Improbable Moments of Grace

"Here is what happened next.
     America went to war in Iraq, and my pastor, Veronica, gave a brilliant sermon about how, with the war raging in the Middle East, now was not the time to figure everything out, like who was to blame or whom we would vote for. It was not the time to get a new plan together and try to push it on through. It was time to be still, to get centered, to trust what we've always trusted in: friendship, kindness, helping the poor, feeding the hungry. So, having felt scattered for much of the past two years, I took Veronica's words to heart, and began to get quiet whenever possible, to go for longer walks on the mountain, to sit in beggy prayer and fretful meditation. My mind kept thinking its harsh thoughts, but I'd distract myself from them gently and say, "Those are not the truth, those are not trustworthy, those are for entertainment purposed only." 

~Anne Lamott in Small Victories: Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace

I've been in an odd place lately but I think this^ is what I have intuitively been doing.  Multiple friends have noted to me that I've gone radio silent on Social Media lately.  And I have.  Partly because I've been busy living.  And partly because I didn't feel I had anything significant to contribute so I didn't mind sitting back.  

Big changes are ahead and I feel the fear and excitement of it all.  

Not a lot has changed externally yet, but internally, I've been gutted and rewired and insulated.  (Many hours of therapy and meditating and pondering and working through stuff.) So. Much. Work. Just like our house that we bought.  It was falling down.  There were carpets that had to be torn out. Joists rebuilt. Walls insulated. Roof re-shingled.  But it's stronger now. It's much more WHOLE.  It has been loved deeply. All the way down to the joists. Now is when the cosmetic changes come about.  And with ME it is the same way.  I tried from the outside in once. It didn't work so well. I tried masking my pain with makeup and new styles or a fake smile.  But like painting over rust or MOLD- the paint eventually bubbles until you can't ignore it.  So I've done a lot of work.  And I can see there is a lot of work ahead.  But now that my shelter is stable I can sit for a while.  To ponder.  To dream.  To anticipate. To just BE.  And I'm rather enjoying it.  

I have come back to the world of social media, but it's different now.  Not because it is but because *I* am.  I am much more confident to be the AUTHOR of my story. The CONTRACTOR and CONSTRUCTION CREW of my safe place within me. 

And I consider that my own Small Victory.  

Not going to break me

I found this song today. Excellent timing universe.  I needed this:



Crista Wells
"This Thing Is Not Going To Break You"

You could not plan for this
No, there was no silhouette
Up against the pink horizon
To warn you of the hit
But you absorbed it all with grace
Like a child you spoke of faith unmoved
That holds onto you

This thing is going to try to break you
But it doesn’t have to
You’re showing us how
This thing is going to bend and shape you
But He won’t let it take you
You know it somehow
This thing is not going to break you

You  could take your loss
You could hide away from us
With your grief lassoed around you
But you’re laying it in the sun
And you stare straight into the light
You say you’d rather go blind than look away
What can I say?

This thing is going to try to break you
But it doesn’t have to
You’re showing us how
This thing is going to bend and shape you
But He won’t let it take you
You know it somehow
This thing is not going to break you
This thing is not going to break you
This thing is not going to break you

What We Are...

I was listening to a CD this morning and when this song came on I just stopped.  Dead in my tracks.  I sat down in my rocking chair, closed my eyes, and listened:



"What You Are"

I’m driving around town
Kinda bored with the windows rolled down
See a girl on the bus stop bench
Dressed to draw attention

Hoping everyone will stare
If she don’t stand out she thinks she’ll disappear
Wish I could hold her, tell her, show her
What she wants is already there

A star is a star
It doesn’t have to try to shine
Water will fall
A bird just knows how to fly

You don’t have to tell a flower how to bloom
Or light how to fill up a room
You already are what you are
And what you are is beautiful

Heard a story the other day
Took place at the local VA
A father talking to his dying son
This was his conversation

“It’s not supposed to be like this
You can’t go first I can’t handle it”
The boy said “Dad now don’t you cry,
Remember when I was a child what you used to tell me when I’d ask why?”

(You’d say) Gravity is gravity
It doesn’t try to pull you down
Stone is stone
It can’t help but hold its ground

The wind just blows, though you can’t see
It’s everywhere like I’ll always be
You already are what you are
And what you are is strong enough
Look in the mirror
Now that’s another story to tell
I give love to others
But I give myself hell

I’d have to tell myself
“In every scene there’s a perfect plan”
Everything I hoped to be
I already am
A flower is a flower
It doesn’t have to try to bloom
And light is light
Just knows how to fill a room

And dark is dark
So the stars have a place to shine
The tide goes out
So it can come back another time

Goodbye makes a love so sweet
And love is love so it can teach us
We already are what we are
And what we are is beautiful

And strong enough

And good enough

And bright enough

What a piece of work is man

Professor M. would always start class with a quote from one of his two favorite people; Shakespear or himself.  His rich Indian accent, a knowing glint in his eye and a chuckle always accompanied his favorite sayings.  standing in front of the room with his sweater on and his brown balding head shining in the florescent lighting he would stand behind the lectern and offer up wisdom for us to ponder. "what a piece of work is man!"

