Today's pageview zip code

A spot in the Cincy area I definitely haven't been: 45235

(except, I'm pretty sure that when Google maps takes me to just a point like this, it isn't really the zip code. Maybe I should say "location" instead.)

A great example for me

A saint who struggled greatly with doubt is one whose witness is very helpful for me. Teresa of Calcutta went decades without sensing God's presence in her life, and persevered in living out the vocation she'd received.

A fond memory

What's the point of all this exercise if there isn't ice cream in the summer? I shared on FB about my late father-in-law's habit of a small bowl of ice cream every evening, and lamenting to him that we'd had a dearth of that dessert this summer, and sharing that with my bride, and how she brought me ice cream last night. I think it was a nice memory for both of us.

This morning I was thinking of my best memories of her daddy, and they're more about the kind of man he was. I know he was better as a father-in-law to me than he was as a dad to his sons, especially his oldest ones. He learned, though, and I know he regretted. Maybe that's why he was so gracious toward me, even though I'd hurt his baby girl and our family so deeply, when he saw that I was earnestly working to become healthy. But his understanding of grace and his willingness to apply it are my best memories of him.

A poor replacement

I enjoy looking at my blog's stats' audience data, and imagining that the countries or cities from which I'm seeing hits represent actual contact with a friend there.

It occurs to me that this is a sad substitute for actual human interaction with the people I care about.

A challenging friend

It occurs to me that I'm probably not very easy to be friends with. I'm too insistent on . . . what? . . . Depth? (probably a prideful artifice of its own.)  Integrity? (my own, mostly; I abhor the idea that I'm embezzling someone's good will and trust under false pretenses.) Unmaskedness? (friends are real with each other, but that can be exhausting, too; friends also need to be a refuge for each other from all that sometimes.)

I have many, many acquaintances. I have very, very few friends. I'd probably have more if I hadn't been so confused when I was younger, when I kept falling in love with them. (Yeah, since high school my closest friends have been women.)

Today's pageview zip code

After a couple days of invalid zip codes, I've definitely been through here: 45214, Cincinnati

Don't be afraid of my depths

Know me and love me there.

I hope that mistake doesn't get me fired!

When checking stats, I had a moment of poor judgment in which I clicked on a link in the traffic sources. It brought up an animation that was definitely not suitable for work. Nor for my eyes. Ugh.

A memory from interior monologue

I was frustrated, as I was mowing out back, by the unused inflatable pool still in the yard, with rainwater in it again from the recent storms, despite my having asked for it to be taken care of the last time that I mowed. I noticed that my self-talk over this small annoyance sounded disconcertingly like my dad's drunken rantings in the bathroom at night after my sister and I had gone to bed.

I always hoped, when we were kids, that she was sleeping through his expletive-laced tirades. After he died, I wanted for her to have warm memories of the joy he took in her before he became completely lost.  But I learned before she died that she only remembered the scary, drunk version of dad. She didn't know she was once his pride and joy.

I continue to stand guard against other thought processes that would tend to make me more fully his son in ways that would not be good for anyone.  Perhaps a good place to be more vigilant might be to nurture the greater gratitude that he never found for the blessings of my life, along with more patience when things don't go exactly as I'd like.

Tired again

Had a short nap early this afternoon, but then it was pretty hot (heat index is currently 97°) when I mowed the two yards that both needed to be done.  Now, after cooling down, drinking two glasses of water, and showering, I'm ready for another nap!

Today's pageview zip code

45169, Sabina, OH. I've been very close to this one, but am not sure I've ever entered it . . .

If any of it is true

A fairly well-known prayer by Thomas Merton talks about the difficulty of knowing what God really wants us to do. This may have been particularly challenging for Merton, given his perceived call to promote pacifism at a time when we were at war, following a difficult period of discerning his vocation after a conversion from ignorant. profligacy during which he sired a child.

At any rate, his prayer, inspired during his life at the Abbey of Gethsemani - a place I love - includes the line:  But I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you.

