A(nother) reflection on Vatican II

First of all, Lorna, if you're checking here wondering if I'll ever reply to your questions in the comments - I'm working on the answers. It has been a cathartic, interesting, complex journey for me. Dang, girl, you ask good questions!

In the meantime, my wanderings on the topic throughout the blog world have led me to this conclusion:

Some wanted to use Vatican II to destroy the Church. For a lot of years, it looked like they were winning. But, today, I can see they have lost, and Christ has won.

How do I know?

Because we are still talking about it. Arguing over it. Reading the encyclicals, canon law, the writings of the Church fathers - anything we can lay our hands on to buttress our point! We engage one another passionately - and yet, almost always, in charity.

We are Roman Catholics. We are brothers and sisters. And we are so passionate because we have faith - because we love our Church.

If the enemy had won, we would no longer care. Whether in despair or sheer indifference or exhaustion, we would throw down our books and wander away.

The very thing which keeps me at arm's length from the Church is the very thing which has brought me back to her: the give-and-take, the endless caring about doing it right.

Of course, the only problem is, it just consumes the hours. I want to take issue with Mark Shea, who muttered something in a post about people who natter about the liturgy but ignore the theology of the body (very rough casting of what he said - don't take it literally, I'm not going to go get the quote now). I am making notes for my responses to Lorna's good questions. I realize I have to go back and read the conciliar documents again (sigh), because I want to be fair in what I say.

And - because of that - I am involved in the Church. I care about how we worship Christ. It matters to me whether or not our liturgy teaches us well. I care passionately about whether it's more effective to attract new fish into Peter's net by watering down the liturgy, or tightening it up and making it into true art.

As I travel through the 'net, reading what others are saying, marveling at the intense conversations among people of all ages who are wrestling with one another over the issues in the wake of Vatican II, I meet people I love. Just, quite simply, love. Appealing, intelligent, truthful personalities. I don't always agree with the points they make, but I know a sibling when I read one. ;)

So long as we care - so long as we're willing to research and pray and type and argue to preserve God's Church - she will survive.

And if it took Vatican II, with its ambiguous documents, ham-fisted implementation, the spectacular bungle of the handling of Humanae Vitae, and the apparent triumph of the deconstructionists over tradition to wake up the Roman Catholic laity enough to care - then it was just the Holy Spirit doing His thing again, inscrutable and mysterious as it is.

A vocation to pray for

"Moneybags," he who has been connecting bloggers with their saints for the year, has disclosed his discernment of vocation to the priesthood. He sounds calm and filled with joy. Let us pray for him.

More NAB vs. NAB discussion

Over at Bettnet, Dom and Melanie noticed the insipid translation of 1 Corinthians 6 used at Mass the other day.

As I was listening to the second reading at Mass today, something was nagging at me. It just didn’t sound right.

Brothers and sisters:
The body is not for immorality, but for the Lord,
and the Lord is for the body;
God raised the Lord and will also raise us by his power.

Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ?
But whoever is joined to the Lord becomes one Spirit with him.
Avoid immorality.
Every other sin a person commits is outside the body,
but the immoral person sins against his own body.
Do you not know that your body
is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you,
whom you have from God, and that you are not your own?
For you have been purchased at a price.
Therefore glorify God in your body.

Wait a minute, isn’t all sin immorality? How can we say that immorality is a sin of the body? There is immorality that isn’t physical, like things we say or fail to do. Something wasn’t right here.

Then Melanie, who was thinking the same thing, pointed to the Spanish version of the reading. (Our parish has bilingual missalettes.) Now, I don’t read or speak Spanish, but when it uses “fornicar” for the English lectionary’s “immorality” I think I can figure out what the word is supposed to be. When I got home, I picked up my Greek New Testament and sure enough the word is “porneia,” which according to Bauer’s Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament means “fornication, prostitution, unchastity, or every kind of unlawful sexual intercourse.”

The keepers and guardians of the New American Bible must have decided that “fornication” is too coarse a word for our tender ears or that it might be too judgmental of those who are, you know, fornicating.

Instead we get some kind of mush that tells people nothing really, and that could even mislead them. “Huh, only things we do with our bodies are immoral. Great! Now I can lie and hate and all kinds of other things.”

Some people say that the Church has a hang up about sex. What about those who have a hard time letting God’s Word talk about it unfiltered?

As mentioned before, I recently rediscovered a 1971 first edition of the NAB which was given to me as a gift before I was received into the church. Of late I've been comparing passages, finding significant differences from today's version. The 1971 version of verse 18 of the passage reads: "Shun lewd conduct. Every other sin a man commits is outside his body, but the fornicator sins against his own body." Quite a change over 30 years.

Our evangelical protestant brethren would not stand for this. They pounce on every new translation and nitpick it to death. I'm really concerned that we Catholics are just sort of drifting along, not paying attention, while the meaning of our liturgy and scriptures are being "translated" (read: twisted) into something quite different from the original meanings.

You would think that those shaping the direction of the Episcopal church these days would be the first to do something like this - subtly retranslate the Word to fit their agenda. They can't, however, because they use the RSV or NRSV, and the Christian community would be all over them in a jiffy. (What they have done is simply omit the "difficult" passages - imprecatory Psalm verses, for example, or teachings against homosexual behavior - from their daily liturgical readings in the Book of Common Prayer. It's sort of amusing, in a sick, sad sort of way.) The situation with the NAB is different. In the first place, most Catholics are not Bible readers in the sense that many Protestants are. Those who are, often abandon the NAB for more mellifluous or accurate translations such as the RSV or the Jerusalem Bible. I am a Bible reader, but then, I was out of the Church for a long time. ;) The NAB these days is the most wooden, awkwardly reading thing I've ever encountered. It's so bad, it's embarrassing. When combined with what's happened to the liturgy and the music at Mass, it's a catastrophe for art. Anyone who disagrees needs to listen to the Mozart Requiem. Get back to me after you've recovered from that experience, and we'll talk.

Seriously: by watering down an important passage like that, a basic Christian teaching is being obscured. I really am concerned. It was deliberately changed to read that way. In charity, we should put it down to cluelessness until proven otherwise. However, when you read the writings of someone like Pope Benedict and look at your neighbors at Mass, you know that the church is not made up of the knuckle-dragging, childlike, preliterate hominids for whom the liturgists and musicians seem to be writing these days. What happened??

The Anchoress on the NY Times leaks

Maybe some Americans forget what 9/11 was like. It’s easy to do; we don’t like to dwell on what is sad and tragic, and we don’t like to feel insecure. And perhaps because our president and his team HAVE managed to keep us safe, HAVE managed to prevent another attack on our soil, using these (what the left would call) “impeachable” tactics, perhaps we are feeling a little too safe, a little over-confident. That must be true for some, particularly many Democrats, who would like to “kill the Patriot act,” as Sen. Harry Reid crowed, or leak every covert measure we are taking, (hello, New York Times, hello James Risen) or who seem to wish to tie the hands of the government at every turn in the War on Terror.
Feeling pretty safe, are you? Pretty secure? Has 9/11 become a faded memory for you?

I haven’t forgotten.

Her recollections are moving, and poignant, and I agree with her when she writes:

If it happens again, if after we’ve been safe for nearly 5 years only to find - after these “noble” leaks - that we are safe no longer, I will know where to look. Most Americans will know where to look.

I write best when I'm sad. The Anchoress writes best when she's mad. This piece is one of her best, and a must read.

A hidden Epiphany

I've been trying to post about the amazing things which have been going on in my spiritual life of late, but for many reasons it all just gets too involved and way more personal than appropriate at this stage.

The basics: I fulfilled my first resolution for the liturgical year, and on December 30 went into the church where I was baptized when I was received into the Catholic church at the age of 15. God be praised, it hasn't been wreckovated!!! It was late in the afternoon on the Friday before the New Year. The church smelled wonderful from all the evergeen hangings. There's a new baptismal fountain in the back (yes, you read that right; it runs constantly), and of course it has nice wide edges at waist height, so its beautiful green marble is all plastered up with signs telling people to not put things on the edges. Clues? Anybody?? It's nice, though.

I knelt in front of the tabernacle and thought about all the times I knelt here thirty-some-odd years ago, when I was a new Catholic, the church was going completely daft, my parents had divorced, my mom's alcoholism was in evidence, and my dear one had left me.

Over the weekend, I learned that Sts. Joseph and Martin de Porres had chosen me. Participating in that custom, and having two such high-yield saints take me on, gave me a delighted and awed feeling.

Then, on Tuesday, my friend disclosed to me "by the way" that he was baptized into the Catholic faith in the 1980s. He was such a cynic when we were kids. I was just blown away. He was pleasantly surprised that the discussion in the formation class was so intellectually challenging. He made the decision to go ahead and be baptized.

