Finding the Joy -- Writing

Lately I have found that even when I can squeeze time to post, I don't want to sit down and begin.  As board president, I must write many e-mails to our CASA agency board and staff.  After that I want to stop. 

I continue to have deep old hurts thrusting upward to receive my attention for healing--particularly those from my adolescence.  I'm using Anne Lamott's prayer "Help!" a lot these days, realizing more and more each moment that I can't heal without the help of the Holy Spirit in ways of which I am not aware.

A friend is leading a series on forgiveness in Denver during Lent.  I responded to her invitation to join the class with "once again, I'm learning more about how particular events have colored my life in so many ways--how the decisions I made as a young adolescent have been buried in my unconscious and sprung a wide and deep root system."  I told her that I can't do the next level of forgiveness without more understanding of how those events and my decisions have stunted my accomplishments, my relationships, especially with men, and my desire to protect myself by being stronger, more determined, more sure--and on and on. 

I have known about that adolescent anger and rage for years.  I have touched it, hung with it, and acknowledged her for her fury and determination to keep going.  As a woman said to me last fall, I thank her, for without that stubborn girl's determination to find a way to beat those men I might well have succumbed to the fear and pain that was being inflicted.  I have also known that under that anger and rage would be grief and sorrow.  I now find there is a sense of "no matter how hard I try, I won't win--I won't figure out what he (Dad) wants, there is no way out so I must adjust, manage, handle it."
It's that sense that is so present that I have difficulty looking at the many positives with all the things we need to create at VFC CASA.  That same sense gives me a lens that notices the road blocks in that and other groups in which I am involved--WITHOUT giving me the path through, as I'm accustomed to seeing.  That old "I've worked so hard, why aren't things working out the way I'd hoped" voice is too loud. 

On the farm I loved the sunsets, especially the ones that seemed to turn the gray farm buildings pink.  Now I realize that the strong rolling colors could express emotions other than joy, though for me joy co-exists with the anger and rage that I can imagine reflected in the bright boiling clouds.

Last Friday's snowshoe, brief though it was, allowed the joyful girl to come out and play.  My friend said my joy was part of what allowed her to keep going, that it inspired her.  I need that joy for this noon's meeting with the fledgling healing ministry team at church.  I need it even more for Monday's VFC CASA Board meeting.  I'm praying for the joy--not for it to obscure the challenges, but for it to be present with the challenges.

May you all find peace and joy. 

Epiphany

Epiphany-- the definition that I like most is the literary one--a sudden realization--a flash of recognition in which someone or something is seen in a new light.  There are days and weeks when I have several of these and other days when I am bombarded by old messages, many that I need to let float by as if they were clouds.

The past few days have been saddened by a sudden angry outburst and resignation from the board of which I am president, and it appeared that I was the villain.  The person in question is a man--no surprise--and when he refused to answer my e-mails or return phone calls, I envisioned a complete long-term cut-off.  I worried about it so much that I wrote our pastor to ask for prayers (and maybe that helped!). 

My mind quickly went to old cut-offs--one from a man who had been not only my significant other, but my daughter's surrogate father--who decided to treat me as if I were dead when we broke up.  It was many years later before he changed his mind.  And like the man who was on the non-profit board, we attended the same church and many of the same functions.  Then, of course, there is the more recent cut-off of communication by my daughter.  I was projecting this man's future behavior on these past experiences.

Those with whom I spoke gave me good advice--let go of my guilt that I had done something to warrant this behavior, let go of my worry, bless him and let go, move on, he can be difficult so don't blame yourself.  No one said just wait a few days and see what happens--or if they did, I didn't absorb it in my own whirling mind as I searched for my mistakes.

There had been a sharp misunderstanding.  I could have been more patient.  I could have sent him more information.  We would have used the same process, but this could have helped.  However, it was a relatively small thing so others involved were shocked at his resignation and anger.  I kept trying to find some bigger transgression that I might have made, obsessing about it even during my centering prayer time.  It had to be something I could have controlled, right?!  No, probably not.  This man had been upset about a variety of things on that board for some time and this must have been the match that lit the already burning fire.

This morning, after hearing that he had told others he had resigned, I wrote a letter of appreciation for his service, said I had enjoyed working with him, etc., and attached it to an e-mail to our entire board with a copy to him.