I believe that the desire to please God cannot help but please God, because only the Holy Spirit inspires this desire within us. It comes from no other place. That isn't to say that all of the ways in which we try to please God are so divinely inspired; I think we misinterpret too many other voices' input as being from God. But I also believe that He still finds joy when we strive to do what we believe to be His will, even as His heart breaks for us when we misunderstand what that is.

Today's pageview zip code

Apparently there isn't an area assigned the U.S. zip code 45141. It does, however, seem to be a valid postal code in Essen, Germany. Thanks, Google, for letting me know stuff I hadn't considered looking for!

So much to pray for

For my friends who are dealing with such big things, including Carol's family and John, and especially that John's situation will work out as he is praying for. For the victims and survivors and their families of the natural disasters, including floods in Louisiana, Maryland, and India, earthquakes in Italy and Myanmar and smaller ones elsewhere.
That our oldest daughter's symptoms aren't as serious as they sound, and God will heal her from them. You know best Lord.
That God will heal our middle daughter's pinched nerve in her elbow, preferably without a surgery they can't afford even with their insurance. You know best, Lord.
That my wife's ear symptoms aren't caused by anything serious, that her back pain would be not pancreatitis again nor anything else serious, that she would be healed in every way that she needs. You know best, Lord.
That the work I must do today at the office instead of the other things I had planned would be productive and effective and bring glory to You. Especially, that You would make this thing that I have never done before come together.
That I will find more consistent joy in You and in this life You have provided me, remembering always that You know best, Lord.

Wake (tf) up

It's time to stop imagining myself as the hero of my life's story.

Seriously: that delusion shouldn't even be possible anymore, for over twenty years now.

Ways friendships can be unhealthy

This list is not comprehensive. These may have substantial overlap, and are not offered in any other order than how they come to mind:

1. I am  closer to my friend than to my spouse. This automatically makes the friendship unhealthy. This can be an issue regardless of the gender of the friends. This might also be an example of others.
2. The relationship doesn't have clear, appropriate boundaries. There are too many ways for this to be the case to list them all. But if one or both friends are continually either taking advantage of the other or wondering if they've overstepped, the friendship isn't healthy.
3. One of the friends doesn't respect the other's boundaries. You cannot be closer to someone than they want to be. And you cannot solve another person's issues. 
4. The relationship can be out of balance. It can be more important to one friend than to the other. This can also lead to boundary issues, but it's a separate concern of its own.
5. It can be enabling. There could be elements of the friendship that promote other unhealthy behaviors. Perhaps the friends drink together, and one of them becomes an alcoholic or drug addict. One friend might mistreat their spouse or family and unwittingly use the friendship as part of their cycle of mistreatment or abuse. One of the them might take validation from the friendship that keeps them from addressing an outside issue on which they need to work. (singular "they" applied.)
6. I'm sure there are more . . .

Catch-22

Late last month, I was pseudo-invited to lead worship for a charismatic Mass at an area church tonight. I lost track of time a little, and when I followed up with the organizer to make sure that the music ministry needs were covered he indicated that they are. Then one of my fellow parishioners chimed in with a request that I bring my guitar and help lead worship. Unfortunately, things don't just work that way, especially with the folks who are most likely leading tonight. I love them and their music selections, but their key signature choices usually prevent me from singing melody on anything. It's a family ministry, and the mom is an alto who can't sing harmony. As a result, they're always choosing lower key signatures than a mid-range male or female is usually comfortable in. Not to mention: they didn't ask me to join them.

So I'm going to this Mass tonight, knowing that I will probably struggle to sing and that I'm going to face questions about why I'm not in the music ministry. But that will feel better than not going and supporting this event, of which we don't have enough in town.

(After report: the music ministry wasn't who I was expecting. I was able to sing out on everything! What a nice Mass!)

That hour cost me

But aside from being awake for about an hour starting around 4 a.m., I thought I slept pretty soundly last night. I can barely keep my eyes open!

This morning's pageview zip code

Okay, I figured it might be fun to look up some of these that aren't palindromes, too . . .

45101, Aberdeen, OH

We drove through here at least once on an alternate route back from our cousins' place in Kentucky.

Spiritual freedom

I wonder if, sometimes, your brain can hear a spirit leave. I was just lying here awake, thanking God for a change He seems to be effecting in my life, and in the background of my mind I seemed to hear a receding, frustrated shouting, as a peaceful calm settled over me.