Indeed. I think we often underestimate the power and beauty we possess. We look at our life and think, "What a mess!"

I am not an organized person by nature. I have piles where others might have labeled boxes. I do consider myself creative but not an artist. (An artist should know painting and proportions or something. I just make it up as I go.) My lack of organization and discipline to keep things today has sometimes been a point of shame and embarrassment.

But I'm tired of being ashamed. I'm tired of being embarrassed. I want to be REAL, piles and all. Because I believe God made me and i believe I have just as much potential for beauty as I do for mess.

I found this card the other day and gave it to my husband. I believe we are here to see what we can become, who we can create ourselves to be. There is power in deciding and doing that is not part of finding. (though i believe there is also substantial finding in the process).

What a piece of work is man!

Yes. A masterpiece.
Deep. Messy at times. And beautiful.
i needed to share those thoughts. Now I'm off to create myself.

Stitches

I received some "love mail" today. You see, my dear Mom sent me a package and I got it today.  In it was this book: STITCHES: A Handbook on Meaning, Hope and Repair by Anne Lamott.  (click the link-I don't know how to link the picture)

Oh. My. Heavens.

SUCH a WONDERFUL book. Seriously.  Buy it.  I read it with an orange colored pencil in hand and highlighted MANY wonderful passages and quotes.  It's 96 pages long and yes, I read it all in the 6 hours I've had it (which if you do the math is on the slow-ish side of reading, but I promise you I took time to feed my family dinner, left over sloppy joes, and bathe the smallest wee one and put him to bed, sent the other brothers with Daddy on a project, I also let my kids watch Netflix this afternoon.)

My all time favorite quote, it has a heart by it in my book, and perhaps fellow sewers will love this as much as I do;

Sewing is the finger and heart equivalent of putting one foot in front of the other.

So many other quotes I want to share but there's a reason this one stands out.  Remember my Correspondence Course in Self Care? (If not click the link) Those strips of fabric were meticulously crafted into the beginnings of my very own quilt top.  See?

This pattern starts with sewing the strips together at angles to create the LONGEST STRIP OF FABRIC KNOWN TO MAN.  Seriously.  Football field length.  Then you fold in half sewing that strip to itself lengthwise.  Which takes FOREVER.  

This is me hard at work. Just when you think you can't sew another stitch, that you MUST be close to the end you look down and see that you're not even halfway.  It's disheartening.  So fifteen minutes later (not kidding and this is after an hour of making the longest strip known to man) you might have that first strip done.  From there on out it's easy peasy.  The rows double in size each time so the length you have to sew is 1/2 as long.  (Doesn't make sense, I know- but it's not a tutorial on how but the lesson learned.) The agony of that first strip is real.  It is hard.  It is exhausting and butt numbing.  And yet you plod on.  With hope that it won't turn out an ugly mess.  And guess what?  You were right all along.  It's wonderful and far different than you had ever imagined.  

And isn't that our journey through life?  Our journey as WoPAs? Trying to figure out how to plod on with this forever long stitch?  Having to unpick and resew when the pattern gets skiwampus? 

This is a metaphor that I will cling to.  For I've always been a pretty fearless sewer.  And now I'll start applying that to the rest of my life.  

One foot in front of the other. 

One stitch and then another.  Some unpicking.  Some re-sewing.  And a beautiful unknown pattern will reveal itself.  

Little Man Complex

Revelation comes line upon line as we are ready for it.

I'm not worthy.  I am inferior. 

That is what the negative tape in my head has been saying for... I don't know, my whole life?  I don't think I can pinpoint why I feel this way.  Maybe it's a second born thing.  There's not an experience that sticks out in my mind that says, "YES! That's it! The root of my shame and self-loathing."  There are particular experiences over the years that stand out in reaffirming my own belief, unbeknownst to anyone involved.  But for a long time I remember feeling this way.

Mind you, as a child I was bubbly.  Happy.  Always smiling.  People remember me as a jovial, carefree child. I do remember being happy and care free.  But I don't know if I learned to wear the mask well as a child or if that was a skill acquired later in life to hide my pain from people who might hurt me further.