To my soul, this is the answer to my anguished prayer, "Why, God? Losing my friend... having to go on without him... was arguably the worst thing that ever happened to me. I don't mean to be superstitious about it, but if that's what it took to bring him to the font, then it was worthwhile.

I have known such peace since he told me that.

However, when it comes to feeling at peace in the Church... well, I've had my share of hurt at the hands of those who've worked tirelessly to eradicate any hint of devotion or piety from the Catholic experience. And this is where I end up typing and deleting ... let's leave it that my experience of The Changes in the church was remarkably similar to what I went through as my mom descended into the dregs of alcoholism: Last week, to do such-and-such was a grave sin; this week, it's commanded. And if you DARE to protest, you're a disloyal, ungrateful daughter! Case in point: communion in the hand. The practice is the result of Pope Paul VI's reluctance to confront flagrant disobedience. I was following it at the time and remember it well.

I'm with the Curmudgeon and Elena of My Domestic Church: The Council of Vatican II is one thing; the Spirit of Vatican Two is something else entirely.

In the end, I had to detach from both "parents." My mother had to quit drinking due to health reasons, so she and I could reconcile before she died. It would seem that the Church is recovering, too, led by its wise and loving Papa Benedetto. I'll keep on praying, asking for light and strength to find my way back to the practice of the faith. I suspect some of you have been praying for me. [mock scowl] Seriously: thanks. Being able to be part of this community of writers and thinkers - and pray-ers! - has been so helpful to me.

And it's only January 8... what can the rest of the year hold?

The New American Bible

In 1970, my dear mother, knowing that I was preparing to be received into the Catholic Church, gave me a wonderful Christmas present: a beautifully bound first edition of the New American Bible.

I was reading it the other day, and it "sounded" different from what I remembered in readings at Mass. I thought to compare it to the most recent version. I used John 15:12-17.

1970:
12 This is my commandment:
love one another
as I have loved you.
13 There is no greater love than this:
to lay down one's life for one's friend.
14 You are my friends
if you do what I command you.
15 I no longer speak of you as slaves,
for a slave does not know what his master is about.
Instead, I call you friends, since I have made known to you all that I heard from my Father.
16 It was not you who chose me,
it was I who chose you
to go forth and bear fruit.
Your fruit must endure,
so that all you ask the Father
in my name
he will give you.
17 The command I give you is this,
that you love one another.

1986:

12 This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. 13 No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. 14 You are my friends if you do what I command you. 15 I no longer call you slaves, because a slave does not know what his master is doing. I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father. 16 It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you. 17 This I command you: love one another.

The new version is undoubtedly as correct as it can be, given the pitfalls inherent in translation; but its reading is pedestrian and labored, with short, stubby sentences and a "see Spot run" feel. I feel sure it's meant to be accessible to all English speakers, meeting them at their level. However, isn't there a place for beauty of expression?

Therein lies a long argument, one which will never be settled. For the record, I come down on the side that says it's good for people to have to think a bit; we do not have to spoon-feed people. They are not zombies. They have brains; and the patterns of beautiful words will stay with them, even if the meaning doesn't sink in right away.

It's the difference between loveliness in a church, and the utilitarian approach of bare walls, felt hangings, gray carpet, and a hidden tabernacle.

Thank God there's an approved alternative. ;)

The New Jerusalem Bible:
This is my commandment:
love one another,
as I have loved you.
No one can have greater love
than to lay down his life for his friends.
You are my friends,
if you do what I command you.
I shall no longer call you servants,
because a servant does not know
his master's business;
I call you friends,
because I have made known to you
everything I have learnt from my Father.
You did not choose me,
no, I chose you;
and I commissioned you
to go out and to bear fruit,
fruit that will last;
so that the Father will give you
anything you ask him in my name.
My command to you
is to love one another.

Ahh. That's better.

Papa comforts me

In his December 22 speech to members of the Roman Curia (h/t Maxima Culpa), Pope Benedict seemed to remove the (elegant, probably fur-trimmed) gauntlet and toss it, courteously, but accurately, at the feet of those whose choices and requirements in certain archdioceses betray their serious need of A Clue. (Please note: all emphasis in the following quotes is mine.)

Adoration precedes action or change in the world. It alone can truly free us; it alone can give us the bearings we need to act. In an increasingly rudderless world, threatened by a do-it-yourself attitude, we must focus on adoration. All those who attended World Youth Day will never forget the striking silence that united and inspired the million or so young people when the Lord of the Sacrament was placed on the altar. Let our hearts retain the images of Cologne for they continue to make themselves felt.

Adoration. You know, like, on the knees, sometimes. And silence. Remember silence?

I love how he gets down to the heart of the matter:

When the liturgy was being reformed, worshiping during and outside mass was seen as unrelated. At the time, some said that the Eucharistic Bread was not offered for contemplation but to be eaten. Yet, in the Church’s experience of prayer this opposition has become meaningless. Did not St Augustine himself say: “. . . nemo autem illam carnem manducat, nisi prius adoraverit; . . . peccemus non adorando (Let no one eat this flesh before adoring it; . . . we would sin if we did not adore it” (cf Enarr. in Ps 98: 9 CCL XXXIX 1385). In fact, we do not just get something out of the Eucharist for it is where people meet and come together. But it is the Son of God who wants to meet and be with us—such union can only occur through adoration. Receiving the Eucharist means adoring He whom we receive. Only this way can we become one with Him. Hence, the development of the Eucharistic adoration in the Middle Ages was the most coherent consequence of the Eucharistic mystery. Only in adoration can the Eucharist be truly received.

[.. snip ..]

The problems of reception [of the Council of Vatican II] derived from the fact that two contrasting hermeneutics found themselves face to face and battled it out. One caused confusion, the other, silently but more and more visibly, bore and is bearing fruit. On one hand, there is an interpretation that I would like to call "hermeneutics of discontinuity and rupture"; it was frequently able to find favour among mass media, and also a certain sector of modern theology. On the other hand, there is the "hermeneutics of reform", of the renewal of the continuity of the single Church-subject, which the Lord has given us: it is a subject that grows in time and develops, remaining however always the same, the one subject of the People of God on their way. Hermeneutics of discontinuity risk leading to a fracture between the pre-Council and post-Council Church. It asserts that the Council texts as such would still not be the true expression of the spirit of the Council. They would be the result of compromises within which, to reach unanimity, many old and ultimately useless things had to be dragged along and reconfirmed. It is, however, not in these compromises that the true spirit of the Council would be revealed, but instead in the drive toward newness that underpin the texts: only this would represent the true spirit of the Council, and starting from it and in conformity with it, it would be necessary to go forward. Precisely because the texts would reflect only imperfectly the true spirit of the Council and its novelty, it would be necessary to go courageously beyond the texts, making room for the new, in which the more profound, even though still indistinct, intention of the Council would express itself. In short: it would be necessary to follow not the Council texts, but its spirit. In this way, of course, a huge margin remains for the question of how then to define this spirit and, as a result, room is made for any whimsicality.

It's a good thing I wasn't there. I would've been whooping and stomping - "Sing it, Papa! You rock!"

[snip ... ]

I would like to quote Pope John XXIII's well known words in which this hermeneutic is unequivocally expressed when he said that the Council "wishes to transmit doctrine pure and whole, without attenuating or falsifying it", and continues: "Our duty is not only to watch over this precious treasure, as if we were only concerned with antiquity, but to dedicate ourselves with active will and without fear to this work, which our age demands... It is necessary that this sure and immutable doctrine, faithfully respected, must be deepened and presented in a way that answers the needs of our time. One thing is in fact the deposit of faith, that is the truths contained in our venerated doctrine, and another thing is the way they are enounced, maintaining nevertheless their same meaning and scope" (S. Oec. Conc. Vat. II Constitutiones Decreta Declarationes, 1974, pp. 863-865). It is clear that this commitment to expressing a particular truth in a new way calls for fresh reflection upon it and a new relationship with it; it is also clear that the new word can mature only if it derives from an aware understanding of the truth expressed and that, on the other hand, the reflection on faith also requires that this faith is lived.

It feels like he is gently, firmly, gradually guiding the huge barque of Peter back into port after its extensively silly harbor cruise.

Pope Benedict is earning my trust. I almost hate to admit it. I had just about decided I'd never be able to persuade myself to set foot in a Catholic church again, but he's got me watching, daring to approach a bit closer before I jump nervously away. He's so loving and so wise. If he'd been the liberal some were hoping for, my choice would've been easy. But the Holy Spirit guided those cardinals, and they elected Papa Benedetto, and now I'm running out of excuses. And, like so many of these things, it feels like it was done just for me... like God knew my heart and the state of my soul, and what it would take to convince me to try just one more time... and He did that one thing.

To judge from the stream of reverts and converts I've been reading about lately, it would seem that I'm not alone.

