What do you want in a friend as an adult?

I was sitting on a porch step with a friend the other day, and she talked about how friendship is different when you’re an adult and are going through a lot of changes.  We talked about relationships in general (you and other people, you and your spouse, you and your church, you and your church small group).  How much work SHOULD relationships be?  When one side is doing most of the emotional work, when is it time to try to talk about it to be sure there’s not a simple misunderstanding in the way?  When is it time to redraw boundaries, reflect and revise expectations, or even call it quits?  We talked around whether it was brave or selfish to do these things.  We don’t want to be people who only receive and never give, but how long can we give but not receive, and what is the “right” ratio for these things?  (I think we decided it’s hard and there is no “right” answer that fits every given situation because each situation is different.)  When we were talking about friendship in her current life, she said something like,  “I don’t even know what I WANT in friends anymore.  What should I want to do with my friends?  What do you want for your friendships?”  I thought it was a fantastic question that deserved a more thorough answer than the one I could give punch drunk on late autumn porch sunlight that day. 

Since I’ve been listening to the entire catalog of Sara Groves songs at work to get me through a destructively busy time, I found myself reflecting on the words of several of her songs about being with people you love.  Here are some of my thoughts about the kind of friend I want to be and what I value in friendships in four Sara Groves songs.

Just One More Thing
https://genius.com/Sara-groves-just-one-more-thing-lyrics
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VOu1Yh4QzTw

One of the most interesting things about learning to live with chronic health problems is the fact that I have HAD to slow down.  I have had to STOP over-committing, STOP over-scheduling, STOP acting as if my current body can do what my brain remembers it doing effortlessly in the past.  I have had to stop allowing myself to get stressed out about things that don’t need to be done but probably should be done and focus more on what needs to be done.  If something doesn’t need to be done and if I CAN’T physically do it, then I have to release myself from the guilt of not doing it, so I can focus my energy on doing what I CAN do, even if sometimes the only thing I can do is rest or maybe manage to drive over to friend’s place to be exhausted there instead of at home.

I characterize this song as frustrated and cranky and a little bit reflective and re-centering about the fact that the law and the gospel can be reduced to loving God and loving our neighbors.  The singer is giving herself a good talking to about the ways we can drive ourselves to distraction with all the things we could be doing at any one time and the way that we need to choose not to be distracted from the important work of loving each other by all the things we could be doing.  The chorus is a joyful shout about the freedom from getting wrapped around the axle about everything being demanded of you by others and yourself.

And love to me is when you put down that one more thing and say
I've got something better to do
And love to me is when you walk out on that one more thing and say
Nothing will come between me and you
Not even one thing

This.  This is where I want to get.  Without guilt, with joy and peace and contentment.  Not because I physically can’t do anything else but because I am choosing to do this thing.


Every Minute
https://genius.com/Sara-groves-every-minute-lyrics
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AZfLOG1VhQ

This song is like a hug.  You should listen to it.  (Let me know if you want to borrow the CD.)  It’s a reflection on what is amazing about being with friends, about staying IN with friends instead of going out (or feeling like you should go out), about what it means to have a home (a place and people). 

And I can think of a time when families all lived together
Four generations in one house
And the table was filled with good food
And friends and neighbors
That's not how we like it now

'Cause if you sit at home you're a loser
Couldn't you find anything better to do?
Well, no, I couldn't think of one thing
I would rather waste my time on than
Sitting here with you

This was true when I was kid and there were so few other things I had to do.  There were no wrong choices when I had to choose between reading and playing outside with friends and playing inside with friends.  And on those long summer days when I knew I was going to be at my friend’s house again first thing in the morning, I didn’t want to leave even after the fireflies had settled down for the night, and it was too dark to do anything safely.  Every moment and every minute.  How did I forget this?  How can I be like a child and get this back?

While I was busy taking on too many wonderful activities and responsibilities, I didn’t get to do this, and then I grew up and forgot all about it, left it behind as if it were unimportant.  And it’s so very important that I think we FEEL it, we feel it missing, we feel its absence, and it hurts us, and we long for it, but we don’t even know what it is we are longing for until we find it and then we realize we are home, this is home, this is kairos time, this is what all eternity in heaven will be like.  And we don’t want it to end.


To Be with You
https://genius.com/Sara-groves-to-be-with-you-lyrics

This song is about family and the holidays.  For many people who don’t have great memories around Christmas, this song can be kind of fraught.  However, even if your holiday memories with your family are not positive (and many of my more recent ones are not), there is something about the warmth I feel toward the ones I love that this warm and nostalgic song evokes that makes me smile. 

