In recent months, I have been stood up a grand total of 10 times. Yesterday, the final straw occurred when I met a man for coffee and he immediately made up an excuse to leave and practically ran out of the door. Had I not been writing a paper for graduate school and already mentally prepared myself for the inevitable rejection, the actions of one man might have hurt me. You might ask, what would possess you to share this story on the internet? Aren't you afraid you'll appear pitiful? What will people think? Is something wrong with you?
In short, my answer to all these questions is no, because there is a lesson in being stood up, a beauty in the acceptance of rejection, and I think that I have finally figured out what God has been trying to teach me for so long. As a Christian, so often we talk about concepts like forgiveness, acceptance, being humble, loving one another, but how many of these do we truly apply to ourselves as well as our neighbors? This is the lesson that God has been trying to teach me for what seems the majority of my life: love thyself.
For most of my life, I have looked for love outside of me, outside of God. However, I have recently begun to develop a sort of acceptance of God's plan for me and come to be at peace with myself and my life. I am happy with the person that I have become. There are things that I want to fix about myself (my weight, for one), but overall I am satisfied with the course of my life. I find pleasure in simple things and I am working to be more grateful for the blessings that have been given to me. Yesterday's experience only cemented the fact that I am only the problem in the sense that I have allowed others to make me feel incomplete, unworthy, or unloved for far too long.
God's love, on the other hand, has never failed me. Even as I have acted in ways that rejected God, She has never forsaken me. I have been protected from harm in more ways than I can count and given a support network that always has my back. The rejection of a mere human man cannot possibly counter-act the grace and love of God, who fills me and makes me whole.
This is not to say that human interactions are not wanted or needed. I think part of the reason that people want human love is to feel the reality of what God feels for them. It's a snapshot of God's love for humanity, and we spend our whole lives searching for it over and over again. Still, I coming to a sense of peace with what we have in life is the first step, the first of many on a road towards God. We are who we are for a reason.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
For You
The ache
still resides
Inside my heart, my chest,
my secret space, my sacred place.
Someone call a surgeon,
Because I need a transfusion to get you out of my mind, my body, my soul.
I need my heart ripped out of my chest and replaced with a new
Beater, thumper, pumper
That has no memory of you.
It's been seven years
Since I've lain beneath you,
and still I can smell the pine and sawdust on your skin.
All that preceded you and all that have followed since that summer
Walk in your shadow.
You are always there, haunting me at every turn.
It seems I need an exorcism
from your ghost.
There are demons to be cast out, the residual impact of your life on mine.
You were the Christ-savior to my Magdalene-sinner-self
and for a minute there
I was happy to be your sacred whore.
I was delirious by the sunshine, the loving, the feel of your mouth on me.
Then it all faded.
I headed West to heal my heartache, the rejection that you burned
on my skin, my brain, my life.
I have not been the same since that moment.
I wonder if I will ever escape you?
Am I trapped in your memory,
Forever searching for you in the eyes, arms, and lust
of every man that follows in the wake of your destruction?
still resides
Inside my heart, my chest,
my secret space, my sacred place.
Someone call a surgeon,
Because I need a transfusion to get you out of my mind, my body, my soul.
I need my heart ripped out of my chest and replaced with a new
Beater, thumper, pumper
That has no memory of you.
It's been seven years
Since I've lain beneath you,
and still I can smell the pine and sawdust on your skin.
All that preceded you and all that have followed since that summer
Walk in your shadow.
You are always there, haunting me at every turn.
It seems I need an exorcism
from your ghost.
There are demons to be cast out, the residual impact of your life on mine.
You were the Christ-savior to my Magdalene-sinner-self
and for a minute there
I was happy to be your sacred whore.
I was delirious by the sunshine, the loving, the feel of your mouth on me.
Then it all faded.
I headed West to heal my heartache, the rejection that you burned
on my skin, my brain, my life.
I have not been the same since that moment.
I wonder if I will ever escape you?
Am I trapped in your memory,
Forever searching for you in the eyes, arms, and lust
of every man that follows in the wake of your destruction?