Mid-morning I received an e-mail from this man.  He asked questions about the board as if he had never been angry.  He did acknowledge that he would no longer have to deal with these things so it wasn't about returning to the board.  Then a little later, after I had wished me well for a planned outpatient surgery later this week, I received a cute response.  This seemed to be about re-establishing the friendship, and to me that is much more important than having him on our board.  It didn't take so long either.

The two insights--perhaps not as bright as an epiphanies, but so important--don't find the worst past examples to project onto current events and don't try so hard to find and accept blame. 

The first one I think I will remember.  The second, maybe I'll catch myself as I'm doing it a few times and then move away from that habit.  It's a brighter possibility!

Happy Solstice - Happy Birthday - Merry Christmas to come!

 Boulder Reservoir near dusk      --           both from  yesterday's walk     --      On the ice at Coot Lake

December 22nd, today is an important day for me.  First, it is the birthday of grandson Will in Nashville.  Though now a young man, Will is our child who has a sunny face and stories galore.  He is also, at his best, the sweetest of my four grandsons.  He takes after his Dad with this quality, and it's a tough one for a boy in our culture.  His Dad has learned a balance that Will has yet to find.  I have confidence that he will and hope that not many more hard knocks will be needed for him to learn that taking care of oneself must come before one has what it takes to care for others.  This year Will has asked family to wait until tomorrow for his birthday dinner so I can be there, sweet since I paid too much attention to the cost of my plane ticket and didn't get there today.  I am honored and can't wait to celebrate Will's twentieth with him.  Hard to believe that he will no longer be a teenager.

                                               Dressed for his Mom's law school graduation

Today is also the birthday of my long-time friend Elizabeth.  She is not yet sixty--young as far as I'm concerned.  Elizabeth met me when we had very different lives--she, the newly hired Executive Director of the Chattanooga Symphony and Opera, a job most had still expected a man to hold, even in the early 90s, and me, the ED of the Enterprise Fund, an experimental small business investment fund in a city where women bankers were a scarce commodity.  She was there--and didn't flinch--when the old dreadful memories consumed my life.  Our lives have evolved.  Now we both live in Boulder County, Colorado, and focus in our own ways on our spiritual journeys.  She is a blessing in my life.

I also like December 22nd because tomorrow the days will begin again to get longer--little by little for sure, but longer, more light.  And it's that light that I focus on today.  As an Episcopalian, I belong to a faith group that looks at the days prior to December 25th as Advent--a time of waiting, the darkness before the light of the Christmas miracle.  There is beauty in that dusk before light, a heightening of perceptions that might go unnoticed in the glare of bright sun light.  That is a bit like the Christmas holiday rush.  We have to stop, find a quiet place, to allow the coming miracle of Christmas to seep into our hearts.

I don't pretend to believe that on a December 25th many years ago a baby named Jesus was born in a manger.  I do, however, love the story.  It speaks to me of new birth, new ways of being in our lives, an opportunity to change directions, even slightly, to allow Divine love to enlarge our hearts and lives.  It is a miracle waiting to happen.  Let's allow for darkness if that's what it takes for that love to explode within and light up our lives and that of those with whom with share this world.  

And for those who light up my life -- below is daughter-in-law Margaret's induction into the Tennessee Bar, which happened this past week.  I look forward to celebrating with her in Nashville!

 

Ode to Judith -- Changing Times

Hiking with Judith -- Odessa Lake 2012

It is hard to imagine going into a snowshoe season in the Rockies without my companion of twelve winters to venture with me into roaring winds, lightly falling snow, giving me a hand when I can't quite make the step up, sliding down the hills from The Loch or Emerald Lake, and marveling at the beauty of a snow-covered landscape.  With Judith with me on the trail, I would go forward when otherwise I might have stopped.

The Loch, a favorite snowshoe hike, has a steep climb near the top, and on more than one winter hike, I have faltered, but with Judith's encouragement, have taken one more step forward, dug in, and gone on to the top.  The photos above and below are from our hike winter before last when the sun and the deep snow combined for one of the most stunning hikes ever.

Going foward when I might have stopped--that has been true for many of life's passages over the last twelve plus seasons of hiking and show shoeing.  Her amazing listening ear, her patience when it seemed as if I was going through the same inner-journey turmoils that I had going through years before (and I was, only on a deeper level, which she understood--though it must have been tiresome). 