We gather by the fire
Reminiscing by its light
The kids will be up early
But it's hard to say goodnight

To be with You, to be with You
I love this time of year
It always brings me here
To be with You

What I love about this song is that it so perfectly describes this feeling of rightness, of doing something we’ve done countless times again with people we love to be present with.  This is the time that matters; it is good to do this now, and it will be good to do it again and again.


Twice as Good
https://genius.com/Sara-groves-twice-as-good-lyrics
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7WY9w_7v2Q

This joyful celebration of friendship is straightforward.  This is the kind of friend I want to be, and it is, frankly, why I will never have a large number of close friends.  I don’t have the physical capacity to support relationships like this with very many people, and that is okay.  God asks that I be faithful with what He’s given me, and I believe He leads people to each other to be there for each other in different ways and for different lengths of time.

When I am down and need to cry till morning
I know just where I am going
When I'm in need of sweet commiseration
To speak out loud
Raise a glass to friendship
And to knowing you don't have to go alone
We'll raise out hearts to share each other's burdens
On this road

Every burden I have carried
Every joy--it's understood
Life with you is half as hard
And twice as good

In the End
Once a friend asked me if I had any dreams.  That’s another post, but he asked it close to a time I went on a plane and, shortly after takeoff, when everything is getting smaller and further away, I saw this place at the end of a road and surrounded by trees and some fields, and there were three houses like 3 sides of a square and a big open yard for the fourth side, and I thought, I want to live in a place like that someday with Friend X and family on one side and Friend Y and family on the other side.

And I wish all the people I love the most
Could gather in one place
And know each other and love each other well
-from Every Minute

I think that is what heaven will be like, an eternity of that, enough time to develop that with everyone there, to live in that kind of communion forever.  What we experience here and now is but a glimpse of the joys to come, and I think true friendship gives us one of those glimpses. 


What about you?  On a more practical level, what do you look for in your friendships as an adult, what kinds of commitments and activities are reasonable, especially when money is tight?

Dear parents of an adult child with un-diagnosed mental illness,

Dear parents of an adult child with un-diagnosed mental illness,
This
is why I want you to go
see a good family counselor psychologist: so

you will know 

that this 

is not 

your fault.  I 

want you to talk
to someone who sees
this kind of thing
every day, someone
who will listen with
knowledge, someone
who can suggest
things you can try

(if you haven't already 

tried them and only 

if you ask).  I want 

you to hear--from someone who hears
from people like you for a living--
whether or not this behavior
that hurts you
so badly
is something your child
chooses (and something you choose
to allow) or whether

this is 

something 

your child 

has no choice over 

due to the mental health issues.
Maybe that doesn't
matter to you so much,
but it does to me.  It's
different for me if
someone is choosing
to be cruel to me than
if someone is
unable to
choose
anything healthy
because of brain
chemistry problems.
It's scary, too, of
course, to think that

someone is behaving 

so badly without 

any choice 

in the matter 

because that means they can't
choose better behaviors (except
maybe to finally seek treatment
and health and help like any
ill person should).  However,

I'd rather know that truth

than go on suspecting 

that someone is knowingly, 

intentionally causing pain 

to people who love them

because that person chooses
to do so for any reason.  Please,

talk to someone who 

can give you real answers,

and stop lying and
saying it's okay and
it doesn't bother you
when the hurt you feel
is a sound
I can hear
so clearly even
over my phone's
terrible connection
to you.  Please choose
to find out
if this brokenness
can be repaired or
needs to be surrendered
as something you
cannot change and are not
responsible for, so we can all
move on from there.
Love,
TMIA

The best path

I told the doctor to think of me as a nun.  She was doing the usual new doctor-y speechless gaping when told I am not, have never been, and have no plans to be sexually active.  My humor broke the awkward silence and allowed her to laugh and stop gaping at me while trying to form a coherent thought.  I should have said I was a free-agent nun.  I'll try to remember that line for next time.

I also said I was going to try to go off the thyroid med again.  I'm at half of the lowest dose, I have my eyebrows back, and I'm not losing copious amounts of hair right now.  I am ever-so-slightly less exhausted.  Part of me wants to stay on this ultra-low dose because it's working, but doctors keep telling me that if I do, soon my thyroid will get lazy (instead of just exhausted) and stop working altogether, and that's bad.  It's also, according to some doctors, probably not good to be taking the medication for a long time starting so young if I can avoid it.  But right now is not a good time to start losing hair and feeling even more tired.  I don't want to screw this up, but since I can't know what will happen this time I stop taking it, I can't know which choice will actually be more likely to screw things up.  Welcome to adulthood?

