As Thanksgiving nears, I take some time to experience a new online devotional that reminds me of how Jesus is the bread of life, and that we need to be nourished by more than earthly sustenance. The scripture was John 3:65: "Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." I got to thinking about different words for being "full," mostly in a physical sense. Words like "satiated," "satisfied," "stuffed." And "full" of course.
I have seen the word "satiated" a lot lately, it seems. We are a culture that frequently asks, "are you full?" or are you satisfied?" It's expected that you get enough to eat, enough money, enough time, enough of everything, because in our country most of us are fortunate enough to get enough, to be satiated (or sated). And often in our quest to be satisfied, we forget about those who are not full, may never be, and who need our prayers and help. The devotional suggests we pay closer attention to the meaning other than the obvious one of needing food to live, that is, the spiritual nourishment we often lack. The "bread of life" is a metaphor for what God knows we truly need to sustain our faith and growth as believers - growth in our relationship with God. Jesus' gift of his life to us was the tie to God, our creator and his father. In Jesus' dying and sacrificing his earthly existence, we gained this special opportunity to get to know God as Jesus knows God.
Abundance. What does that mean? It can mean a large amount, enough, or possibly more than enough, as in, an abundance of love that can be spread around among many people. I think God wants us to strive more for abundance of love and grace and faith, than for an abundance of possessions or achievements or even the food we eat. Fasting is a good thing because it forces us to focus away from the hunger, in order to survive the ordeal of not eating. And it hopefully makes us aware of how abundant our lives are in so many ways, how thankful we should always be for this abundance and for God's giving us all we need. And fasting should provide us with the clarity to see that there are so many other children of God who do not have abundant food or clothes or basic needs met. And with that clarity we can reach beyond ourselves and our fasting and give to those who need these basic elements of sustenance.
As we gather around tables full of hot, freshly cooked food and look at the familiar faces around us, let us open our hearts and pray for those outside our circle, who may not be sitting with anyone they know, may not be enjoying the warm food and company, and who need those of us who have abundance to share it with them.
Happy Thanksgiving. May your blessings be abundant and your tummies satisfied this holiday and always. And may you let God show you the way to spread that abundance beyond your table. Spread the bread of life as God intends it be shared.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
When Depression Moves In
Depression showed up at my door again yesterday, in its sneaky, unabashed way. I was feeling kind of good, doing some music boosters stuff, then BAM, a little voice inside my head told me I wasn't good enough and it was time to let that dragging, invasive presence take over. It wasn't a big change, just enough to get my attention and ruin my mood, enough to stop me from the energetic, positive feelings I'd been having, and to begin to have doubting, negative thoughts about everything around me. I was suddenly a pin cushion for rejection and loneliness and fear, my every thought a land mine waiting to explode into despair.
I knew it wasn't the usual self bashing I do to myself sometimes when I feel low. This was different - the real thing. It even felt physical, chemical somehow. I acknowledged the feeling, then minutes later was asking myself, "how can I be depressed when I recognize the feeling?" Easy, I told myself somewhat rationally; I have been feeling it off and on for about 30 years or more.
Lucky for me, I had an appointment with my therapist the next day (today). When I told her what had "happened," since that's what it felt like - an "event," she put down her clipboard and pen and faced me as I spoke. I knew she was taking me seriously, which helped. Then after she listened, she performed what seemed like triage at the time. She said something like, "when you think those thoughts, like you're no good, or no one needs you, it's depression talking through you. That's when you have to realize that and do something to get rid of that feeling." She started to remind me of the old story of the devil on one shoulder, angel on the other. "It's like the devil is depression, trying to bring you down." She's right of course.
When I drove home, feeling somewhat better, but wary of the ordeal I would still be facing, I thought about that image. If the devil does exist, then Depression is his agent, his hell on earth, at least to me. It doesn't feel natural to have this presence, this sensation that seems to attack me with defeatist thoughts. When I recognize its presence, I will have to fight it, find a way to drive it back to its master, away from my sanity and positive energy.
