Freezing Beautiful Times

Life would be so much easier if we could freeze the beautiful times, the times when joy overflowed and we were in tune with life around and in us.

But it doesn’t happen like that.

I think of Easter in the Monastery. Despite all the difficulties I had in the monastery, Easter was a season that restored my soul.

“I can never leave,” I used to tell myself. “I’ll never experience Holy Week and Easter this way. I can't live if I don't have these experiences. Immersed. With the traditions and chant and rituals that make this week come alive.”

I did leave.

I did lose those beautiful days.

I’ve grappled with that loss and tried to find ways to re-create it here in my life.

At first, I searched for a church that most resembled my monastic rituals and practices. I needed the rituals to tie me to the emotion. I actually finally found one. And it helped…for a while. 

Then, I began to dissect the meaning behind our practices. I began to look for ways I could live out those meanings, not leaning so heavily on rituals and practices, like changing the Mandatum (ritual of the washing of the feet done on Holy Thursday) to recognizing I “wash the feet of others” every time sit with someone and listen to their story, help them hold their pain, and offer them hope. 

 

Still, with all my efforts, there is still pain. 

I have a CD of the Easter Vespers we sang in the monastery. I play it on Easter Sunday, and as I hear the hymns and songs, the memories return of the special moment I had in that life, how deeply profound, meaningful and reverent this day was for me.

 

When I listen, I can still see myself standing in the choir (the monastic term for church body where we sang our praises 8 hours a day). I can feel the vibe laden with significance I had from those moments, singing chants among a community of like-minded individuals, most of who are now gone.

 

And I wonder, why could this day not be frozen in time forever? Why did time have to change all of that?

Because I cannot freeze time and the moment. And so I grieve, and treasure the memory, even though I also feel the pain.

 

It’s a reminder that life moves on, and that mental health is the ability to deal with the changes that come in life. That getting old also means losing friends. That memories are beautiful but can also weigh us down.

 

For me, it's the spirit of Easter to rise from whatever circumstances we are in, to recover the spirit of hope.

 

That stability is not a moment in time, but rather a period across time as we learn to treasure special moments and handle all the other moments that come across life.

I wish you a Happy Easter. May you always keep hope in your heart.

Stop Looking for Happy Endings

 

I confess I'm royally annoyed. I keep hearing, "Done with 2021. Let's move on to 2022!" Like 2022 is going to be significantly different than 2021, that one manmade calendar date will suddenly change our lives. That ushering in a New Year means things will change.

That's a lie.

Life is life. Instead of looking at 2021 as a bad year, a year we want to delete from our memories and from our lives, how about we look at it as lessons learned?

Because what is 2021 but a year where we were challenged? How did we deal with the call to sacrifice, how much did we do to deepen our life? 

Because let's face it, life is not meant to be stress-free. Let me repeat that. Life is not meant to be stress-free! 

Life is a series of dealing with stressful situations, challenges, and obstacles that come, hopefully, in between good times. 

How about instead of complaining that 2021 is a bad year and let's put it behind us- to what did I learn about myself this past year? What did I do to cope? How did I change and did it work?

I had many good things come about during 2021. I hiked with my husband in Zion, Bryce Canyon and Grand Canyon. I got together with my 8 siblings and their spouses to celebrate my sister's jubilee. That was awesome.

 I moved into a new office, one better suited to therapy and with colleagues who I respect, trust and enjoy. I became closer to my husband through serious and deep conversations, vulnerability, and honesty.

And I had challenges during 2021. I badly sprained my ankle and was unable to enjoy my outdoor activities for 3 months. I got exposed to Covid and had to undergo the anxiety of wondering if I would get it. We spent Christmas home and alone due to the Covid outbreaks, and our decision that this would be the best way for us to celebrate the holiday.

What have I learned? That all of life has its challenges, that I am strong enough to handle the challenges that confront me, and that life consists of constant learning.

How's that for a New Year's wish? I wish you a continued year of believing in yourself, that whatever comes in life, you can deal with it, with learning lessons from that difficult part of life that none of us enjoy.

Because that is my wish for you.