Celebrating beauty even when the ledges were slim and the snow was falling so that seeing ahead wasn't easy reminds me of gratitude, even when life doesn't seem so good.  We stood in RMNP's Glacier Gorge parking lot many times when the wind threatened to blow us backward.  We would remind each other than once on the trail, the wind wouldn't be so strong.  Again, a lesson for life, that when we stop on our paths during a tough time, that moving ahead, even ever so slowly, will ease the angst.  That is a reminder I need right now, when I don't know what comes next. 

Judith was there years ago when it seemed that many of our hikes required me to walk through fear, sometimes fear that required stopping until I could gather the strength to go on.  She never waivered.  We have gone places I likely will not go again.  As she leaves for a sea-level life for the next four months, she will return to Estes Park for a while, but hopefully for her sake, she will be able to live where sleep and breath come easily without the aid of a mask.  That is the plan Judith and her husband are making, the adventure they are setting off to pursue.  I wish you well dear friend.  I will think of you often, but especially when the wind is cold and the steps ahead hard.  I will borrow from your courage and strength and go forward.  Enjoy the warmth, the sea and the beach--and sleep well!

Silence -- God's Love

Yes--deep silence and bushwhacking up a mountain side were both part of my 8-day silent retreat at St. Benedict's Monastery in Old Snowmass, CO. This particular silent retreat asked that, after the opening gathering, participants not make eye contact or speak. During meals we motioned for various dishes, and I became accustomed to looking down--or when seated in the retreat house living area, looking over the heads of others to the mountains visible from the large windows.


Mt. Sopris is the large mountain (pictured above) visible from the back windows of the retreat house where the room I shared with my 80-year-old centering prayer friend from Estes Park was located. From the hillside above the retreat house, the mountains of the ski resort, Snowmass, are also visible. The destination at the top of the steep incline we hiked/bushwhacked to is called "Bernie's Rock," named for a deceased monk resident of the monastery.

The silence when meditating with 25 others in a large circle in the retreat house chapel was enfolding--except when the chatter in my head made it otherwise. We sat with our meditation practice, centering prayer, for three and one-half hours per day, broken into three periods of silence, beginning at 5:45 am.

Silence--Comforting?? Peaceful?? Energizing?? Revealing?? It can be and was all of those. There would be very few participants if most of those twenty plus hours of meditation revealed our blocks and shadow sides. I would also have felt it to be a less valuable retreat had I not had an insight or two that continued to percolate after returning home.

My long-time quest was present this time--a deeper knowing of God's love for me, mistakes, stumbles, hurts and all. With valuable coaching from a long-time staff member, I began to get more deeply God's love for me. With a clearer knowledge of Divine love, I believe/feel myself to be more lovable. No it doesn't make me more lovable. It makes me more aware and able to pass God's love through me to others without a feeling of depletion. It continues to work within me. Sometimes I'm sad that it has taken me so long to reach this point of feeling truly valued by God. More times I'm grateful.

Seeing what parts of me I've protected--and hence protected them from God's healing love is freeing. It also grieves me that the girl who fought hard and stood against the violence in my adolescence is the one I've felt I needed so much that I haven't considered that protecting that piece of me was also protecting against Divine love. It protects against human love getting through too.

The Journey continues. Blessings are many. Deep insights bubble to the top. I'm grateful for the silence and for the time spent in glorious beauty (even in the dormant season before snow covers the brown).

Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

                                                    Meditation chapel at the retreat house

PS:  Stay tuned for recounting of Bernie's rock slough and Fr. Thomas Keating's talk at the retreat.

What is Right in Front of Us

Looking nearby on the path

Going away, driving up the canyon to higher place- -as if all the beauty is somewhere else--I do that often.  Oh I know there is beauty here, but I live on the flatland in northeast Boulder, not up against the Flatirons or foothills.  Last Sunday grandson Sam and I looked for leaves of all colors on the path in the center of this complex.  I left my phone inside so Sam wouldn't want to play an app, forgetting that I would be missing some great shots with the I-phone camera.  On Monday I retraced our path, walked to the park across the street and down paths allow for a longer trek, looking for shades of red and orange, more likely here in Boulder than in the mountains. 