Since I've been tapering off the medication, I've been silently cheering my thryoid on.  "You can do it!" I tell it mentally.  "Go, thyroid, go!"  Now that it's had crutches for a little while, surely it can walk on its own.  Probably.  Maybe.  Eventually?  I think of it like the little thyroid that could, but in real life (outside of children's storybooks), sometimes the little train that thinks it can just can't.  Do I want the symptoms to return right in the middle of the stress of moving?  Can I trust my malfunctioning body to get this one thing right despite everything?  And if I do trust it, what if that trust is betrayed at the worst possible time?  But if I stay on the medication just until the moving is done (probably some time in August), what if that pushes me past the point of no-return, and, frustrated by my lack of trust, my thyroid locks itself up in its attic room and refuses to come out ever again?

Obviously, I could use more sleep.  (Most of the docs think that would actually allow the thyroid to function normally again.)  However, that's still the thing that just isn't happening here in my crappy apartment.  If I move to a place where I can consistently knock all the sleep-hygiene stuff out of the park, it's possible that things will improve.  If that doesn’t work, I may actually go to my last contingency plan (the one where I ask for, like, a three week supply of some drug that just totally knocks you out and then add that to the perfect sleep hygiene in a last-ditch, desperate effort to re-program my sleep [at least I'll have somewhere another person can sleep to make sure nothing wacky happens while I'm on that med]).  I'm pretty sure whatever decision I make will be the wrong one, but that just means that if anything works, I will be pleasantly surprised and very grateful.

Any thoughts?

The power of platonic touch for men

Two articles and a story.  It is funny watching him try to hold the baby.  He is so awkward.  He did not grow up babysitting or helping out in nursery all the time.  He holds the child too far away, at uncomfortable angles, but the baby is a smiler, and the baby smiles at him and loves him and wants to be held, and you watch him just melt before this beaming beacon of love, trust, and genial good cheer.  This is why some babies are adorable: because they adore you unconditionally. 

He is not married, has no children.  Some of his friends are having children, but, like most young marrieds with small children, their lives change so radically that they no longer really intersect his, and they don't stop to think that he might like to learn about caring for children that aren't his.

It's not like he can offer to babysit to try to stay part of their lives; he doesn't have the experience and isn't comfortable with it (he might be if someone could teach him, but most parents have so little energy to spare for that).

It's not like he even knew how rewarding (and challenging) the simple act of playing with children can be because when does he even get to do it?  Now that he does know, I wonder if he will be less afraid to help.  He will certainly be more sympathetic about how much work it is.  Maybe he'll realize how kind it is to volunteer to clean or cook or do the dishes or tag-team with a person with more child-caring experience to give weary parents some time off.

Maybe he'll become indispensable to his friends with small children because he will sometimes help them shoulder the burden and reap the rewards.  Or maybe he'll never get the chance to play with babies again until/if he has his own.

I don't know how to love her and other situations that make for tragic musicals

There's this person in this church group I am nominally in charge of.  If I say she sometimes seems to be made of glass, I don't mean that she is beautiful and delicate.  I mean that it's like she got scraped raw by life and then rolled in broken glass, which stuck to the blood, and when she lets the cloak she covers herself with fall, no one can figure out how to comfort her in a way that will not damage both.  There was a really bad meeting which ended with a lot of us trying to hold back tears because how on God's green earth do you show someone that wounded and broken and jagged that she is loved and liked and wanted?  I knew things were bad when I found myself humming Nancy's song from Oliver.  It's a good thing I only really know that first line, or I likely would have had the blasted song stuck in my head whole for weeks.

I got out the only available version of the Five Love Languages from my library (The 5 Love Languages for Children), but it wasn't really much help because it's aimed at parents and is about dealing with children.  This person holds down a job she hates because it provides benefits, a paycheck, and a cushion to allow her beloved to do the less lucrative and somewhat seasonal work he loves.  She is an adult.

When it was just occasional grumblings and the beginnings of a tendency to tell the same painful stories on endless repeat and hijack the conversation, I was able to redirect things, sometimes with subtlety and panache and sometimes with inartistic but effective bluntness.  But when she said that she dreaded coming every week because it made her even more miserable and she only came because she knew her husband wouldn't want to come without her even though he adores the group, we were all at a loss.  Most of us kind of enjoy the group and the time we spend together.  We like her and her husband.  We have no idea what to say to that kind of explosion of broken glass.  We mostly just duck and cover to avoid the shrapnel. 