Happy 2022. May it continue your emotional and spiritual growth, help you believe more in your ability to handle life as it is, and bring you to a greater acceptance of reality.

What kind of New Life?

 Happy Easter. We say it so quickly, like the greeting, Hi, How are you? We don't expect anyone to really tell us how they are. We say it because, well, it's what we say when we see someone!

I think the same can be said of Easter and resurrection and Jesus in general. We've become accustomed to the accounts given to us, the message we are supposed to take from it, and therefore, Happy Easter!

I'd like to suggest something a little different today. When you think of Easter and resurrection, I'd like you to think of recovery. A specific recovery, from emotional and verbal abuse.

If you have suffered from these, you know the damage it does. Robin Stern, in his book, "The Gaslight Effect: How to Spot and Survive the Hidden Manipulation Others Use to Control Your Life" includes some of the signs of gaslighting:

* No longer feeling like the person you used to be

*Being more anxious and less confident than you used to be

*Often wondering if you're being too sensitive

*Feeling like everything you do is wrong

*Apologizing often

*Having a sense that something's wrong, but being unable to identify what it is

*Feeling isolated from friends and family

*Finding it increasingly hard to make decisions

These are just some of the signs. I think the biggest consequence of gaslighting is a loss of confidence in self. When you leave the situation of abuse, you don't automatically and suddenly gain that back. 

That's where the Easter story comes in. Is Jesus just redeeming us from sin? Or are there other interpretations for his resurrection? Like healing from trauma?

Healing from trauma is a slow process. With confidence, it means learning to speak up when someone says something you don't agree with. It means believing your decision is the right one, without constant second-guessing. It means being able to say no and not give an explanation. It means being able to make a mistake, and not feel the world has ended or you are being judged. It means believing in yourself enough that outside criticism does not take it away.

Jesus shows us the way. Patience. Acceptance. Healing. His resurrection story is also a story of healing from the passion of abuse. 

I will Carry You

 

"Even to your old age I am the same, even when your hair is gray I will hear you; It is I who have done this, I who will continue, and I who will carry you to safety." Isaiah 46:4

It is nice to remember that we will never be forgotten by God. We forget this so often it is God who has to remind us. We are like petulant children, wanting attention, wanting our own way. And God says, I hear you. Be patient. 

I once thought that with all the ways God blessed my life, I would never forget his generosity. And then another difficulty would happen, and I had to learn it all over again. And again. I came in time to accept that past trust does not breed present trust. We have to draw upon it each time. Like a car that needs to be filled with gas on occasion.

I find it comforting to remember that God is keeping us in mind. 

Blessed are those who Hope

 

I decided to try to do my Lectio Divina on the daily readings. Today's readings are Jeremiah 7:5-10; Psalm 1; and Luke 16:19-31.

My way of doing Lectio is to circle the words that speak to me as I read. The following words are the words I circled in today's reading: seeks, heart, desert, change, trust, tree, fears not, fruit, understand, hope, delights, season, fade, chaff, kept, bosom, crossing and listen.

Seeking is a lifelong endeavor. It begins with the heart. In the beginning, we experience dryness and doubt, a sort of desert, which happens in any kind of change. With time and trust, we set roots down into our soul, like that of a tree. We learn to fear not when things don't go our way, and rejoice when we see fruit.

Understanding is not the goal; hope is, the ability to delight in what we have, as life is full of seasons, and it is hope that will sustain us even when we fade or feel like chaff.

Because God is kept in our bosom until we reach the crossing. We just need to listen to our heart to be reminded of these things. 

Call to the Deep

I found in my spiritual journey that it was so easy for my spirituality to be "above ground" as it were. I followed the rules, I’d adhered to the doctrines, I submitted to authority. I believed that this was what I needed to do to be faithful, right?

But in my reading of the Gospels, Jesus had issues with this kind of "faithfulness" even to the point of calling those who promoted it as "whitewashed coffins with dead bones in them"(not a direct quote).

When I look back, I see how this faithfulness seemed to work in the beginning. I imagined myself becoming holy, acceptable to God, on my way to perfection.