And it feels right. Pope Benedict is not breathing fire or taking names; he's being as gentle and courteous as he can about this. However, one cannot pretend to miss the point: courage is not defined by doing daring things like using glass on the altar and issuing a document requiring people to stand during communion as a sign of "unity." Courage is shown by living upright, chaste, and loving lives in submission to the teaching authority of the Church, sticking to the actual texts of the Vatican II Council and interpreting them in light of all the Fathers who went before us in this journey since Christ walked the earth. That's courageous because it's not easy.

... the plan proposed by Pope John XXIII was extremely demanding, just as the synthesis of faithfulness and dynamism is demanding. But wherever this interpretation has been the guideline for the reception of the Council, there new life has grown and new fruits have matured. Forty years after the Council, we can ascertain that the positive aspects are greater and more vibrant than they appeared in the years around 1968. Today we can see that the good seed, even if it develops slowly, nevertheless grows, and our profound gratitude for the work carried out by the Council grows along with it.

One of the things which drove me from the Church again and again in the years after Vatican II was the harshness and inflexibility of those who imposed on us "the spirit of Vatican Two." Benedict is neither... and he's no lightweight when it comes to theology or liturgy! However, he is, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. He does not put himself forward. He lets Augustine and John XXIII fight his battles for him, in their own words.

He doesn't talk about the fallout from Vatican II; he says that "the positive aspects are greater and more vibrant than they appeared in the years around 1968." Whatever else that may be, it's tactful. I've had quite enough of being made to feel like a leper because I benefit from using prayerbooks and praying the Rosary in a quiet church, and have real problems with standing to receive communion, much less standing after communion - and let's not even go there about communion in the hand. I respect Papa because he does not employ the same tactics towards those who upset me so badly. He is better than that. If they had been half so gracious after the Council, I might not have run away... but that is for another post.

Thanks again, Chrysostomos, for the link.

My Saints for the Year

At A Catholic Life, Moneybags passed along an invitation to request a Saint's name to be drawn for 2006. I had never heard of this custom, but felt led to put in my request. As so many others have expressed in their comments, I'm surprised and humbled by my selections: St. Joseph and St. Martin de Porres.

I knew virtually nothing about St. Martin de Porres, so I just now read the article about him at Catholic Forum. I have been working to make good housekeeping practices part of my life's routine, so I laughed when I saw that St. Martin was known as "the Saint of the Broom"! This is also a selection surely guided by the One who knows me best: I have always been attracted to the Dominicans (and, in fact, spent quite a bit of time last night reading the websites of Dominican contemplative nuns, before I even knew of St. Martin's selection); devotion to the Eucharist contributed to my conversion in my teens; care for the sick is one of my gifts; and I'd already planned to contribute to a dog rescue! I look forward to getting to know St. Martin better this year, and letting what I learn about his life improve the way I live mine.

And St. Joseph... wow.

My natural father and I were estranged from the time he divorced my mother through the end of his life. His birthday was March 19, St. Joseph's day. "Though my father and mother forsake me, yet will the Lord receive me." (Ps. 27:10)

St. Joseph is the patron of workers. I've already been deeply blessed by God by an assignment which I start next week which assures me that I will do work which is perfectly suited to my gifts, for the first time in my life. I'm excited and grateful, but I still need to cultivate the discipline of just doing what needs to be done, and not wasting time. St. Joseph was willing to immediately get up and do what God told him. He is also a patron against doubt and hesitation.

I live in solitude. It comforts me to think that I can invite St. Joseph to watch over me as he watched over Mary and Jesus.

St. Joseph is the patron of protection of the Church. One of my resolutions for this year is to quit indulging in uncharitable thoughts and words about those members of the hierarchy whose choices and teachings give scandal and seem to be so detrimental to the Church. Instead, I shall pray to St. Joseph, and let him take care of it for me. That's a big weight off my mind! ;)

There are other, even more personal, reasons why it's evident that St. Joseph chose me, and not the other way around.

Oh, and get this: a bit more research reveals that

The Josephite Fathers and Brothers or more properly, the Society of Saint Joseph of the Sacred Heart (abbreviated post-nominally as S.S.J.) is an American Society of priests and brothers, founded in 1892, when priests who had been members of the English Foreign Mission Society of Saint Joseph (also known as the Mill Hill Fathers, and abbreviated post-nominally as C.J.) decided to work permanently in the United States as an apostolate dedicated to newly-freed black American slaves after the Civil War. (emphasis mine) (via Wikipedia)

In his homily given at St. Martin de Porres' canonization, Pope John XXIII said, "For the poor he would provide food, clothing and medicine. He did all he could to care for poor farmhands, blacks, and mulattoes who were looked down upon as slaves, the dregs of society in their time."

As a final, small connection, my dear maternal grandmother was born in 1892, when the Josephites were founded.

This has been such a meaningful exercise. I'm so grateful to Moneybags and to the woman who kindly selected the names. I'll remember them and their families in my prayers.

Happy New Year

A quiet day of reflection, listening to the rain fall here in Southern California.

So many things to be grateful for this year... not least, the opportunity to get to know the thoughts of so many congenial people here in the blogging community.

So many things yet to pray for.

- - - - - - -

On the 27th, Penni over at Martha, Martha tagged me with a meme which she was passing on from yurodivi: five resolutions for the new liturgical year.

1. Stick my nose inside a church.
2. More consciously let God guide my life.
3. Refrain from uncharitable thought and comment about certain members of the Church hierarchy.
4. Contribute to certain charities which mean a lot to me.
5. Continue to build my routines and focus on what I need to do.

I've already done the first. Thanks for the nudge. I'll post about that later on.

Happy 2006, everybody!

Prayers for you at Christmas

This post is for you because I cannot be with you in person to embrace you as we greet each other with "Merry Christmas!" I just wanted to let you know I am thinking of you as you prepare for tomorrow's celebration.

I pray for you that you will have whatever is best for you this season. I do not know what that is; it is between you, and God. He is watching over you, eager to give you good gifts.

May your blessings include peace and patience. I've been through my share of stressful Christmases. This promises to be a quiet one for me, so I shall spend it praying for you, that you will feel His whispered encouragement when you need it most.

For you I pray for the gift of gratitude, that it may well up in your heart as you count your blessings and enjoy the gifts of beauty and inspiration which are the cherished inward gifts of this season.

I hope that your Christmas will include the chance to look into the eyes of ones you love, even if only in memory. Should those memories bring tears, may you be comforted in whatever way makes sense to your soul.

For me, when sorrow closes in, I run to Mary. She was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit. She bore God's child. How much she must have loved that baby! Yet, in her woman's heart, she must have sensed that trouble lay ahead. After all, God, who created his son's body by inexplicable holy mystery, arranged for him to be brought forth in a dark stable.

All too soon, she was to hear, "This child is destined to be a sign that will be rejected; and you too will be pierced to the heart." She knows what it means to love, and lose. She knows what it means to have a shadow over your heart even in the midst of joy. She knows what it's like to sit helplessly beside the dearest person on earth and watch him die. She knows. Go to her.

She is not God, but she is the one he chose to mother his very own son. Far from the saccharine-sweet saint portrayed as gazing fondly, even somewhat vacuously, on the child in the manger, she was a young woman of deep faith and steely resolve who voluntarily gave her body and life to God, mothered the Word made flesh, lived with the certain knowledge that his earthly life was doomed, and watched his crucifixion.

You do not have to ask her to pray for you, if that thought is foreign to your religious understanding. But I pray that, if you are grieving, the recollection of her, as you contemplate Jesus' birth, will bring you the grace to rejoice even in the face of certain sorrow.

May angels, like those the shepherds saw, guide you this Christmas, protecting your travels, watching over your celebration, and guiding your thoughts to God in the midst of whatever you experience during this holy time.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

The same was in the beginning with God.

All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.

In him was life; and the life was the light of men.

And the light shineth in darkess; and the darkness comprehended it not.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John.

The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all men through him might believe.

He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.

That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.

He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.

He came unto his own, and his own received him not.

But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on this name:

Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. - John 1:1-14

May God bless us, every one.

Merry Christmas!

I've started early and had the most perfect Christmas Eve church service ever, courtesy of American Public Radio. It was "A Festival of Nine Lessons" broadcast from King's College in Cambridge, England.

The nine lessons were read from the King James Version of the Bible, with clear and fluent diction, so as to be heard in the echoes of the church. After each, the choir sang pieces which were reflective of the reading, and a real aid in meditation on the sacred words. Sometimes there were hymns which the congregation sang. The only (rare) accompaniment was from the organ.

The service finished with a traditional prayer from the Book of Common Prayer, and the two traditional carols, O Come All Ye Faithful and Hark the Herald Angels Sing.

It was beautiful, reverent, solemn, and joyful. One could imagine the earliest Christians having such a service, repeating the words to one another, and singing hymns between the readings.

