes by.)  We both mentioned it during the day, alluded to it in our dialogue last night, and the mrs. brought up again as we snuggled in bed how wonderfully the day had started.

Then she asked the $64,000 (more, really) question.  I really wish she'd've skipped it.  I answered affirmatively and supportively, and without giving a clue that I've been wondering for months myself about this exact question.

"We're more than that, right?"

So this morning I'm trying to just feel reassured that she'd wonder, too.  Isn't it interesting that we're both pondering this question?  That's something else we have in common, right?

I'm not being facetious with that.  I really think it may be another hopeful thing.  I'm more concerned that I thought it more important to reassure her than to be honest with her.

"Avoid anything in your everyday lives that would be unworthy of the gospel of Christ."  Phil 1:27

This doesn't seem so challenging, does it?

St. Paul and St. Vincent

"Life to me, of course, is Christ, but then death would bring me something more; but then again, if living in this body means doing work which is having good results-I do not know what I should choose. I am caught in this dilemma: I want to be gone and be with Christ, which would be very much the better. "  - Phil 1, 21-23

An internal debate of mine, but in a far better context.  Yet I cannot help but think that St. Paul had the advantage of having overcome his failings. While my worst moments are in my past, they do not fade, nor have I finished yanking out their roots.  I don't like my remaining weakness, sinfulness, addiction to endorphines, whatever term we might wish to use for self-indulgence.  Yet I don't seem to hate it enough, either.

"If a needy person requires medicine or other help during prayer time, do whatever has to be done with peace of mind. Offer the deed to God as your prayer. Do not become upset or feel guilty because you interrupted your prayer to serve the poor. God is not neglected if you leave him for such service. One of God’s works is merely interrupted so that another can be carried out. So when you leave prayer to serve some poor person, remember that this very service is performed for God. Charity is certainly greater than any rule. Moreover, all rules must lead to charity. Since she is a noble mistress, we must do whatever she commands. With renewed devotion, then, we must serve the poor, especially outcasts and beggars. They have been given to us as our masters and patrons." - St. Vincent de Paul

How interesting that this reading and feast day should follow yesterday's gospel reading.  I've far too much in common with the self-indulging rich man, and far too little identification with Lazarus.

Must remember . . .

 . . .  this . . .

Interesting stories

By this standard, if the reader finds me not interesting, it's because you don't know me.

I truly wish I wasn't.

And yet there's plenty to argue with, here, too.  Having read the months of storyline, I disagree that "Gran and Peter made all the wrong decisions," and the ones they did make were not necessarily those the woman in this strip thinks they were.

After some recent time pondering the wrong decisions in my life, I find that the real mistakes really don't take any pondering to recognize.

Complete fraud, or work in progress?

Often my thoughts aren't what they ought to be.
Often my feelings aren't what they ought to be.
By grace, many of my actions may be what they ought to be,
but perhaps not most, and by no means all.

I often don't know who I am,
only know what I ought to be,
and that that is not what I am.

But a friend of a friend has shared the following quote:

I am not what I ought to be. I am not what I want to be.
I am not what I hope to be. But still, I am not what I used to be.
And by the grace of God, I am what I am. 
                                              - John Newton

The renowned reformed slave trader was never more wretched than I have been, and yet grace calls me to a gentleness toward myself that is not in my nature.

A schedule conflict

I feel privileged to be able to minister in music in a faith community that is open to the Lord's work, and that is aware of the awewsome ways He has poured forgiveness and healing and grace into my life.  It's a gift just to be part of such a community, and to able to help them praise God is even more of a blessing.

That said, for the first time I'm feeling a little pressured to do something I'm not sure I'm available for.  This quarterly gathering we've started having was set up for a Wednesday night this time, which is our choir rehearsal night.  It isn't that I can never skip choir, but I can't just do it on a whim.  I'll need to check what is on our music calendar that we're likely to be working on that night.

It is sometimes difficult to know the Lord's will.  But one thing I know: God's will for me is to be faithful to the commitments I've already made in His name.

I know this isn't exactly "cutting myself some slack" . . .

As I take the initial step along the next part of the path to emotional wholeness, I find myself considering a thought that may be dangerous for me, yet may be very important in the bigger scheme of things, and which I'll definitely be discussing with my new counselor:

Aren't there some things that a person can do, after which they should never find it too easy to live with themselves?