Being a teen was rough, as it often is.  My family life was flipped when my parents divorced.  I never felt accepted among the kids at church, except for the rare few who are still precious friends to this day.  So I hung out with people who accepted me.  I showed them the real, raw, broken me and they held me close and loved me anyway.  It always saddens me to think that we've somewhat parted ways but I will always treasure the genuine feedback and support I received from them.  My relationship with my Dad fell apart (what was left to fall apart) when my parents divorced and he quickly remarried.  It was messy.  For years.  It's better now, but mostly because I have come to accept it for what it is, not that much has changed over the years.  Some, yes, but not much.  There are so many incidents that come to mind in my broken relationship with my Dad that reinforced my mentality that I was inferior, lesser.  Wounded, I would return to the safety of my Mom's house (or just her voice) and she would tell me what my core knew: I am worthy and worth loving.  I am important.  I belong.  That's not to paint my Mom as a saint and my Dad as a devil but more often than not Mom was safe and Dad was not, emotionally.

When I was a junior in high school (parents split the summer before) my Dad remarried.  The mom of one of my friends then became my stepmom.  We weren't very close but had been when we were younger.  Did you ever dream of your parents marrying your best friend's parents so you could be sisters?  I did.  Parent Trap.  Thanks Disney.  Reality didn't work like that for us.  It became a forced blending of families and none of us were allowed to have any opinions contrary to what the parents had decided.  Or we would be met with huge amounts of guilt.  And more infusions of "I am not worthy. I am inferior." I never felt like I had a right to say anything at church because our family wasn't one of the "old" families of First Ward.  I didn't have an in with the ones who were.  We were friends, but only superficially.  We were poor.  Talk about feeling "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  Society chalks that one up to a given, except for the few who fought and worked their tails off and didn't believe that nonsense to make something of themselves.  But I was not one of them.

College was an interesting time.  I felt some of this negativity early on, but I also learned that I was worthy.  I could do great things.  I could do hard things.  This confidence is probably part of what my husband was attracted to (I hope.)  I had my moments of self doubt.  "Does he really like me?"  which I think are normal.  I decided that he did and I was thrilled.  The rest is history, as they say.  I do find that old enemy around though.  Driving, I always think other people are judging me of how I drive. (Why are we so critical of people's driving anyway?)  I find myself giving in to this thinking more often than I realized.  Lately it's been worse with coming to grips with the massive amounts of pain I have been avoiding.  I'm hurt. Raw. Bleeding.  I don't show many for fear that they'll stick their fingers in the wound or point out that it's oozing and infected (like I didn't already know).  I hide. I don't think many of my inlaws even know many of my real opinions on things because I'm so afraid of the rejection or talking behind my back (as they often do about others so why not me) that I either shut up or find myself agreeing with them because (I think) they think I am unworthy of holding my own opinion that might be contrary to their own.

My inner voice tells me not to believe that "I am not worthy.  I am inferior."  My inner voice says that's bullschnit.  It's hard to hear sometimes.  That inner voice.  She's getting stronger though.  And now that I recognize the faulty thinking maybe I can break past it.  Thank heaven's for Addo.  What a beautiful blessing.  (One of the lessons brought all this to the forefront.)

As the wonderful, Brene Brown points out, "I am worthy of love and belonging." 
And the great Dr. Skinner reminds, "I am good.  I am strong and I have much to offer."
And from dear Scabs, "I am brave."
And one altered from What About Bob, "I am good. I am great. I am wonderful." 

I sure hope having it here in written form will help me remember. 

The Love of God

Woman is God’s supreme creation. Only after the earth had been formed, after the day had been separated from the night, after the waters had been divided from the land, after vegetation and animal life had been created, and after man had been placed on the earth, was woman created; and only then was the work pronounced complete and good.Of all the creations of the Almighty, there is none more beautiful, none more inspiring than a lovely daughter of God who walks in virtue with an understanding of why she should do so, who honors and respects her body as a thing sacred and divine, who cultivates her mind and constantly enlarges the horizon of her understanding, who nurtures her spirit with everlasting truth. God will hold us accountable if we neglect His daughters. He has given us a great and compelling trust. May we be faithful to that trust.~President Gordon B. Hinckley 

Elder Richard G. Scott spoke at a broadcast for Stake Conference today (twice a year gathering of church member to hear from local leadership- this time also had a broadcast portion).  He referenced some quotes that touched my heart.  We are vastly important to our Father in Heaven.  He has not forsaken us.  He cherished us.  ME.  I am important.  I am beloved.  I am cherished.  

"May we be faithful to that trust."

Ouch.  What happens when those we love are not faithful to that trust?  It hurts.  A LOT.  Elder Scott also quoted President Thomas S. Monson:

"Tears inevitably follow transgression.  Men, take care not to make women weep, for God counts their tears."

We are loved. I am loved.