I do not say it's the only way. I don't mean to tout it over anyone else's worship on this holy eve of the great beginning feast of the Church year. All I know is that it was perfect for me, and I take it as a gift, one of those [there-are-no] coincidences that leave me feeling like my soul has been hugged by the One Who created and redeemed it.

May your Christmas include such a private, perfect gift from God.

What my sister's Labrador Retriever taught me

Thanks to Rachel Swenson Balducci for reminding me of this one:

If a dog was the teacher you would learn stuff like:

• When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

• Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.

• Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.

• When it's in your best interest, practice obedience.

• Let others know when they've invaded your territory.

• Take naps.

• Stretch before rising.

• Run, romp, and play daily.

• Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

• Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

• On warm days, stop to lie on your back in the grass.

• On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

• When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

• No matter how often you're scolded, don't buy into the guilt thing and pout.

• Run right back and make friends.

• Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

• Eat with gusto and enthusiasm.

• Stop when you have had enough.

• Be loyal.

• Never pretend to be something you're not.

• If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

• When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by and nuzzle them gently.

Love and memory

The Anchoress comments on and links to an absorbing post by neo-neocon which looks at the story of Clive Wearing, who lost his long-term memory to a bout with encephalitis. His wife left him for a time, then returned:

I realised that we are not just brain and processes. Clive had lost all that and yet he was still Clive. Even when we didn’t see one another, when we were six months apart and only spoke on the telephone, nothing had changed. Even when he was at his worst, most acute state, he still had that huge overwhelming love … for me. That was what survived when everything else was taken away.

The Anchoress says,

Read the whole thing and marvel in the miracle of love. And think about how for the world, “marriage” has become less a sacrament and more of a social contract. And yet “the two shall become one flesh…”

Sometimes people ask me why the Catholic church allows annullment - it all seems like a “pay as you exit” scheme to them. But there is a supernatural element, completely spiritual, that should exist within marriage, and if it is not being admitted into the marriage (or not being entered into by the couple) well, perhaps then the marriage itself never did “exist,” except on paper.

Somethings truly are in the stars.

Indeed.

A feast for the eyes

A colleague recently returned from Italy, enjoying it the perfect way, as the guest of a friend who lives there. He treated me to a slide show of his many, many images of the area where he was visiting. He is an accomplished artist, the city where he stayed is breathtakingly beautiful, and he had a good digital camera. The results were astounding. I usually find myself yawning about the third snapshot in, but the images he captured transported me into the place they so skillfully depicted.

He was there for three weeks. For thirty minutes he let me forget all about the work on my desk and revel in the unstudied, unplanned beauty of ancient neighborhoods, beautiful architecture, and vistas which look exactly the same as they did when painted centuries ago.

It was a wonderful gift, and one which I needed, as you may have guessed from previous posts. ;)

In the moment

There is a saying, "be in the moment." Someone who's been through addiction, whether as participant, codependent, or exasperated onlooker, knows exactly what's meant by that. At some point, all civilized human beings have to apply rationalization or skirt reality in order to apply charity and tolerance. "He's just tired." "She's under stress." "I was behaving like a child... no wonder he came off on me." But, sometimes, it gets to be an obsession... a life skill... an art form. One loses the awareness of making a conscious effort to get around the discomfort. Instead, you start jollying yourself into believing Everything is Just Fine. We forbid ourselves and others to feel otherwise. No matter how much our stomach hurts from anxiety or the tears want to fall, we smile and calmly say, "it's all right" or "it's not so bad."

It takes a long time to overcome that. One way is to concentrate on simple, accessible experiences: the fragrance of a rose, the beauty of a landscape, or a beautiful melody. Not just the nose, eyes or ears, but the brain and the emotions, the memory and the soul. It took me a long time to learn to do that. To this day, it is still a conscious decision.

Of late ... many years down the road of recovery ... I've noticed that the willingness to be in the moment has not been limited to just the good stuff. I am willing to feel my pain.

This is not a maudlin exercise, though if I'm tired I might retire early with a box of tissues and cry myself to sleep. (I spent decades without shedding a tear, so that's really an improvement.) It is, for me, a quiet acknowledgement that life hurts, and I can feel that hurt, understand and acknowledge it, and honor my sorrow and my pain - and life is really sweeter when I do.

I don't recommend wallowing in pain. I don't allow myself to do so. If it gets too bad, I go for a walk, have a hot bath, take my vitamins, and get some sleep. But, sometimes, I honor myself and what I have lived through by acknowledging the scope of what I have lost and endured.

It hurts, yes, but it's nothing compared to what Jesus endured. If I open my soul to him, I sense him drawing near. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." I know that valley. I've crossed it a few times. I know how dank and cold and dark it gets. There are things to fear in there, things you cannot identify but whose reality your soul knows, and wants to run from.

He is with us in those moments.

I have a lot of beauty in my life. I have love, and so many good things. Still, I feel like it's part of my healing that sometimes I can sit and open the dark side of my soul. I find I can look at the horror without flinching because Jesus is looking at it with me. Together we open the hidden place. Together we hear the cruel words again, or feel the awful horror of a moment of loss so deep that I knew my life would never be the same. I look at the moment, and hand it off to him. I don't know what he does with it. Sometimes I think I hear the echo of nails being driven, or the soft drip of something heavier than water onto the ground.

I don't want it to be that way. I don't want my pain to be his, too. But he lets me know somehow that his part already happened. It's done. He knew what I would experience, and he took it on himself that day. Part of what he suffered was for me. There were my sins, and there were those of the ones whose sin complicated my life. It doesn't matter. They all got dealt with then.

They got dealt with so that I could heal, today; so that I could look at the pain and let it go, into the hands of one who let evil do its worst, yet rose again. And that's what he points me to, now. I don't understand why what happened to me had to happen. I've been given the grace to let go of that need to know. The Sun is rising, making all things new. My soul is different and new, too. The pain isn't gone, but it has no power to hurt me, now. He took it from me.

I am still wounded. I am still maimed. The life that was so easy for others ... meet, marry, know, love ... was never mine, although I yearned for it so deeply. My blunders led to a barren existence in an emotional wilderness. Now I can quit hiding from the pain. Instead of annihilating me, the sorrow has led me to be closer to God than ever before in my life. He has let me share an infinitesimal bit of what he knew on the cross. I have been taken into his confidence. The only difference is, he understood why, and I never will. There are no explanations. There is only the promise of company and support if you surrender.

In a Carmelite cell, there is a bare cross on the wall. It is bare because it is a destination.

Memories

Sometimes the ones that mean the most are the ones I don't have.

Driving home tonight, I turned on the radio, and heard "Isn't she lovely..." As I listened to the words of a father celebrating his delight in his baby daughter, I recalled the image of a snapshot I saw a couple of years ago. It was a blurry image, taken on a sunny day, of a young dad and his toddler daughter. The sun made his hair red-gold and made her look like a cherub.

It was many years ago.

Not my memory.

The little girl is a married woman now. Her dad loves her so much.

The man is not my husband. Other women have known him in that way; not I. His daughter has no clue who I am.

But she is lovely, and dearly loved.

As difficult as this is - not having certain memories of people I love - it has been the best thing ever for my understanding of God.

So many of us met him when we were young, and fell in love with him. We were tempted, distracted, or lured from his side. People lied to us, saying that he was no good for us, that he wanted just to make us unhappy. Entranced, we agreed. Our love did not fight back nor argue. We had the information; we made our choice. We left him behind and went with our seductive new friends who denied us nothing, except closeness, intimacy, self-respect, and affection.

God never forgot us. He never hated us for leaving him. He missed us terribly and wanted what was best for us. Because he loves us, He lets us decide what that is. It would not be love if He forced it on us.

It is the liars who force things on us. They say they love us, but they call us demeaning names, reject our advances, or turn away when we need emotional shelter, responding with exasperated annoyance every time we ask for something which is appropriate given our role in their lives. And yet we believe them when they say that this is love.

When we are ready to see through the lies, Love will still be there. If we are never ready, we are still Loved. God does not stop loving us because we're frightened, make stupid decisions, or cling to people who shame and demean us.

I have learned this, not because I am good like God, but because I love, and can do no more than write about it. I understand why God must wait and not intervene. I know why it takes so long for us to give up on trying to make people give us love.

Lord, have mercy on those who feel compelled to spend their lives trying to keep someone from getting angry with them. Help us comprehend that, just because someone wants to shame us, that doesn't mean what they say is true. Give us the grace to discern true love, and to choose it. Support us and forgive us when we're too scared to break free. Never give up on us, dear Lord. Do not abandon us to our captors. Inoculate us against their lies by showing us the truth about love. Send us encouragers and people we can trust. Help us to grasp that people who treat us lovingly and respectfully are not lying, and people who say they love us while shaming and demeaning us are not telling the truth.