I mean, let's suppose a person kills an innocent person.  Not necessarily murder, maybe a tragic accident or mistake.  If that event fades too far into the fabric of the rest of their life, and becomes just another part of who they are but doesn't really continue to affect them on a regular basis, what does that say about how seriously they really take the value of life?

The way I've couched this completely theoretical example, this obviously isn't what I deal with, and I'm obviously not inclined to share my actual situation here.  My former therapists certainly stressed that I should never consider it food for public consumption.  But they also indicated it wouldn't always consume me, and yet it seems to.

But isn't it better for our society that some actions always carry such a heavy burden?  Doesn't that serve as a better deterrent for others?  How could it be better for society if the gift of forgiveness also carried away most of the emotional aftermath?

It seems to me that some stigmas exist for good reason.

And yet I am assured by the people who love me that I'm a good person and shouldn't be so hard on myself.  How do I resolve these conflicting truths?

It seems to me that my counselor is going to earn his money.

*sigh*

having now kept an important promise, today i stop and i start

cryptic, i know, but it's a good thing.

Military ball article

I posted this on FB, but things get pushed down the page pretty quickly there and I wanted to give this link another mention and a more permanent home.

When my daughter Cassie told us on Sunday she'd been to a military ball thrown by her husband Nic's unit the previous night, I had no idea I'd be reading about it online the next day.  It really brings home for me what they're going to be up against in the next 12 months.

Please keep Nic and his unit in your prayers throughout the year ahead.  There are lots of small things to pray for, so it's easy to keep things fresh throughout the course of the long year:

• Pray for their safety.
• Pray for the peace-seeking people they're going to encounter there.
• Pray for their conversion, to whatever extent they may need it.
• Pray for the conversion of those they oppose, who feel that attacking civilians is a justifiable way to achieve their ends.
• Pray that our troops will not become so jaded that they succumb to the temptation to embrace such violence themselves.
• Pray that they and their loved ones will remain bound closely together during their time of separation.
• Pray that their families will be protected from harm in their absence.
• Pray that they will be emotionally protected from what they are likely to witness or even inflict.
• Pray that they will return home safe and well.
• Pray that they will be instruments of peace in the midst of a world at war.
• Pray that they will overcome the threat of terrorism decisively and honorably.

And thank you in advance for praying with me for them.

Ps 95, again, and today's gospel reading

And probably about time.

Do not grow stubborn, or harden not your hearts


There are lots of ways in which we do this, and one of the chief ones is by watering down those messages that we'd rather not take to heart.  Today's gospel reading is ripe for dismissal.  "Turning the other cheek" just isn't "the American Way."  It strikes us as weak and foolish to leave ourselves vulnerable for others to take advantage of us.  And we may have a responsibility to our loved ones to not allow others to infringe on what is theirs.  So how can today's gospel reading apply in a 21st century context?

Well, the first thing we should likely realize is that it isn't as if turning the other cheek was a concept likely to be embraced by the people of Jesus' land and time, either.  There may have been some radical fruitcakes who would propose such a selfless, nutty idea, but they'd have been dismissed just as quickly as we dismiss this message today.  By and large, Jesus' fellow Israelites were anxious to throw off Rome's tyrannical yoke and to rule themselves again, and they seem to have taken a dim view of those who didn't prosper.

In a previous post I reflected on the relationship between love and vulnerability.  But it is fairly easy to allow ourselves to be vulnerable to those who mostly return our love, who respond to us with kindness and thoughtfulness.  It is another thing entirely to go the way of the cross for someone who we feel has betrayed or taken advantage of us.  In truth, it's a thing that none of us should probably try on our own, because it is a road fraught with peril for both parties: it is entirely too easy for me to become an enabler of unhealthy behavior.  But we who follow Christ have been promised the gift of the Holy Spirit, who brings along many spiritual gifts beyond our own human nature.  Among these are spiritual wisdom  and discernment, by which we can know what influences are at work in a situation and have spiritual insight into what to do about them.  These gifts help me to know how best to respond to a "neighbor" who may take advantage of me in some way.  The Spirit reminds me that the Lord is my protector and savior as well as my neighbor's, and reveals how to respond that will best allow God's love to flow in any given situation.  Some situations may call for tough love, but perhaps more of them than we realize call us to simply let it go.

