Yesterday evening you left the house to take the grandchildren home without saying goodbye in our customary way; even after I pointed that out, you still returned home and also didn't greet me on your return in our customary way. You soon retreated downstairs - which was probably best, actually - where you remained until after I was asleep, even though I made it a point to come down and bid you goodnight in our customary way.
So in the middle of the night, when I got up to use the bathroom and you asked me about the extra pillow in the bed, was I really supposed to say that I started out the night lying next to an extra pillow because it seemed like as close as I was going to get to a hug? That I was feeling hurt that in your anger toward me you didn't feel inclined to share affection with me? That I was feeling very lonely?
I know you don't like to be disagreed with concerning the grandchildren (the early argument). But if you really wanted me to go along with you to take them home rather than working on music, you shouldn't have expected me to read your mind about it (the late disagreement).
But we are called to love tenderly, even when our partner isn't acting in a way that makes it easy for us to love. I must overcome this.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Quandary
So my goddaughter started a firestorm on Facebook over her correction of a schoolmate who used the phrase, "That's so gay." It is so hard to be supporting and accepting of her without undermining truth at the same time.
The thing is: the best way for me to do that would be to talk with her about some of my own issues that I have dealt with privately and in therapy without ever discussing with my bride. I think I'm going to have to beat around the bush a little with her . . .
The thing is: the best way for me to do that would be to talk with her about some of my own issues that I have dealt with privately and in therapy without ever discussing with my bride. I think I'm going to have to beat around the bush a little with her . . .
Friday, September 27, 2013
Adventures in my life
I usually love it when I get to hear all of an episode of Adventures in Odyssey, and my timing getting in the car to drive to Cedarville last night was perfect. Unfortunately, the episode hit just a tad too close to my early childhood for comfort. But it was very well done.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Today's words
Loss
On rare occasions, someone dies who means so much to the people you love that you know your life has been diminished simply by not knowing the deceased.
Number synchronicity
I just noticed that I've had 22,486 page views. The last knowledge base item I worked on was answer 68422.
Good secular advice
I guess this post title isn't a complete oxymoron. I knew this already, of course; it's just that I have to be careful about the underlying assumptions of secular advice givers and weigh each column against the Truth. (and the Way and the Life.)
I think I especially need to heed tip number one. (again.) And maybe five. (And maybe for me they're the same thing.)
I think I especially need to heed tip number one. (again.) And maybe five. (And maybe for me they're the same thing.)
Monday, September 23, 2013
"Two out of three" wins, but maybe not every time
So my personal expression of cognitive dissonance's role in the relationship between our thoughts/beliefs, feelings, and decisions/behavior comes to the forefront again with Friday's message and yesterday's post. I can see again why every therapist I've worked with put such an emphasis on self-concept. For an abuser, "I'm the scum of the earth" can be a self-fulfilling prophecy, so as we approached the conclusion of our program of therapy there was always an emphasis on getting the client to understand: "You're not that person anymore."
But I am still the same person. I can't not be that person, no matter how many cells in my body die and are replaced, no matter how much I have replaced unhealthy and hurtful thoughts and decisions with healthy and loving ones. I never want to do those sorts of things again, but I can't deny that I am the one who did them. So when someone tries to affirm the person I have become by complimenting the person I am, my mind always pushes back because of what I have done.
I suppose it is probably a form of vanity that none of the things I would say to someone else in my position makes any difference to me. I should have been a better person than that all along, I think, because I clearly still believe in the concept of good and bad people while I reject such simplistic distinctions from the lips of others. And so I continue to resist the idea that I am, that I could possibly be as I have been told over and again, a good man.
So yet I struggle with the issue that was considered my final stage of successful program of therapy. I wasn't faking it at the time, mind you. Rather, there were specific subsequent occasions on which my friends - people whose opinion I value - made clear that they would never consider someone who had done things like what I did to be a good person. The fact that they had no idea that they were in the presence of someone who had done such things only made their opinions weigh more heavily in my self-judgment.
Still, the element of unconsciousness seems critically important. To speak in extreme terms that don't really apply to me anymore: if I hated myself without being aware of it - or of why - and were instead trying to live as a respectable member of society while unconsciously not believing that I am, then I would be likely to act out in ways that would reinforce my inner judgments about myself. The unrecognized feelings of self-loathing coupled with the buried negative self-beliefs could only be resolved if I were to take actions that confirmed them, and I would be unlikely to fully recognize why I did these things. Something like this was a major part of my cycle as an abuser.
But I am no longer unconscious of the things that make me doubt my overall self-value. And that absence of unconscious dissonance seems to make all the difference in my ability to make the sort of choices that the kind of person that I want to be would make.
Now if only I could believe that someone who makes the sort of choices that the kind of person that I want to be would make is de facto the kind of person that I want to be.
(got that?)
But I am still the same person. I can't not be that person, no matter how many cells in my body die and are replaced, no matter how much I have replaced unhealthy and hurtful thoughts and decisions with healthy and loving ones. I never want to do those sorts of things again, but I can't deny that I am the one who did them. So when someone tries to affirm the person I have become by complimenting the person I am, my mind always pushes back because of what I have done.
I suppose it is probably a form of vanity that none of the things I would say to someone else in my position makes any difference to me. I should have been a better person than that all along, I think, because I clearly still believe in the concept of good and bad people while I reject such simplistic distinctions from the lips of others. And so I continue to resist the idea that I am, that I could possibly be as I have been told over and again, a good man.
So yet I struggle with the issue that was considered my final stage of successful program of therapy. I wasn't faking it at the time, mind you. Rather, there were specific subsequent occasions on which my friends - people whose opinion I value - made clear that they would never consider someone who had done things like what I did to be a good person. The fact that they had no idea that they were in the presence of someone who had done such things only made their opinions weigh more heavily in my self-judgment.
Still, the element of unconsciousness seems critically important. To speak in extreme terms that don't really apply to me anymore: if I hated myself without being aware of it - or of why - and were instead trying to live as a respectable member of society while unconsciously not believing that I am, then I would be likely to act out in ways that would reinforce my inner judgments about myself. The unrecognized feelings of self-loathing coupled with the buried negative self-beliefs could only be resolved if I were to take actions that confirmed them, and I would be unlikely to fully recognize why I did these things. Something like this was a major part of my cycle as an abuser.