Oddly, the voice reminded me of my stepfather, whom I don't believe I've ever heard raise his voice. I was also praying that he has discovered freedom in Christ.

I'm not assuming that I'm interpreting my thoughts aright. This is just what it feels like. Time will tell.

Rejecting Mothhood

I'll never know what it's like to be beautiful
Or have people clamoring for my attention
I assume it's a gift that comes with a great cost
Especially to one who values what is lasting
Please don't ever let me add to the expense

Remembering a friend . . . not a eulogy!

In high school, we had a friend who was a year or two older than we were. As a result, he drove before any of the rest of us, and he'd sometimes have one or another of us join him on a Saturday as he worked at a public radio station. I remember learning to get the latest weather report off of the teletype for him, and reading some PSAs; it's still the only time I've ever been "on the air." Neil used to have two favorite sayings. On a good day he'd say "Life is an abject mediocrity." Yeah, he was not a very jovial guy. On a bad one it would be, "Life is a s^*t sandwich, and every day you take another bite."

I've long since lost track of him, basically after his graduation, although that probably coincided with my being drawn into my eventual stepfather's life.

I hope he found better truth than that.

Yes, I'm still easily amused

My first pageview palindrome in some time also happens to be the zip code of an area I've cycled through a number of times: 45054, Oregonia, OH. (I knew that zip had to be somewhere around here!) That vertical-ish band of green includes the bike path, and I've stopped for a lunch break at the Little River Cafe, which is adjacent to it; I'm pretty sure that it wasn't just the comparison with the Clif Bars I'd been consuming for a couple hours by that point that made it so enjoyable.

One piece

I woke up this morning feeling emotionally better than I have in quite a while. I think it may partially be the afterglow of a record pace bike ride last night. I think I've ridden that fast before, but only in a group. I slept well, too, as I have been lately. I think that the melatonin has been helping with that, though I wasn't sure if it would still be effective following such an intense evening ride.

It has also been over three weeks since my self-inflicted rib injury, and over two-weeks since I hurt my shoulder doing yard work. Those have both been feeling pretty good, so I decided to start easing back into weight-bearing exercises this morning. Both areas felt fine during the brief activity, but both are feeling a little twinge-y afterward.  While it looks like I should take it easy for a while longer, I'm definitely going to start back into this slowly. I just have to. The once-a-week, longer aerobic routine - which has been driven as much by the weather as by my schedule - hasn't been providing what my body needs. But xfit hasn't even been an option to look into while I've been recovering from my injuries.

Regrets

I just saw a post about the five most common regrets of the terminally ill. I share three of them, and my situation is worse than a fourth one. Oh, and my biggest regret - now well behind me - wasn't even on the list.

The thing is, there's not much I can do about most of them. I am certain that I am living as I am called to, and that the regret of now choosing not to do so would far outweigh all the others combined. I simply must trust that following God's will shall ultimately prove glorious.

Jesus, I trust in you. Help me to trust in you more.

Promises to keep

And miles to go.
That's good enough for me.

Status no longer quo

It was balanced, in its own way. I wasn't always - or even usually - happy, but I was grateful. And I knew I didn't deserve any better from life.

Now I seem to think I do.

I know that this is at least equally a crock of manure. But it's a far more dangerous accumulation of defecation than the other one was.

The rest

When next you see me, I'll be pretending again.
Don't recall me from my tomb unless you're staying.
Tangibly. Emotionally. Connected.
Of course not geographically;
I know you're called elsewhere.
Not continually;

You have a vibrant life.
Never inappropriately.
But if you're going share life with me,

Deep and lasting friendship

Born of deep but healing wounds
And rooted always in our Savior

You are always welcome

And I'll come out again to play

The enemy is toying with my emotions

So to leave this morning's emotional space behind, I resumed reading a fascinating article I started last night. The very paragraph on which I resumed hit me right in my memories.

Your dad's not sick. Silence . . . Your father's dead . . . He shot himself.