There are all kinds of therapy methods and I've seen a lot of therapists in my life, but I think the sign of a good one is when she stops her method for a moment to help you through these moments of panic and fear, so you can go out of that office and try to live a half-way decent sort of life, until the situation levels itself.
She asked me if I believe God is involved in the depression. I thought for a moment and answered by repeating the expression that God only gives us as much as we can handle. I said I thought God was there in the fight, and in the victory over the depression. God doesn't cause the depression, nor does God relieve the symptoms using powers only God could possess. God loves me, just as God loves all of God's creations, and God knows what I am capable of handling. I believe it's up to me to address this situation, knowing my faith will help me through and others who care for me will be there for me too.
So now I'm home, being vigilant for the signs, hoping maybe this time the fight will bring new strength for me, perhaps even the ability to look at my life differently. I want to focus on what's the most important to me - my family, my health, my hopes for the future. And try to keep that devil off my shoulder or at least find ways to flick it off sometimes while I try and beat this depression thing.
I knew it wasn't the usual self bashing I do to myself sometimes when I feel low. This was different - the real thing. It even felt physical, chemical somehow. I acknowledged the feeling, then minutes later was asking myself, "how can I be depressed when I recognize the feeling?" Easy, I told myself somewhat rationally; I have been feeling it off and on for about 30 years or more.
Lucky for me, I had an appointment with my therapist the next day (today). When I told her what had "happened," since that's what it felt like - an "event," she put down her clipboard and pen and faced me as I spoke. I knew she was taking me seriously, which helped. Then after she listened, she performed what seemed like triage at the time. She said something like, "when you think those thoughts, like you're no good, or no one needs you, it's depression talking through you. That's when you have to realize that and do something to get rid of that feeling." She started to remind me of the old story of the devil on one shoulder, angel on the other. "It's like the devil is depression, trying to bring you down." She's right of course.
When I drove home, feeling somewhat better, but wary of the ordeal I would still be facing, I thought about that image. If the devil does exist, then Depression is his agent, his hell on earth, at least to me. It doesn't feel natural to have this presence, this sensation that seems to attack me with defeatist thoughts. When I recognize its presence, I will have to fight it, find a way to drive it back to its master, away from my sanity and positive energy.
There are all kinds of therapy methods and I've seen a lot of therapists in my life, but I think the sign of a good one is when she stops her method for a moment to help you through these moments of panic and fear, so you can go out of that office and try to live a half-way decent sort of life, until the situation levels itself.
She asked me if I believe God is involved in the depression. I thought for a moment and answered by repeating the expression that God only gives us as much as we can handle. I said I thought God was there in the fight, and in the victory over the depression. God doesn't cause the depression, nor does God relieve the symptoms using powers only God could possess. God loves me, just as God loves all of God's creations, and God knows what I am capable of handling. I believe it's up to me to address this situation, knowing my faith will help me through and others who care for me will be there for me too.
So now I'm home, being vigilant for the signs, hoping maybe this time the fight will bring new strength for me, perhaps even the ability to look at my life differently. I want to focus on what's the most important to me - my family, my health, my hopes for the future. And try to keep that devil off my shoulder or at least find ways to flick it off sometimes while I try and beat this depression thing.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Remembering the 70s
I've been surrounded by images and icons of the 60s and 70s lately. Watching Mad Men, which has become our substitute for Lost for now, reading The Help which is about the same time period as Mad Men, (early 60s), attending the Troubadour Reunion tour with James Taylor and Carole King, finding old photos of my family during that time. I don't remember that much about experiencing the "culture" of the 60s since I was so young (2 in 1960), but I know it was a special generation full of changes, experimentation; mostly humans adapting to the industrialization of the previous generation, the wars, and the growth of media and political awareness. It seems to me we can learn a lot from that generation's angst and attempts to make sense of the growth of capitalism and the spreading of democracy throughout the developing world.
