Today I sat with struggling

I turned the alarm off, sat up in my bed, adjusted my pillow into a cushion, closed my eyes and took a conscious breath.  Before that breath was completed a thought popped up.

It's not a new thought, and it's one I've struggled with since I was a teenager. It caught me by surprise because it's 6:00 o'clock in the morning and I had just opened my eyes.

I took another breath and noticed my chest felt heavy and my head was hanging a little.  I felt myself breathe into my chest in an attempt to lighten the feeling and I pulled my head up slightly.

Then I quit adjusting and settled in.

"So this is what I'm sitting with today," were the words I heard (almost audibly) in my head.

I tried to breathe and make peace with the struggle.  Just to let it be and see what it felt like to just sit with my questions.

The struggle, it's all about God.

I took a breath and heard remnants of the conversation I had with my mom the night before on the phone. My uncle has a brain tumor and cancer. He's been sick for over a year.  The other day brain surgery was scheduled.  Then it was cancelled, too much risk.  Then it was rescheduled and yesterday it was done.  He had come through well, no loss of speech or sight.

"There were so many people praying," my mom had said.

As soon as she said those words I heard the question in the back of my mind, "Is there a certain number it takes to bend God's ear in order for God to answer?"

This is the type of question that has haunted me for years.  I tried to let the thought pass and focus on the good news my mom was sharing.  I guess it didn't go away completely and this morning I got to sit with it.

I breathed and noticed I felt irritated.  I felt tension in my forehead.  I'm tired of this struggle.  I've made my peace with it.  I'm comfortable with my answers. But here it was.

It's roots go back to my raising.

I was raised believing in an all knowing, all powerful, all loving God.  Sounds good, right?  Not so much, at least not for me.  Those three things together created way too many questions in my mind.  And in the church in which I was raised, questions were not always welcome.  Faith.  Faith was extremely welcome. Questions, not so much.

These three things together: the love, the power, and the knowledge, caused me a great deal of difficulty.

By the time I was in high school I had discovered that not everyone of my friend's lives were as perfect as mine.  My life was a picture taken right on the very streets of Mayberry.  It could not have been more perfect.  However I had friends who were not so lucky.

I prayed for these friends.  I prayed "fervently" and "without ceasing."  And more times than not I didn't see a good answer from God.  I often thought that if I had been all loving, all powerful, and all knowing I would have done things quite a bit differently (another thought that didn't sit well in my church).  I would certainly have used that power to remedy some of the troubles I saw. And telling people that you thought God should be doing a better job, well that just wasn't done.

The answers I was given fell flat.  "God was teaching them a lesson."  "God allowed this to make them stronger." "Have faith and trust God's providence."

Platitudes.

And as I got older it didn't get any easier.  As my world expanded past the walls of my small high school and I began to pay attention to the problems in the bigger world it just got worse.

God made less sense and I grew more angry and extremely sad with the overall state of the planet.  There was much too much suffering and pain and trouble and heartache.  And being told to just trust God, it just didn't cut it.

We weren't supposed to just trust God.  There was a call to action.  There was the "Great Commission."

Go, preach, baptize, save. It was at the very core of our faith.

But for me it fell short.  Saving someone from Hell and getting them into Heaven when they died was wonderful.  But so many people were living in Hell right now.

The questions didn't linger quietly.  They screamed at me almost constantly.  I'd hear someone say they prayed for safety and avoided a car accident. "Praise God," they'ed comment.  I'd immediately think about everyone who prayed and hadn't avoided an accident.  What about all the people who weren't healed or helped or protected or provided for? Did it have to be prayed at the right time, by the right number or people, saying it the right number of times? Did they have to have enough faith? What was the perfect formula?  Was there a perfect formula?

I was angry at a God who would pick and choose.  A few get answers.  The rest get screwed.

"No is also an answer."

"Trust God. It's all part of a greater plan."

This was infuriating and felt heartless.

So back to my quiet time.

I paid attention to the irritation and I breathed.  I noticed the familiar wrinkle in my brow. I took another breath. I felt frustration rumbling in my chest. but I tried not to push it away.