Permission to mess up

Owen over at luminousmiseries has a wonderful post for artists, which I found linked over at Alicia's. Even if you're not an artist or a writer... go check it out.

Thoughts on vows, vocations, and visibility

On MS-NBC's website yesterday in "The Week in Pictures," there was a photo gallery which includes a picture of two nuns playing with the children of a parochial school during some unseasonably warm weather in White Bear Lake, Minnesota.

I looked 'em up - here they are.

If you follow that link, you will notice something quite unusual about the sisters in the photo on the website.

1. Their habits are beautiful.

2. The order would appear to be attracting vocations.

The sisters are attached to St. Ann's Church, which is run by the FSSP. They are traditional in their religious life and worship.

And MS-NBC included a picture of these unprogressive gals on its website photos for the week.

Just interesting, that's all.

Knowing my limitations

I have a "wonderful opportunity" at work. I would be "foolish" to pass it up.

I'm going to be foolish.

It is something I can do well, but which I thoroughly dislike doing. In the past, I have often striven to do things which make me uncomfortable and unhappy at work. It's how I was raised. I never thought anything of it. The idea that I could actually do what I do best, and earn a good living at it, never occurred to me.

It is a crossroads. If I choose the way which will bring me more money, recognition, and a step up the ladder, I shall be very busy and extremely stressed. I am taking the other way, the one where I immerse myself in the task at hand and, the next time I look at the clock, am surprised that it's an hour and a half later. God gave me the talent to do both; I have to (finally) be wise enough to know which to pick, and trust Him to take care of the rest. Amen.

Thoughts on Blessings

Penni over at Martha, Martha wrote about feeling uncomfortable asking for blessings.

my wise and sage friend suggested that i start praying for God's abundant blessings upon me. i have to tell you, i am not comfortable with that.

not in the least.

i ask for God's blessings upon everyone around me, from family to customers, friends known and unknown. but for me? too awkward to do that.

do you feel it is wrong to ask for blessings for yourself - is that being *self*ish? or do you pray for God to bless you abundantly and not feel bad about that at all? i tend to be more of a "social justice" pray-er and not ask for too much for myself.

do i have it all wrong?

That just took me back... wow. I commented:

Your words take me back to where I was many years ago. I found it nearly impossible to trust God, but I was in a scary place in my life, and I just had to. The alternative was unthinkable.

Laying down my worries and anxieties and cares and fears at His feet was very difficult for me; I kept picking them back up again.

I was finally able to ask for the grace to accept His blessings, even if they went against the grain. It was like a penance for me, because I couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in the ways you so eloquently express.

I finally got to the point where I was willing to let go of my life and let Him take care of me as He saw fit. If it included bare floors and no heat, so be it. If it was to be carpet and central air, fine. If I am honest about surrendering to Him, I need to open myself to His generous provision, just as I commit to accept when things are tough.

As for others' blessings... Jesus took a basket of bread and fish and fed thousands. By giving you what you need, He does not deprive anyone else. There's plenty. He's God. He can make more blessings. Your blessings might not be what anyone else needs, anyway. They might just be for you alone. ;)

I still have the worn Bible from the time when I ended up prostrate before God, finally, finally ready to let go and let Him do what He wanted with my life. It was an awful feeling. I still have my moments (see recent post on feeling separate from Him). But I did it, because He backed me into a corner and I had no choice. It was either trust Him, or trust myself/the deceiver, and I knew the black hole which awaited me if I chose the latter.

It did feel penitential. I was very uncomfortable driving the very comfortable used car I eventually got to replace the tiny, unsafe one. The new house that came along was very hard to accept. I went to Penney's and bought $300 worth of clothes I had to have - my old ones were falling apart - and I almost had a panic attack and had to talk myself out of the store and into the car. At the time, I could easily afford that much. It was just feeling so self-conscious about taking care of myself in that way. Anorexia of joy... anhedonia, they call it. But it was more than just not feeling it; it was fighting and resisting it.

God had to humble me completely, take away everything I treasured in life, before I would turn to Him properly. He was kind, but firm. Still is. He's a good Abba.

Struggling to get out of the chains

Oswald Chambers is one of those writers who is a real guide for me. I loved this quote: "The Spirit of God has spoiled the sin of a great many, yet there is no emancipation, no fullness in their lives." My Utmost for His Highest, November 27

Even as I smile ruefully at the way he puts it - "The Spirit of God has spoiled the sin of a great many" - heh - I am uncomfortably aware that he's got me pegged.

"Emancipation" is the right word: "to free from restraint, control, or the power of another; esp: to free from bondage."

Paul spoke of our freedom in Christ. Jesus said, "I came that your joy may be full."

Somewhere along the line, I got it in my head that to be happy was a sin of selfishness. If I was happy or comfortable, it meant that someone else was not.

That's a lie.

I am called to joy, which pertains regardless of whether or not I am happy. That said, it is not wrong for me to enjoy what God has provided in my life, and to share whatever I can with others, that they, too, may be happy.

I need to be emancipated from the restraint that whispers, "you should not be so happy." I need to be liberated from the control which mutes my emotions and keeps me from celebrating the good news of my salvation. I've ceded power over my life to the one who hates me and the One who made me; I need to take back that permission, and give power over my life only to the One who loves me and cherishes me and wants me to be delighted once in a while with pleasant, healthful, fun things.

Some of this control gets passed as a consequence of my own curiosity and lack of discipline over my thoughts.

I've recently comprehended that I cannot get involved in the anguish at so many Christian Internet watering holes. I get caught up in the superficial observations and arguments, and completely miss the underlying spiritual truths and fictions going on. There is so much I cannot know, can't possibly understand, and don't have time to research. I have to let go, and let God sort it out with those who are far more qualified than I to do battle.

This is part of what I have to learn about finding my own pasture. I've avoided going to church because I'm almost phobic about it, these days; it doesn't matter where I turn, there's always some "reason" I've read about why that church is not a "good" one. God has kindly shown me that I must resolutely ignore all the magpies and go where He leads me, to a place where I can be fed in the Word. In other words, I have to trust Him.

That is very difficult for me. (hangs head)

Advent is always one of those times of year when I try to start again with the whole church thing. I almost made it this morning. I shall continue to plan and pray and see if I can brave it next Sunday. I need to deliberately turn my back on all the news reports and generalities, and let God lead me to a congregation which is whole in His Word. Pray for me, fellow seekers... some of you know what I'm going through.

A simple proposal to squelch "Happy Holidays"

Most retailers are commanding their advertising houses and clerks to use only "Happy Holidays." This is distressing to many Christians, especially since the retailers continue to use the trappings of our celebration, like Christmas trees, the colors of red and green, and other traditional, deeply meaningful symbols of the season. Presumably that is because someone's feelings might be hurt. I can understand that, actually: it's rude to celebrate the arrival of Our Saviour, which is Christ, the Lord, in front of someone who does not share our joy. How thoughtless! After all, without the gospel, the whole idea of Christmas is pretty tiresome.

Our Christian gift-giving is supposedly done at least in part in imitation of the Magi, who brought gifts to Jesus when they found Him in the stable. Let's face it: to give gifts to each other is not exactly true to that picture, if you know what I mean.

So let's bring our celebration closer into line with that of the Magi, instead of pleasing ourselves and annoying the non-Christians among us.

"So long as you did it to the least of these, you did it to Me." Let us restore the real tradition of Christmas gift-giving by giving gifts to the baby Jesus wherever we find Him in the poor and needy. Let's shower Jesus with cash by giving it to charities, and show our affection to one another with unbought words and acts of love. Let's give small meaningful gifts, like bookmarks, photographs, handwritten letters and ornaments for our Christmas trees. Let's tell one another what we treasure about each other, and thank each other for the good times of the last year. Let's offer our time and companionship and service to those who need our individual gifts of talent, whatever they might be: shoveling driveways, fixing computers, mending, watching the kids for an evening, helping with a term paper, etc.

Without Christian spending, the retailers' stores will stand empty, their servers unused, their phones silent, except for the faxes coming in with orders from charities, ordering in bulk and negotiating huge discounts. Let the oh-so-politically-correct managers strain to hear the tinny sounds of their piped-in holiday music over the sounds of crickets chirping in the aisles.

Let us take a sabbatical from Christmas in the 7th year of the new century. In 2007, let us accede to the wishes of those who fear that someone will feel slighted by the word Christmas. Let us give them what they want! Let us remove our feast from the public square, and take it back into our homes, churches and charities. Ho ho ho!

First Sunday of Advent

Several days ago, upon awakening, I had one of those moments of mental clarity in which some puzzle or problem is suddenly solved. In that dawn moment, I realized I am prone to think of God as separate from me. I have perceived Him as sometimes unloving, or merely indifferent. I suddenly saw clearly how utterly wrong I was, and how foreign that notion is even to logic. God made me. He holds me together in thought. He never wants me to be apart from Him! If he forgot me, I would cease to exist!