Then I stumbled. Instead of sustaining me, it judged me, condemned me for struggling, accused me of unfaithfulness, and then dismissed me.

I felt abandoned by those I thought were supposed to support and encourage me. I found the quotes from scripture that I'd adhered to, such as "God will not give you more than you can carry" and "If you want God's will, you will always be happy" no longer feed my soul. In fact, they, too, felt accusatory.

And so, I had to dig deeper. It took time, as I was so wedded to the doctrine that was given to me that seeking my own truth seemed heretical. I kept searching. I had to. As I did, my search gradually revealed a different God, one who didn't send out trite sayings, or demand adherence to a doctrine that kept changing, or punished me because I was human and failed.

Instead, I found a God so big and broad and kind as to defy any human capacity to contain or understand or interpret.

I wonder about my former "faith" now. Was my problem not being able to deal with the unknown? Did I need a tidy God I could understand because my faith found ways to  humanize God? Maybe I liked the security of having doctrines that became my anchor, when God was asking me to swim freely. Maybe the trust I needed to face so many unknowns required me to go so deep that I left it for what seemed more secure. 

Whatever the reason, I’ve moved on from security. I walk the tightrope of trust, which accepts my humanness, my inability to read God's mind. I've replaced it with an openness to questioning, to unknowing, and to seeking.

That’s my faith story. What is yours?

An Appointment with Myself

Many of my clients admit that making the decision to come to therapy is a hard one, often forced upon them when they realize they can no longer manage. I tell them, yes it is scary. 

Therapy is about meeting the true you. And sometimes that is scary. We fear we will hear that we are in the wrong, or we have some dysfunctional diagnosis, or we have acted badly, or any of the other fearful words.

What usually happens is, you find your true self, and that is actually liberating, empowering, and healing. The real you is not the one you imagine, the one you fear. The real you is the one who had somehow gotten confused by gas-lighting, or lost because she took care of everyone else, or filled with fear due to some past trauma. I help you find that person by first helping you feel safe, checking out all of your tools so that you are taking time for self-care, learning how to self-sooth, and working on reframing the negative messages that keep you from knowing your true self. I walk with you, but you do the hard work.

The work is demanding. The work is rewarding. And it is possible, as I see with clients who come through their dark times into a new, lighter, more balanced life.

Mistaking Action for Intentions

I crashed through the towering pines, heedless of the thickets. I didn't watch for snakes. I didn't even notice which direction I was headed. I was only aware of the pain in my soul, the repeated actions that made me feel I was expendable, the feeling of being overwhelmed by so many criticisms. As I rushed, tears came. I pushed on. "How can they?" I questioned. "How can they care so little? Treat me like I don't matter? How can they dismiss my concerns, tell me I fabricate things looking for attention. Who wants their attention when it is always critical?"

When I look back on those years of my life and see the struggles I endured, the pain I suffered at feeling uncared for or misunderstood or judged unkindly, I also see where I needed to grow. I see I sometimes took things personally, or had unrealistic expectations of others, even as I suffered because I was not trusted or valued or approved. 

I don't blame myself now for not seeing this clearly. I was very young at the time, and needed guidance on how to be emotionally mature. I needed someone to model for me how you step back and see the bigger picture. But that guidance was missing. I realize now, it was because the individuals themselves did not know how to be emotionally mature. Instead, they blamed it all on me. And so the cycle of abuse, the trauma and turmoil was perpetrated. 

I realize now how often we look at things personally, and mistake an individual's actions as their intentions. Emotional Maturity teaches us to step back, see the bigger picture, and realize my interpretation is only one interpretation. There are at least two interpretations to every interchange, mine and the intentions of the person acting. And there are many things affecting that situation. The person could have just gotten bad news, or suffering some mishap themselves, or just plain tired. It is not always me.

The ability to step back and see the bigger picture can change our lives. It can take the sting out of things said or done that sound disrespectful.

The bigger picture will help you see that we often mistake a person's actions because we add intentions to it. And the intentions we assign are our intentions, what we would mean if we had said or done such a thing. 