We want to hug her and tell her we love her except she hates and loathes begin hugged and doesn't believe anyone saying they love her (with the possible exception of her husband, though I'm not sure).  She gets even more savage when she thinks people are saying things to make her feel better, whether they are true or not.  Sometimes I'm not sure she know how to feel not-miserable.  I don't know if she ever did.

When I say I am the "leader," I mean I'm the secretary.  I report back to the church, pass out the feedback surveys (when I remember), attend meetings for small group leaders, and pass info on to the small group from the church.  Our church still isn't very good at this discipleship thing, and the role of small group leader is a voluntary one that carries no authority or spiritual responsibility.

I think probably this lady needs some really good spiritual counseling, but I think it would take a miracle for her to find someone who could be effective working with her the way she is now, trapped in negative thinking and stress and incapable of letting herself be loved.  She and her husband have a close relationship with the counseling pastor and the social pastor at our church (a married couple), which is actually not a good thing because I'm pretty sure she couldn't bear being honest with those people in case it made them think less of her.

The psychologist in our group says we're in a tough spot, because we aren't treating her (and can't because that's not our relationship), so all we can do is redirect when she starts to hijack, ignore the negative outbursts as we have been--so she doesn't get attention for them--and encourage her on the super-rare occasions when she says positive things (even though that makes her prickly).  Maybe next time she explodes, we'll have to be direct and tell her that it really hurts us when she says things like that, but we love her anyway.  We may also have to ask what we can do to make her dread the meetings less or find out what it is about them that she dreads.  I'm not sure she knows how to explain it, and I'm not convinced that scrutiny wouldn't drive her away.  It's all so very fraught.

Any suggestions?

Folks are not living their lives AT YOU

This is a great article to read, whether you have kids or not.  I am not a parent, but I fall into this trap sometimes, as well, and it was great to feel convicted when reading this.  I mean, it doesn't make me feel happy, but it is important to be reminded to watch out for this tendency.  And it does feel weird when I'm in the middle of it and have to take that step back and realize I'm being self-conscious in this particularly sad and dumb way.  I guess I prefer to avoid the error instead of have to deal with it when I'm in pretty deep.  Most of the time, nobody is judging you but yourself, and nobody is really motivated to better behavior in order to make you feel bad: I guess that's the message I got.

"I felt as if this woman had materialized for the sole reason of making me look bad. I am telling you that I decided right then and there that this mother was feeding her child avocados AT ME. And that also she had matched her child’s clothes that morning AT ME. And also that she had likely disciplined her child effectively for years AT ME. And that as icing on her (likely homemade and gluten-free) cake she was enjoying a lovely, peaceful, well-planned, healthy lunch AT ME. I felt judged. I felt like her approach to parenting was maybe developed solely to shine a big old spotlight on my “not good enough” parenting.  She was parenting AT ME, I tell you!
For years I lived in world in which people lived AT ME. For example:

• Craig worked out AT ME while I tried to enjoy the couch. So aggressive.
• People discussed natural child birth AT ME because they could sense my previous sixty epidurals.
• People attempted ATTACHMENT PARENTING AT ME. ( I still don’t know what that really is but it certainly doesn’t sound like something behind which I’d rally.)
• People threw Pinterest parties AT ME.
• People trained for triathalons AT ME.
• People refused to eat carbs after 8 pm AT ME.. . ."

"Feeling judged by other people’s decisions is an insanely ego-centric way to live. Like my dad always says, “Glennon, nobody is thinking about you as much as you think they are.” Everybody’s just doing the best she can, mostly.'  - Glennon Doyle Melton

Exactly.

What to do when you find out

Someone in my small group was talking about how he's not sure what to do when he finds out about the brokenness in other people that he's never encountered before.  He's a sunny soul, and he's a bit slammed upside the head when he discovers others have had so many clouds and so much bad weather, and the things he says can hurt them without him even knowing it.  And that this is considered insensitive and makes other people angry, as if they can realistically expect everyone else to know all about all their triggers and never accidentally press them.  What is he supposed to do, never open his mouth because anything he says can and will be used against him by the other people he is trying to interact with?  This could paralyze him, but he is a sunny soul, so he just kind of keeps going.  Not a bad plan, actually.  Sometimes that sun is what attracts the souls covered in freezing rain.  And sometimes it's not.

A friend of an old classmate recently posted this piece about what Christians should know about interacting with those who have suffered from "religious abuse".  At its heart, it is really a kind (but angry) explanation of how what Christians often say (usually knee-jerk statements usually unfiltered by a fully thinking brain) can be disrespectful and hurtful to those who've been injured by religion in the past.  Know these things, don't be that person, respect me and my negative experiences by engaging me with your whole being, not just your Christianese platitudes meant to dismiss me or make it all better: that's what this piece is about.