Some people probably see the 60s decade as full of anger, violence, and the loss of morality in society. Yet I think a society has to go through these growing pains so generations following can learn from the negatives and make their culture better. I'm sure we have learned a lot from the 60s and 70s, but when I look at the human condition today, I don't see the improvements I would expect to come out of such a turbulent time. I think the proof that we didn't learn to live differently after those times is that the 80s were classified as the "Me Generation." We took on the angst and growing pains of the previous generation for ourselves as individuals, not so much for our collective population. We became more liberated in many areas of our lives, and we thought we were enlightened and free and advanced. But perhaps we didn't change collectively as a culture.
Of course I'm talking generally here of the American experience, and it's only my opinion, my frustration about the state of the world today within this huge context. I'm seeing some parallels these days, or rather some behavior and lack of maturity that disturbs me and points to this lack of learning from and applying the behaviors and activities of the 60s and 70s.
For instance, race relations, previously called the Civil Rights movement. Yes, it could be called a "movement" of the time, but it was so much more and was meant to pass along so much more to the next generation than I think it did. Then, people of different "walks of life" who held "radical" beliefs of equality for all races were moving out of their comfort zones, after previously only discussing the issue privately with friends or like-minded citizens. They began to openly challenge the status quo with the hope of affecting change. They went from holding secret beliefs and hopes to taking action - for themselves and others, to change the unjust ways. This is true for both black and non-black people - they put their reputations, relationships, and sometimes even their lives on the line by stepping out and joining the protest, writing about it, or talking about it publicly, trying to convince others of their conviction.
I do agree that the Civil Rights movement was needed to force the laws to change, to allow for those previously denied rights to be incorporated into our American legal system formally. And that is a major accomplishment, one which was brought about by sacrifice, determination, bloodshed and cooperation between people of adverse points of view. I just wish the people of today could remember those times and use the struggles and determination to make change that will last, change beyond legal change, to make our society more innately open to inclusion and true justice and peace for all people.
Some people probably see the 60s decade as full of anger, violence, and the loss of morality in society. Yet I think a society has to go through these growing pains so generations following can learn from the negatives and make their culture better. I'm sure we have learned a lot from the 60s and 70s, but when I look at the human condition today, I don't see the improvements I would expect to come out of such a turbulent time. I think the proof that we didn't learn to live differently after those times is that the 80s were classified as the "Me Generation." We took on the angst and growing pains of the previous generation for ourselves as individuals, not so much for our collective population. We became more liberated in many areas of our lives, and we thought we were enlightened and free and advanced. But perhaps we didn't change collectively as a culture.
Of course I'm talking generally here of the American experience, and it's only my opinion, my frustration about the state of the world today within this huge context. I'm seeing some parallels these days, or rather some behavior and lack of maturity that disturbs me and points to this lack of learning from and applying the behaviors and activities of the 60s and 70s.
For instance, race relations, previously called the Civil Rights movement. Yes, it could be called a "movement" of the time, but it was so much more and was meant to pass along so much more to the next generation than I think it did. Then, people of different "walks of life" who held "radical" beliefs of equality for all races were moving out of their comfort zones, after previously only discussing the issue privately with friends or like-minded citizens. They began to openly challenge the status quo with the hope of affecting change. They went from holding secret beliefs and hopes to taking action - for themselves and others, to change the unjust ways. This is true for both black and non-black people - they put their reputations, relationships, and sometimes even their lives on the line by stepping out and joining the protest, writing about it, or talking about it publicly, trying to convince others of their conviction.
I do agree that the Civil Rights movement was needed to force the laws to change, to allow for those previously denied rights to be incorporated into our American legal system formally. And that is a major accomplishment, one which was brought about by sacrifice, determination, bloodshed and cooperation between people of adverse points of view. I just wish the people of today could remember those times and use the struggles and determination to make change that will last, change beyond legal change, to make our society more innately open to inclusion and true justice and peace for all people.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Beach Musings
Here I sit on the screened front porch of the rented beach house, facing the ocean drive with cars regularly passing by, the ocean, which is partially hidden by the houses that have "ocean front views." It's warm in the North Carolina heat, and I wish this porch had a ceiling fan. But I'm content with my views of the piercing blue vastness that always signals "home" to me, always feels right.