But I am no longer unconscious of the things that make me doubt my overall self-value. And that absence of unconscious dissonance seems to make all the difference in my ability to make the sort of choices that the kind of person that I want to be would make.
Now if only I could believe that someone who makes the sort of choices that the kind of person that I want to be would make is de facto the kind of person that I want to be.
(got that?)
Today's word, and not
tergiversation - ter-jiv-er-SAY-shun\ 1. evasion of straightforward action or clear-cut statement : equivocation 2. desertion of a cause, position, party, or faith
Oh, and today's WOTD was also new to me, but I don't think it's worth any more bytes.
I don't think this one will ever roll off my tongue. I can live with that.
Oh, and today's WOTD was also new to me, but I don't think it's worth any more bytes.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Ever the antagonist
I had a feeling that our friends out west who are currently separated by the legal system could use a stronger than normal word of encouragement last Friday on their anniversary. I still haven't heard back from the husband, but received a very nice reply from his wife, in the course of which she had to go and encourage me in return with that phrase that my mind just cannot seem to apply to myself anymore.
It's an easy compliment to dismiss from someone who doesn't know my story. From someone who does . . . well . . . somehow I always manage it anyway. My brain just can't get wrapped around the concept anymore.
It's an easy compliment to dismiss from someone who doesn't know my story. From someone who does . . . well . . . somehow I always manage it anyway. My brain just can't get wrapped around the concept anymore.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
What *was* I thinking?
Stayed up past 2 in the morning watching the end (well, final third) of an 18-inning baseball game. I should have better sense than that.
Friday, September 20, 2013
Meeting Wolfe
Child, child, have patience and belief, for life is many days, and each present hour will pass away. Son, son, you have been mad and drunken, furious and wild, filled with hatred and despair, and all the dark confusions of the soul - but so have we. You found the earth too great for your one life, you found your brain and sinew smaller than the hunger and desire that fed on them - but it has been this way with all men. You have stumbled on in darkness, you have been pulled in opposite directions, you have faltered, you have missed the way, but, child, this is the chronicle of the earth. And now, because you have known madness and despair, and because you will grow desperate again before you come to evening, we who have stormed the ramparts of the furious earth and been hurled back, we who have been maddened by the unknowable and bitter mystery of love, we who have hungered after fame and savored all of life, the tumult, pain, and frenzy, and now sit quietly by our windows watching all that henceforth never more shall touch us - we call upon you to take heart, for we can swear to you that these things pass. - Thomas Wolfe, You Can't Go Home Again
I should probably be careful to quote a book I've never read, but my goodness . . . And this:
Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Saying: "{Death is] to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth."
And:
He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had found out about them as one has to find out--through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through being mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused. Each thing he learned was so simple and obvious, once he grasped it, that he wondered why he had not always known it. And what had he learned? A philosopher would not think it much, perhaps, and yet in a simple human way it was a good deal. Just by living, by making the thousand little daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environment, and conscious thought, and deep emotion had driven him to make, and by taking the consequences, he had learned that he could not eat his cake and have it, too. He had learned that in spite of his strange body, so much off scale that it had often made him think himself a creature set apart, he was still the son and brother of all men living. He had learned that he could not devour the earth, that he must know and accept his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years past had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing up. And, most important of all for one who had taken so long to grow up, he thought he had learned not to be the slave of his emotions.
Quotations pages are dangerous.
I clearly find in Wolfe's writing and thinking a kindred style. There are some other quotes there that I clearly disagree with -- a lengthy one concerning the permanence of the earth, for instance, though compared to our earthly existence it may seem so -- but I believe I may see about downloading this book. I haven't read in entirely too long.
I should probably be careful to quote a book I've never read, but my goodness . . . And this:
Something has spoken to me in the night...and told me that I shall die, I know not where. Saying: "{Death is] to lose the earth you know for greater knowing; to lose the life you have, for greater life; to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving; to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth."
And:
He had learned some of the things that every man must find out for himself, and he had found out about them as one has to find out--through error and through trial, through fantasy and illusion, through falsehood and his own damn foolishness, through being mistaken and wrong and an idiot and egotistical and aspiring and hopeful and believing and confused. Each thing he learned was so simple and obvious, once he grasped it, that he wondered why he had not always known it. And what had he learned? A philosopher would not think it much, perhaps, and yet in a simple human way it was a good deal. Just by living, by making the thousand little daily choices that his whole complex of heredity, environment, and conscious thought, and deep emotion had driven him to make, and by taking the consequences, he had learned that he could not eat his cake and have it, too. He had learned that in spite of his strange body, so much off scale that it had often made him think himself a creature set apart, he was still the son and brother of all men living. He had learned that he could not devour the earth, that he must know and accept his limitations. He realized that much of his torment of the years past had been self-inflicted, and an inevitable part of growing up. And, most important of all for one who had taken so long to grow up, he thought he had learned not to be the slave of his emotions.
Quotations pages are dangerous.
I clearly find in Wolfe's writing and thinking a kindred style. There are some other quotes there that I clearly disagree with -- a lengthy one concerning the permanence of the earth, for instance, though compared to our earthly existence it may seem so -- but I believe I may see about downloading this book. I haven't read in entirely too long.
Today's word(s)
fraxinella \frak-suh-NEL-uh\ - a Eurasian perennial herb (Dictamnus albus) of the rue family with flowers that emit an aromatic flammable vapor in hot weather
Wikipedia shows it capitalized. Both Fraxinella and Dictamnus are new to me, and aside from making sure that I don't ever inadvertently start a fire, I can't imagine why I'd care about it beyond mere curiosity.
Tired old dog
I sure hope my daughter's new dishwasher and microwave (that I'm on call to help install) don't get delivered too early tomorrow.
(Did I really type the wrong form of /tu/ originally? I must be really tired!)
(Did I really type the wrong form of /tu/ originally? I must be really tired!)