The feeling of separateness was banished in that moment. I went out to my study, and looked up the first reading in the devotional I use, and was overtaken by that I-am-floored-but-unsurprised feeling I get when God makes it perfectly clear He has A Point to make, and Would I Please Pay Attention. The passage was from Colossians, and included these verses:

Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation--if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven and of which I, Paul, have become a servant. (Col. 1:21-23)

God has not forgotten me. God does not want to lose me or be parted from me. I am a sinner, and cannot be admitted to His presence, because He is all-holy. So He sent his Son to teach me the right way. That Son underwent a horrible death, taking my sins on Himself, just so I would not lose touch with my God so long as I continue in my faith.

I am still mentally, spiritually, sitting there, days and days later, my mouth agape and my heart stilled in awe.

It felt like an Advent present from Jesus, a gift to open before the Christmas madness.

Of course there's more ... later in that epistle, Paul writes:

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

I have a choice whether to "wear" those traits every day, and which to accentuate and accessorize with the others. ;) Then, just in case I was thick and didn't get the previous word, he speaks slowly and uses simple words: "Forgive as the Lord forgave you." I can't avoid knowing that, yes, the Lord forgave me, but not because I repented really well or apologized perfectly. In fact, I'm willing to bet that a lot of the worst sins were some which I never even realized I committed! The Lord forgave me solely because Jesus asked Him to, on the cross, brokenly whispering the words through his extreme pain and desolation.

"And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity." And which binds me to God, close under His wings, safe from the one who prowls like a lion, whispering to me and so many others, "He doesn't really love you. He doesn't care." It's a lie!

Jesus hovers around, eager and waiting. He doesn't force His way in, but He waits and watches for the moment when we're open to His love.

This Advent season, I hope I will be waiting and watching for Him, too.

Grateful days

It is perhaps really sad to say so, but I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with my sister and her husband. It's sad because it was never fun with my in-laws; not awful, just not comfortable, on many levels. And my parents are both dead, which helps enormously. I'm sorry if that doesn't sound sufficiently devoted. I loved them dearly and missed them terribly. It's still easier now.

My sister and her husband are quite a bit younger than I. It's cute to see how they care for me, suggesting ideas for ways I could take better care of the house or myself. I feel very much like the tables are being turned. Even as it makes me feel my age, it comforts me to know that they truly care. I'm not only grateful for them, but for the healing which has allowed me to notice their care, and appreciate it.

Over the last few years I've had an emotional awakening. I'd spent many years shutting down my emotions, never letting my feelings show, or even be recognized. Now I'm almost too much the other way... but it helps me to know what's going on around me. I can be grateful for those who love me... I can recognize that they do.

When asked what I want for Christmas, I think of the blessings I've had in the past year, and think there's not much more that I need or want. There's not much left over from my paycheck at the end of the month, but God has blessed me with health and love, appetite and food to eat, the ability to sleep and wake refreshed, a place to walk in the fresh air, and meaningful work to do. I am grateful.

I hope you, too, have lots to be grateful for.

Co-dependent

I know what this means.

The following are some of the characteristics, agreed upon
by one Alanon-Acoa group, that result in problems in our lives.

1. We became isolated and afraid of people and authority figures;

2. We became approval seekers and lost our identity in the process;

3. We are frightened by angry people and any personal criticism;

4. We either become alcoholics, marry them, or both, or find another compulsive personality such as a workaholic to fulfill our sick abandonment needs;

5. We live life from the viewpoint of victims and are attracted by that weakness in our love and friendship relations;

6. We have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and it is easier for us to be concerned with others rather than ourselves. This enables us not to look too closely at our faults, etc.

7. We get guilt feelings when we stand up for ourselves instead of giving in to others;

8. We became addicted to excitement;

9. We confuse love and pity and tend to "love" people we can "pity" and "rescue";

10. We have stuffed our feelings from our traumatic childhoods and have lost the ability to feel or express our feelings because it hurts so much; (DENIAL)

11. We judge ourselves harshly and have a very low sense of self-esteem;

12. We are dependent personalities who are terrified of abandonment and will do anything to hold on to a relationship in order not to experience painful abandonment feelings which we received from living with sick people who were never there emotionally for us;

13. Alcoholism is a family disease and we became para-alcoholics and took on the characteristics of that disease even though we did not pick up the drink;

14. Para-alcoholics are reactors rather than actors.

I've had reason this week to revisit this list.

My name is A. Noël, and I am a codependent.

The ENORMOUS challenge of codependency is that we must be co-dependent to live normally. We have to be able to reach out and establish healthy relationships.

It is rather like the addiction to food.

One must eat in order to survive; how to navigate through life without abusing it? One must have relationships in order to live normally; how to navigate without falling into the same patterns?

Only by the grace of God, as we understand Him.

The first step for me was to give up the notion that I was strong. I wasn't. I was out of control, mainlining on others' approval, needing huge fixes of behavior to react to, just to get through the day. If I was with someone "normal," who just sort of muddled through the day as "normal" people do, I became horribly anxious. I could not be a friend. Everything was a performance.

Some days, it still is.

That's the thing about recovery: it goes on for life. You're never done. Ever.


I've had to revisit that this week. I have a dear friend who is in the throes of Step One. This is more than a friend to me. This is a soul-mate, someone I have known since knee socks and saddle shoes, someone with whom I was privileged to share some of the happiest moments of my life. We need each other, and yet are not always good for one another, because we are both extremely codependent. I've been in recovery for years and years; my friend is just now beginning to comprehend.

I encourage and support my friend, often pointing back to therapist, group, book, etc. I often pull away and let the consequences happen.

And I need to recognize with painful clarity exactly what I can reasonably expect from this person, and what I cannot.

I cannot trust this person with my emotional well-being.
This person is not able to take care of me.
If I stay around this person, I will get hurt.

I need to write out #4 and #9 and put them on the refrigerator and the bathroom mirror, so that I cannot escape the truth about myself, because #6 is alive and well in me, and only repeated, consistent working of the Steps will keep me on track.

I see someone regularly who is coaching me on my journey and knows my weaknesses better than I; I have a sister who is exceptionally good at being an accountability partner; and I have my friends, among whom I include those of you who have taken an interest in my meanderings.

This is the toughest test of recovery I've ever been through. I know how dangerous it is for me.

I also know this person very well. This is the kind of codependent which is gentle, meek, and terrified of hurting anyone. I have been through some nasty emotional abuse in my day, the mean, hostile, deliberate kind. It's inconceivable that my friend would act that way. However, my friend is also emotionally abusive, without meaning to be, and intent doesn't matter. I must protect myself, relating the effect on me, then withdrawing.

The realization that "this doesn't work for me any more" is a precious, wonderful gift, and the first step towards a better life; but, damn, it takes us a long time to get there!

It is dangerous. I do get hurt frequently.

And I am not leaving.

It is not perfect. It never is.

Within appropriate boundaries, I can put myself on the line for my friend. Will I look back on this time, and say I made a mistake? I cannot possibly know. I can only take it one day at a time, practice the principles which keep me on the upward path, and let my friend decide the right course to take.

If my friend cannot keep up, or goes down a different road, or turns back, I promise you this: I will not step off the path. It is for God to save the lost sheep, not me. I know my limits. I can walk ahead, mark the trail, sing the uplifting songs, and leave bottles of water and granola bars along the path. I will never turn back. Not even for my friend. I shall never go back to that awful place. It has taken me years to get to where I am. No one is worth losing an inch of that ground.

For some reason, I have found enlightening, moving and meaningful posts in the last few days; I can't help but believe that it's God's way of clearing the cobwebs away and getting me ready for the next step, whatever that may be. I write about it here for the usual reasons, including the hope that you who drop by will keep me accountable and pray for me. My friend needs me. I need my friend. Retreat is not an option. Supporting in humility and constant recourse to the twelve steps for myself is the way I want and need to go, for now.

Just for today.

What Sign of Affection are You?

I know someone who can verify this is absolutely true:


hand holding - you like to be in constant physical
contact with your special someone but you don't
want to take things too quickly.


What Sign of Affection Are You?
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OK, the flock got too big

I fed it too many ideas and it needed room to grow, so I've opened another blog, which is linked in the sidebar. If you can stand any more of my nattering, you're invited to check it out. Thanks for your feedback and input. I'm really on a roll!

Well-fed flock - dealing with cravings

For so many of us, cravings gallop all over our internal landscape. They bully us and push us off the trail again and again in our quest for peace with food.

For me, a large part of the process of learning to eat well is learning to manage cravings. For me, there are three parts to my cravings, all of which need attention in order to stay on track:

1.) Physical
2.) Emotional
3.) Natural

Physical

Look at the food you're craving. See if there's a nutritional component which could be something your body desperately needs.