For me, it was at least a year between hearing the last two sentences, but the dynamic of being told he was sick, then traveling home, then being told he was dead is exactly what I experienced when I was fourteen years old.

I wonder what my life would be like if that had been the worst trauma of my childhood?

Rebuking my first feeling upon waking

In the name of Jesus I renounce the lie that I am emotionally and psychically (for lack of a better word, since I don't mean it in its usual sense) alone and always will be.

I know this overpowering, consuming feeling is not truth. I also know that there are many ways this emotional dynamic can undo me.

In my dream, I was trying to move toward someone I love. I don't even know who it was, but in my dream they were the only person who mattered to me. They may have been the only other person in existence. But they were on a distant planet, at the other end of the galaxy, and I saw the scale of the miniscule progress that I had made, and I knew that in a million lifetimes I could never reach them, and I was filled with despair.

My thoughts and feelings upon drifting off last night were less hopeful than my last post, and perhaps formed the foundation for such a disturbing dream.

God (if you're here), help and save me.

Friend - and no, I'm not referring to the object of my dream, whomever that might have been; I'm only using the singular so that anyone who might read this will respond to this request as if you are the only one who will - if you're out there, please pray for me.

We'll see

Somehow only one of us was able to write about changes that the writer needs to make. The other of us wrote instead about issues they're dealing with with the recipient. I guess I'm not really surprised. Introspection has never been a strong suit, but I have come to learn that it can also be overrated.

The bigger issue for me is that I no longer have an entire secret inner life that my wife doesn't know about. So I am more hopeful than I've been in a very long time.

Careful what you wish for?

My life and marriage are about to get either a lot better or a lot worse.

The current challenge is for both of us, and it's about changes that I need to make to improve our marriage. She was to write from her own perspective, too. I wrote very honestly and (I hope) lovingly, but by the time my wife got home from the movie there wasn't time to share without feeling rushed.

Our talk from a couple weeks ago should help this not be a shock. It isn't as if I'm opening up to her for the first time.

Hey, whatever it takes!

Twenty-eight years of trying to encourage my bride to dialog with me using the WWME model, of reassuring her that the writing skills she disdains are indeed more than adequate for expressing her heart and sharing herself with me, and a challenge she found on FB has accomplished what I have not been able to. It's a one-week challenge, apparently, so who knows what will happen afterward, but I intend to enjoy and make the most of this opportunity for us to grow together.

I found another note on my pillow last night. Rather than walking back downstairs to thank her for it, I picked up pen and paper and left her one in return. Then, since I was facing her side of the bed, it was all I could do to keep from grinning when she came to bed, as she first put away some clothes, put on her pj's, and took care of her bathroom time before noticing it. I peeked when she returned to the hallway to read it, and could tell even with her back toward me that she was touched. I so very wanted her to be, as she has definitely helped me to feel her love so tangibly over these past few days.

Shifting sands

My great challenge seems to be lurching in yet another direction.

For the longest time, it was simply living with myself after I was set free from my abusive cycle and healed from the traumas that conceived it, and it was undeniable what great harm I had done. I thought I'd never get past this alive, and it took an extra round of therapy just to start to accept God's forgiveness.

For the longest time after that, it became something else that I was sure was never going to improve. Suddenly, out of the blue, it has. I felt so lonely for so long, and now I don't. I feel deeply loved, and appreciated.

There was a balance in those feelings, though. I knew that I was doing the best I could, that I was loving with everything I had, and that was good enough. If my own feelings weren't always where I wanted them to be, at least I knew that I was loving with my thoughts and choices and entire will, with everything that was within my control.

And it's still true that I am, and now it isn't good enough. Instead, I'm still all Paul Simon, as I have been lamenting for decades now. She deserves better.

My response to unmanageable situations and feelings that I can't control has always been the same: to self-medicate with the chemicals of my own brain, usually invoking some aspect of the traumas that formed me into the emotional cripple I became. I'm pretty sure that would just nudge me further toward despair, now.

I'm tired of not being the disciple, husband, and man that I am called to be. Being less than my potential has been the constant theme of my life.