Thursday, September 19, 2013
The two brothers
These two brothers from the well-known parable in Sunday's gospel probably call for more frequent attention than we give them. I keep coming back to the thought that the self-righteous find the mercy of God to be an incredible obstacle to fully giving themselves over to their own relationship with him.
At the same time we have Pope Francis indicating that an over-emphasis on morality is probably interfering with our ability to do the work of Christ. It isn't that we should disregard morality, but we must remember that Christ came for sinners. He meets each of us where we are, then calls us each to follow him in holiness, which is far more than mere morality.
At the same time we have Pope Francis indicating that an over-emphasis on morality is probably interfering with our ability to do the work of Christ. It isn't that we should disregard morality, but we must remember that Christ came for sinners. He meets each of us where we are, then calls us each to follow him in holiness, which is far more than mere morality.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Not sleeping well
Another night with many dreams, but I only remembered snippets upon waking. I think I was partially awake several times in the night. I hope my nightly nasal strip is helping my wife sleep better, because at some point every night it invariably comes off at least partially and then annoys me until I finish removing it.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Etymological mystery
Today's WOTD on the Merriam-Webster site is a very common one. How odd that its origins should be so shrouded.
A friend's post
I am in competition with no one. I have no desire to play the game of being better than anyone. I am simply trying to be better than the person I was yesterday.
This seems to be a healthy approach to life, and on good days I try to live by it. On bad days, my goal tends to be even a bit more modest.
This seems to be a healthy approach to life, and on good days I try to live by it. On bad days, my goal tends to be even a bit more modest.
A night full of dreams
First, at work, in training, with an ink leak that turned out to be mostly replenisher, trying to isolate it and repair it. Then there were four new printers to be installed that I had to inform my training colleagues about, except it turned out that they were from a hyper-realistic dream within my dream, except that they were somehow really there. The next day we had a very funny comedienne and motivational speaker, after which none of the guys wanted to go to dinner. I couldn't find my car anywhere outside the line of two-story row houses that we were leaving. I thought I spotted it in front of a house across the street, but it was only another car of the same color, different make and model. I reluctantly got into my old Tercel, and drove around the block to where Teri and I were staying. She had picked up my car because her windshield had been shattered, and replacing it was going to cost a thousand dollars, and I was talking to the credit company who was balking at approving a ceiling increase even though we have great credit.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Today's words
orchidaceous \or-kuh-DAY-shus\ - 1. of, relating to, or resembling the orchids 2. showy, ostentatious
valetudinarian \val-uh-too-duh-NAIR-ee-un\ - a person of a weak or sickly constitution; especially : one whose chief concern is his or her ill health
Though I'd never heard this word, the first definition seems rather obvious. The second makes sense to me, as well, in light of the first.
valetudinarian \val-uh-too-duh-NAIR-ee-un\ - a person of a weak or sickly constitution; especially : one whose chief concern is his or her ill health
Can a seven-syllable word be considered to roll off the tongue?
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Today's readings
Throughout the week I thought I was getting fresh insight into the readings for Mass today, and apparently our associate pastor was being led in a similar direction. Particularly, I thought the reading from St. Paul's first letter to Timothy brought exactly the attitude that Christians should have with regard to others. St. Paul describes himself as the foremost of sinners, and celebrates that God's mercy is greater than his failings. This attitude makes him welcoming of others who struggle along the way, even as he calls them to holiness in their lives.
And for the first time in my life, I realized that the first two parables that Jesus shared in today's gospel reading from St. Luke serve to focus the third one in a very different direction from that which most of us emphasize. The interplay between the younger son and the father gets so much attention in the parable that it is easy to minimize the struggles of the older brother and the effect they have on him.
Of the two brothers, the one who ultimately relies completely on his father's mercy, forsaking his right even to be called his son, is the one who is able to enter the feast. The one who has remained faithful begins to believe that he is more deserving of the gift of the Father's love. He begins to conclude that his father shouldn't love him simply because he is his son, which is a matter of no accomplishment on the older brother's part, but because he deserves to be loved as a result of his faithfulness.
This worthiness-based "gospel" is often our approach to our faith. I have lamented with friends in the past how many of us tend to approach our relationship with Christ as if we will eventually grow to a point at which we will no longer need a savior. Rather than our holiness becoming our gift of thanksgiving for all that God has done for us in making us his sons and daughters, we begin to think of it as the basis for that relationship. And when we encounter our spiritual siblings who have, in our opinion, squandered their inheritance in profligate living and sin, we build up obstacles for them, conditions they must meet before we will be willing to accept them.
I have brothers and sisters with whom I worship every week who, for their sake, I wish were making different decisions in how they interpret life and in their resulting behavioral choices. But I also encounter someone in the mirror each morning who regularly makes decisions and compromises that are not fully consistent with the complete holiness to which I am called. The degree to which I justify my standing with God on the basis of the good decisions that I think I am making -- while disregarding any effects of the bad ones -- may play a role in my tendency to judge others as not belonging at the table. But those whom I might tend to exclude, the Father longs to restore to their rightful place, and if I am not willing to accept that, I will not be able to take my place at the family feast.
The older brother even disdainfully emphasizes "this son of yours" rather than acknowledging any relationship with his brother. But as long as I insist that I am not another's brother, I will exclude myself from the feast. The father in the parable doesn't insist that the older brother join the feast; he meets him where he is, doesn't dismiss his concerns, and offers him a different point of view as he reinforces his status. But the choice of the oldest brother is before us as well: we can stand on our own righteous worthiness, but that will invariably leave us choosing to remain apart from the feast, for everyone who enters is unworthy, and knows it.
Personally, I have given St. Paul enough of a run for the title of "the foremost of sinners" that I welcome anyone who would join the feast, even as we are all called to greater holiness together -- which, of course, allows us to feast more fully!
And for the first time in my life, I realized that the first two parables that Jesus shared in today's gospel reading from St. Luke serve to focus the third one in a very different direction from that which most of us emphasize. The interplay between the younger son and the father gets so much attention in the parable that it is easy to minimize the struggles of the older brother and the effect they have on him.
