Effort Through Fatigue
Fatigue and stress have a remarkable impact on how your body and emotions work. I was extremely tired after our men's retreat for survivors of childhood abuse. When I am exhausted, I try to be a little kinder to myself, take some extra time if I can, quiet myself enough to listen. Yesterday, I hiked a familiar mountain trail with a friend, a trail I normally have no trouble walking, but I was tired and the walk was very difficult for me. I slowed my pace, but kept on going. The destination was a beautiful boulder that overlooks a valley. On that rock, taking in that view, feeling the blood push the fatigue around until it dissipated, and being still, I found new energy. God always meets me there, or I think it might be better put that I always meet God there - the experience of pushing through and beyond to pursue peace that Christ says is beyond understanding. The effort of spiritual renewal refreshes my body and emotions as well.
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Men's Retreat
I just finished teaching a men's retreat in Hot Springs, Arkansas yesterday. The men who attended were survivors of childhood abuse - physical, emotional, and sexual. My heart is so heavy as I look at these men who are tall and strong, but see a broken little boy still crying and confused. As the retreat progress, I could see the lights go on in many of the men. I watched in awe as they allowed God to enfold them in love, soothe them with peace, and mend the broken places. Shattered little boys in big men's bodies started the long, difficult journey of becoming adults. I am once again the witness of the grace of God and the beginning of a spiritual re-birth in men once alienated from that grace. In my heaviness, there is hope.
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Sleep
Sleep is difficult for me at times. It might be for you too. I slip into it easily, but remaining there is tricky. What I find most frustrating is when I wake up late enough to be early enough to get up. I know I'll feel terrible for the rest of the day, but when I awaken only a few hours before my alarm is to go off and my brain kicks in to remind me of all I need to do or think about, I am already over the line. I try to talk myself back into sleep, but that action alone makes it all but impossible to do. The things I want to do, I don't. The things I don't want to do, I do. Oh wretched woman that I am, who will save me from this body of exhaustion?!
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Triathlon Heat
I'm leaving for a weekend at the lake with my friends and family. Oh yeah, it will be 102 and we will be working at a triathlon for people who want to run, swim, and bike in this lovely heat. To challenge yourself requires enduring great distress and effort at times.
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Cool Water
I poured water from my water bottle onto my paisley purple bandana and placed it on my neck. It's amazing what cool water can do when you've just walked on mountain trails in 102 degrees. As wonderful as that cool bandana felt, the cool water's true potential was realized when I drank from my bottle. The value of external application was nothing compared to the value when I took it in and made it part of me.
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Peace Coincidence?
Today marks a CEASEFIRE between Israel and Lebanon. It is fragile, but it is there, nonetheless. It was one week ago that Amnesty International had a global vigil for peace between these two nations. In my community, we gathered, light our candles in the darkness, and prayed for peace. This gathering was multiplied hundreds of times around the world. One week later, there is a ceasefire. Coincidence?
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Intentional Living
Once again, world events remind me that the world is not safe and that some people are determined to destroy others. The options of living with this reality are varied. I choose to let it serve as a reminder to me that every day is a gift, that the people I love are unique treasures that I must never take for granted, and that life on this planet is a precious gift from God.
www.committedtofreedom.org
Peace Vigil
Last night I stood with a handful of people to pray for peace in the Middle East. There were three young children, a beautiful 2 1/2 year old little boy (who is my grandson), and two precious little girls, one of whom was dressed like a fairy. The girls had made their own beeswax candles to light at the vigil. We gathered around a sign that said, "CEASEFIRE". Anne, the organizer, had arranged a black veil underneath the sign and placed blue vases on either side with one white callelily in each. From vase to vase, there was an arc of small white candles that danced with tiny flames, much like the tiny group that we were, hoped for peace. The time came when we each lit our own candle and stood in silent vigil and prayer for the hostilities to end. As I prayed, my mind drifted to familiar scenes of anguished mothers and terrified children and overwhelmed fathers and tired old people who had gone through this many times before in their lives. I heard the bombs, the bullets, and the screams. For a moment, war took my breath away, as I know it takes God's breath away. Why don't they just stop fighting? It seems so simple until I remember the people that I struggle with in this small insignificant life of mine. The harshness with which I judged those unlike myself, with beliefs that appall me, with lifestyles that upset me, with values that disgust me , this is the spirit of war. As I prayed, I prayed for me to be at peace first, then prayed that my small flicker of peacefulness would engulf those around me, and their peacefulness would in turn spread like wildfire until this moment of silence enveloped the Middle East and the Lion and the Lamb could lay down together.
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Butterfly Attack
Sometimes a thing of beauty can shock you by it's actions. Butterflies have always served as a metaphor for me. They are beautiful, harmless, transformational. On one of my recent walks through the mountain trails, I was going downhill when a butterfly, crossing my path, pelted me right in my face. It hit with such force that my skin stung for several minutes. It came out of nowhere and hit me! The metaphor of butterflies I often apply to sexual abuse. Something meant for beauty, covenant, and pleasure becomes ugly, painful, and shocking. It leaves you reeling. It is in that reeling, shock, and shame that we need to recapture the beauty and redemptive transformation that will help us to heal.
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Feeding the Wrong Creature
I have a black and white cat who has banished himself to become an outside cat. I guess he thinks there is more to do outside than inside. He just gets cranky inside. Anyway, I put food and water out for him each day. I have become alarmed over the sudden increase in the quantity of food he was going through. It seemed his intake doubled almost overnight. Not only that, but his water bowl was filled with cloudy water, chunks of food, and debris. Every day, I would put more and more food out, wash out the water bowl and fill it with fresh water, and the next morning, the same thing! It wasn't until a friend was recently house sitting for me that I understood. He pointed out that based on the dirty water bowl, it looked like raccoons were eating my cat's food and then washing their paws. I suddenly realized I was feeding the wrong creature! In my own spiritual life, I need to be careful to feed the right "creature" or I could end up wasting a lot of time, energy, and relationships. I want to feed that part of me that reflects the teachings of Christ - love, peace, tolerance, respect, and the sacred. The "creature" I want to starve is the angry, chaotic, rigid, and shallow person that I become when I neglect my spirit.
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