If - by Rudyard Kipling

This poem speaks of life's disappointments, setbacks, betrayals, heartbreak, slander - and some of the virtues which can help us to survive them with our hearts intact, moment by moment.

If— By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

 

...with thanks to Russell Wilson, Pete Carroll and the entire Seattle Seahawks team for an inspiring season.

My Happy Place

We took a vacation. It was grand.

I'm taking longer than usual to get back to our "normal" life, because I have a pinched nerve in my neck. (If you know me well, or even know me on facebook, you'll be aware that I do NOT write about aches, pains, viruses or day-to-day illness, out of respect for others, particularly those who suffer from really serious conditions.)

This has been going on for several weeks, since before we left for Canada, and has prevented me from writing or reading for any length of time. That's why I've been absent from here, and from reading your blogs. All these weeks, I have been itching to read and write, so here I am, with my laptop perched on two large cushions so as not to irritate my neck.

It is good to be away from home on the anniversary of Katie's passing. As the day approaches, I worry that if I am in our house, I will walk by the door of her room, go in, and re-live her death, moment by moment. I realize that I don't have do that, but feel helpless to stop myself. It takes an annual effort to resist re-living the entire month preceding her passing. So I planned our vacation to take us away over the day it happened, and it went well.

The best way to tell you about it is in photographs...they really are worth a thousand words.

That's Gregg and David in the distance. We walked for hours and had a picnic lunch on this beach - my favorite place to hike

My friend Teri calls this a "God-circle" - shining on Incinerator Rock. I saw more than one of these on this trip

Surfers love this cove

David finally talked us into doing something we have been resisting (for reasons of economy) for several years: taking a seaplane trip to Hot Springs Cove. It was a blast.

My father used to fly a single-engine retractable (landing gear) plane called a Mooney 201, so I love small planes, but have never been in a seaplane before. Gregg has, but David and I had not. This trip included a hike out through old-growth forest on a beautifully-maintained boardwalk to three, natural hot spring pools. Gregg and David carried our lunch, water, towels and a change of clothes.

If you thought you saw this in the slideshow,

you did. 

We were stunned to come across it on our hike out to the cove. 

It felt like a love-message from our girl.

We saw thousands of these (known as "sail jellyfish," though they are not jellyfish), which rarely come ashore,

and we saw Spiderman's underpants, on the sidewalk in Victoria. If you see him, beware - he's going commando!

We stopped at a tiny winery to buy a couple of bottles of their excellent wines which are unavailable in the U.S. This is the Venturi-Schultze Brandenburg #3 dessert wine, and I highly recommend it - particularly if you accompany it with a serving of sticky date-toffee pudding.

We took beautiful walks through the countryside and city.

Community garden in James Bay neighborhood

We ate fabulous food and met interesting, fun, kindhearted people. We spent time together as a family, just the three of us. It was pure joy.

Spoiler alert: this might be our Christmas card.

Whenever we visit, I feel as if I want to move to Vancouver Island - for good. It is my "happy place," so while we're always glad to be home, we had a heavenly vacation. And I felt Katie's presence in so many lovely ways that it was easy not to grieve for her - even on the 16th.

Thanks to all of you who sent messages, thoughts and love during this time. I deeply appreciate it, and want you to know that we are well...and happy.

The Book of Awakening

If you have never read "The Book of Awakening" by Mark Nepo, I suggest you look for it. It is a daybook full of gems. Mark Nepo is a cancer survivor, so when he writes about pain, I know that he knows what he is talking about.

The reading for today included this (emphasis added by me):

"One of the most difficult things for us to accept is that beneath all our dreams and disappointments, we live and breathe in abundance. It is hard when in pain to believe all that we ever need is before us, around us, within us. And yet it is true.
"Like leafless trees waiting for morning, something as great and as constant as the Earth holds us up and turns us ever so slowly toward the light. Our task is only to be rooted and patient.
"...The presence of God has never eliminated pain, only made it more bearable.
"...Time and again, we are asked to outlast what we want and hope for, in order to see what's there. It is enough."