This passage includes the Golden Rule.  But there is another aspect to this that we sometimes neglect, as well. It may be hard for me to allow others to show kindness to me in return.  This can reveal something of our attitude toward the kindness we share with others.  If it truly isn't a burden but a blessing for me to show kindness to another, then it is truly a blessing and not a burden for them when another shows kindness to me, as well, and I should not deprive them of this blessing.  Discernment is important here, too: is it my nature to take advantage of others?  If so, then I should probably apply this idea very differently from someone whose nature is to stand on their own and not accept the generosity of others.

The vulnerability to which today's gospel reading calls us is a great challenge.  But there is a difference between responding to that challenge in wisdom and shrinking from it with a stubborn heart.

I don't <3 NY

With apologies to my friends and family who love the city.  I know my post seems out of the blue, but I've just had a young friend return from a visit just bubbling with how great it is, and a young cousin return there with an obvious joy and a sense of coming home.  It isn't that I disagree with them, just that my own experience of the city has been tainted by, well by my experiences in the city.

Best Labor Day ever?

Got up early yesterday, as Teri and I had a pretty full day planned.  We hadn't been canoeing for several years, and both wanted to again.  The Little Miami River is a designated National Wild and Scenic River, and we love being out on it.  One of the major bikeways in the area tracks along it for dozens of miles.

So the idea was for me to get up early and cycle down to the canoe rental place where we'd finish our time on the water.  It was a beautiful but slightly cool morning, so I needed my jacket but not my long pants.  I was pleasantly surprised near the beginning of my ride to encounter one of my cycling friends from church, who I probably haven't ridden with all year as he doesn't go out with the hard core group very much.  He was waiting on another friend of ours, who didn't show up, so I had unexpected and welcome company for the first 20 miles of my ride.  We ended up riding the same distance, except mine was one-way and his was out-and-back.  Soon after he turned around I decided that either the morning or the cyclist had warmed up enough to shed my jacket.

I got down to Morrow and waited about 15 minutes for Teri to get there in the van, at which point we rented our canoe and they drove us upriver to our starting point.  It was an absolutely gorgeous day on the river.  The last time we were out, Teri hadn't had her shoulder fixed yet, so she was able to help with more of the paddling this time, especially on the shallow spots.  I did miss a couple channels, at which point I had to get out of the canoe to get us floating again; at one of these Teri had to get out, too, momentarily.  It was a pretty nervous moment for her, as the river was fairly rapid at that point, but we managed it well, then retrieved the paddle she dropped and I think concluded our trip without further wading.

Next we showered and changed and headed to a nearby winery, where we sampled several wines and shared a huge cheese tray.  Finally, we stopped by the home of some of our oldest friends in Ohio, who we don't see so much since they moved away and back, as they now live further from us and attend a different parish.  Hanging out with them and their younger two kids, now almost 21 and 17 (?) but who really engaged well with us "older folks," was a great way to conclude a wonderful day together.

Rough night . . .

Woke up twice from dreams, neither of which I remembered on waking. The first had me halfway out of bed before I realized it was just a dream. Couldn't get back to sleep after the second, so took the opportunity to pray for our girls and grandkids and Teri's dad and some geographically separated friends.  Then I came out and laid on the sofa for a while, and realized another reason I was having trouble sleeping: my left kidney was (is) really hurting. Have to find out what analgesic is best against that sort of pain, as the ibuprofen only took the edge off. Decided to skip 8 a.m. mass, but am awake and the kidney won't let me get back to sleep. So, I guess it's time to quit my griping and start praising God, who is after all way greater than all this crap. 

Yummy IKEA cinnamon rolls for breakfast this morning. Now a hot shower and off to the mass I was skipping!

Being vigilant

Geez, will I never quit having to turn away from the world's ubiquitous point of view? Here's another thought along the line of my Arguing with Lyrics thread a few months ago:

Among the most harmful (for me) books I ever read was David Copperfield. Sensing a void in my literary background, I picked it up in my twenties and, yes, it's definitely a classic of English literature. However, it had the unhealthy side effect of reinforcing my wrong judgment of my bride for years thereafter. Eventually I came to understand just how inaccurate, unreasonable, and unfair it was for me to think of Teri as my Dora, or to be looking ahead to some day when I could finally be with my Anne, whoever that might prove to be. I can't help but believe that this excellent book has misinformed many other readers' judgments of their relationships, as well.

A few months ago I got hooked on a storyline in the comic 9 Chickweed Lane, which now twists in a direction I just have to turn away from for very similar reasons. (And yes, I know this is nothing more than a comic soap opera.)

