Hey Julian!

All shall be well
and all shall be well
and all manner of things shall be well.

-Julian of Norwich

Hildegard of Bingen

Teresa of Avila

John of the Cross

Tired of Being Sick! Seeking Help From Above!

I can't seem to get rid of my cold. Maybe it is stress related. But I think it is helping me let go of things that need to be let go. Work, family, and life in general pull me in different directions. Sometimes I don't even realize the anger I have until I'm too sick to keep up the facade. Then I am forced to see the emotions and deal with them. It is hard to let go. It is hard to let things be-to give them to God and to listen to Him. We talk all the time to God, "help me with this", "care for my family". And I know God is happy to hear, to listen, and to respond to us. But we can also be open with Him, let go, and listen to Him.

Some days you just have to ask yourself, "What is going on with my life"? I've been accused of analyzing things too much, and I cannot really disagree with that. So how can one discern a serious life altering examination of their life and a pointless, obsesive compulsive act of circular reasoning? I'm not sure, but the events of the last month force me to look at life and death.

So many people throughtout the ages have searched and struggled with spiritually and basic life questions. Three people I want to learn from are Hildegard of Bingan, Teresa of Avila, and John of the Cross. The texts I've found are products of their time and honestly are difficult to wade thought. Some of their questions and dilemas seem archaic to people of the 21 century, but if you search and sift you can find some jewels of wisdom and comfort.

Hildegard of Bingen
“The mystery of God hugs you in its all-encompassing arms."

John of the Cross
from Dark Night of the Soul
" . . .allow the soul to remain in peace and quietness, although it may seem clear to them that they are doing nothing and are wasting their time, and although it may appear to them that it is because of their weakness that they have no desire in that state to think of anything. The truth is that they will be doing quite sufficient if they have patience and persevere in prayer without making any effort.[Lit., ‘without doing anything themselves.’] What they must do is merely to leave the soul free and disenchantment and at rest from all knowledge and thought, troubling not themselves, in that state, about what they shall think or meditate upon, but contenting themselves with merely a peaceful and loving attentiveness toward God, and in being without anxiety, without the ability and without desired to have experience of Him or to perceive Him. For all these yearnings disquiet and distract the soul from the peaceful quiet and sweet ease of contemplation which is here granted to it."

Teresa of Avila
from Interior Castle
"I began to think of the soul as a castle. . . and see how we can enter it. I seem rather to be talking nonsense, for, if this castle is the soul, there can clearly be no question of our entering it. For we ourselves are the castle: and it would be absurd to tell someone to enter a room when he was in it already! But you must understand that there are many ways of "being" in a place. Many souls remain in the outer court of the castle, which is the place occupied by the guards; they are not interested in entering it, and have no idea what there is in that wonderful place, or who dwells in it, or even how many rooms it has. You will have read certain books on prayer which advise the soul to enter within itself: and that is exactly what this means.

A short time ago I was told by a very learned man that souls without prayer are like people whose bodies or limbs are paralysed: they possess feet and hands but they cannot control them."

At the end of the day, all logic has some faults. We've got to make the best choices we can, take responsibility for our failure, and not give up. Pray, listen, and love. I'm trying.

Words Are Not Enough

What can you say when someone dies? Why do we (or me) even feel the need to say anything. All in all I was having a weekend full of learning experiences when I got a call.

My cousin and I were born 6 months apart. I'm six months older. I'm female-He's male. When were little we played lots at my Grandmother's house. There's a snapshot of us sitting on the kitchen floor playing. We're around two or three years old. I'm showing my unrestrained loving nature by giving him a kiss on the cheek.

As we got older, we grew apart. We were raised by very different parents (although our mothers are sisters). Of course we were a little competitive. Especially in elementary school. His parents were divorced, his father pressured him to excel in academics. After 3rd grade I always told my mom I didn't have any homework to get her off my back.

When it came time for college his grades dropped and he lost his scholarship. His dad wouldn't help him pay for school and he dropped out and got a series of uninspiring jobs. My dad was determined I would have what he did not, an education. He basically paid for my college and helped me with the loan process. I got a BA and a decent job. I got married and kept going to school.

A few things my cousin and I have in common are a love of history, the UK (so his mom said), a dislike of the current administration, and depression. In our family depression is a genetic trait. It's may be the only think all of us on my mom's side of the family has in common. Lucky us!

So, as you could guess, my cousin is dead. The darkness became too much and his hope was gone. Now all us crazy depressed kin will gather together. I wish there was some way to not face them again. It's too much-and what can I do or say-nothing! Nothing can fix this or make it better.

But I will go-it would be pure selfishness if I did not. I'll get through and so will everyone else.