We help ourselves when we give ourselves time for calming after being upset. Then, when we have calmed ourselves, we need to step back and think of other interpretations of the words or actions.

My Thoughts on Pain and Darkness

Embracing Darkness

I do not like darkness any more than anyone else. But I find that my concept of darkness has changed over the years. Like most, I too have felt anxious and confused when darkness came into my life in the form of doubts, insecurity, pain, suffering and loss. But in those periods without light or answers, I learned things I didn’t learn in the light. I came to realize that darkness can sometimes be a period of peace and quiet, a chance for inner growth and enlightenment. I used to fear darkness, and believe that when one truly loves God, one no longer experiences darkness. I no longer think that way.

A sermon by Abbot Paul mentions how the most important events in the history of Judeo/Christian religion happened in darkness: the creation of the world, the birth of Jesus, and the death of Jesus.

Think about it. I am sure you, too, can remember something good that came from the darkness of night: restful sleep, rejuvenation, growth. A child is in darkness for 9 months as it prepares to experience light and air. Seeds often need a dormancy period before they have the energy to sprout and grow. Darkness need not be a damaging event. 

I am working on looking at my periods of darkness as a symbol of times of wonder, of deeper trust, of risking. Perhaps darkness is our time of gestation, when we grow and nurture and prepare our soul for a new birth.

As much as I dislike darkness, I am working to remember the good things it brought me. I find I appreciate light and grace and growth more because of the journey through I had to learn to experienced, but had not seen before due to grief and loss. 

Believe in Your Journey

You just never know.

You just never know how much you can touch another's life. You never know how your own struggle can inspire others to be true to themselves.

I know someone who has an unusual life. She spent almost 30 years settled, in a profession she loved, and thought that was it for her life. Then a drastic incident caused a huge change, one that threw her into a situation where she had neither security or roots. She accepted that change, and spent ten years on the move. Just when things seemed to be settling down, she again got the call of God in her heart. To follow it required that she leave her job, sell her home, and move out of state. In the midst of that change, she stumbled upon a program that answered the deepest desires of her heart. She accepted the challenge of going back to Graduate school to get a new degree to fulfill her dream. When she failed to find full employment during that time, she accepted little part time jobs to support herself. Lack of funds required five moves in three years. When she graduated, she got her dream job.

The story sounds surreal, but it is true. And in the midst of all of this, she admitted she couldn't help but wonder about herself and her journey. Shouldn't one seek to be settled, secure, and rooted after a time? Why did her journey never seem to end, and what was "wrong" with her life that she couldn't seem to find peace in what she has done, but felt drawn to continue the search?

Just about this time she received a Christmas card from a former co-worker. In part, it read: It is so important to be true to yourself, and you have done this all along. I admire your courage and strength. Believe that you can have peace of mind and freedom to live the life you want. Believe that you will not only survive but you will thrive. I am excited for you. I can see the sparkle in your eyes and your beautiful smile. Your loving spirit stays in this place. You have touched many lives and you will continue to do so. Your path is as special as you are.

This person found the affirmation encouraging. It reminded her that even while she was questioning her own journey,  she was touching hearts and souls and spirits.

Believe in your ability to inspire others. Believe enough to be true to yourself, your calling, and your dream. Even if this causes you to wonder and question, go forth following your truth. By so doing, you will inspire.

Are you Getting it Right?

The longer I live, the more I meditate, the more I see that my past spirituality got so much of "it" wrong. What do I mean? Well, I was taught the merit system. I was taught that I must toil my way toward paradise, fearing hell all the way. I was taught heaven was hard to attain, and God was hard to please. 

And then life happened. The merit system did not bring me the peace and security it was supposed to. The neat answers I was given did not work in real life. And so I sought more. I came upon authors like Hans Urs von Balthasar, Richard Rohr, Henri Nouwen and Paulo Coelho, who challenged my concepts and my training in spirituality. I learned that challenging my spirituality actually helped me find good, solid ground. I accepted that challenge. Searching helped me shake out the dross of opinions and trite sayings, and arrive at a more solid ground. It grew my way of thinking. 