Part of the process towards peace is managing one's blood sugar. That means gradually learning to choose complex instead of simple carbohydrates; becoming a Friend of Fiber; and figuring out what fresh fruits and vegetables are your faves.

Emotional

People either get hungry when they're stressed, or can't eat at all. For those of us who hit the snack drawer, consider alternatives. Add options for yourself like low-fat popcorn, biscotti, or other treats, depending on what you like best to eat at those times.

Natural

Every now and then I want some favorite dish or food which I ordinarily don't have, but which I like a lot. The Cheesecake Factory's fish tacos or salmon salad - not to mention the cheesecake! Or a Real breakfast of eggs and toast and potatoes. I am not bad or weak or a failure because I like those things. It is natural to want something favorite every few months.

Strategies to handle cravings

Make up your mind right now that you will never deny yourself what you crave. Promise yourself this, most solemnly. If you want something badly enough, you will do everything you can to get it for yourself, or the nearest possible thing. Just knowing this will calm a lot of the craving.

There is no emotional freight to a craving. Resist the temptation to add it to your list of things to beat yourself up about. It's not true, so just skip it. It's a craving, not a blot on your character record.

Procrastinate a bit. Sometimes, if you give it an hour, have some water, do something else, you'll forget about it.

If you still want whatever it is, then prepare to eat and enjoy it. Find a pleasant place for your indulgence. Get the food and prepare it. If it's a dessert, eat a healthy meal first, taking your time so that your hunger will be satisfied before you dig in. You deserve to enjoy all of your food.

OK, now comes the big moment you've been waiting for: your treat!! Here's the key to indulgence: "Be in the moment." I don't know about you, but when I get stressed, I get scattered (or vice versa). I eat automatically, just stuffing myself with food, totally unaware of what I'm eating. The solution is:

Stop Everything. Go get the Hershey bar (or whatever it is you want so badly), and go someplace quiet. Now, savor that treat. Unwrap it carefully and look at it. Smell the aroma and imagine how good it will taste. Feel yourself start to salivate in anticipation of the delicious taste. Now, take a bite. Hold it on your tongue and let the flavor overtake your senses. Enjoy the texture of the food, the fragrance or the aroma, and be aware of the relaxation and satisfaction you feel as you consume it. And take your time. Make it last.

You are on a process which is going to last your whole life, and you must learn to manage your cravings for sweets and other foods without the self-denial and mean thoughts which have robbed you of enjoyment and made you feel so terrible about yourself. You deserve that treat, and you deserve to eat it like a human being, from a plate, in a comfortable place, in a situation where you can focus on it and let it fill your senses for a few delicious bites.

I started out applying these techniques to enjoying treat things, then finally figured out that I should approach all my eating this way.

Well, that explains a lot

Dwarvish


To which race of Middle Earth do you belong?
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The well-fed flock

I want to offer my acquaintances (mentioned in the previous post) a place to talk about healthy eating, here at the Pasture.

I am not a doctor, nutritionist, psychologist, psychiatrist, or any other -ist. I am a woman who has battled weight issues all her life, along with emotional stuff, and it's been a long journey out of the cold, foggy woods into the light. I'd like to help my friends learn to trust their judgment so they can each find their own place of rest.

Each one of you knows what's right for your body and your soul. Down deep inside of yourself, you know. People may have told you otherwise; you may have gotten bad information along the way; hurts may have accumulated and hidden that knowledge from you - but it's still there.

Thanksgiving is coming, and, after that, Christmas. Lots of challenges.

Over the next week or so, I'm going to post a few of the techniques that work for me. Nothing new or wonderful or wild. It is SO trite, but doggone it, it's true: you lose weight if you eat less than you expend in energy. You keep the weight off if you adopt a healthy lifestyle which fosters weight control. There. In two sentences.

Hah!! (I hear you say, scoffingly.) (Is that a word?)

Well, okay. It's a bit more complex than that. And the toughest part of it is, I HAVE NO CLUE what will work for you. YOU have all that information. The trick is to find out what it is.

I gotta take the trash out and get to bed, so I'll leave some questions which I'll answer in the next post (and which you are invited to answer, too, in the comments, if you like):

What puts your munch switch on "auto"? Stress? TV? Reading?

With the holidays coming up, what's your gazingus food - the one thing you're looking forward to right now and which you'll attack like a starving leopard the minute you're within arm's length?

More soon...

Food for thought about food

I'm pacing the floor. Well, not really... I'm sitting here, typing. But internally, I'm pacing.

Some acquaintances are trying a program meant to curb the cycle of "addictive" eating, I gather. I don't know anything about it... don't want to, either. It's not that I'm closed-minded; it's because I've had food issues all my life, and have now, FINALLY, gotten to a place where I'm at a normal weight and STAYING there after three (three!) years (YEARS!!). Because I am food sensitive and have emotional issues, I'm very careful about what I read, and I stay away from anything remotely concerned with dieting. I'm all about nutrition, these days.

What got me going is that it appears from the acquaintances' account that the book prescribes a fast to start off the process.

Now, I don't question the good intent or the qualifications of the person who put that program together. I do seriously question that advice for people with food issues.

Fasting is very serious. As the body burns fat, it releases toxins into the bloodstream. Even if one handles sugar properly, the drop in blood sugar puts strain on the body's systems. The body goes into panic mode. This shows up first in the emotions, which become fragile, so the person becomes fractious. Then there's the hunger, as the body frantically tries to get more food.

It is a punishing, horrible experience.

Is that really what we want to do to anyone who has an issue about which they're hurting? Punish them and make them suffer?

Why do we treat ourselves this way??

I want to tell them, "Let's back up and start over."

I am on a program which allows me to eat anything my little heart desires. Anything. Really. However, I can't eat too much of my "anything." I can't eat it all the time. I have to fuel my body carefully, learning what it needs and wants, managing my hunger correctly.

And I have to heal myself, inside, and manage that part of myself, too. Lovingly.

The toughest part about food dependency is the love part. We have such fear of being loved, of loving ourselves, of loving another. We have hurts, and worries, and frets, and chocolate really and truly does make it all go away for a little while. So why forbid the chocolate?

The way to health is rehabilitation, not cruelty.

In rehab, you do not drag the wounded individual out of bed and make them run a mile! The first day, the patient gets to sit up, bolstered by pillows and supportive physical therapists. Then the sufferer lies back down and watches TV. The next try is a sit-up for 15 minutes, and so on.

It is only after many, many weeks that the person is able to take up normal life again. Along the way there are good times and not-so-good. There is progress, and there is backsliding.

Why we think we can rehabilitate our eating in less time mystifies me.

Did you know that it can take years before someone is truly ready to let go and eat right? People kick themselves for "failing" at diets, but the truth is, it is how most people go about it! They try it out, think it over, then revert back for a while. They try again, do a little better, revert back. It can take years. It's not a crime.

Two years into my weight loss, I let myself go a little bit. I'd eat a little extra and get away with it for a day or two. I'd see the pounds creep up, but work would be busy, so I'd give myself another pass, etc.

Then I went to see my doctor for a regular visit. She looked at my chart, and said, "You gained five pounds last year." She looked me straight in the eye. "That's not the trend we want. We want the trend the other way." I don't know why, but it was the right thing to say to me, in the right way. Off came the offending five lbs. and they've stayed off. But it was a little reversion... a stepping back.

Along my journey to health, I had to look inside, at the issues that made me fat. I had to understand why I was afraid of not eating, why I compulsively ate too much, why - many things. With God's help, and the program I elected, I figured it out. I had to make serious changes to my life, and I made them... because I was ready.

I was ready to let go of my notions and prejudices. Ready to take babysteps. Ready to really love my body and love my self. Love. Get love right, and health will follow.

These days, I treat myself with great respect. I get plenty of sleep. I exercise, doing only fun things which I truly enjoy. And I have figured out a Lot of stuff about food, and how I can use it to fuel my body and keep my emotions steady and truly enjoy life.

I've had to adopt a new lifestyle, one which requires that I keep track of everything I eat. I have done it for three years. I will do it every day for the rest of my life. When I see it down on paper, in black and white, I don't lie to myself about how much I've had. I pay attention to the nutrition values of the food I eat, and make sure I'm getting the most bang for the buck when it comes to calories. And I never deny myself anything, because, if I do, I will go off the wagon faster than you can say Boo!.

I want to help my friends, but I realize that we must all find our own path to wholeness and health. Perhaps this program is right for them. I hope they won't think it's their fault if it's not.

But I so want to sit them down, and talk it over with them, and help them find their way to using food wisely and lovingly to nourish themselves and nurture their emotions!

God bless all who struggle with obsession with nourishment tonight.

" I desire mercy, and not sacrifice..."