Time (Repeats)
I've been here before
Time ticking slowly
A long time ago,
when my heart exchanged
Dixie for New England.
I'm older now.
There are more lines on my face,
more miles on my body,
more marks on the calendar,
but I'm still here,
thinking of you.
Same place, different time.
Same heart, problematic.
I think of you sometimes
and the ones that followed in your wake.
The first, the mistakes, the brother, the lover, the broken ones.
None of them compared to
the feel of your skin.
I still wake up in chills,
despite the ring on your finger
and the seeds that you've planted, walking barefoot
in the world.
Time slips, skips, fades, runs
Just like my heart (still broken, still yours)
The rotting insides of my weakest link
have brought me closer to the edge of desperation.
When will your twin arrive
to rob me from the Death of my optimistic, hopelessly romantic heart?
Your edges broke me.
I never healed, never learned to let go.
I'm still living the lie that I am over you.
I miss you,
but most of all,
I miss who I used to be
when your sun lit my Hemisphere.
Time ticking slowly
A long time ago,
when my heart exchanged
Dixie for New England.
I'm older now.
There are more lines on my face,
more miles on my body,
more marks on the calendar,
but I'm still here,
thinking of you.
Same place, different time.
Same heart, problematic.
I think of you sometimes
and the ones that followed in your wake.
The first, the mistakes, the brother, the lover, the broken ones.
None of them compared to
the feel of your skin.
I still wake up in chills,
despite the ring on your finger
and the seeds that you've planted, walking barefoot
in the world.
Time slips, skips, fades, runs
Just like my heart (still broken, still yours)
The rotting insides of my weakest link
have brought me closer to the edge of desperation.
When will your twin arrive
to rob me from the Death of my optimistic, hopelessly romantic heart?
Your edges broke me.
I never healed, never learned to let go.
I'm still living the lie that I am over you.
I miss you,
but most of all,
I miss who I used to be
when your sun lit my Hemisphere.
God Said To Me
God said to me,
"Baby girl, live your life
Quit looking for love
in all the wrong places,
in all the wrong faces,
those slick and glittery like gold."
"Find me, love me
More precious than any jewel
more sacred than any caress
My embrace will never forsake you,
make you weep at midnight,
Nor leave you broke and battered
amidst Love's demanding war."
"We will take tea in China,
snicker at Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.
He was a fool for love
instead of a sage for me."
God pulled me aside and whispered,
"Love," she told me,
"You must love yourself, know yourself,
Before anyone else can see me in you."
"Baby girl, live your life
Quit looking for love
in all the wrong places,
in all the wrong faces,
those slick and glittery like gold."
"Find me, love me
More precious than any jewel
more sacred than any caress
My embrace will never forsake you,
make you weep at midnight,
Nor leave you broke and battered
amidst Love's demanding war."
"We will take tea in China,
snicker at Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights.
He was a fool for love
instead of a sage for me."
God pulled me aside and whispered,
"Love," she told me,
"You must love yourself, know yourself,
Before anyone else can see me in you."
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Lenten Struggles
The season of Lent has arrived. I attended Ash Wednesday services at my church. The administering of ashes and the sharing of bread and wine gave me a sense of renewed commitment to my spirituality. However, the struggle begins with how to go about focusing on my faith. There are some difficult decisions that need to be made, sooner rather than later, and I am left wondering about the direction of my spiritual life and what God has planned for me. Sometimes the unknowing is enough to drive a person insane. I am working on making peace with the unknown and learning to see myself as a beloved of God. It's a process, but a path worth taking.
I'm left in the mind of a poem by Saint Thomas Aquinas from the book Love Poems From God:
God sees nothing us that He has not given.
Everything is empty until He places
what He wishes into it.
The soul is like an uninhabited world
that comes to life only when
God lays His head
against us.
The delight a child can know
tossing a ball into
the air,
my Lord confesses He experiences
whenever he looks
at you.
God sees nothing in us
that He has not
given.