I know this is where I'm supposed to renounce the lie that I am not good enough, but I'm having considerable trouble believing it's a lie. Oh, I also should know that it's a lie of reverse pride that my shortcomings and weaknesses could ever outweigh God's strength and Providence.

A nice direction

The other day when I was shopping for some tape I needed at K-Mart, I decided to just grab a no-particular-reason card to express my love for my bride in a way she wasn't expecting. I don't remember if this was before or after we watched the movie (Not Since You) that prompted me to tell her that there isn't anyone else I wish I'd chosen to spend my life with. That doesn't sound very romantic in this forum, but given our history it was important for her to hear from me, and it was probably important for me to say, too.

Since then, I've found two very nice notes on my pillow and she brought us each a pair of Hershey Kisses to feed the other while we expressed something we appreciate about one another.

It is so important to tend our relationship, and with our WWME involvement having decreased of late I have felt as if we haven't had as many opportunities for that. These have been nice.

Sleep doesn't fix everything

. . . but it does sure help.

Yet here I am

I didn't sleep at all well last night - forgot my melatonin - then Carol's funeral today, and have been bashing my head against a very frustrating proposal at work.

But still, I had a nice time of prayer and reflection today. There is really no reason for my mood to be this foul and dark. I wish it was time for bed.

More on how this works

The previous quotation, taken on its own, might give the impression that sin is stronger than purity. But this really gets back at the root of St. Paul's observations about the relationship between sin and the law. We can make purity into a new law, or an expression of the law, which puts us right back in the state of needing to adhere to every jot and tittle to remain in a state of righteousness. None of us can ever do it. So in that sense, a drop of sewage pollutes our whole lives.

But we have a Savior who has delivered us from the law, including the temptation to bind ourselves to a new law. Our purity is now not an effort to make ourselves righteous, but a loving response to both the righteousness and grace of Christ at work in our lives. That drop of impurity still has a soiling effect on us, to which we are not immune. The sacrament of Reconciliation provides a means for us to hear Christ express loving forgiveness as we turn away from our sin to be more fully transformed in Him.

A little purity does not go very far

A teaspoon of clean water does not purify a tall glass of sewage, but a teaspoon of sewage utterly ruins a glass of clean water. - Dale Ahlquist, writing for Crisis Magazine (post title is also part of quotation)

Yes. This.

Yet we must be careful not to dilute the message of grace as we approach this topic. Our purity is not our effort to be worthy of God's love, but is a gift God gives us in His love that we accept as we respond in love, as we trust that God's desire for us is greater than our own.

Great readings and music

Every now and then, the readings, homily, and music from Mass combine in a way that results in Jesus meeting me right where I am. Today was one of those days, as we sang of longing for the Lord and knowing He will find us, and of responding to His call for our lives. The Lord delivers us from the hopelessness of a mud-filled cistern, and provides for what we need.

Fr. Vincent shared that Jesus is our Victor, and I was immediately reminded that the nature of that victory is sacrificial. So must it be for us. The greatest expression of our love is always the laying down of our lives for our beloved.

Saying long overdue words

I can't believe it hasn't occurred to me to tell you before that there is no one who has ever been in my life that I wish I was spending it with instead of you.

I realize that most spouses probably wouldn't need to say such a thing, but given how I treated you for so long, it was as important for me to express as for you to hear.

So I'm glad I finally told you tonight.

Applying a lesson learned early

Because of my role as music minister, I have long found myself feeling obliged to attend events when I don't necessarily feel like it. Early on in our prayer group, which will observe its 30th anniversary next year, I would often hear other members say on some evenings that they didn't really feel like coming, but were always glad afterward that they did. I could relate; although I was usually not as close to deciding not to attend because of my role in the meeting, it seemed like it was always the times I least wanted to be there that I ended up being the most blessed. It led me to believe that we really do have an adversary who works in part through our normal feelings to discourage us from receiving blessings which God intends for us to have, and I have tried to apply this lesson ever since.