Of the two brothers, the one who ultimately relies completely on his father's mercy, forsaking his right even to be called his son, is the one who is able to enter the feast. The one who has remained faithful begins to believe that he is more deserving of the gift of the Father's love. He begins to conclude that his father shouldn't love him simply because he is his son, which is a matter of no accomplishment on the older brother's part, but because he deserves to be loved as a result of his faithfulness.
This worthiness-based "gospel" is often our approach to our faith. I have lamented with friends in the past how many of us tend to approach our relationship with Christ as if we will eventually grow to a point at which we will no longer need a savior. Rather than our holiness becoming our gift of thanksgiving for all that God has done for us in making us his sons and daughters, we begin to think of it as the basis for that relationship. And when we encounter our spiritual siblings who have, in our opinion, squandered their inheritance in profligate living and sin, we build up obstacles for them, conditions they must meet before we will be willing to accept them.
I have brothers and sisters with whom I worship every week who, for their sake, I wish were making different decisions in how they interpret life and in their resulting behavioral choices. But I also encounter someone in the mirror each morning who regularly makes decisions and compromises that are not fully consistent with the complete holiness to which I am called. The degree to which I justify my standing with God on the basis of the good decisions that I think I am making -- while disregarding any effects of the bad ones -- may play a role in my tendency to judge others as not belonging at the table. But those whom I might tend to exclude, the Father longs to restore to their rightful place, and if I am not willing to accept that, I will not be able to take my place at the family feast.
The older brother even disdainfully emphasizes "this son of yours" rather than acknowledging any relationship with his brother. But as long as I insist that I am not another's brother, I will exclude myself from the feast. The father in the parable doesn't insist that the older brother join the feast; he meets him where he is, doesn't dismiss his concerns, and offers him a different point of view as he reinforces his status. But the choice of the oldest brother is before us as well: we can stand on our own righteous worthiness, but that will invariably leave us choosing to remain apart from the feast, for everyone who enters is unworthy, and knows it.
Personally, I have given St. Paul enough of a run for the title of "the foremost of sinners" that I welcome anyone who would join the feast, even as we are all called to greater holiness together -- which, of course, allows us to feast more fully!
Not-stalgic
On the way back from Indian Lake this evening, Teri and I were listening to a 70's program on the station we were tuned to. It was nice to hear so many of the songs that were popular when we were in high school.
We were just about home when that experience became tainted by other memories. I should have known that eventually we'd hear Queen. They were such a popular band in that era, and I'm amazed as I listen to them how big an influence their style has had on my musical taste. Their classically-influence arrangements prepared me for the choral music and classical accompaniments that have become a precious part of my worship experiences.
But the most emotionally damaging weekend of my life included a Queen concert. Still, I didn't change the station when We Will Rock You came on, and I was pleased that they continued on to We Are The Champions, as many stations don't anymore. And while I sat quietly through the medley, I didn't let my emotions get carried into resentment and fuming over the remaining events of that weekend so long ago.
We were just about home when that experience became tainted by other memories. I should have known that eventually we'd hear Queen. They were such a popular band in that era, and I'm amazed as I listen to them how big an influence their style has had on my musical taste. Their classically-influence arrangements prepared me for the choral music and classical accompaniments that have become a precious part of my worship experiences.
But the most emotionally damaging weekend of my life included a Queen concert. Still, I didn't change the station when We Will Rock You came on, and I was pleased that they continued on to We Are The Champions, as many stations don't anymore. And while I sat quietly through the medley, I didn't let my emotions get carried into resentment and fuming over the remaining events of that weekend so long ago.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Today's word
presage \PRESS-ij\ - 1. to give an omen or warning of : foreshadow 2. foretell, predict 3. to make or utter a prediction
The verb "presage" was predated by a noun "presage," meaning "omen," said the WOTD write-up, which I'd finally clicked on for this word I've known for a very long time. "Well," I thought, "if that's the case, I'd expect the noun to be pronounced . . . ," and looked at the pronunciation to discover that I have mentally mispronounced this word (as \pree-SAGE\) for my entire adult life. It's neat how knowing it was originally a noun changed my awareness of its pronunciation.
Fearing no thing
Distance separates us, but love unites us, and death itself cannot divide us. - St. John Chrysostom
The second reading from today's Office of Readings is a reminder that I have nothing about which to be anxious. When I experience anxiety, it is usually because I have fixed my eyes upon the wrong thing, letting the tasks before me or the circumstances of my life fill my vision rather than the God of my life.
Particularly, I have known separation, in various ways throughout my life, from those I hold dearest, and it is good that I am reminded of the Spirit who unites us in one Body. This is a special gift at a time when I have lately been reminded so powerfully of both those who have been dear to me and those who have been, well, more of a challenge. Just when I found myself lamenting my loss and reconnecting with hurts I have received, I am reminded of God's ever-present, loving care and providence. I am filled with an awareness of the treasure God is and the treasures he has poured into my life, and with gratitude for the many vessels through whom he has poured abundant love into my life.
I need fear no lack. My life will always be full of love, and whenever I am not sufficient for a task set before me, God's grace will be sufficient to fill my shortcoming.
Funny thing: I started this post to observe that I had nothing to write about after 8 posts in the last two days, but as soon as I took a few minutes to pray and reflect I found something of value that I really needed to reinforce here.
The second reading from today's Office of Readings is a reminder that I have nothing about which to be anxious. When I experience anxiety, it is usually because I have fixed my eyes upon the wrong thing, letting the tasks before me or the circumstances of my life fill my vision rather than the God of my life.
Particularly, I have known separation, in various ways throughout my life, from those I hold dearest, and it is good that I am reminded of the Spirit who unites us in one Body. This is a special gift at a time when I have lately been reminded so powerfully of both those who have been dear to me and those who have been, well, more of a challenge. Just when I found myself lamenting my loss and reconnecting with hurts I have received, I am reminded of God's ever-present, loving care and providence. I am filled with an awareness of the treasure God is and the treasures he has poured into my life, and with gratitude for the many vessels through whom he has poured abundant love into my life.
I need fear no lack. My life will always be full of love, and whenever I am not sufficient for a task set before me, God's grace will be sufficient to fill my shortcoming.