I sat and listened.  I noticed my breath.

Then, once again, I remembered my mom saying, "There were so many people praying." And this time I did't notice anger. I noticed love. I thought about the love all of those people were sharing with my uncle and his family. I was grateful for love.

I thought back to more than ten years ago when a dear friend of mine lost two small children to two different horrific accidents.  I told her I didn't have an answer about where God was when her children died. I didn't know why God didn't protect them. But I knew I was willing to sit with her and cry with her. I loved her and lots of other people did too.  God?  I didn't know.  Love.  Love was there.

And this morning, after fighting with my decades old struggle, that's where I found my thoughts settling.

Love.

I took another breath and felt love soften the anger in my heart. I took a conscious breath. I sat breathing in and out.

"Love lifted me."

As I typed those words, I suddenly noticed tears streaming down my face.

It's an old hymn I grew up singing.  I know all the words by heart.

The chorus:

Love lifted me.
Love lifted me.
When nothing else could help,
Love lifted me.

I will sit with this love.

I will always have more questions than I have answers.

But more importantly than that, I have love.  I love.  I am loved.

"Love lifted me."





 

Today I sat with my old blue van.

I took my usual seat for my quiet time this morning.  Settled in and begin to focus on my breath and pay attention.  I felt the tension in my shoulders.  I noticed the tightness in my jaw.  I heard the voice of my mindfulness teacher saying at I needed to just notice things and not try to change anything.  Simply notice and sit with what comes up.

So I tried to just breathe and I noticed my irritation at all the aches and tension. I felt the frustration manifest in my temples and the center of my chest.  I took another deep breath and felt the frustration and tension again. And then I took another breath and tried to "firmly but gently" redirect my thoughts back to my breath.

Easier said than done.

I have a lot going on right now.  I'm gearing up for my move to Texas in June.  I'm dealing with the emotions of knowing my two big kids are choosing to stay here in Philly.  My son will be a senior this fall and wants to finish at the school he started at this year.  And my middle daughter will be starting high school and says she doesn't want to move away from her friends. I understand their choices, but it doesn't make it any easier.

I've started packing and yesterday finally booked the moving company, which helps a little.

The next item on my to-do list is to sell my old blue van.

And this task is what haunted my quiet time this morning.

I would breathe and focus on that breath and then immediately feel the weight of my van come crashing down on my chest.

I hate the idea of trying to sell an 11 year old vehicle!

She's been a good car.  I've had her since 2007.  I got her in California.  She's been up and down the Pacific Coast Highway, to Texas, to Kansas, to Philly, back Texas a few more times, to D.C., to Michigan twice, and upstate New York multiple times.

She has complained very little with all this travel and all in all been a wonderfully dependable car.  However she does show signs of her age.  Some of her passenger side sliding door is a slightly different color thanks to a crappy repair job from a dent she received in a parking lot years ago.  And her passenger side mirror looks wonderfully sexy being held together with electric tape.  Her sliding door power locks have lost their power, and her clicker quit clicking.  And to top it all off, her rear bumper is dented and peeling.  She is sturdy and dependable, but not the sexiest vehicle around.  And being sky blue doesn't seem to help either.

As I wrote that last paragraph I felt a smile pop up on my face.  I chuckled because I suddenly saw a wonderful resemblance between her and me!  I'm also not as young as I used to be and the last few years have certainly left a few dents and scratches that I'm struggling to deal with.  I just read back through that last paragraph and the "sturdy and dependable" sentence literally made me laugh out loud!

So I sat with my van and now I'm writing about her and I feel lighter.

I need to find her a good home and I'm still a little stressed about that, but I feel better.

My meditation was challenging because my mind was heavy, but I sat with it.

Today I sat with my old blue van.  She made me smile.  Hopefully soon she'll put a smile on someone else's face too.

A pain in my . . .

This evening I went to a mindfulness class at my church.  I was not in the best of moods due to being on the phone with multiple moving companies today getting quotes.

(I really do not enjoy this part of the moving process at all.  After several lengthy phone calls and being told by each sales person how the other sales people at the other companies were all just trying to rip me off, but they were legit, I felt like everything was too expensive and everyone was out to pull the wool over my eyes. I was irritated and exhausted.)