When I stop to ponder now, I really I was taught to be afraid, to see God as hard to please. I now wonder, do we as humans promote this concept of the merit system because it gives us some sense of control? Do we do so because we want to be able to differentiate between those who qualify, and those who don't? Are we making spirituality a "club" where all the members abide by the rules or else are banned?

It would seem so. 

But as I am learning, God does not operate like that. God does not keep a check list, counting our deeds and planning punishment. When God watches over us, God wants to defend us, forgive us, and transform us. We are the ones who put up barriers, live by fear, let our faulty understanding halt God’s love.

So I need to put fear aside. For God is not hard to please. Humans are. And God is not human. 

God is Divine.

The Problem of Unanswered Prayers

This morning's scripture passage is from the first letter of John, and I quote: "We receive from God whatever we ask..."

I wonder what John is speaking of, as I know of no one who receives from God whatever she asks.

I, for one, have lived with many unanswered prayers. Not just from today, but from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. In fact, I have a lifetime of unanswered prayers. From years and years of asking. From years and years of needs.

I look at all of these unanswered prayers and think, what does it say about me? What does it say about my God?

I have come to believe that it says life is full of mystery. When confronted with unanswered prayer, I have to rethink my faith, and my prayer. I am reminded that life is full of unknowning.

Take unanswered prayer. It taught me a new kind of silence. 

I learned silence in the monastic life. In the beginning, I only practiced the silence imposed by the rule. I thought that kind of silence would bring me to contemplative prayer.

Then came difficult times, and a series of unanswered prayer. When you are a cloistered nun, and your whole life is given over to prayer, to experience unanswered prayer is to question everything you say you believe in. It challenges the very value you have in the life you live.

I came to a point where I had to give up asking. One can endure unanswered prayer for only so long. So, I stopped asking. I became silent. A silence imposed by God's silence. A silence that came from darkness. My unanswered prayers evolved into not knowing what to say.

In that darkness, in that silence, I learned a new kind of prayer. I learned mystery. I learned the prayer that listens.

Sitting before God in a stance of listening gave me a new relationship with God. I accepted my unknowing and accepted uncertainty. I recognized that some darkness is really mist from the clouds I walk through as I reach a new horizon. I learned to be happy with less. I found inner peace because I was not placing demands upon myself and on God. Demands made through my prayers. 

And so, I learned not to be so concerned about unanswered prayer and be more concerned with listening. Because as we reach new horizons, we find we need less. And in the spiritual world, less really is more. More peace. More contentment. More mystery. 

Concrete Ways to Process Painful Memories

In everyone's life, there are incidents that cause us pain. These painful incidents can keep us tied up in resentments, anger, or grief. According to Peter Levine, the body has its own natural way of allowing such sentiments to be process, through the emotions that they create.

Letting go of incidents is not easy. Memories stimulate feelings, and recalling them can increase the distress of the event. How do we process them? Not by shutting down the emotions, blocking them, or ignoring them. We can only release the memory of the incident by allowing ourselves to experience the emotions they evoke, until they are gone.

Often in an EMDR session, we will concentrate on the emotions that come up with certain memories. Then we find where those emotions are felt in the body. It can be a stiff neck, an aching head or jaw, or knots in the stomach. Once the area has been identified, we process that area by allowing ourselves to feel that stiff heck, or aching jaw, or knot in the stomach, and stay with it while using the bi-lateral stimulation, until the feeling dissipates. This is the body's nature way of dealing with emotions.

If you have a distressing memory, I encourage you to examine your physical being until you discover where the emotions are lodged in the body. Then, using the butterfly tap, allow yourself the time and space to just feel that space until the body has dissipates that feeling.

I hope this technique will help you in dealing better with painful memories

Holy Week - Repentance

Holy Thursday, a day of remembrances. It is the beginning of the Triduum, the start of the holy days. it is during lent that we think of repentance. But what does it really mean to repent?

I read recently from St John Climacus that "To define repentance as the awareness of individual guilt is to risk emptying it of meaning (Sermons, ed. Constantinople, p. 118). I take that as an admission that we are short sighted when it comes to scripture, to understanding the message of Jesus, and our interpretation to the meaning of Jesus' words.