That lesson pays off on mornings like this one, when I really wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep rather than attend our men's fellowship and prayer group. I slept especially poorly again last night due to cramping, even without any exercise to contribute to the problem. But I was awake shortly before the meeting started, so I got ready and headed out the door. I was blessed with an opportunity to share honestly and in the proper context about some recent struggles. I didn't leave with any new answers, but was reaffirmed in the insights that I've felt as if the Lord has been leading me back to lately: neither my feelings nor my thoughts in response to them are the same thing as the truth, and I am right to instead take my guidance from sources which don't waver on a whim.

I have gotten completely incompetent

I hate incompetence.

Feelings are not facts

Not even these.

Especially not these.

And they especially aren't allowed to pilot my ship.

Back to status quo

I had no business feeling vibrant
Though the joy for once was pure.
Yes, I felt the sun again for a few weeks
That even then I knew to be fleeting.
Those days were sweet refreshment.
I'm not going to whimper now
let alone rage against my re-dying.
This is, after all, where I belong.
Don't worry: it isn't existential.
There's an inner dying, too, you know?
We're even called to it.
Long have I've tarried here
At the only resolution
of three unacceptable alternatives.
I'm settling back into my place.

just. shoot. me. now.

Seriously: I have no humility at whatsoever. I am a vain, haughty, judgmental man.

Another numbers observation

From an article about the success of the U.S. swim team in Rio: The American swimmers' 21-medal haul so far exceeds the next two teams -- Australia (7) and Japan (5) -- combined. 

If this is true - and I'm by no means questioning it - unless someone is tied with Japan, the American swimmers' medal haul must exceed the next four teams' combined total.

Strength perfected?

Dear God/Daddy:

I feel so very weak. But I'm going to walk where You're leading.

Numbers observation

Without being rigorous, I'm guessing there's about a 0.001 probability that the second three digits of a six-digit number are the same as the first three. I've had it happen a couple times with six-digit confirmation codes, but not often. I'm also guessing that there is about a 0.002 probability that one of the two sets of three digits in the next code will be the same three digits. If I'm right, that make the overall probability of those two events about two in a million.

That happened with my last two confirmation codes.

Idling

I wonder how long an AA member has to fake it before deciding that she has made it? In other contexts, isn't faking it just disingenuous? I've visited this thought process before, though I'm not sure I've written about it.

I understand that what they're faking is behavior, and that eventually the behavior pattern indeed becomes a part of them and they aren't faking it anymore. But my long held and counselor confirmed approach to the interrelationship between thoughts, feelings, and behavior doesn't really seem to be holding true. Maybe that's because I've been holding onto an undermining behavior for too long, and this whole thought process this morning is just an attempt to rationalize away a good decision that I've made to change my behavior in a positive way. It may be time for me to have another look at the ABC's of CBT. (There's a nice section on that page on the lies we tell ourselves, but I don't think any of them represent what I've been up against. Perhaps I need to pull out The Resilience Factor again; I remember that book being helpful for me, but then again, I was dealing with something very specific then.)

I'm going to fake it for a while longer, and see what happens. But for now, I feel both unhappy and artificial.

I love a nice storm

on the outside.

Really nice ones out there today.

The real problem

. . . is probably not that neither alternative (yeah, I'm going to be vague here; sorry) seems like something I want to live with. After all, I'm never again going to try to live with being a lesser man than I'm called and enabled to be, so that isn't even an option. My past failings are hard enough to live with, as they should be; I'm not going to pile onto them.

Nor is it probably even that my faith is insufficient to instill within me the trust which I need to not waver along the path to which I am clearly called.

In Death on a Friday Afternoon - which it has been entirely too long since I have reread - Fr. Neuhaus tells me that my eyes are focused the wrong place: I need to stop lamenting the circumstances of my life or the insufficiency of my faith, and focus instead on the sufficiency of my Savior.

He says to me as to St. Paul, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. (2 Cor 12:9)

Emotional debris

Regular physical activity has become a key part of my overall life balance. I don't know how much of it is simply the effect of the endorphins on the brain versus simply dissipating the energy of negative thoughts, but the lesson from my second therapy team of the importance of regular exercise on overall emotional health has never since been lost on me. In past years when I was able to swim in the winter, it helped me carry this benefit of exercise through the dark months of the year; that isn't as much of an option now, so I'm glad to have discovered functional fitness (I still hate that term) as another option. Of more immediate concern, I was so relieved to discover that I could still run and cycle after cracking my rib, and I believe that injury is beginning to heal. This shoulder strain from yard chores on Sunday is a different matter. I think it's improving now, too, but it has been far more restrictive, as it has hurt simply to breathe, so exercising has been out of the question, and I'm feeling a bit of withdrawal since my excellent bike ride on Saturday.