I had missed multiple classes in the last couple of months due to scheduling conflicts and was determined to go tonight. However, I have to admit, I had to drag myself there.

I kept waiting for the tiredness and irritation to pass and for me to feel pleased that I had come, but that didn't happen.  I was tired and uncomfortable throughout the entire class.  But since it was a mindfulness class I did my best to just sit with the tired and uncomfortable aches and pains, and frustrations.  The teacher actually opened the class up saying something along the lines of, "If you notice discomfort try to really pay attention to it.  Don't try to change it.  Just notice it and be with it."

I was,  just being. I didn't have the energy to do much else. I gave in and instead of fighting to get myself in a better mood, I just let the irritation be.  I took my deep breaths and just sat there with the tiredness and discomfort.  I just kept listening to the teacher and returning to my breath.

The silent meditation was more of the same, still aching and irritated and I'm pretty sure I drifted in and out of a light sleep a few times. Oops :)

During the discussion time my neck and jaw were hurting and I was having a difficult time finding a comfortable way to sit.  I focused on really trying to listen to what the others were saying and just let my neck be my neck.

After the final closing prayer I was sitting on the floor chatting with a friend as we rolled up our yoga mats. I felt a sudden pain on the side of my right knee and remarked that it felt like I had just been stung.  I pulled up the leg of my pants to see a red welt.  My friend commented that it was most likely from the wasp that was now crawling on my sleeve.

My friend rescued the wasp from me.  I was temped to squish it, but I held back, ya know, cause I just finished a mindfulness class.  She quickly removed the bug and let it go outside.  I walked to my car, my skin crawling, hoping there were no more bugs.

Definitely not the best ending to a mindfulness class!

Then it happened.  Before I was even out of the parking lot I noticed that I felt better (stinging pain, aches and discomfort, and all).  The thoughts I noticed floating through my head went something like this, "It's just money.  Stop stressing about paying for the move. Stop worrying about being 'taken.'  You can save up again once you are settled in TX.  Stop stressing and just see it as an investment in your future.  It's gonna be alright."

I felt a smile show up on my face.  I was surprised.  I was happy to notice the surprise.

I drove home paying attention.  A pain in my neck.  A pain in my knee.  A smile on my face.

It's gonna be alright.

Enough

Four years ago this month and four months before our 20th anniversary, my then husband took me out to dinner to tell me he wanted a divorce (just fyi a public place is not the best venue choice for this sort of conversation). :)

I spent the next two years trying to prove to him that we could make our marriage work.

Two years ago this month, he moved out and the official divorce process began.

Today, four years past the initial conversation that turned my world upside down, I continue to find myself working through my feelings regarding this whole mess.  This is what came up for me during my quiet time today.

If you've read my blog, you are familiar with my usual quiet time routine.  This morning was no different. I settled in and focused on my breath. The first thoughts that came to mind were about last night's dinner.  I cooked a roast, mashed potatoes, corn, broccoli, and my grandmother's homemade noodles.  My youngest and I ate at the table.  My oldest ate watching a show in the tv room.  My middle was at her dad's.

The meal was delicious, but there were a lot of leftovers.  I noticed that I felt a little silly that I'm still struggling with how to cook for a smaller family.  I think this is one of the things that triggered some of my emotions. Two of my former family of five had not been there.

And if I'm being honest, I also felt a bit under-appreciated.  I wanted to feel like someone really cared that I had prepared the meal.  I'm sure my son was pleased to have been fed and enjoyed his meal.  My youngest had hummed happily and she pretended to be a bird slurping up "worm" noodles, but this morning I noticed that I still felt a little empty.

As I sat and tried to return my attention to my breath I felt foolish to even be having this thought.  There are such greater problems in the world that people struggle with every day.  My desire to feel appreciated seems a mighty small trouble.  I felt embarrassment and heartbreak at the same time.

I sat there almost scolding myself.  Literally the words in my head were, "Really Deborah?  This is what comes up when you sit."

And yet, this is what was coming up.