I'm left in the mind of a poem by Saint Thomas Aquinas from the book Love Poems From God:
God sees nothing us that He has not given.
Everything is empty until He places
what He wishes into it.
The soul is like an uninhabited world
that comes to life only when
God lays His head
against us.
The delight a child can know
tossing a ball into
the air,
my Lord confesses He experiences
whenever he looks
at you.
God sees nothing in us
that He has not
given.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Discernment is a Process
The young adults group at my church is focusing on the concept of discernment for the Epiphany church season. From now until Lent, we are talking about what God calls us to do in our lives. I've always associated the process of discernment solely for individuals who want to become priests, but it makes sense in the way we are discussing it. It takes a special person to be a priest, a firefighter, a stock broker, or a doctor. We are all called by God to act according to the gifts that we have been given. We are all called by God to act in the world.
For most of my life, I have felt called to be a teacher. I remember spending my summers at my parents' respective schools and playing in empty classrooms. I used to "teach" my dolls how to read and write. I loved sitting next to my mom in her classroom and grade papers right along with her. These all pointed me toward a life of service through public education. As an adult, when I began teaching I viewed my career as a form of social justice. After all, I was working in a Title I school, so there was a bit of unrealistic romance attached to the idea of helping the "less fortunate" in the world. Despite my naiveté, I worked hard for five years and I loved my job. I ate, slept, and breathed my job. Along the way, something changed.
During the past two years, I have not been happy while teaching middle school. I'm frustrated with the policies of public education, the apathy of the students, the lack of support from parents, the poor leadership of the school and county administrations, the backstabbing and ladder-climbing from colleagues. To quote Langston Hughes, my life-long dream of being a teacher is becoming a "dream deferred," mostly because of the mental exhaustion that goes along with keeping up appearances and accepting the status quo. Slowly, I have felt my calling shift and transform, until I realized that my calling to teach was never about teaching in public education, but on the college level.
God calls us to be stewards in the world, to represent Her/Him in all we think, say, and do. I believe that God also recognizes when our light is burning out, when our commitment to good acts overrides our old dreams, and brings about a transformation within us. My calling is to preserve and promote the field of women's history, because so many of those stories have either been lost or never discovered. My passion for teaching, as an act, manifests in my desire to work on the collegiate level. In a way, my original dream has not died as much as emerged from its cocoon like a butterfly. The original purpose is there, but God allowed for a transforming shift.
What are you called to do? What is your purpose in this life? How do you manifest God's grace in your actions and words?
For most of my life, I have felt called to be a teacher. I remember spending my summers at my parents' respective schools and playing in empty classrooms. I used to "teach" my dolls how to read and write. I loved sitting next to my mom in her classroom and grade papers right along with her. These all pointed me toward a life of service through public education. As an adult, when I began teaching I viewed my career as a form of social justice. After all, I was working in a Title I school, so there was a bit of unrealistic romance attached to the idea of helping the "less fortunate" in the world. Despite my naiveté, I worked hard for five years and I loved my job. I ate, slept, and breathed my job. Along the way, something changed.
During the past two years, I have not been happy while teaching middle school. I'm frustrated with the policies of public education, the apathy of the students, the lack of support from parents, the poor leadership of the school and county administrations, the backstabbing and ladder-climbing from colleagues. To quote Langston Hughes, my life-long dream of being a teacher is becoming a "dream deferred," mostly because of the mental exhaustion that goes along with keeping up appearances and accepting the status quo. Slowly, I have felt my calling shift and transform, until I realized that my calling to teach was never about teaching in public education, but on the college level.
God calls us to be stewards in the world, to represent Her/Him in all we think, say, and do. I believe that God also recognizes when our light is burning out, when our commitment to good acts overrides our old dreams, and brings about a transformation within us. My calling is to preserve and promote the field of women's history, because so many of those stories have either been lost or never discovered. My passion for teaching, as an act, manifests in my desire to work on the collegiate level. In a way, my original dream has not died as much as emerged from its cocoon like a butterfly. The original purpose is there, but God allowed for a transforming shift.