I have been on this journey a long time. I used to see repentance as "the awareness of individual guilt." I grown to believe differently, that true repentance is more about the acknowledge of truth, about myself, about my actions, and about my intentions. It is the willingness to admit my mistakes, in the hope that I will make better choices moving forward.

Jesus is quoted saying to Pilate, "Everyone who seeks the truth hears my voice." (Jn 18:27). After years of personal journeying towards truth, of questioning rules and customs and ceremonies and discarding the crass and human elements, of seeking and being confused, I believe that 'repentance' happens when I question what I am told, dig deeper for proof of truth, knowing that authenticity can bear examination.

For how else can I know what is false, what is wrong, what I need to change. To be told these things is to remain superficial about it. For it to be honest, I need to be the one working.

True, this takes discipline, so that I learn first how to submit before I challenge, and it requires humility that keeps me from thinking may way is the only way. But it also takes practice to hear the small voice of God in my heart, and great courage to be willing to be different.

I pray that this may be your repentance this Holy Week.

Tragedy Strikes Twice

Tragedy is hard to handle. When I saw my sister, Suzie, deal with the death of her 21 year old son in 2000, I thought I saw pain that knew no bounds. That was 8 years ago. She is still grieving.

Then, early one morning in April, I got a call from Suzie.

"Amy, I just got a phone call. Rachael was in a terrible accident. I need to fly down to Florida. Can you help me get tickets? I can't think."

My own mind was spinning. What? Her only daughter in a bad accident? But she already lost a son! How could this be?

"Yes," I told her. "I will get you a plane ticket. Would you like me to get a car for you too? And do you want a hotel?"

"Whatever. I guess I'll need a car to get around. I don't know. I need to pack. Just get the ticket."

I looked up tickets, trying to find something not too expensive. My sister works hard, but since her separation, she has lived with a lot less. She budgets all of her expenses to keep on top of them. This definitely would not be a budgeted expense. I finally found something for that afternoon, late. I called her.

A friend drove her to the airport so she would not have to leave her own car there. Then I waited.

O God, please spare Suzie. She already lost a son. She has endured so much with life...brain surgery, breakup of her family, loss of so much. Please, don't take her daughter....please! I prayed very hard.

A few hours later, while she was on layover in Philly, she called.

"I just learned that she is stable," she said. I sighed a sigh of relief. I had prayed for life. Now that I knew she was alive, I wondered, in what condition? Did she have a brain injury? Was she paralyzed? Was she on life support, just waiting until someone gave the ok for it to be removed? I still agonized.

That evening, Suzie sent me a text. "She has immense internal injuries and many broken bones. But no head or spine trauma."

And so began a very long journey back. For two weeks, Rachael was kept sedated because of intense injuries to internal organs which required them to keep her open so they could keep an eye on it.

When she finally began to heal, and they sewed her up, she still had surgeries for broken arm, hand, leg and pelvis. That took another two weeks.

She is now moved to a rehab hospital, where she does rehab 3 times a day. She cannot walk at this time, or sit, or manage on her own. My sister is determined to stay with her daughter until she is well.

As you can imagine, the expense of living in another state has taken a toll on my sister's limited budget. And though I hate asking for money, I have started a Fund to help her. 

If you are moved by this story and would like to contribute, please do so at the PayPal button below. Or contact me and I will send you my address and you can send a check.

I also ask that you share this with your family and friends. The fund raising has been hard. I would appreciate having the word spread.

I pray that you never have to deal with losing a child. I pray that you never know what it is like to almost lose a second child. Thank you.

You can contribute here:

paypal.me/SuzieHimesFund

Dispelling the Shadow

Our age has sought to bring equality to the fore as no age before it. We have sought out shadows and fought to bring light. We have set up models, glorified leaders, and proclaimed our heroes.

One shadow still remains; the shadow that covers every human soul and is in need of healing: the shadow of woundedness.

Woundedness doesn’t speak to glory, but rather to struggle. Yet, in all the ways that we are similar, nothing unites us more than that fact that each of us has been wounded.