I'm glad I had the chance to read this article.  It brings up a lot of questions.  I'm curious about the working definition of psychological religious abuse, in particular, because the line between abuse and growing up in a family that had religious beliefs you didn't agree with and now repudiate is really blurry to me.  What is abusive and what is merely insensitivity or well-meaning religious dedication?  (These questions interest me because I've been reading so many other articles in the past few years about how parents should stop stressing about ruining their kids and just do their best to love them.)

I guess this article doesn't change the answer I would give this person in my small group or the way I live: know that this is true and others are broken and jagged in ways you don't know, and go on, trying always to understand, to think before speaking, and to speak thoughtfully in love.  I prefer avoiding people anyway, so I don't talk to them much, and I tend to just keep my mouth shut around people I don't know (leaving the awkward foot-in-mouth times to happen around those I'm more familiar with), but for those who like to interact with people, your chances of offending them by being ignorant are higher.  Be conscious of body language, ask for clarification, ask for forgiveness, learn from each mistake. Just keep going and loving people, even when you inevitably hurt them.  And pray for them.  (Just don't tell them about it because that's a communication stopper. :)  And pray for you, too, that God will help you be sensitive and fully engaged with each person you encounter, that He will give you wisdom.

How do you cope with the fact of other people's hidden triggers?  How do you live knowing that your edges can cut other people without you knowing it?

I didn't miss you, pain

The pain is spiking, and I haven't been sleeping much.  I never really know what is cause and what is effect.  It doesn't matter because I just have to deal with the one-two punch combo, only since there are several areas of pain concentration, it feels more like being pummeled by a bigger combo.  It's funny how when the pain isn't as bad, I sometimes wonder if I am overdramatizing it or romantiSIZING it.  Then it gets bad again, and I realize I wasn't. 

I was actually hopeful that I might be coming down with the flu or something, and that's when I realized it was pretty bad.  The flu is somewhat predictable and finite (even for folks with bad lungs like I have).  This pain?  Not so predictable.  Like a real shadow boxer: someone I can't see lurking and then JAB and my breath is gone, and I can't remember what I was thinking about because all that's there is the pain.  And then it's gone, and I'm panting a bit and sweaty and glad my new chair is sturdy and hard to fall out of.

And I think again, "I have got to do something about this."  But then I have to get back to work, almost frantic to make up for those seconds lost to this round of pain as I wait for the next one.  And besides, drugs are the only thing I haven't tried, and I like to think that with my propensity for weird and crappy side effects, I still probably feel better overall without them.  But I will definitely get my shoulder diagnosed this year. 

After that, if I haven't gotten laid off yet, I will try some more physical therapy for the other arm, the one with the nerve problems, the really tricky one that started all this.  I am cautious not to aim to high, not to overwhelm myself with all these problems.  Slowly, one step at a time.  Until I find out that all of them are incurable and have only one choice left: Deal with it.

Until then, there is hope. 

You can see why I might procrastinate in this.  Cut me a little slack about it, okay?  : )

Giving up this one thing

"My dreams and my fears and my hopes and my anxieties get all knotted up in my hands, and I say to God, I give these things to you, but I don’t really. I keep picking at the mess of it, trying to untangle it myself. I am worrying and clutching tight, simultaneously comforted and agitated by the feel of all of this weight in my hands."
. . .
"And the other, unexpected part of its beauty comes with the release. In the trusting that God is good, that the world is rich with good things, that giving up this one thing does not mean giving up."

-Addie Zierman

Oh.  Yes.  Please.

Bringing good out of bad

I contemplated this as the ten year anniversary of the injury that started it all came and went, bringing no Mayan Apocalypse with it.

"To the limited extent that I suffer, I want that suffering to be productive, to bring about holiness and a purity of character.  I am grateful that the Bible is honest about the bad in this world: the bad is bad.  Too often Christians seem to want to say that because God allows suffering, that suffering is somehow good in itself.  This is not true; God is good, but sin and suffering are not.  They are not what God intended for this world and they will not be there in heaven.  But God does have the power to bring good out of bad (which is not the same as saying that a bad situation is inherently what God wants), and He is able to work in all things (good, bad and ugly) for the good of those who love Him (Rom 8:28)." - Tanya Marlow

I choose to believe this.

Happy New Year.

Give your friends a chance

An acquaintance recently informed us that she has suffered with depression and OCD for a couple of decades.  She was so nervous, it hurt to watch her.  I wondered whether she would start unraveling the blanket if she ran out of tissues to shred.  She made eye contact in stuttering dashes.