Praise and worship is a good and important thing, and last night's meeting was a great gift. But this morning I am again struggling to focus on blessings. The rain in the forecast for the next several days looks like it's going to limit my chances to get out, too. It has only been since Saturday, but I am feeling a bit adrift.

Also, I'm concerned about being able to support Mike and the family. Carol's viewing will be Sunday, with her funeral on Monday, and we have a short-notice proposal due at 10 Monday morning.

I've long had dissonance between the outside and the inside. Right now it feels like it's growing, but that could just mostly be the multiple effects of my physical pain.

I've never really understood

. . . spouses who don't learn to understand their spouse's language.

Must remember

. . . as I get older, to buy stock in generic pharmaceuticals. Looks like I'm going to be popping a lot of ibuprofen this week. At least this one was neither self-harm nor vain.

It's just physical pain

It's not like what Mike's going though, with Carol passing.

But I seem to have strained my right shoulder doing yard work yesterday evening, working that extension cord. It was sore this morning, but now it hurts to inhale, and adjusting for it makes my cracked rib hurt. So, basically, it hurts to breathe right now. I can't wait to get home and pop some ibuprofen. Meanwhile, I'm going to offer this up for those who are suffering from less mundane things.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord

And let perpetual light shine upon her.

Our dear friend Carol has gone home.

Dance, Carol. Dance! You always let the Savior lead, anyway, so you should be ready for this eternal dance.

When a situation . . .

. . . involving someone one-upping the people you love who had a really cool concert experience screams at you to put that someone in their place . . . and then you realize that the person has nothing else . . . and that thought makes you see what a superior shitheel you are . . .

I mean, is there a shred, the slightest iota, of humility anywhere within me?

Envy can take many forms

It is a destroyer of joy in all of them.

Its best antidote is true gratitude.

When I'm praising God

. . . is the only time I don't at all feel at least a little like a fish out of water.

Very nice healing Mass last night. I'm going to miss this chapel when we have to go back to the other one. I love the acoustics; I can hear other people singing over my guitar and my own voice. The other chapel feels like singing into a vacuum.

Car Radio

This song's lyrics really strike close to home.

Now I just sit in silence. 

I get that. I've done it for too long. And I think it's better if I don't reflect long on the rest of these lyrics, as this is just the beginning of how they tend to resonate with me.

(BTW: the five rounds:
Counselor one: my first referral after my confession, trying to figure out how i could have done what i hate. she helped me tremendously, but got the cart ahead of the horse due to her unfamiliarity with the accepted treatment protocol, which caused issues with team two
Counselor (team) two: forced on me, but really, they did right by me, and i had a couple of very important breakthroughs with them. i hope i never forget the ring of truth when she said, so gently after i'd become so defensive when she insisted that my ice cold hands meant something important: Tom, I have no trouble believing that you have been afraid for as long as you can remember. now i can't remember her name.
Counselor (team) three: when i couldn't learn to trust team two, they referred me to team three instead of the very severe alternative. this was really effective work, where i became a real contributor and not a threat anymore. even though our work included important self-image elements, this aspect would be subsequently undermined by the judgment i heard all around me
Counselor four: years later, when i was looking for a way to live with myself despite having seen and heard what others really think of someone like me. i really connected with his cbt approach, and he was good, and I did good work there, but somehow i only found a lesser reason than i need
Counselor five: counselor four didn't do couple work, and we had to work on some boundary issues concerning our grown children and our grandchildren; this is where my wife shut me down, though she didn't mean to)

For six weeks this summer i've tried to live for me instead of just to spare everyone else more pain, while keeping my eyes fixed on my vocation, too. Why should these feel at odds? Still, this was probably the best i've managed both in over two decades. Now, it feels as if returning to my silence is inevitable; despair wants to smother my voice again. But feelings are not truth, and what I fear will only become my reality if I give it power over me. In the name of Jesus, I renounce the lie - and the spirit of fear that speaks it - that my early adulthood choices have doomed me to an unfulfilling life. My bride and I are probably connecting better than ever. Before, I wouldn't have even told her that I am feeling sad, and if I did she'd have felt threatened by it. Instead, she knows how I feel - I am no longer hiding myself from her in my prolonged frustration - and is being supportive.