I've tried my usual music therapy. It ended up bringing tears, but at this point I suppose almost anything will. I've e-mailed my buddies in the Cusillo movement. Prayers are going up. Words may not be enough, but they can help ease the pain.

Weekend Already?

Time flies when your not at work! I spent alot of my time this week going up to visit Rob. I spent Wednesday night in the hospital with him so Ginger could go home and get some rest. Neither one of us got very much sleep. He was racked with coughs most of the night. Every two hours a nurse would come in to change an IV or take blood.

His brother came to stay with him around 10:30 am and I went home. I couldn't go to sleep so I cleaned up the house. That night I started feeling strange and decided a trip to the doctor was in order. I made it thought the morning at work and took off Friday afternoon to go to the doctor and take it easy.

So now I'm full of prescription drugs that make me feel unnatural and slightly crappy. The weekend is here, but I can't enjoy it to the fullest because I need to rest up for next week.

It's hard to believe next weekend is Christmas! I think it's a mixed blessing, my relationship with my family. It makes me dread holidays in general. Christmas is a time where Christians are urged to "Remember the Reason for the Season". Having the family situation makes that easy for me. Jesus is the only good thing about Christmas. Kinda ironic huh? Well it is to me!

Monday Evening

I got a call from my sister this afternoon. She was very upset about Rob. He was stuck in the ER for 20 hours before they found him a hospital room. She had just gotten off work a few hours before and wanted to see him (she had worked the night shift and was in no condition to drive). I talked to my supervisor and got the rest of the afternoon off. I picked her up at her house and we went to the hospital.

Rob's condition had really declined. After telling us a couple of weeks ago that there was nothing that they could do for Rob the doctors suggested a high dose, one time, chemotherapy treatment. Today is day eleven (eleven days after that treatment). A doctor told us tonight that day fourteen is the worse, after that things should get better (at least temporally).

Monday Morning Coming Down

We had a lovely weekend, the best part was going back to St. Jimmy's, my former church which I rejoined recently. It was so nice to feel welcomed back. There was a feeling, a spirit in the air of peace. After we left I felt joyful, refreshed, and HOPEFUL!!! Just what one should feel after leaving a church service (I think).

My Mom called last night. Rob had to go back to the hospital. He is having chest pains. Keep him in your prayers or if prayer isn't your thing send him your positive thoughts or energy.

I'm back at work now checking out jobs and moving, but I don't have the nervousness or the restless frustration. Of course work is work and I know all things must come to an end, but when today ends and my soul is weary I can remember yesterday and know that I am going to make it. Love, faith, and music do work!

Fog lifting

Today is better than yesterday. I still feel the remains of depression, but I am able to keep it at bay most of the time.

The day started out with a co-worker, Jeanie not speaking to me. I guessed either she was upset with me or she stressed out with taking care of her kids while her husband is in Iraq. I tried not to let it bother me. If Mr. Darcy was anywhere but with me I would be upset. If there was a daily chance of him dying-well what a state I would be in. Unbelievably, enough the big boss and co-big boss improved my mood. The big boss told me what a great job I was doing and how he appreciated everything I did. I was surprised to say the least. So I'm torn between loyalty to co-workers who act like they hate my guts and a person who at times can be maddening yet praises me.

What a quandary! Luckily, I don't have to think about them for the next two days. The weekend is here and I plan on enjoying it. Yet with my life filled with a crap job, there is an insane amount of pressure to have fun.

Well, it's time to go home (yes, I'm blogging at work, anything to make the day go by faster). Here's wishing for a great weekend! Hope you all have one too!

New Week New Ideas

I've exhausted myself trying to be interested in my life. I guess one could say that I'm in a funk. It is very frustrating feeling like one has no control over their own life.

Why do we grow up thinking life is easy? People tell us how hard and bad life is, but we try not to listen. We keep thinking, if I wait a little longer things will be different. It's like when your stuck in high school you think, "things will be different when I grow up." And they are a bit, but there is still that vulnerability and helplessness that seems to permeate this experience of life. I try to fall back on the thought that God is in charge and not to let things get me down. I've been doing this on and off for a year or so. I suppose I think if I do this I will get my way and things will be lovely. Obviously, this is not how it works. It's my life and I've got to take charge. Not just knowing that I'm sick of it being how it is, but doing something constructive to change it.

It's so scary taking those first steps. I have a very bad habit of not following though. I will take a step towards change and then stop. Or I allow other things to distract me and worry over them to distract myself from the big problem. Of course I don't realize all this until after the fact. Hindsight is 20/20 right? It just seems like everyone else's life and problems are so much easier to solve than my own. That is total nonsense, obviously.

So here I am stuck in a mood or season of life that is uncomfortable. I've got to believe it will be better soon. Music and prayer will help get me through!