Oh, I thought, some things make sense now.  And then I thought, Why is she acting like she's coming out to a hostile audience?  She knows two others in the group have wrestled with depression (and still do).  Why is this so hard for her to "admit"?

As she told us she'd been kind of suicidal, I said a little prayer of thanks to God that I had been too typically procrastinatory to actually write that email I had been thinking about sending because I thought maybe she was just doing what my other friends who just wanted to move on had done because they were too cowardly to just say it to my face and break things off cleanly and openly.  Don't leave us hanging and wondering if you're going to come this week or ever again, I would have said in a more polite way because I was afraid she was just dithering in a passive aggressive way and afraid of hurting our feelings with the truth.  It's a very good thing I didn't send that email, which would have kindly assured her that if she didn't want to be part of the group anymore, she could just tell me, and I would tell everyone else and no one would hold it against her. 

Because that would really not have been a good thing for her to hear while she was trapped in negative thoughts, withdrawing from us all, as she told us she has done to many friends, because she didn't want to inflict herself on us, especially not when she was like that. 

I thought of a couple of my friends who pulled away in this way for some of these reasons because they were depressed.  Were they, like her, afraid of finding their friends really weren't that good of friends? That their friends would slowly drift away, always having a good excuse, not saying anything, not returning calls until no one called anymore?  Did they, afraid of finding out that truth, take the yoke upon themselves and wrap themselves in silence because forcing everyone away and leaving them seemed preferable to being left by them?  Probably.

My heart hurts.

How do I tell her that I am honored that she told us these things, yet that I beg her to please oh please give those friends a chance.  Because while it's true that some of them--even most of them and maybe all of them--will leave, some might stay, and she owes it to herself and those friends to uncover this truth?

"I was writing to figure it out, writing to get through it, writing because I couldn’t remember how to pray." - Addie Zierman

My heart hurts.  And all I can pray is, "Please, God . . ."

Homosexual voices of faith

This blog post about a Mormon who identifies as homosexual and chooses to live the way he believes is correct even though it goes against his inclinations is one of the best things I've read in years.  Everything is so logical and clear while still being emotionally powerful and ringing with the truth of hard choices made.  I've wondered if these voices were writing somewhere because they are voices that need to be heard in the church.

"Why was he gay? What did God expect him to do?"  - Josh Weed

Does this mean I agree with everything the poster said/concluded?  Of course not, but so what?  It is a voice that is part of an important conversation we need to be having about homosexuality and religion so that thinking people who are homosexuals can see that they don't have to either "live a lie" or just give up on the church.

"One of the sad truths about being homosexual is that no matter what you decide for your future, you have to sacrifice something. It’s very sad, but it is true. I think this is true of life in general as well. If you decide to be a doctor, you give up any of the myriad of other things you could have chosen."
. . .
"I chose not to “live the gay lifestyle,” as it were, because I found that what I would have to give up to do so wasn’t worth the sacrifice for me."  - Josh Weed

A while back, there was a kerfuffle on one of the related-to-Publisher's-Weekly blogs wherein commenters got very vocal about the idea of different voices in genre fiction.  A lot of people who were not fans of religion said some things that made me sad in their call for inclusion and tolerance and such.  They didn't want any more lying religious propaganda where no characters are ever not-heterosexual or where any incidental homosexual characters are miraculously "cured" to live happily ever after.  They wanted stories that ring with truth (in their case, defined as not-mainstream, not-easy, not-convenient, not-limiting, not-church).

"It all comes down to what you choose and why, and knowing what you want for yourself and why you want it. That’s basically what life is all about."  - Josh Weed

I agreed with these posters in theory, that kids need to be able to read stories told well by realistic narrators they can identify with.  I disagreed with these posters because I think there are stories with religious and even Christian narrators who wrestle with their faith and homosexuality and find their way onto a path they can live with in both their hearts and their heads.  But who would ever publish such writing?  As my college writing professor once said, "Too liberal for the conservatives and too conservative for the liberals."  But I can't help feeling that the audience is out there, listening to the sound of crickets chirping and feeling miserable and horrible and more sinful than those around them because that is the only message they really hear proclaimed loudly.

"I want you to stop battling with this part of you that you may have understood as being sinful. Being gay does not mean you are a sinner or that you are evil. Sin is in action, not in temptation or attraction. I feel this is a very important distinction. This is true for every single person. You don’t get to choose your circumstances, but you do get to choose what you do with them."  - Josh Weed

We need writers who have gone through this struggle to relate it to those struggling with it now to show that there is hope, intellectual integrity, faithfulness, and peace out there, not just despair.  The backlash could be tremendous, but those kids struggling now deserve that helping hand.