In the midst of this, I read this quote from Wright Thompson's review of the documentary Gleason, which is evidently heart-rending and hope-inducing at the same time: "we realize that continuing to fight in the face of certain defeat is at the heart of what it means to live."

Perhaps I'll never in this life know complete victory in my battle, either. Yet I choose not to end this post with a period;

There may be a lot of these for now

In the name of Jesus, I renounce the lie that my sin, utterly abhorrent as it was, put me beyond His mercy and love.

I really shouldn't have to do that one any more, but my words to the guy in the glass this morning - or his to me - were not the slightest bit kind.

(Coaches apparently love this poem; I heard two of them quote it at Cincinnati Catholic Men's Conferences. I can still hear Ditka emphasizing, almost to the point of a shout in my memory: "you're  only a BUM!")

This lie is the basis for or the result of the spirit of self-sufficiency or self-justification. That "I'm good enough" to deserve God's love, that God loves me for the good person I am, or will love me to the degree that I am, or would if I really were, is a fundamental distortion of the nature of God's love and our relationship with Him.

Applying one of the five keys

In the name of Jesus, I renounce the lie that my life would be better if I made choices outside of the bounds of God's revealed plan for me.

Emotional status

Sore cracked rib. Very poor night's sleep due to foot and lower calf cramping: awake every two hours - definitely no more Sugarcreek evening runs. Continual stress at work. A good friend leaving again.

A better, more honest relationship with my wife. A fun summer in which I found balance between my needs and my vocation. Obedience to what God was asking of me, despite obstacles. A way to carry my exercise into what has been my "off season." God's providence for our finances. Meaningful work. Good friends. A loving family.

I'm feeling sad and worn down today, yet hopeful.

Today's word

argillaceous \ˌär-jə-ˈlā-shəs\ - of, relating to, or containing clay or clay minerals : clayey

This word is new for me. I could see needing it to discuss some of my labors during the summer of my 19th birthday, toiling in the heat in the red argillaceous soil of north Georgia, helping my stepfather build his log house while trying to avoid his ongoing sexual abuse - and yes, even though I was of age by then and even though neither of us understood it in those terms, it was still sexual abuse.

If you're reading, anyone . . .

. . . please pray for me over the next few days. There's nothing major going on, but I've always been better at managing during crises than at simply maintaining. They say that knowing we're weak is the first prerequisite toward walking in God's strength, so here I am . . .

I'm pretty blessed

It was a difficult conversation. It wanted to wander in the wrong direction, and it trailed off without getting to a resolution, although I really wasn't expecting one.

But the goal of taking the first step, of acknowledging my feelings of loneliness and isolation along with my habit of withholding things from my bride that she would rather not know - and no, that was not just my perception or excuse for holding back from her, as evidenced by her question when I told her I needed to discuss my sore rib: "Do I even want to know this?" - was accomplished. That question made for a perfect lead-in for what I really needed to talk about, which is a much bigger issue than my injury. Still, it was hard to stay on track, to not wander off onto a spur of specific example issues.

There was a lot of quiet afterward, but also opportunity to continue to affirm my love for her. Now we'll see if we can develop better ways of being. I will not be so secretive, and she will be more responsive when my needs are legitimate. We will both be more understanding of each other's circumstances. Most of this was not said explicitly, but this is how things felt last night between us.

This morning I feel an increased freedom to be myself. I shaved my chin for the first time in a couple decades - and probably the last time for a while; this look just feels like a bad memory. And I was able to tell her last night that I was considering getting a semicolon.

At the end of the day, she and I both agreed that we'd had a very nice day.

Our dynamic is not going to magically change overnight, but this was a good start.