The Key to Happiness

I came across a posting on facebook yesterday that made me laugh out loud, long and hard. This is what I saw:

Pardon the profanity, please.

Boy, I thought, if it were only that easy! But how can you tell the *ssholes from the "normal" people - the good ones, the healthy ones, the trustworthy ones? I seem to get into the most trouble when I trust people who appear to be trustworthy, but later find that they are not who they appeared to be. Some of them behave like *ssholes, and I do indeed wish that I had stayed "the h*ll away from" them.

As I thought further about this, I realized that it isn't quite the Christian perspective on the key to happiness - and I am a Christian, so I need to contemplate this. 

Jesus went out of his way to interact with those on the margins of society - I'll call them outcasts - the lepers, the poor, sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes - and, even among his own disciples, betrayers. If I look deeply and honestly, I've got some *sshole in me, too - some leper, some things that aren't so pretty, admirable or desirable.

Richard Rohr posted something about this a few weeks ago, and it came back to me yesterday:

"Isn’t it wonderful news, brothers and sisters, that we come to God not by our perfection but by our imperfection?...Deep within each of us lives both a leper and a wolf, both of which we are ashamed and afraid of. In Franciscan lore, they are our inner imperfections...If we haven’t been able to kiss many lepers, if we haven’t been able to tame many wolves in the outer world, it’s probably because we haven’t first of all made friends with our own leprosy and the ferocious wolf within each of us. They are always there in some form, waiting to be tamed and needing to be forgiven." - Richard Rohr, adapted from Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, p. 276

Hello...we can't stay away from *ssholes, because each of us has one, and perhaps, is one - a wolf - in some way, at some time. If we are really honest with ourselves, we can admit this. Though I have suffered my share of betrayals, and I would never intentionally do harm to another, I must admit that I have made mistakes, and am sure I will make many more before I leave this earth. If I am to avoid *ssholes, I would have to avoid my own wolf, and leper, too - and that's not possible. They are part of me. I need to tame and forgive those parts of myself before I can offer that kind of grace to another.

Dang it.

Fr. Rohr posted further: 

"There is a cruciform pattern to reality. Life is filled with contradictions, tragedies, and paradoxes, and to reconcile them you invariably pay a big price...It eventually becomes evident that you’re going to get nailed for any life of real depth or love, because this upsets the world’s agenda of progress. This is not what the world wants, and not what the world understands. Any life of authenticity will lead to its own forms of crucifixion—from others, or, often, leading to various forms of self-denial. [The Gospel of] Mark constantly brings us back to the central importance of suffering. There’s no other way we’re going to break through to the ultimate reality that we call resurrection without going through the mystery of transformation, which is dramatically symbolized by the cross." - Adapted from The Four Gospels

So the cross is a symbol, a "note to self," a billboard, a banner, a memo, a reminder that this is the way life is; suffering is the way humans tend to experience transformation. We are not transformed by surrounding ourselves with a select group of people who will never hurt or disaappoint us (do such people exist?), but by mingling with whoever and whatever crosses the path of our life - including betrayals. Everyone has within him a wolf and a leper (or, if you prefer, an *sshole). You might not see that part of him right away, but you are likely to encounter it in someone. This doesn't necessarily mean you have made a mistake; it may be that this is your learning, your cross, your suffering, your transformative experience - at this time. Dang it!

This has been a lesson of the past 10 months, for me. I have regrets. I have spent a lot of time wishing I had been wiser about who to trust, but I was vulnerable, and did not see clearly. It helps to remember that this is the pattern of the cross - it is not personal; it is universal.