I know, too that my Father in Heaven loves my sweetheart.  That he has given us all the opportunity to restore trust, to ask forgiveness and to be forgiven.  What a tender mercy that is.  Forgiveness is not the same as trust.  Forgiveness is the willingness of the heart to let go.  Trust is a willingness to put that same heart back into the hands of my husband.  I'm not there yet.  But I have hope that I will be.  And I am counted as a daughter of the Most High God.  Incredible.  And incredible how easily I forget.  We are mortal.  We make mistakes.  We hurt other people, even those we love dearly.  And I can feel my heart beginning to soften.

Take no thought

I did my first phone in PASG (Porn Addiction Support Group) for women last night.  You can find one HERE.  Where I live there is NOT a support group for family or friends of addicts (of any kind-not just pornography).  I was really sad about that when we moved here because the group we had been in previously was so healing and I was sad to see that stop.  So when my husband mentioned that he was going to do the call in group for men and that they had one for women I was grateful.  (And a little standoff-ish because I don't like being told what to do- but he wasn't telling me WHAT to do- just pointing out an option I missed and for that I am grateful.)  It was different, and a little weird.  But it was positive.  And I needed that. 

Yesterday I didn't want to go to church.  Really, there are many Sundays I just don't want to go.  With three kids and cousins that share our pew (I hate "assigned" seating) it is loud and distracting and stressful and hardly the spiritual uplift I need.  The next two hours I'm in Primary and don't feel I get much out of that either (and I recognize that some of that is on me). But I dreaded going.  45 minutes before I was still in my jammies telling my husband I really just didn't want to go.  I should say I didn't want to go with all the noise and confusion.  I wanted my soul to be uplifted and so often I'm busy wiping noses and shushing children (who are speaking quite loud) that I can't hear that "still small voice".  But I went.  Because I had responsibilities.  And I hoped for a glimmer of uplift.  But mostly because there would be more questions if I didn't go.  

I was fasting for myself, for my healing, for hope.  I wanted to block out my life and listen to the Spirit.  Part of the meeting was distracting, some of it was thank-a-monies, and some were sad stories of sad lives.  But to start off the meeting a friend got up and bore a beautiful testimony.  He and his family have had a hard year, to say the least.  He has an undiagnosed health problem that is unpredictable.  Some days he'll fall in the kitchen and his wife will have to help him up.  Others he can run 5 miles.  There's no telling when he wakes up which one it will be.  He hasn't worked this last year which has meant that their finances are in dire straights.  His wife is now doing daycare and they're getting by.  Barely.  With his illness because they don't know what it is, they don't know what that means for how long he'll live or if it'll get worse, or if there is any sort of treatment.  And he started his testimony by saying things are so great. GREAT! Not good, or we have our moments. And he acknowledged that has been the hardest year of their lives and looking forward is likely to be as bad or worse.  But they have each other.  They have the Lord.  They have love.  They are scraping by, by the grace of God and the kindness of others.  I can't really describe it.  I'm not doing it justice.  But just know this; it touched me so deeply.  THAT was exactly what I was looking for.  I really wish I could have gone home on that note.  (And I could have but chose not to.) 

Then the day went by and it was ok.  I was surviving it but not feeling the Spirit like I had hoped.  Then it came time for group.  It wasn't as huge a lift as my friend's testimony, but it was positive, and hopeful and uplifting. Rather than falling into the pain and misery and hopelessness.  I didn't get the quote exactly but someone said, " Let Heavenly Father have the pain of the past and the fear of tomorrow and live in today." And that was what I needed to hear.  I am grateful for the tender mercies that allow me to feel hope when I didn't know I could. This is a path I never would have imagined, but I have found that usually the most beautiful vistas are found after long and weary journeys.  I look forward to that.  

And I will try to remember what my Savior said, "Take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself." Matthew 6:34

I stinkin' love Kelly Clarkson.

Show Me How Big Your Brave Is

I love this song.  A good reminder to be brave.
To speak words that are hard.


"Brave"

You can be amazing
You can turn a phrase into a weapon or a drug
You can be the outcast
Or be the backlash of somebody’s lack of love
Or you can start speaking up
Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do
When they settle ‘neath your skin
Kept on the inside and no sunlight
Sometimes a shadow wins
But I wonder what would happen if you

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

Everybody’s been there,
Everybody’s been stared down by the enemy
Fallen for the fear
And done some disappearing,
Bow down to the mighty
Don’t run, stop holding your tongue
Maybe there’s a way out of the cage where you live
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in
Show me how big your brave is

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

And since your history of silence
Won’t do you any good,
Did you think it would?
Let your words be anything but empty
Why don’t you tell them the truth?

Say what you wanna say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

With what you want to say
And let the words fall out
Honestly I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I wanna see you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
See you be brave

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you

I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you
I just wanna see you