I was reminded again that beauty abounds.  I am grateful.

I'll be off on Monday to St. Benedict's Monastery in Old Snowmass near Aspen for an 8-day silent retreat so my next posting will undoubtedly be about more "falsities" that I'm shedding.  Perhaps it will also include a dose of Divine Love. 

                                                     Happy Halloween from Sam!

Play -- Changing What's So

Playful Sunsets -- One Manipulated, One Original

Taken at the Boulder Reservoir



It was late in the afternoon when I went to the Boulder Res.  I was on the phone, listening to a friend's family concerns.  I walked slowly.  Then, with the conversation completed, I realized the sun was falling behind the clouds and would quickly lower behind the mountains.  My I-phone out, I clicked and clicked, savoring the colors and the reflections on the water.  Our sunsets don't last long, so I quickly tucked my phone into a pocket and walked with purpose back to the trailhead and across the street to my car, chill beginning to penetrate my body. 

As you all know, color is important to me.  Sunsets and sunrises have made a difference in my life for as long as I can remember.  My daughter-in-law told me that she began to fall in love with my son when he pulled the car to the side of the road to watch a sunset.  When she exclaimed about how special that was, he replied, "That's what my mom always did."  That's a romanticized version of our lives for sure.  There were plenty of days when we rushed past the beauty around us attempting to complete the tasks in our crowded days. 

These days I find myself trying to grasp the colorful beauty and hold it.  Colorful sunsets--holding on to something that is fleeting--easy fodder for a blog.  Am I near the sunset of my life?  Hard to know.  An 80-year-old friend recently told me that she was planning how her resources would last for 20 years.  I exclaimed that she would then be 100 years old.  She nodded, saying this was more likely now than ever.  I'll let her plan for that eventuality.  My plans don't go beyond a few things scheduled this winter and next spring. 

Holding on rather than letting go--snapping all those photographs of the sunset--as if I wouldn't see those colors again.  Of course, I might not be at the Boulder Reservoir at that time of day when there was a glorious sunset.  However, I do walk there at least once most weeks.  It's not such a pretty winter place though.  And what is pretty about the winters of our lives?  I'll leave that question to you as this blog has been intended to focus on the fun I have been having with my new I-phone app.  I made the circles of color above from the sunset photo with that app after trying several versions of manipulation. 

How often do I manipulate what is real to make it more appealing to my sense of self, my sense of security.  I have recently realized that a woman whom I have looked up to doesn't like me.  Perhaps she hasn't liked me for a long time.  I simply hadn't paid attention.  I knew that she wasn't particularly supportive when I led spiritual groups or programs, but I made excuses.  That wasn't her personality.  Lately there has been a coldness that I couldn't ignore--as if she wanted me to be certain of her dislike or disapproval, maybe some of both.  Since she has a leadership role in contemplative programming in the Boulder area, I see that my participation there will be waning even more than I had expected or intended as I let go of roles that I felt called to release.  

I ignored my daughter's anger as much as possible for years.  I worked hard, harder to please, harder to assist, harder so that her life might be easier.  I can see that the woman to whom I referred in the previous paragraph represented in some ways, my mother.  (She would be appalled!)  As with Mother, I wanted her approval and support--and got it as long as I wasn't in her arena.  But as I moved into leadership roles and acquitted them well, the support dropped away.  Like Mother, she didn't want me to be successful in any arena where she played.  

It's rather depressing to see how those old patterns have continued to exert influence in my life!  It's also very freeing.  I can let go of the need to please those who aren't supportive.  I don't need to struggle and work hard to get their approval.  I haven't spent a great portion of my life courting approval.  In my career, I rather enjoyed making a stand and staying with it during stormy weather.  In my volunteer leadership roles, I have done the same, considering it my job to protect the integrity of the group.  And it's interesting to notice that the hardest of those tasks have been in churches and spiritual groups!!!

I will spare my readers more musing on this topic.  Today is the day when we interview four candidates for the soon-to-be vacant Voices For Children CASA Executive Director's position.  My newest role with that board, president, isn't one intended to make me necessarily popular.  However, I intend to go into today's conversations with kindness, even though my questions will be probing.  A few minutes of quiet will be helpful before the process begins.

Blessings on this cold, snowy morning.   

                                                    From my porch yesterday morning