Some days ago during my Sunday morning Bible study, the readings in my guide included this one:

And as he sat at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Jesus and his disciples. And when the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, "Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?" But when he heard it, he said, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, 'I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.' For I came not to call the righteous, but sinners." (Matthew 9:10-13)

One of the great souls who guides my understanding of God is Oswald Chambers. I've lost track of the number of times the reading for a particular day speaks exactly to what I am wrestling with in other areas of my life.

On November 11, his text was "Take now thy son." Genesis xxii.ii.

...Abraham did not choose the sacrifice. Always guard against self-chosen service for God; self-sacrifice may be a disease. If God has made your cup sweet, drink it with grace; if He has made it bitter, drink it in communion with Him. If the providential order of God for you is a hard time of difficulty, go through with it, but never choose the scene of your martyrdom... (My Utmost for His Highest)

For most of my life, I believed that I should choose always to sacrifice myself to the preferences of others. My mother was a lot like the Anchoress' Paterfamilias, whom she wrote about in this post, and I wasn't as strong as the Anchoress, and I didn't leave. Instead, I married a man whose behavior felt familiar to me. Need I say more?

The result was not good. It took many years of determined recovery to be able to cope at all normally with life, and I shall always have to be alert to my self-annihilating tendencies - which is why those passages struck me and have stayed with me every day since.

Other Christians in the blog world have lately been ruminating on what is appropriate behavior for Christians who have all "the comforts and conveniences of life" (a favorite phrase from a thanksgiving in the Book of Common Prayer) when presented with beggars or the homeless. It is possible to drown in guilt over this, and to want to deny oneself everything in an excess of zeal. There again, we need to let God decide. Unless we are clearly led to sell all we have and give to the poor, we need to remember that, unless we work and think and consume and build and buy, there will be no work for those who clean offices and make paper and put together computers and grow food and fold clothes and frame houses and stand at checkout counters. It is not wrong for us to make use of the good things which God provides, only wrong to hoard and deny others. That said, I'm with Julie D., and carry bottles of water in the car, offering them to those who ask for aid, in addition to my donations to charities. If I give up working and sell all I have, I shall be miserable and it won't do any good; it's not what I'm called to do. I'm called to work hard and give generously and use wisely and be frugal.

I always felt torn between my desire to give them something ("a cup of cold water") and my husband's strong feelings against doing so. Now that I am alone, I can listen to my heart, and remember this, which Julie D. quoted:

There are those who say to the poor that they seem to look to be in such good health: "You are so lazy! You could work. You are young. You have strong arms."

You don't know that it is God's pleasure for this poor person to go to you and ask for a handout. You show yourself as speaking against the will of God.

There are some who say: "Oh, how badly he uses it!" May he do whatever he wants with it! The poor will be judged on the use they have made of their alms, and you will be judged on the very alms that you could have given but haven't. -- St. John Vianney

Exactly so.We need to take care of ourselves - even to the point of caring for our consciences by doing right when we feel the leading to do so. I am to have mercy on myself, and not decide on my own what to sacrifice. I need to take good care of myself, and others, as God leads and allows.

Who am I, again?

Jules posted this over at Faith or Fiction, and I'm still trying to understand it, which tells me she's done it again, and forged ahead into someplace I haven't been willing to go yet. She's beckoning me to follow her, but I'm not sure where she's going.

As someone who's "been there/done that" let me just say this to all of you who struggle and fight to hide pieces of yourself away because of the dirtiness and sin that comes to all of us throughout our lives:

What is done to you by others - and what it then causes you to do (either to yourself or to others) - is not who you are.

IT. IS. NOT. WHO. YOU. ARE.

That reminds me of something I read once... where is it? Oh, yes: ...if any one is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has passed away, behold, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Not if, or but, or perhaps, or maybe, or if you're real good and eat all your vegetables; just a simple, flat statement. And what is being in Christ?

All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. ... We beseech you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2 Corinthians 5:18-19, 21)

It is not who I am because Christ made Himself that way in my stead. He let others do to Him what they wanted to do to me. He alone could withstand it, and rise again. I can be myself only when I am completely immersed in, entangled with, and given over entirely to Him.

Oh, yeah, I remember ...

That is how we help each other sometimes, I think. It's not so much that we're telling anyone something new. It's that we're reminding our friends of what satan would have us forget - the beautiful truths we knew all along.

Thank you, Jules!

Pride

Pride is a denial of God, an invention of the devil, contempt for men. It is the mother of condemnation, the offspring of praise, a sign of barrenness. It is a flight from God's help, the harbinger of madness, the author of downfall. It is the cause of diabolical possession, the source of anger, the gateway of hypocrisy. It is the fortress of demons, the custodian of sins, the source of hardheartedness. It is the denial of compassion, a bitter pharisee, a cruel judge. It is the foe of God. It is the root of blasphemy.

John Climacus (7th century monk)
quoted in The Cloister Walk

(found at Happy Catholic)

"It is a flight from God's help, the harbinger of madness, the author of downfall." Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.

During my marriage, I was trying to live out a way of life which refused anything like help or aid or assistance. My mother considered it to be weakness to ask for help with anything, and she would do so only when there was no alternative. I hope for your sake you cannot adequately imagine what that meant in terms of living conditions, emotional and physical health, and so on.

It took a long time before I realized that people are out there who are willing and able to help, and that they would not look down on me for needing that help.

I ask for help and advice a lot, these days. With each admission of impotence or confusion, I feel the bite of humility as it sands down the hard walls of my soul.

"It is the denial of compassion, a bitter pharisee, a cruel judge." How often I denied myself compassion and judged myself cruelly in terms I would never use to another - to the point where I was incapable of saying what needed to be said! I endured terrible situations while stringently lecturing, berating and chastising myself for every real or imagined transgression of "the way things ought to be."

I am better now. Unfortunately, the pendulum has swung a bit too far the other way, and I am conscious of the need to find center, so that I don't repeat the horrors of my mother's house. However, even in my clutter, I am different from her. My kitchen and bathrooms are spotless. I feed myself well, and see the doctor regularly. I exercise and sleep and do lots of things which normal, healthy people do. And I am conscious of having limitations of time, energy, and smarts in some areas of life, but I no longer think I need to excel in every single thing I do. When I run up against a problem or can't figure something out, I do something which is beginning to feel more normal and natural every time I try it: I ask for help.

God is good. And patient!

God laughing

... well, maybe just a chuckle.

My work has taken an unexpected turn. I could, possibly, maybe, have a wonderful assignment, completely absorbing and even, dare I say it? fun.

Just God tellin' me to quit looking over the fence and keep working on the patch of garden right beneath my feet ... for today, anyway.

Another look at the future

I really, truly, do not know what to expect.

Over the last several weeks, it has become apparent that I am to let go, and let God. The more that I do this, the more easily things are flowing.

The life I might lead someday is unlike anything I've ever led before. I just spent some disheartening time combing through employment postings in another time zone, looking at alternatives, not wanting any of them. Actually feeling a sense like, "This is not what I'm supposed to do."

If events unfold in this unimaginable direction, I shall be busy and occupied with a full day's work, but I must let go of the feeling that I must earn a salary. When I listen in prayer, it is just as clear that I must not work in that eventuality, as it is that I must (and want to) if my life continues on its current course.

Moments later, I found my way to this post on Erica's blog:

I will pursue and produce but I will not do it in the frame of mind I have had until now, aka Must Self-Actualize or DIE!!! I am already living the Truth of my Heart. Nothing is ever going to be more dear to me than the ones who occupy my heart already, so why not acknowledge that the rest will be details and icing, stuff to hope for, but not make-it-or-break-my-neck stuff.

I had bought into the idea that because I can, as a young woman, supposedly have it all, that I must do so. And now. For the last few weeks my mind has been full of the things I have not accomplished; the possibilities of the future have become burdens. And spending all day feeling that weight is a real drain on the precious resources of today...

I am no longer a young woman, but, believe me, that feeling of pressure to "have it all" and "self-actualize" does not go away!

This has a kind of FlyLady feel to it: something I'm trying to organize which would be better off released from my life; something which doesn't make me smile. What makes me smile is weaving a world of comfort for someone I love, making sure that the trains run on time in the household, making it look easy and never letting that work impinge on the all-too-short moments we have together; teaching grandchildren to read and bake and think and sing and maybe even pray; knowing myself to be in the right place for me at last, as a woman, a Christian, and a friend.

I don't know if it can happen. I don't know if it will. But I feel more ready now than at any time in my life... and maybe that was part of the Plan.

It is no coincidence, I'm sure, that my current paid employment has just hit a mighty convenient lull this week, just as this mysterious process began to sort itself out in earnest. If there were to be a transition - and I'm not saying there will be, just if - it would be so much easier now than, perhaps, later.

I don't know what my future holds; but I know Who holds my future.