What are you called to do? What is your purpose in this life? How do you manifest God's grace in your actions and words?
Monday, January 21, 2013
Psalm 54
Awaken me, O Blessed Healer with
your holy mercy,
that I might be free of fear.
Hear my prayer, O Holy One;
give ear to the words of
my mouth.
For nagging doubts assail me,
bringing loneliness and pain;
I remember not the Beloved, so
overwhelming are my fears.
Yet behold, You are my helper,
the upholder of my life.
With You I have the strength to
face my fears;
Your faithfulness will help me
transform them into love.
With boundless confidence, I
abandon myself into your Heart;
I give praise to your holy Name,
O Beloved,
with gratitude and joy.
For You deliver me from my illusions,
and, through Love, my heart
opens to Wisdom.
Psalm 54 from Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness by Nan Merrill
Yesterday, I walked the labyrinth at my church. As I walked, I listened to God. Typically, I'm the one doing all the talking in the relationship, in the form of pleading, beseeching, begging. This time, I just listened. When I reached the center, I sat and read Psalm 54 aloud three times, then I began to cry, because the words above came straight from my heart. It hit me, for the first time in my life, that I truly am God's beloved. Somewhere along the way I forgot how much God loves me, because I allowed myself to be convinced that I was unworthy of God's love, friendship, and grace. I closed my eyes, and as the wind swept through the magnolias and the sound of birds chirped in an early call-to-arms, I felt the grace of God wrap around me. It was the most moving and frightening experience of my life.
I realized, sitting in that cold, comforting space, that many of the decisions that I have made in recent weeks, months, years have been based on the unspoken belief that I did not deserve more. I was unworthy of better, so I settled. After all, if I was unworthy of God, then why not be unworthy of human relationships and connections? The experience that I had yesterday, while not a cure or an immediate transformation, was the beginning of a healing process. Knowing that I am a beloved child, daughter, love of God gives me the strength and courage to make those difficult decisions that I have been struggling with in the past few years. It helped me to see that I am worthy of good things, but most of all it showed me that I am worthy of God's grace and love.
I left the labyrinth feeling like a new person, as if I had shed some layer of skin and left it behind as a reminder. I carry Psalm 54 with me, knowing that the words ring true in my heart: Yet behold, You are my helper, the upholder of my life. With You I have the strength to face my fears; Your faithfulness will help me transform them into love. My father used to tell me that sometimes it's a good thing to just shut-up and listen. A good friend constantly reminds me that there is beauty in silence, in acceptance, and in listening. Still, I think the Creator said it best:
"Be still, and know that I am God."
your holy mercy,
that I might be free of fear.
Hear my prayer, O Holy One;
give ear to the words of
my mouth.
For nagging doubts assail me,
bringing loneliness and pain;
I remember not the Beloved, so
overwhelming are my fears.
Yet behold, You are my helper,
the upholder of my life.
With You I have the strength to
face my fears;
Your faithfulness will help me
transform them into love.
With boundless confidence, I
abandon myself into your Heart;
I give praise to your holy Name,
O Beloved,
with gratitude and joy.
For You deliver me from my illusions,
and, through Love, my heart
opens to Wisdom.
Psalm 54 from Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness by Nan Merrill
Yesterday, I walked the labyrinth at my church. As I walked, I listened to God. Typically, I'm the one doing all the talking in the relationship, in the form of pleading, beseeching, begging. This time, I just listened. When I reached the center, I sat and read Psalm 54 aloud three times, then I began to cry, because the words above came straight from my heart. It hit me, for the first time in my life, that I truly am God's beloved. Somewhere along the way I forgot how much God loves me, because I allowed myself to be convinced that I was unworthy of God's love, friendship, and grace. I closed my eyes, and as the wind swept through the magnolias and the sound of birds chirped in an early call-to-arms, I felt the grace of God wrap around me. It was the most moving and frightening experience of my life.