The following prayer in the book "Praying Our Goodbyes" by Joyce Rupp has been of enormous comfort to me recently (p. 114-116), and I hope it will be to you, as well:

"Keep my heart open to loving others and to being loved by them, God. Do not allow me to close off my life because of the scars of this painful rejection. Lead me into peace of heart. Help me to believe in my own goodness, so much so that I can reach out to others with confidence and receive their affection with trust. I pray for all those who have been brutally and harshly betrayed...and I pray for the one who has rejected me. Jesus, you continued to be a loving person even though you had been so painfully treated. Please help me to be a loving person, too. Amen." 

I believe that kind of prayer is a real key to happiness...but the one posted on facebook did make me laugh!

I Don't Need Fixing

I'm not sure whether or not I will post this. I don't want to step on anyone's toes, but I had an encounter which has left me reeling -REELING - and apparently, I can't let it go until I write it out.

I recently joined a Bible study at a church in our community. I love the Bible, and since hearing Beth Moore speak last April, I have wanted to join a study of one of her books. I read one of them after hearing her speak, and loved it; the next step was to study a book in community.

If you're a regular reader here, you will know that I was raised in Christian Science, and later, baptized in the Presbyterian church, along with my children. You will know that I loved and served that church in various capacities (Deacon, Stephen Minister, LOGOS) while being lovingly ministered to through its sermons, Lectionary class, women's retreats, etc. My children attended the Sunday School and LOGOS program. We were an active part of the community. When Katie was diagnosed, that community surrounded us with love, prayer and every kind of care. I will be grateful to that church forever.

If you read along from the start here, you may recall that while we were in Seattle for Katie's cancer treatment, an interim pastor gained a foothold in our church and changed the theological stance. Whatever happened, I was not present for it, but the end result was that she drove out about 2/3 of the congregation. This church had something like 600 members, and in an "unchurched" state (apparently, Washington is low on church attendance), that is a big deal. It's a big deal in any case, but think about the impact here, in a small community.

Some of those who left now attend other churches, but some, like me, don't feel they have a church "home" now, and don't have the energy to re-start that search. I've done that several times in my life. My husband (though baptized and confirmed as a Lutheran) does not want to attend. I haven't withdrawn my membership yet, but can't seem to return, so I have been seeking a mid-week Bible study and/or worship service that would meet my need for being in the Word, and might bring praise to God through worship and sharing in community.

I attended one that I liked right away, but found the Bible study to be less in-depth than what I was seeking. Then I found a Beth Moore study nearby, and signed up for it.

The first week, one woman noticed that there were newcomers and said, "The natural first question is, Which of our services do you attend?" I replied, "The answer is: None. Do you have a second question?" I was surprised that this was the first question.

I got over that, and returned the following week. That day, we broke into small groups and were asked to discuss the impact of the week's lesson on us. Two people spoke, and then it was my turn. I shared what was in my heart. Everyone listened kindly.

After class, a nice lady came up to me and said, in essence, "I noticed you were tearing up when you spoke [I wasn't, but that isn't the main point]. There is a place where you can go for healing prayer near here. They have the gift of healing and could help you."

I was shocked, and truly mystified by this suggestion. What if I was crying? I wasn't, but what if I had been? In the community of Christ, where I do tend to cry during worship music, I should be safe to let whatever comes, come. Why would tears over the death of my daughter be a reason to go someplace else for healing prayer? It is natural to cry! Katie is gone and not coming back here; I have to wait, in hope and faith, to see her again. That's a tall assignment. Why would tears - a natural expression of missing her - be something to "heal?" I will never stop missing her until I can wrap my arms around her again - I'm her MOTHER!

This set me back at least four years in my social interaction journey. I left that place feeling hurt and unsafe, though I believe this woman's motivations were all good and kind. However, she mentioned that God had healed her of cancer twice, and that she believed that He did so to prove His love for her. If you follow that kind of reasoning out to its conclusion, what does that say about Katie? About us? Would you pray to such a God for the healing of tears?

I recalled with gratitude how my spiritual director would teach her groups to allow each person to have her own space and feelings, and never to try to jump in or "fix" each other.