Reflections Part II

I never knew much about Rob’s life until the night before Zoe’s funeral. I stayed with him, so he would not be alone. Usually he spoke very little and smiled kindly. That night and morning he talked more than I had ever heard him talk. He told me about his life and how she had made his life so much better. He didn’t know what he would do without her. He was still quite and calm, but his tears fell as he spoke. I know some guys have a thing about crying. But even they would have been proud. No sobbing or blaming or screaming-he just shared his pain and grief with me thought those quite words and tears.

That day I realized that he was more that a Grandfather (not even a biological Grandfather some might point out). He was not the simple, uncomplicated person I thought. Rob was a person before I was born with hopes and dreams and fears. Now his life was turned upside down once again. Now that he was older he knew that life would go on. He had a strong belief that somehow God would get him though. For the next year he would struggle with despair.

I would have lunch with him every Wednesday. We didn’t talk too much, just watched TV and ate, but it was a relaxing and compatible silence. Sometimes I would turn to ask him something and would quickly turn away because I saw his tears.

One Wednesday he told me he had a date. I was very surprised! He said a mutual friend wanted him to meet a lady whose husband had died the previous year. I was glad that he was getting out of the house to have fun. The next Wednesday and for many Wednesdays after that, we would talk about his new friend Ginger. One Wednesday he told me they were getting married. I was very happy, and so was he. She was a cheerful and active woman. They were so happy together.

Some of my family was unhappy at this turn of events. They thought this marriage was somehow disrespectful of Zoe’s memory. Rob and I felt differently. She would want him to be happy. Rob and Ginger were married less than a year together before he was diagnosed with lymphoma. It is obvious that they care for each other a great deal.

When I went home today for lunch I called my Dad for the latest news. It seems that the doctors now say there are no options. Radiation or chemotherapy will not help. Steroids will help him breath easier, but it’s just a matter of time. Six months at the most.

I know it’s illogical in a way to condense someone’s life to the written word. I know Rob and his story is more complex than I can ever know or understand. He still regrets the loss of both his sons, one by death the other by estrangement. I always want to fix things for people, but there is nothing I can do except write down how I feel.

Maybe someday my story will be important to someone like Rob’s is to me. Life is beautiful and complicated. We all have pain in our lives, no matter who or what is to blame. Sometimes I see a circle, things, choices being repeated, most of the times I do not. As a human I want to find order and sense in life even to compartmentalize and organize it in order to for it to made sense. But love and faith are ultimately the only answers I see. I know even in the darkness that they are enough. They may not feel sufficient, but I know they can get me though-like they have before.

Reflections On A Life

Last night I found out that my Grandfather has inoperable lung cancer. Today a doctor plans to come by and talk to him about his options: chemotherapy or radiation. He has had a round of each within the last year. His hair has just grown back.

I don't know all the details of his life, but here is what I know. Rob was the oldest son in a poor rural family. He had to drop out of school and go to work at young age. Then he was drafted into the Air Force when the Korean War started. His plane was shot down. He was captured and was a prisoner of war. Rob was tortured. Medical experiments were performed on him and he became blind. In the midst of his fear and despair a Korean doctor cared for him and helped Rob regain his health. Soon afterwards he and another soldier escaped. After numerous operations Rob regained his sight.

Back in states he married and had a son. I don't know what happened, but the wife left and took their son. He tried to see him, but again I don't know the details. For the second time in his life he was filled with despair. He kept on working and living life from day to day. Something was missing. He didn't have a family and was alone. One night a friend convinced Rob to attend a dance. It had been a long time since he had been out and did anything social. He felt a little like the hopeful and young Rob. Another friend introduced him to Zoe. She was delicate and beautiful. They danced and talked and decided to have a cup of coffee afterwards.

Over coffee Rob discovered Zoe had hidden pain too. She had lost her job and her ex-husband had taken her two girls away from her. Zoe had recently found a new job and was saving up so she could get custody of her children again. Rob shared his story of losing his family. They keep talking and by the end of the night they knew they belonged together.

Rob and Zoe married. Rob worked overtime and helped Zoe get custody of her girls. The girls loved him at once. He never raised his voice like their Dad. A few years passed and Rob and Zoe had a son. More years passed, the girls left and had families of their own. Grandkids visited, were loved and spoiled.

Of course bad things happen to them. Their son died when he was 27. Zoe was never quite the same after that. Her health got worse and worse over the next 12 years. She had a heart attack and was on a respirator for 3 months. One of the most moving things I ever saw was Rob gently stroking Zoe's face in the hospital. She was unconscious, but before he stepped out of the room he told her, "I'll be right back" and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She died two weeks later with Rob, her daughters, and a granddaughter with her.

More in a bit...