I realized, sitting in that cold, comforting space, that many of the decisions that I have made in recent weeks, months, years have been based on the unspoken belief that I did not deserve more. I was unworthy of better, so I settled. After all, if I was unworthy of God, then why not be unworthy of human relationships and connections? The experience that I had yesterday, while not a cure or an immediate transformation, was the beginning of a healing process. Knowing that I am a beloved child, daughter, love of God gives me the strength and courage to make those difficult decisions that I have been struggling with in the past few years. It helped me to see that I am worthy of good things, but most of all it showed me that I am worthy of God's grace and love.
I left the labyrinth feeling like a new person, as if I had shed some layer of skin and left it behind as a reminder. I carry Psalm 54 with me, knowing that the words ring true in my heart: Yet behold, You are my helper, the upholder of my life. With You I have the strength to face my fears; Your faithfulness will help me transform them into love. My father used to tell me that sometimes it's a good thing to just shut-up and listen. A good friend constantly reminds me that there is beauty in silence, in acceptance, and in listening. Still, I think the Creator said it best:
"Be still, and know that I am God."
Monday, January 14, 2013
When Enough is Enough
There are days, when my prayers to God sound like this:
Dear God,
Please help me make it through
this moment, this hour, this day,
this week, this year, this life.
I am weak when it comes to (insert topic here),
so I need you to be my strength, God.
Please help me,
Hold me,
Love me,
Keep me,
Protect me,
Comfort me,
In your arms.
Keep me righteous in all manner of things,
because I am an unrighteous person.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Amen.
Dear God,
Please help me make it through
this moment, this hour, this day,
this week, this year, this life.
I am weak when it comes to (insert topic here),
so I need you to be my strength, God.
Please help me,
Hold me,
Love me,
Keep me,
Protect me,
Comfort me,
In your arms.
Keep me righteous in all manner of things,
because I am an unrighteous person.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Amen.
Psalm 74
Doubt and anxiety have crept into the
Inner Tabernacle,
erecting walls as a defense.
My mind dwells on hurts of the past
And foresees a dim future.
All the beauty and joy of companioning
with You
Is lost in the anger that consumes me;
I become a prisoner in my
own being.
I say to myself, " I will subdue these
fears," even knowing that only your refining Fire will rout them out.
I do not know my inner self;
how long must I walk alone?
Like many, will I fear crying out
to the One, who knows all hearts?
How long, O Beloved, will fear laugh
at my folly?
Will it keep me bound forever?
In your mercy, direct me once again,
before fear destroys me and
leads me too far astray!
Inner Tabernacle,
erecting walls as a defense.
My mind dwells on hurts of the past
And foresees a dim future.
All the beauty and joy of companioning
with You
Is lost in the anger that consumes me;
I become a prisoner in my
own being.
I say to myself, " I will subdue these
fears," even knowing that only your refining Fire will rout them out.
I do not know my inner self;
how long must I walk alone?
Like many, will I fear crying out
to the One, who knows all hearts?
How long, O Beloved, will fear laugh
at my folly?
Will it keep me bound forever?
In your mercy, direct me once again,
before fear destroys me and
leads me too far astray!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Morning Prayer Focus: Being Lukewarm
"I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth."
-Revelation 3:15-16
Today's excerpt from morning prayer speaks to me, because I am often lukewarm in my faith. I get comfortable in my life and routine and feel that it's okay to put spiritual matters on the back burner. I can relate to a God who is frustrated by apathy and indifference rather than disdain. As a teacher, I often feel anger and frustration toward the students that demonstrate the least amount of concern for their well-being or who as a lot of potential and fails to use it. I imagine God feels the same about me from time to time.
-Revelation 3:15-16
Today's excerpt from morning prayer speaks to me, because I am often lukewarm in my faith. I get comfortable in my life and routine and feel that it's okay to put spiritual matters on the back burner. I can relate to a God who is frustrated by apathy and indifference rather than disdain. As a teacher, I often feel anger and frustration toward the students that demonstrate the least amount of concern for their well-being or who as a lot of potential and fails to use it. I imagine God feels the same about me from time to time.
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