But what are those wounds? For some of us, it is hurtful events in life, betrayals of those who should have loved us, forgetfulness of those who call themselves our friends. Unimaginable losses.

Those wounds are more able to heal than the ones we forget. We read  in Sirach 24:21 of those wounds, as it says You who eat of me will hunger still, you who drink of me will thirst for me. It is as if we are being told that no matter what we accomplish, we will still have needs, we will still have emptiness, we will still want. And in our attempts to satisfy those wants, we often compromise. We often settle for the lesser satisfaction rather than find the deeper fulfillment. I believe it is this compromise that makes up most of our woundedness.

Only when we remember our woundedness can we truly stand together. Because when I remember this wound within myself, caused by my own decisions, can I have the understanding and compassion that accepts another's wounds. Only then does tolerance turn into empathy and acceptance of another. Only when I am aware of my own fragility will I allow another to have theirs.

Learning a new identity

From my journal:

"Today is Wednesday the 6^th of May 2015

I’m driving home. And I am playing the Shenandoah music. And, as I listen to the Shenandoah music, I was thinking of Marti and my visit last week in the Shenandoah Valley, and how much fun we had. And then I thought of the comments she made to me. She asked me if I had gone to a different monastery maybe I would have stayed and I said, “No, I think if I had gone to different monastery, when I said I don’t think I could live this life they would have respected that and let me leave." 

And then later on when we were hiking, she started to say something about “we nuns” and then she said, “Well, you are not a nun, I am.” And when she said that it kinda caught me off guard. And, I had to stop and think, well, that’s part of my problem, I forget I’m not a nun anymore. Because when you’ve been a nun that long, it’s hard not to identify with certain aspects of being a nun, like dedication, and love for God, and consecration. I don’t know what else.

So when we were in D.C. and the Dominican House of Studies was across the road, I was going to go over to see it. And then I reminded myself that I am not a Dominican any more. It’s not my family any more. Yea, I was part of it for a long, long time. It really isn’t my family anymore. I don’t have to keep clinging to these concepts and ideas, and identity. It is very hard to let the identity, the consecrated soul, the monastic, go.

And I also thought about the fact that for me, I feel like I am still consecrated. And I know I am. I am still consecrated. I’m still dedicated. I’m still living for God alone. For those who are still in religious life, I’m gone. I’m no longer one of them. And that’s another aspect of life I’ve got to get used to and I’ve got to accept and I’ve got to realize this truth. I’m not one of them anymore.

If they want to feel that I’m outside of their unique little “club” as you might call it, that’s okay. Because I’m not part of the unique little club. 

I have stepped forth to the broader ways of life. And though I lived that way for a long, long time, 30 years is not a small amount of time, I need to find a way to accept who I am now. My new identity….

For Love of a Song

It was just a tune. But as the notes played out of my car stereo, my mind caught them and memories were triggered.

I found myself standing on the monastic gravel road behind the community work room. The summer sun felt warm on my skin as the grass stood tall and dry along the side of the road. The pine tress filled the air with their scent. I lifted my eyes heaven ward and saw the deep blue sky holding its white, puffy, clouds gently so they could drift lazily across the vast horizon. I could see across the valley to the ridge on the other side, a valley filled with pine trees.

The monastery sound system was in the midst of playing a select array of pieces, one particularly moving to my heart and soul. It blared far and wide across the valley. It was recreation period, the time we could talk and share. I had decided to go outside and take a walk on the monastery grounds. Nature most healed my soul, and the music reminded me of my purpose being here. That reminder afforded me the strength I needed to live this most challenging and rewarding life. 

It was this music that kept me so long in a life I was not well suited for. My struggles were daily for almost 30 years. But each time we intoned a hymn, chanted the psalms, or played music, I would find heart and decide I could live this demanding life. More, I decided that without the life, I would not have the liturgical flavor to my life, and my life would be less.

This love for the rhythm of life kept me longer than it should have. When I finally made the decision to leave, I grieved many a day for the loss of the rhythm, the inspiration it offered, and the atmosphere it created.