"You are no more broken than any other person you meet."  - Josh Weed

If you've come across anything written by those with non-heterosexual inclinations who have chosen to live what they believe is right according to their carefully considered faith, please pass them my way.

Let's Stop Pretending, Shall We?

"[T]he truth has always been that without God’s intervention, I am selfish and prideful every minute of every day. I care what others think because deep down I want to be seen as great—I want to matter. I find it impossible to forgive; to truly be able to forgive people who hurt us must be one of God’s greatest miracles. And I belittle the God of the universe by worrying as if he is not really in control. Inside, my soul seems prone to slant toward every quality I would never want to possess. I live assuming I am not alone in these weaknesses. Mostly because I know a lot of people."
. . .
"We don’t want to fall. We like to see great testimonies of God’s grace, but we don’t want to be the testimony."

 - Jennie Allen

Oh, yes.  Please check out this article.  It's called "Don't Pretend," and a lot of broken people just like me, just like us, need us to stop pretending in the church.

Lord, teach us to pray (Part II)

So I stand here panting from the effort of figuring out what to say, silent in another hour of need. 

What I want to pray is,"God, please don't let me lose my job in the layoff the day before I talk to the surgeon.  God, I know I complain about the arm and how much simpler things would have been if something was just ripped/broken/torn and repairable, but I think maybe I take that back in this case.  God, please don't let me need surgery.  Please don't let this be torn or worn away or dented.  Please don't let this be arthritis."  So many things I am asking for.

"What I want is for this to go away quickly because the magic cure to this one thing--God, please, just this one damn thing--exists, and I can afford it, and I'm not allergic to it, and it won't make things worse, and my inability to heal quickly due to exhaustion won't matter, and then this will be over, and I can go back to concentrating on the pain in my arm and my jaw and my foot and my wrist and my shoulder and my knees.  Please, Lord, aren't those things enough?" 

There are so many people who have it worse, and I feel like a jerk for praying for me instead of them.  "What should I be saying, God?  Please tell me."  These are some of the things I consider saying.

Instead I stand silent on the official prayer channel. 

What if I once again pray for the wrong thing?  (And then get what I pray for?)  But what if I just need to pray one more time for the answer to be yes?  Is it sinful for me to wonder if it's like that parable about the old woman getting justice because she kept at that corrupt judge, or was that the point of the parable "always pray and never give up."  But this is a young woman and a righteous God, and how do I know if what I ask for is justice or just selfishness?  And maybe I'm supposed to just be whimpering help, but it feels like a cop-out, like laziness, like weakness, like failing.

"Lord, teach us to pray," one of His disciples said.  Oh, please, God, please.  Amen.

Standing silent in the armory, crying (out) (Part I)

I used to pray a lot to arm myself when facing "battles."  I would pray all the time during volleyball, basketball, racquetball, and softball games, concert performances, plays, presentations, the science fair; whatever the battle, I prayed for help and victory.  As I've dealt with chronic pain, there have been days where all I could muster was a whimpered help to God every few seconds.  I think back then, God was always very aware of what I wanted. 

Now I am afraid to pray like that, like a selfish, demanding brat.  I want, I want, I want, please, please, please, me, me, me.  And so I don't pray as much.  There're still a lot of whimpering helps as I add new pains to my total, but I don't know that I consider this quality time in communication with God. 

I am so afraid of praying for the wrong things that I just don't pray much at all unless specially called upon.

There is too much pain in me.  I have asked for it to be removed (this cup, this thorn in the flesh), and the answer so far has been no (or, charitably, not yet), and I am tired of praying the "wrong" thing, tired of hearing no, wait, not yet, no.  Tired of not knowing what to pray to get a "yes."

And so I am silent. 

And so is He.

I am afraid to want the wrong things.  I was so glad when my arm wasn't fractured, when nothing big was torn, when the nerves weren't ripped.  But now that I float in a sea of uncertainty that will remain unresolved because I am at the mercy of OWCP, sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't have prayed, "Let it not be broken, let it not be torn, let it not be ripped."  As if praying these things led to this result.  As if my pain is somehow my fault because I asked for the wrong things and God did what I asked just to spite me.  The pain interrupts sleep, which makes it hard to think, and I am so unreasonable sometimes I can hardly stand it. 


Continued next post . . .

lost and found

"The Bible is not a road-map that shows you exactly which route to choose, exactly which turns to take. When we pretend it is, we cheapen the hard beauty of it." 