Funny thing: I started this post to observe that I had nothing to write about after 8 posts in the last two days, but as soon as I took a few minutes to pray and reflect I found something of value that I really needed to reinforce here.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Today's words
metonymy \muh-TAH-nuh-mee\ - a figure of speech consisting of the use of the name of one thing for that of another of which it is an attribute or with which it is associated
I've definitely heard of this, but couldn't recall what it meant.quisling \KWIZ-ling\ - 1. a person who helps an enemy that has taken control of his or her country : traitor 2. collaborator
This was a completely new one on me.
And then, just like that, I am
Back there, that is.
In my dream, my dad was dead, his body laid out upstairs in the viewing room of the house. It was time for the service to start, and I walked up the stairs to view his body and pray for him, which I hadn't done yet, with apologies to the other mourners - especially his mother - who were anxious to get this difficult time done with. Surprisingly I noticed that he was breathing, and after a moment managed to convince myself that it wasn't an illusion! In my dream there was a momentary role reversal, I was suddenly the dad and he the child as I rushed downstairs with him in my arms, where the roles reversed again and he apologized for never lavishing the love on me that I deserved. Somehow the feelings of him and me merged, and I felt the remorse of my neglect overtaken by love for my child at the same time I felt like a child whose heart was flooded with the healing power of the love of my dad which I had never known before. In my dream, father promised son that he would never again allow him to feel unloved. The rest of my dream was filled with hugs and affirmation.
When I awoke, my wife was kissing me goodbye on her way to work, and I felt alone, like an abandoned child who had been given momentary hope but who now felt devastated by the contrast with how loved I felt in my dream. You'd think a dream like this could feel cathartic, but it felt like the complete opposite, like a perfect reminder of a part of how much my dad hurt and rejected me that I had long ago tucked away in a corner of my heart where I could contain the pain that has now come flowing back out.
It's official. My own brain is trying to kill me.
But I'm a grown-up now, and he's been buried for 39 years and can't reject me anymore.
In my dream, my dad was dead, his body laid out upstairs in the viewing room of the house. It was time for the service to start, and I walked up the stairs to view his body and pray for him, which I hadn't done yet, with apologies to the other mourners - especially his mother - who were anxious to get this difficult time done with. Surprisingly I noticed that he was breathing, and after a moment managed to convince myself that it wasn't an illusion! In my dream there was a momentary role reversal, I was suddenly the dad and he the child as I rushed downstairs with him in my arms, where the roles reversed again and he apologized for never lavishing the love on me that I deserved. Somehow the feelings of him and me merged, and I felt the remorse of my neglect overtaken by love for my child at the same time I felt like a child whose heart was flooded with the healing power of the love of my dad which I had never known before. In my dream, father promised son that he would never again allow him to feel unloved. The rest of my dream was filled with hugs and affirmation.
When I awoke, my wife was kissing me goodbye on her way to work, and I felt alone, like an abandoned child who had been given momentary hope but who now felt devastated by the contrast with how loved I felt in my dream. You'd think a dream like this could feel cathartic, but it felt like the complete opposite, like a perfect reminder of a part of how much my dad hurt and rejected me that I had long ago tucked away in a corner of my heart where I could contain the pain that has now come flowing back out.
It's official. My own brain is trying to kill me.
But I'm a grown-up now, and he's been buried for 39 years and can't reject me anymore.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
That time of year already?
On the one hand, I shouldn't associate every melancholy mood in September or October as the onset of an annual autumnal funk. But I also suppose that it's a good idea to remember that, even if that's what's going on here, I have gotten through it in the past.
Sharing with the mom of a childhood classmate has caused me to hearken back to my childhood early this season, to back before my dad died, that 12-year-old autumn when he almost died in that car accident and mom was gone, too, for close to a month, it seems. I was also reading my Sugar Bowl reflection from last year. These things have combined to have me remember what my childhood years were like.
I'm glad I'm not there anymore, actually.
Sharing with the mom of a childhood classmate has caused me to hearken back to my childhood early this season, to back before my dad died, that 12-year-old autumn when he almost died in that car accident and mom was gone, too, for close to a month, it seems. I was also reading my Sugar Bowl reflection from last year. These things have combined to have me remember what my childhood years were like.
I'm glad I'm not there anymore, actually.
Coming home to roost
There is only so much that a person can neglect their personal, daily time with God and expect to encounter him powerfully in their group gatherings, no matter how active a role one might play in the latter.
(Two of the labels of this post should be their opposites, whatever those might be.)
(Two of the labels of this post should be their opposites, whatever those might be.)
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
It's probably justice . . .
. . . that the ripples of my past are never completely gone. The weekend was very nice, and I'm especially glad that my bride got such quality time with her siblings. But for me, for all the blessings, it was not without its challenges, too, not all of which were related to my sins.
- It was hard listening to the family eulogize a woman who both marginalized my wife within her own family and hated me all the way to her grave. Of course, she was their mom, and there was much to love and respect about her, especially for her those who weren't "daddy's little girl" (or her family). Outwardly, she always showed respect to me, I suppose, but she treated my loved ones pretty poorly throughout their lives.
- It was wonderful listening to the siblings sit out beside the pool and reminisce by candlelight. Even as I sat there, there was a difficult contrast of knowing that the closest people I have to share such times with are my cousins, whom I love but who are naturally not as close to me as my sister was. It was nice to get together with my aunt and cousin on Sunday, but not nearly the same relationship.
- Teri has one brother-in-law who doesn't really seem to know how to relate to me, and I can't seem to do anything about that.
Still, the weekend overall was very nice and a lot of fun. Now that the fun parts of the weekend are over, I'm feeling a bit of withdrawal, as I head back to normal. Then the mom of a childhood friend posted a picture today of her dogs that she called "the pesky little sister," and dedicated it to everyone who ever had one. I wanted to ask her if she was trying to kill me.
I have to get my eyes back where they belong. I have to believe that there is a God who is greater than the pain in my heart, both the pain of loss and the self-inflicted suffering. Sometimes -- too often, really -- I consider the vastness of the universe and I don't believe that God exists at all, nor that I matter in the slightest. It seems then as if believing in him is a choice I have to make, a choice that is beyond me. Only when I'm praising and worshiping him does he seem real, and only then do I feel significant.