This place makes me feel calm and free to be myself, perhaps too much myself. I am more aware of the different roles I play at home, some of which I resent simply because it seems "natural" to perform them. Sometimes it does feel like a performance, going through the motions, with the same lines every day --"Time for dinner," I say on the intercom phone to my oldest son and husband, who will be connected to their computers at that point. It's all repetition and rhetoric.
I almost wish we could be living like our ancestors did, in the agrarian society – everyone contributing to the working of the household, because often the household was on a farm, which meant the labors on the farm and in the house were necessarily entwined. So doing chores in the house or in the farmyard or in the fields provided continuous fuel for the entire family, which often meant hired hands also.
Sounds like I'm up (oh, there goes a little lizard, skitting across the driveway, perhaps looking for a bit of shade) on a soap box, with my diatribe and fancy words. But I don't really want to spend my vacation time blogging about my complaints of a life I left behind in Ohio, for now. To return to in due time and to deal with more productively.
On the other hand, isn't time away a chance to place the stones that are your life's worries and sorrows on the table before you to examine and possibly begin to see differently, or even with hope resolve? Isn't this the perfect time to lay it all out and without the interruption of normal duties and worries, see things for what they are or could be?
In my case, when I am at the ocean, the shore as we used to call it in my youth, with the sound of waves lapping the shore and gulls and pelicans gliding by overhead, I see time as precious for living in the moment, for gathering up the sustenance the sea provides me for future use, for memory in my soul. This time is precious, short, to be guarded and lived to the fullest, whatever that means at any given moment. The "living to the fullest" part is often difficult with a family to consider. They have different needs (oh yes, son number 1 wants laundry done) and often operate on a different schedule of sleeping and eating and playing. I have learned to adjust to this different rhythm, and to try and make my moments my own, and hold them close.
For instance, when planning (a task predominantly mine in our household) for this vacation, I had hoped we'd spend 2 or 3 days of the week on "side trips," mainly to pry the guys away from their computer time, which to them is unlimited and precious. I wanted to visit the "big city" north of us, to see an historical ship that's anchored there, and perhaps the aquarium next to a nearby Civil War fort. We've visited the fort on another vacation, but don't ask me to describe that day. Just let me say it was one of those hoped-for side trips that went awry when we got such a late start to our day we only had time for one stop, at the fort. The experience was enjoyed by all, but the rushed feeling and disappointment I felt tainted the day for me.
This vacation, I don't have a particular day or days planned for our outings, only outlines of ideas of where to venture. The "when" is getting problematic, since we only have this afternoon, and the following 2 days to spend, then we pack up and start home on the third day. So I better get to it today. I need to lay out a plan specifically and tell them the time, place, benefits of the experience, and basically why I want them to sacrifice their precious computer time for me, basically. Usually when they get there, they enjoy it and learn something (always a mother's hope, right?), but the grumblings start at the announcement and continue on the journey to the attraction, unless we see something exciting or drastic on the way, like an accident or girls in bikinis walking by (I have 3 boys, including my husband).
I've decided to limit my field trip days to one, probably tomorrow, and hope to get them up early to avoid the mid-day heat and give us time to return to the house for our personal pleasures at a reasonable hour. Now I need to draw out the plan by myself, and make sure I include all the details needed to make it acceptable to the guys.
Well, I had intended to focus more on my personal experiences and ocean views of life in this entry, but instead I let my worries drive my writing. It feels good though, therapeutic, to get the thoughts out, perhaps left there in cyberspace they will allow me to truly enjoy the view and let the healing waters wash away my cares, for now.
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