"The goal of this thing is not getting there safe, getting there quick, taking the simplest route. It’s not really getting there at all, because, if we are moving in the love of Christ, then we are already there. Each leg of this journey is its own destination." 

"The beauty of all this lostness lies in the fact that we are never really lost, not to him who sees us. Not to him who knows every stone of this, every tree and building, every dark alley, every resting place."

- Addie Zierman

Amen.

Someone use this for a sermon

When I was very young, around 3, I lost my hearing for a while.  We don't really know how long because it didn't seem to bother me.  Recently, a friend who went through something similar said the adults in her life knew because she told them she couldn't hear them.  Apparently, I didn't.  It just never occurred to me that it might be a problem, I guess.  My mom says I could still sing on pitch and everything.  Weird.

I was learning to read at the time, and my teacher said to my mom that she thought I had some sort of hearing problem.  My mom was pretty frustrated with me at this point because she thought I was Evil Rebel Child #1, the One Who Wouldn't Listen to her.  After she dropped the unabridged dictionary behind me to test the hypothesis, and I didn't even flinch, she knew there was a problem that wasn't due only to my stubbornness.

So here's the sermon tie in: my mom thought I was choosing not to listen, but the truth was that I couldn't hear.  Isn't that maybe a helpful example to explain depravity?  It's not that we're choosing not to listen to God, it's that we actually can't hear Him even if we want to.  Our sin (like my ear infection gunk), gets in the way and plugs our ears, so even if we want to listen, we can't hear.  We can't even tell if someone is talking.

I hesitate to compare the Holy Spirit to tubes in the ears because it's a super imperfect metaphor that dissolves on contact, but, well, some intervention from outside us needs to happen to open up the ear canals, so that we can choose whether to listen.  Once I wasn't deaf, I was still certainly accused of selective hearing frequently, but if I wanted to listen, I could.

Any takers?

Pub Singing with Jesus

It had been a while since I had been to church on a Sunday, so I found it somewhat ironic that I roused myself to go to a gospel music sing at an area pub on Sunday afternoon.  Previously I had been at the pub for sea chanty singing which was done at high volume and with passionate, often salacious, enthusiasm.  The idea of that colliding with gospel music was definitely intriguing . . .

Many of the singers are vocal about their non-religiousness, even the ones who do shape-note singing, so I really wasn't sure what to expect.  I was pleased that even the avowed pagans and atheists seemed enthusiastic.  Louder, actually, even though many of the songs were completely unfamiliar to them.  Many of the selections were from the grand tradition of the rebel Jesus, one that I find myself liking more the more I encounter it, and there were even a few I knew.

One of the best things about these sings, especially when it gets loud is that there are so many notes that you can follow someone else or pick out your own harmony.  Sometimes you can't really even hear yourself singing, so you can't tell if you're flat or sharp or on pitch.  That doesn't matter.  Sometimes I need to be reminded of that.

I think Jesus would have had a good time there hanging out with the sinners (all of us).  And I'm told the beer isn't bad.  Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

March is a good time for New Year's Resolutions: cripple, heal thyself (lots of random thoughts)

I figure as long as you focus before Daylight Savings Time changes, that's fine, right?  :)

The focus of this year is healing right now.  Doctor visits, physical therapy, not beating myself up as much about being crippled, etc.  I have this amusing idea that since I'm not working two jobs right now, since I'm not where I (think I) want to be, since I've dropped so many things (and can barely hold on to what I have), maybe I should stop dwelling on these failures and see what kind of healing I can do with the down time I have right now.

One doctor told me he thinks I could get better than I am, but it would have to be serious rehab.  "It would be another full time job," he told me.  "That's the kind of effort it would take.  Like Joe Mauer!"

The last time I tried to hold down two full time jobs was probably a certifiable near-disaster.

But I am so tired of being in pain.  If there is any chance I can improve, I should probably take it, even if it ends again in failure because then, in my failure, I can say I really did try because, you know, that may have a slight effect, like ibuprofin . . .

Problem: God alone knows if the federal office of workers' compensation programs would pay for that kind of rehab.

It's hard to imagine that there was once a time when I really didn't want Jesus to come back really soon because there was so much I wanted to do here (not including the whole injury and derailment of life as I knew it, of course). 

Are we there yet?
No.
Are we there yet?
No!

One foot in front of the other.  Stay near a wall at all times in case you start to feel light-headed.  Always have a hand on the stair railings (the good hand, or at least whichever one is working [better] today).

Someone must be carrying me because it's been a long time since I could carry myself.

This, too, shall pass. Eventually.