I know that the people who love me should be enough for me. Maybe that's part of having my eyes where they belong, too.
I have to get my eyes back where they belong. I have to believe that there is a God who is greater than the pain in my heart, both the pain of loss and the self-inflicted suffering. Sometimes -- too often, really -- I consider the vastness of the universe and I don't believe that God exists at all, nor that I matter in the slightest. It seems then as if believing in him is a choice I have to make, a choice that is beyond me. Only when I'm praising and worshiping him does he seem real, and only then do I feel significant.
I know that the people who love me should be enough for me. Maybe that's part of having my eyes where they belong, too.
Monday, September 09, 2013
. . . Please tell me who I am . . . And bad mistakes? I've made a few. . . . I've made a few eternal decisions: marriage, abuse, accepting Christ . . . The nights aren't even cool, though Friday at the ball game had a bit of a nip in the air . . . i suspect i will probably die in autumn.
Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way.
sometimes i feel as if i'm living by inertia.
what if this life was all there is? would i still want to live the rest of it? there has been such great joy, but it seems so far from me.
my dad drowned in a sea of alcohol. what is this sea of mine?
Sunday, September 08, 2013
A dark shadow looms over a great weekend
There has been too little free time to write here. It has been a really great time thus far. Two of Teri's sisters and their husbands were at the same ball game we attended on Friday night, the O's first complete game shutout (even if they did have a little umpiring help keeping things scoreless), so it was nice to see the bullpen get their first night off all season. It was also nice being in the ballpark for a Chris Davis home run, even if I did have to watch it on a monitor because I'm married to someone who gets lost easily and needed to use the ladies' room. But to share the thing with family was even better.
Yesterday we had a nice plan to ride our bikes to the family party in Glen Burnie that was our excuse for coming to town. Teri's second-oldest sister and her husband hosted an annual friends-and-family party before they moved to Florida, and this year her third-oldest sister and her husband agreed to let them host it at their parents' old house. As soon as I said I was going to ride my bike, Teri wanted to ride hers, too. Fortunately, her oldest sister and brother-in-law were willing to drive our van to the party so we'd have a way home in the dark. We tried to get started a little earlier than we thought we needed to, but actually got going a little late instead. We were expecting to see some old younger friends (if that makes sense) from Dayton at Mass today, with their four children (only one of whom was born when they left); we didn't expect to run into them yesterday at the farmer's market, too. By the time I then got back to our starting point after dropping our van back off, Teri had gone off to get a bite to munch on along the way, which she didn't think about until I was on my way back. Still, the time wasn't a major issue; it wasn't as if we needed to be there promptly at the party start time. Teri needed a lot of encouragement along the way, but when we finally got to where she recognized her surroundings she was a pretty energetic peddler for the last couple miles. Then she had a nice dip in the pool of her childhood while I went out for another fifteen miles or so, after which I also traded the aroma of perspiration sweat for that of chlorine. The we had a fabulous afternoon and night of family time: cheering the O's as they pulled out an extra-inning, come-from-behind victory; hanging out around the pool; eating wonderful food; playing corn hole; sharing stories and celebrating Teri's brother-in-law's birthday. You could say we swam in a pool of memories as well as the swimming pool..
This morning we very much enjoyed Mass at her oldest sister's parish, where we again saw the family we know from Dayton, as expected. We then went to brunch with Al and Lynne and an older couple from their choir; the creamed chipped beef and the side of scrapple were like two bites of my childhood in one meal. Later this after noon we're going to see my aunt and cousin. It has been a wonderful weekend.
The cloud: Teri's oldest sister is starting to have memory issues. She's being pretty good-natured about it, but I can tell it scares her. It scares us, too.
Yesterday we had a nice plan to ride our bikes to the family party in Glen Burnie that was our excuse for coming to town. Teri's second-oldest sister and her husband hosted an annual friends-and-family party before they moved to Florida, and this year her third-oldest sister and her husband agreed to let them host it at their parents' old house. As soon as I said I was going to ride my bike, Teri wanted to ride hers, too. Fortunately, her oldest sister and brother-in-law were willing to drive our van to the party so we'd have a way home in the dark. We tried to get started a little earlier than we thought we needed to, but actually got going a little late instead. We were expecting to see some old younger friends (if that makes sense) from Dayton at Mass today, with their four children (only one of whom was born when they left); we didn't expect to run into them yesterday at the farmer's market, too. By the time I then got back to our starting point after dropping our van back off, Teri had gone off to get a bite to munch on along the way, which she didn't think about until I was on my way back. Still, the time wasn't a major issue; it wasn't as if we needed to be there promptly at the party start time. Teri needed a lot of encouragement along the way, but when we finally got to where she recognized her surroundings she was a pretty energetic peddler for the last couple miles. Then she had a nice dip in the pool of her childhood while I went out for another fifteen miles or so, after which I also traded the aroma of perspiration sweat for that of chlorine. The we had a fabulous afternoon and night of family time: cheering the O's as they pulled out an extra-inning, come-from-behind victory; hanging out around the pool; eating wonderful food; playing corn hole; sharing stories and celebrating Teri's brother-in-law's birthday. You could say we swam in a pool of memories as well as the swimming pool..
This morning we very much enjoyed Mass at her oldest sister's parish, where we again saw the family we know from Dayton, as expected. We then went to brunch with Al and Lynne and an older couple from their choir; the creamed chipped beef and the side of scrapple were like two bites of my childhood in one meal. Later this after noon we're going to see my aunt and cousin. It has been a wonderful weekend.
The cloud: Teri's oldest sister is starting to have memory issues. She's being pretty good-natured about it, but I can tell it scares her. It scares us, too.
Thursday, September 05, 2013
Today's word
etiolate \EE-tee-uh-layt\ - a. to make pale b. to deprive of natural vigor : make feeble
Now this was a new one on me.
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Emotionally complex day
In October of 2001, as I gave my mom over to You for eternity in that hospital room in St. Joseph's Hospital of Atlanta, I felt comforted as I sensed You promising me that I would never be alone.