I tried to focus on my breath and sit with this feeling.  What was it exactly?  Where did I feel it in my physical body?  What did I notice is my most current field of awareness?

I noticed the tension in my jaw, the tightness in the muscles in my neck that stretched down into my upper back.  I stretched my neck from shoulder to shoulder and then lowered my chin toward my chest in an attempt to relieve some of the strain on the muscles.

Then I took another breath, and through the gut wrenching feeling of embarrassment I looked at my desire to feel appreciated.  And then I heard the voices of both Rev. Lee and Rev. Ken simultaneously, "You are enough.  There is a LOVE so great that you don't have to do anything great to be loved."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, so I took another deep breath.  And then I felt the heat of anger flood through my body as I closed my eyes tightly to push away the tears.  I felt angry and frustrated that I was not "enough" for my husband to choose to stay in our marriage.  I know that this is not the sole reason my marriage ended, but it was the one that was rearing it's ugly head today.

Somehow if I had done more, been more, been enough.

Things might have been different.  My life would not have been so broken.  My three children would not be struggling to deal with all of their emotions regarding the divorce.

I was not enough.  I couldn't save my marriage.  I couldn't shield my kids from all of this pain.

I tried to breath again.  I noticed tears streaming down my face.  I felt my forehead wrinkle.  I continued to notice the embarrassment and the anger all swirled together resulting in a churning stomach.

I took a deep breath and said quietly to myself, "I want to feel appreciated."

I hate that I continue to struggle with my ex-husband's decision to end our marriage because it makes me feel unappreciated.  It's true and embarrassing to admit all at the same time.

I took another deep breath and tried to really feel all that was crashing around in my brain and my belly.

I took another breath and replayed the words in my head again, "You are enough. There is a LOVE so great that you don't have to do anything great to be loved."  I felt a painful catch in my chest as I repeated the words to myself again.

The bell rang.  I took another deep breath.  I felt tired.

Today I sat with tension

I have to admit that I have not been as consistent with my daily quiet time the last couple of weeks.  I was sitting every day for a while there and I was thoroughly enjoying it.  Which is why I was quite surprised to see just how easy it was to fall off the wagon.  A snooze button here.  A late night there.  And off I went.

In spite of the lack of sitting time during the last two weeks, I did notice myself being mindful of one thing.  I became much more aware of the extreme amount of tension I carry in my shoulders that has radiated up into my neck, jaw and forehead.  I was also keenly aware of the aches I feel from head to toe.

My self-care hasn't been what it should be lately.  It's a vicious cycle.  It starts with me skipping a quiet time one day and then a healthy meal the next.  I get rushed, or irritated, or anxious, or annoyed, or all of the above.  I find myself drawn to junk food because I no longer have the energy to care.  And this leads me back to increased irritation, anxiousness, etc.

So today, when the alarm went off at 6:00 a.m. I woke my daughter for school and then I sat.

I took my usual seat for my quiet time and mindfully began to focus on my breath.  I noticed the birds chirping outside and the calming hum of the fan I use for white noise.  I took a few more breaths and attempted to settle in. 

The tension in my jaw was impossible to ignore. I stretched my neck and wiggled my jaw back and forth noticing it pop in both directions.  I took another deep breath and disconnected my shoulders from my ears.  I noticed my frustration at the tension and then my frustration at myself for neglecting myself.  I took another breath and remembered the words of Rev. Ken from his sermon on Sunday, "Speak to yourself like you would speak to a friend."

So I took another deep breath and instead of scolding me for the neglect, I congratulated me for taking time to sit today.  I returned my focus to my breath and tried to gently let go of all of the frustration I felt for me.

I spent the remainder of my quiet time returning to my breath and letting go.  Slowly but surely I noticed comfort instead of frustration.  My chest felt lighter.  My breath easier. My jaw a tiny bit more loose.  I took another breath and noticed a small smile. 

When my quiet time was done, I hopped up to get breakfast ready for my daughter, and I felt lighter.  The tension is still there, but it's not screaming at me quite so loudly.

I noticed that the silence of my sitting is loud enough to drown out the screaming of the tension.