So as I sit here today in my car, listening to the same powerful hymn coming unexpected from my stereo, my spirit joins that spirit from my past. Powerful emotions rock my soul, and it is hard to pull back to reality.

I grieve.

Yet, I recognize that I have accomplished much in the 15 years since I chose to move through an open door that led to many new blessings and accomplishments. I was truly blessed by God as one door after another opened in what can only be called the sign of God's blessings on my decision.

And still, there are times I yearn for those past monastic experiences, as if the memory selectively forgets the pain and only remembers the good.

It is good to remember the good. It is important to remember the whole picture.

I know how hard it is to move on from a place you love, but is also destructive for you.

I struggled to move on. And I have. Everything has been improved, beyond my ability to explain. I would not change my choice one second. I am double blessed by God.

And yet, there are moments when I still grieve.

A Wake Up Call

We all have our fantasies. It helps to have something or someone bring us back to reality.

I find this in psalm 34.  It reads

The Lord confronts the evildoers, 
to destroy remembrance of them from the earth.
When the just cry out, the Lord hears them,
and from all their distress he rescues them.

That is the kind of God I've wanted. I want a God who confronts those who do evil, and destroys their remembrance from the face of the earth.

But in my experience, God does not do that. At least, not that often. Not as often as I would like.

And so, further along that same psalm, we read:

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
and those who are crushed in spirit he saves.
Many are the troubles of the just person,
but out of them all the Lord delivers.

It's as if we are shown our fantasies, and then the reality of life.

That reality is not easy to accept. We will be broken. We will be in distress. None of us wants that.

When I serve individuals with struggles, I tell them in that first session that I cannot remove all of their struggles. I can only offer them tools so they can handle it better. I can walk with them as they process injurious incidents and heal.

I can see that God promises me the same. God does not give me my fantasies. God will not protect me from all the injurious incidents in life. God only promises to be close to me when I am brokenhearted or crushed in spirit.

That's why it is important to support one another. We have each experienced some form of pain and disappointment. It can be from partners, children, or friends. Life happens.

And when it does, it helps to have someone close who empathizes. It helps to have a friend who listens. Because such a person can help us heal and not be destroyed.

True change comes from within

Photo taken by Jerry Gracey

The Kingdom of Heaven is Within you, says Luke 17:21. I think of this as I see the turmoil surrounding our present candidates seeking election and the blatant disrespect going on around both campaigns. I wonder what has happened to us as a country.

As a mental health professional, I am troubled at what I see unfolding before us.

I think of the words of Luke, to look within. When I do, I am reminded of the things I really value, like honesty, courage, and dignity.

These values makes me look towards true leaders, those who have shown me by example more than by words or promises. Those individuals lived their values, not needing words or speeches to tell me what they stood for. When those individuals did speak, I trusted them, because I could see their words came from reflection, not from a desire for power or fame.

The most powerful words ever given to me came from such a seeker and believer who quoted the words from John 8:32 Seek the truth and the truth will set you free.

As I reflect, I remember how these words changed my life.

Before that time, I followed what others told me was true. I accepted other's reflection on my conduct or my destiny. I trusted because I was told that was the right thing to do, to let others who had the authority, the experience, the leadership, lead me to the place where I was suppose to be because they knew better.

But they were wrong. They did not lead me to a good place. I realize now that I was being led out of my inner Kingdom of God, taught to distrust the voice within my soul. Such advice left me wounded and struggling. It made me dependent on others. It kept me from inner growth and insight.

The words to seek the truth and the truth will set you free came from an individual who refused to make choices for me. A leader herself, she taught me to hear and trust the voice within. To do that, I had to return to that empty spot where that kingdom of God needed growing. I had to learn how to discern what was the voice of God and what was the voice of fear. I had to believe that making a mistake is not the worst thing you can do in life. Failing to act because you fear making a mistake is.

Such leadership empowered me. The scared little self grew, and I began going inward for God more and more. I learned to speak less and listen more. I learned to recognize the voice of God within.

Seek the truth and the truth will set you free.

 If this political climate is foggy, maybe we need to turn inward more.

Maybe we need to grow that Kingdom of God within. Without words. By listening.