Today I felt about as lonely and vulnerable as I have since that day, as if the loss of the adult me twelve years ago was visited upon the child I was when I knew the family with whom I have been in touch these past few days, who also lost a daughter and sister five years before we lost Karen. I'm thinking that, at one point, Laurie and Karen may have been friends. At any rate, I had a fresh awareness today that all the immediate family members who were my life when I knew this other dear family are gone, and I was somehow seeing that truth through my childhood's eyes.
At the same time, as an adult, I felt ashamed of how that vulnerable boy grew up, of how broken he was and the brokenness he inflicted upon his own loved ones. It is the feeling I often experience when reconnecting with people from my past who don't know my intervening history.
Somehow all of those feelings got jumbled up together today, and it was no fun.
Lonely. Vulnerable. Afraid, even. Ashamed. (Yep: at least I can describe my feelings.)
And yet, in spite of all of that, I know that You have kept your promise, and I am not alone.
Choir practice was a special gift tonight, and helped me put the emotional jumble of the day behind me.
Today I felt about as lonely and vulnerable as I have since that day, as if the loss of the adult me twelve years ago was visited upon the child I was when I knew the family with whom I have been in touch these past few days, who also lost a daughter and sister five years before we lost Karen. I'm thinking that, at one point, Laurie and Karen may have been friends. At any rate, I had a fresh awareness today that all the immediate family members who were my life when I knew this other dear family are gone, and I was somehow seeing that truth through my childhood's eyes.
At the same time, as an adult, I felt ashamed of how that vulnerable boy grew up, of how broken he was and the brokenness he inflicted upon his own loved ones. It is the feeling I often experience when reconnecting with people from my past who don't know my intervening history.
Somehow all of those feelings got jumbled up together today, and it was no fun.
Lonely. Vulnerable. Afraid, even. Ashamed. (Yep: at least I can describe my feelings.)
And yet, in spite of all of that, I know that You have kept your promise, and I am not alone.
Choir practice was a special gift tonight, and helped me put the emotional jumble of the day behind me.
Today's words
agonistic \ag-uh-NISS-tik\ - 1. argumentative 2. striving for effect : strained 3. of, relating to, or being aggressive or defensive social interaction (as fighting, fleeing, or submitting) between individuals usually of the same species
It obviously had to be related, but how it's related is interesting. I'm pretty sure I knew this once, about a lifetime ago.pedology \pi-DAH-luh-jee\ - 1. soil science 2. med. the scientific study of the life and development of children
I guessed the second definition, but had no idea of the first.
Tuesday, September 03, 2013
How, umm . . . particular I am
Yes, that's the word: particular. I couldn't possibly mean that increasingly popular adjective that pertains to the "posterior opening of the alimentary canal," which is of course also found in the last four letters of its definition.
There's a puzzle that I do almost every day because it only takes about a minute. The objective is to find four words in a 6x6 letter grid that wind through the grid from each edge to the opposite edge. Acceptable solutions are often not unique; there can be more than one way to wind through the puzzle to make the same word. However, I have found that, when this is the case, there has always been one solution that doesn't reuse any letter in the grid twice. The same letter might occupy adjacent or diagonal spots in the grid that will both allow the formation of a given answer, but one of those spots will be needed for another answer in another direction, for which the other will not work. The puzzle doesn't require that grid letters be used only once, or award extra points for finding the solution that doesn't reuse any of them, but it just seems to me that the best solution is the one that doesn't use any grid letter more than once. Sometimes there are multiple words that could use alternate paths through the grid . . .
Oh, I've spent too much time on this. Okay. Okay.
Anal.
There's a puzzle that I do almost every day because it only takes about a minute. The objective is to find four words in a 6x6 letter grid that wind through the grid from each edge to the opposite edge. Acceptable solutions are often not unique; there can be more than one way to wind through the puzzle to make the same word. However, I have found that, when this is the case, there has always been one solution that doesn't reuse any letter in the grid twice. The same letter might occupy adjacent or diagonal spots in the grid that will both allow the formation of a given answer, but one of those spots will be needed for another answer in another direction, for which the other will not work. The puzzle doesn't require that grid letters be used only once, or award extra points for finding the solution that doesn't reuse any of them, but it just seems to me that the best solution is the one that doesn't use any grid letter more than once. Sometimes there are multiple words that could use alternate paths through the grid . . .
Oh, I've spent too much time on this. Okay. Okay.
Anal.
To sum up . . .
. . . a previous post: we're supposed to be continually dying to our self, not throwing our self a never-ending wake.
Today's word
brown study \BROWN-STUD-ee\ - a state of serious absorption or abstraction
Or: the state in which my wife might suggest that I live. I've certainly heard this term before, but wouldn't have been able to give the definition.
Examples of why
We are on a journey that can be described in various ways, and our belief system makes a profound impact on how we are going to approach it. If we believe that this life is all there is, then we are on a journey from birth to death, and we need to maximize our experiences of life and love along the way so as to miss out on as little as possible and make the biggest difference that we can.
Christian faith brings some similarities, but profound differences. One similarity can be found in the parable of the talents: we are clearly to make the most of what is entrusted to our care. However, even the "maximizing" that's implied there is very different from that of the previous approach, which tends to be for the benefit of our own experience, glory and posterity.
Considering the differences in believers' vs. unbelievers' understanding of the nature of our journey illustrates even greater differences. Rather than traveling from birth to death, Christians believe the opposite: we're traveling from death to life. This world offers only the former, and we believe that Jesus Christ alone delivers the latter. This provides a completely different scale by which to measure every experience opportunity along our way: will this thing bring me and others closer to eternal life in Christ, or move us further away? We also express the transformation as being from darkness to light; from egocentrism to real, self-sacrificing love; from sinfulness to holiness, from slavery to freedom; from self to the very image of Christ. But however we view the journey, we are to have a clear vision that where we are headed is incomparably better than what we have left behind. This becomes a matter of trusting in God, and the scriptures give us several illustrations of what happens when we long for what is behind us:
Christian faith brings some similarities, but profound differences. One similarity can be found in the parable of the talents: we are clearly to make the most of what is entrusted to our care. However, even the "maximizing" that's implied there is very different from that of the previous approach, which tends to be for the benefit of our own experience, glory and posterity.