Gregg and I discussed how I could approach such interactions in the future. I need to learn to smile and say, "Thank you," and walk away. I am going to return to Bible study, and forgive this dear woman for this painful interchange and her misguided suggestion. I wasn't crying, but I felt like doing so after she finished with me. What are people thinking when they make assumptions and say such things? Do my strong emotions make you squirm? What does that say about me? What does that say about you?

Please don't try to "fix" me, or anyone else.

Rolling in the Deep

I know that this song has been played a LOT...but I admire whoever was the art director of the video so much that I have to post it here.

Who (of those of you who have been through a bad breakup) has not wanted to break china, dance like a dervish, beat on a drum set, sing at the top of your lungs, or set fire to something?

This is a work of artistic and emotional genius, in my opinion. Sing it, Adele!

Birth Pains

" 'All this is only the beginning of the birth pangs.'

~ Matthew 24:8 (Jerusalem Bible)

"Birth pains are an image of something painful that is bringing about something better. The price for bringing about something better is to go through the pain of birth. Male gods create by a flick of their creative finger. Female gods create by labor pains. Patriarchs seem to think that birth pains are unnecessary—at least for them. That’s why we have been able to avoid so much of the Gospel, I am afraid.

"If we had an image of God as a great Mother who is birthing (Romans 8:22), I think birth pains would have been much more understood. A woman who has had a child understands something I will never understand: the necessary connection between pain and life—and she might well know it in the very cells of her body."

Adapted from Radical Grace: Daily Meditations, p. 370, day 383

Reading this devotional from Richard Rohr this morning is comforting me. I have run into a snag or two, as I shepherd the book and video projects along, and at times, I become discouraged.

Things have actually moved so well with both projects that it's been surprising, on the whole. Doors have opened, people have been willing to help, free with supportive comments and input, and generally positive about the entire endeavor. Every time I knock on a door (figuratively speaking), it has either opened, or a "window" nearby has opened, instead. In fact, it's gone so smoothly that I tend to assume that the snags, resistance or moments of difficulty that rarely arise indicate that "something is wrong." Typical of "magical thinking," (Joan Didion's phrase) that everything is supposed to go smoothly all the time.

Look around! That is not even true in nature; why should it be in human life and work? Things do go wrong, and many birth-experiences involve pain. Father Rohr provides this reminder about human birth. Even though it was over 16 years ago that I last gave birth to a baby, I do remember that pain.

David was born via Cesarean section. I was trying to have him "naturally," and resisted all forms of assistance for as long as possible. Big mistake, by the way. After 18 hours of labor (many of them under the effects of pitocin, a labor-inducing drug), and without pain relief, I gave in, and asked for an epidural. That was a smart move...David was born 18 hours after that, by emergency Cesarean section. He had the umbilical cord wrapped three times around his neck. "Natural" childbirth was not physically possible. The pain of the first 18 hours changed my life-perspective. I had not known that such physical pain existed on earth.

David's first photograph

When Katie was born, she was delivered by VBAC - not a Cesarean section. I hear that this is less common nowadays, but 16 years ago, the prevalent thinking was to try to do it as "naturally" as possible.

Katie, moments after she was first handed to me

After our children were born, my sister, who has never given birth, asked me what labor felt like. "Like someone is trying to open your womb with a crowbar - from the inside," I remember telling her.

I'm thankful for this reminder that some of the best things in life require us to endure pain so they can be born. Pain doesn't necessarily mean that we are doing something wrong. There are times when pain does indicate that a change of course is in order; for example, touching a hot stove and feeling the burn is a clear signal to step back. Pain can be a reminder to open one's heart for directions, in case a change of course is needed, but "pain" doesn't automatically signal "mistake." Perhaps it signals, "Listen;" perhaps it is a reminder to pause, rest or to re-commit what we are doing to God, to whom everything belongs.

"Jesus said to his Apostles:
'...whoever does not take up his cross
and follow after me is not worthy of me.
Whoever finds his life will lose it,
and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

“Whoever receives you receives me,
and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me.' " - Matthew 10