"Maybe when we're 80," someone once suggested to me, but I've long since rejected that false hope. Setting aside the issue of my subsequent history, there is no way I could be the husband I'm supposed to be - the husband I want to be - or nurture the sort of marriage that Teri and I might have together, if I were longing for a someday with someone else, even one still decades off, as it once was for the now elderly characters in this storyline.

My bride is the treasure of my life, and I must be on guard against the influence of diversions which would misdirect my thoughts, tempting me to not value her appropriately.

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something."  


Umm, no, and in the grand scheme of things, the pain that life has brought me isn't so unreasonable.  I'd do well to remember this more often.

Dying to yourself hurts

And I suck at it.

A great weekend

Well, we can start with the new roof on Friday.  Then had our in-town grandkids spend the night Friday night so we they could watch the parade go by our house Saturday morning.  That became an opportunity for breakfast, with waffles and eggs and bacon and Shaina and Max, followed by the parade.  Next came a wonderfully restful nap, a nice mass with one of our own priests for the first time in several weeks, a great meeting of our marriage encounter group, and topping off the evening with a great get-together in honor of Shaina's 30th b-day.

Sunday morning was an early rise for a metric century, followed by another snooze (more deserved, I'd have to say), a wonderful phone call with a dear friend, a long-overdue bath for my bike, a fabulous dinner with Jodi and Steve, and a very nice time of sharing with Teri that promises to become a daily part of our lives.

Wow.  Today I'd love to just bask in all that with a lazy day, but my job is calling me back to the other part of reality . . .

Balance

Sometimes we find balances that don't really work for us, and they end up messing us up in the long term.  I had one of those for a long time, and then, it turns out, replaced it with another one.

No, I'm not the greatest thing ever.  And no, I'm not the scum of the earth.  At least, I'm pretty sure it's "no" on both counts.

But these two antipodal points of view have, between them, always defined the most important relationship in my life.  For almost fifteen years, I fancied myself superior to my wife, and she put up with all the attendant baggage that came along with that. For the almost fifteen years since, I've considered myself beneath her, and while I've treated her far better as a result, it has also built our relationship upon an equally false foundation.

St. Paul's admonition to the Philippians, "Humbly regard others as more important than yourselves," has to apply in there somewhere.  In fact, I'm certain that's why our relationship has been way better for her in my latter pseudo-balance than it was in the former.

But the process of accepting myself as someone who is worthwhile brings with it serious relationship challenges, even as I avoid a pendular overcompensation back toward my original delusion.  After being married for thirty years, I didn't expect to have to rebuild our relationship on a new foundation.  I didn't expect differences that haven't mattered in years to suddenly have to be rebalanced.  I didn't expect to have to rediscover the person I'm married to so that I could figure out how each rediscovery fits into a healthily balanced life together.  And those things that have remained issues all along?  Those are the hardest.  I didn't expect to have to put them in a different perspective from the one I've made due with for the last 15 years.

It isn't that we're in a crisis.  Far from it.  I remain committed to you, my darling, and am still really glad we're spending the rest of our life together.

I absolutely hate being patronized.  Excuse me?  While I was "out sulking"??  Taking a time out is not "sulking," it's "anger management."  Now, excuse me while I go "sulk" some more . . . .

I hate it when there's plenty of blame to go around but I seem to be the only one willing to accept my share of it.

Status quo

I was concerned this morning that you might be feeling as if, as long as everything feels status quo, we must be okay.  I'm concerned that you may have the idea that nurturing our relationship isn't going to still be hard work, that we've reached a point at which we can just put things on cruise control and they'll take care of themselves.

I understand that our circle's dialog challenge intimidates you, that just thinking about dialoguing makes you feel inadequate and insecure, even though you've been doing so well with it when we do.  I don't have the slightest interest in pressuring you into something that makes you feel that way.  But what do you propose, then, as an alternative that will give us the daily time we need to nurture our relationship together?  There has to be something, because what we're doing now isn't working.  My idea of a life together involves more than simply sharing a home and a bed . . .

I love you, deeply.  But we can't take that for granted.  We've got to keep tending.  We need time together, not just in the same room, but actually sharing activities, sharing our feelings, hopes and fears.  And we need to keep reaching outside ourselves, too.  I'm pretty sure the idea isn't for us to live in a "contentedly ever after" enclave for the rest of our lives.  Those two things - working on our relationship and opening ourselves up to others in appropriate ways - need to go hand-in-hand.