Considering the differences in believers' vs. unbelievers' understanding of the nature of our journey illustrates even greater differences. Rather than traveling from birth to death, Christians believe the opposite: we're traveling from death to life. This world offers only the former, and we believe that Jesus Christ alone delivers the latter. This provides a completely different scale by which to measure every experience opportunity along our way: will this thing bring me and others closer to eternal life in Christ, or move us further away? We also express the transformation as being from darkness to light; from egocentrism to real, self-sacrificing love; from sinfulness to holiness, from slavery to freedom; from self to the very image of Christ. But however we view the journey, we are to have a clear vision that where we are headed is incomparably better than what we have left behind. This becomes a matter of trusting in God, and the scriptures give us several illustrations of what happens when we long for what is behind us:
When God spared Lot's family from the destruction of Sodom, his wife could not resist the temptation to look back on the home they had left. BTW: now there's a scripture passage that I have a hard time interpreting literally. Still, the image is clear: we must trust in God that the way he sets before us is better than the way we have left.
When the children of Israel grumbled against the Lord and Moses for bringing them out of Egypt because of their lack of food and drink, they were set upon by seraph serpents, from which the Lord delivered them by means of a bronze serpent lifted up on a pole. Jesus himself referred to this as a presaging of his crucifixion. Likewise, the people were chided at Massah and Meribah even as the Lord provided the water they truly needed. (etc.)
Jesus said that whoever sets their hand to the plow and looks back is unfit for the kingdom of heaven. As a practical guideline: I suppose it's nigh impossible to plow a straight row while looking backwards.All of these examples illustrate why it is counter-productive -- even useless -- to dwell on the things we've been called to lay down. If we keep score of such things in our relationships, we will impede our loving and growing together. If we cling to parts of ourselves that we are to shed, we will never be transformed beyond ourselves.
Monday, September 02, 2013
I should stop . . .
. . . giving so much thought to parts of myself that I'm called to lay down. It's counterproductive. This is even -- maybe especially -- true regarding what I've only discovered and allowed myself to consider about myself more recently and that I can't really talk about with anyone. (Well, I could probably pay a therapist again, but that would open another can of worms or two.)
Obsession is inevitably hurtful to the one obsessing and to the people he (or she) loves. Even though the territory between denial and obsession is probably far smaller, there is nonetheless a border somewhere between awareness and obsession. I'm not sure exactly where that line lies, but I imagine it's easy to wander close to the latter without being very aware of the danger one is in until one has crossed over, and once across there is no easy means of returning. I also suspect that, no matter how fascinating and exciting the uncharted land between the two might be, wandering around in it is far more perilous alone than it would be with a trustworthy guide who shares the same destination, who values the same aspects of the journey, to get there. And when the person who is supposed to serve as that guide has expressed utter disdain for the territory in question . . . well, I can't blame her for that. It's a scary land. But as for potentially wandering close to obsession on my own, some places are just destructive by nature, and the more appealing they may seem the better it is for the solo traveler to stay far from them. Though the world screams that self-discovery is the ultimate goal and self-denial is futile, I will instead trust that my Shepherd will provide my every true need.
This is probably not too cryptic, but nonetheless I won't make it any more plain.
Obsession is inevitably hurtful to the one obsessing and to the people he (or she) loves. Even though the territory between denial and obsession is probably far smaller, there is nonetheless a border somewhere between awareness and obsession. I'm not sure exactly where that line lies, but I imagine it's easy to wander close to the latter without being very aware of the danger one is in until one has crossed over, and once across there is no easy means of returning. I also suspect that, no matter how fascinating and exciting the uncharted land between the two might be, wandering around in it is far more perilous alone than it would be with a trustworthy guide who shares the same destination, who values the same aspects of the journey, to get there. And when the person who is supposed to serve as that guide has expressed utter disdain for the territory in question . . . well, I can't blame her for that. It's a scary land. But as for potentially wandering close to obsession on my own, some places are just destructive by nature, and the more appealing they may seem the better it is for the solo traveler to stay far from them. Though the world screams that self-discovery is the ultimate goal and self-denial is futile, I will instead trust that my Shepherd will provide my every true need.
This is probably not too cryptic, but nonetheless I won't make it any more plain.
Sunday, September 01, 2013
Why AP writers don't give their names
Nor editors, for that matter:
Doubront lasted just 3 2/3 innings, giving up seven hits and four runs, snapping Boston's streak of a starter allowing three runs or fewer at 11 games. It matched the longest by the team since 1988. The previous best was 12 in 1915. - "Associated Press"Now, I certainly make mistakes in writing, but I'm not being published on websites and newspapers throughout the country, and this one is a doozy. My limited readership is sure to spot all the flaws without any help from me, but it's my rant, so here I go.
- If the "previous best" was 12, it's still the "current best," not the "previous best."
- If this "current best" happened in 1915, and hasn't happened since, then this matched the longest by the team since 1915, not merely since 1988.
- Speaking of which, did this streak match the team's best since 1988, or more likely, was this one their best such since 1988? (and . . . )
- Is the writer suggesting that the last such streak of 11 games happen in 1988?
Seriously, uncredited writer: find a job you're qualified to do.
The human condition
For as long as I can remember, I have not been surprised to discover the horrifically worst in others. As a junior or senior in high school, when a kid who some of us knew from the chess club was accused of killing a child in his neighborhood, many of my friends rushed to form a "defense fund" in support of him. I joined from the inertia of our friendship, not from being convinced as so many of my peers were that he could never have done it. When his parents asked us to stop, my friends resisted their request, but I was quick to accede.
I later lamented that this whole incident represented a loss of innocence - or at least naivete - for us. But the truth is that mine was already gone. This was pre-that-Thanksgiving, but I'd already experienced enough brokenness and secrets that, while our depravity occasionally horrifies me, it almost never surprises me.
I later lamented that this whole incident represented a loss of innocence - or at least naivete - for us. But the truth is that mine was already gone. This was pre-that-Thanksgiving, but I'd already experienced enough brokenness and secrets that, while our depravity occasionally horrifies me, it almost never surprises me.
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