It's Okay

For as long as I can remember, I've been terrified of making mistakes so to rectify the wrong thought patterns I've had towards them, I recently embarked on a journey of embracing them.  Ordinarily this would be healthy and beneficial, but what I've found myself doing goes beyond hugging my errors close and looking for growth opportunities within them; it seems I've been purposing to make them.  I didn't just decide that I would learn from them if I unknowingly made them; I deliberately and voluntarily put myself in situations where it was inevitable that I would make them.  The results? Sleepless nights and irritable bowel syndrome. Don't try this at home.

www.notable-quotes.com

I'm still working to find my elusive balance and I hope I connect with it soon because the stakes have gotten too high and the internal conflicts are nearly overpowering.  In the last few days especially, it has taken all of my energy just to maintain steady breathing.  In the wake of my latest and greatest misstep yet, I'm discovering the underlying reasons for my recent risky behavior.  It's not that I really want to do the wrong thing...I've simply been testing my Father to find out how He will respond.  Will He yell at me? Beat me down with His wrath? Call me names and send me packing down a path of guilt and shame? Even knowing the Bible as well as I do and after walking with Him for the last eight years, I honestly didn't know.  All of us develop an image or idea of God that is based on something or someone else in our life and until we get to know God for who He actually is, we perceive Him symbolically through the being of another.  Most of us formulate this symbol during childhood, but for others it comes later.  Whenever it arrives, the time will invariably follow when it must be dismantled and reconstructed based on the reality of His true nature.  Here's what I've learned so far:

1. He is not mad at me when I mess up

2. I'm going to make mistakes with or without trying to make them. No need for added effort.

3. When I do make a mistake, He responds with it's okay.  I love you and you are mine.  Call out to me and I will help you work through this. 

4. His response feels so odd. But I like it.  

5. It really is going to be okay. 

Next step...

Video Credit

A Confession

I have a confession.  A deep secret boils in the caliginous recesses of my mind, and it lures me and torments me simultaneously.  I long to hold it close for the gratification of my flesh, but I'm even more compelled to let it go in order to protect my spirit.  Never before have I physically felt the war between good and evil raging the way I do now.  In one direction, I hear God gently whisper (I Kings 19:12) return to me (Joel 2:12) and in the other, a seductive voice calls out to me from the darkness that is my shadow. Carl Jung described the allegorical shadow as the "hidden, repressed, for the most part inferior and guilt-laden personality whose ultimate ramifications reach back into the realm of our animal ancestors and so comprise the whole historical aspect of the unconscious...".  Until recently, I had never fully explored mine, at least not intentionally, and as I have begun to open myself up to its existence, I now know why.  For most of my Christian walk, I've ignored its pull and even denied it, but as Dr. Stephen Diamond said "The shadow is most destructive, insidious and dangerous when habitually repressed...".  This, I know to be true because once the restraint has been lifted, sin will undoubtedly ensue.  More than once lately I have been caught in the snare of my own unconscious turned conscious desires, and like the opening of Pandora's Box, the invitation to the shadow to become center stage can give full vent to the most gruesome consequences.   

www.embracetheshadow.com

 What, then shall we say? Should we continue in ignorance of the shadow's urges? No, we should know full well what it wants that we may be prepared to give an answer when the time comes (1 Peter 3:15).  To be clear, the shadow is not to be avoided, but embraced for the purpose of assimilation or integration.  I'm not there yet.  I'm still navigating its depths, trying desperately not to fall completely under.  No matter how badly I misstep, however, and I often do, somehow I know that Genesis 28:15 is true when God says "I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go." If that wasn't enough, Isaiah 41:13 says "For I am the LORD your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you." I'm not getting it right everyday, but when it's all said and done, Proverbs 19:21 says that "many are the plans in a person's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails." This, too, I know to be true and as I continue on this journey of exploration and deeper self awareness as a therapist, I rest on Exodus 14:14 that says I need only be still for "the Lord will fight" for me. What confessions do you have and to what or whom does your shadow cry out? Don't run from it, engage to understand it and let God help you overcome it. (Romans 8:37).  

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgKry5VYs74

 

Lay My Burden Down

I was devastated.  Word of her pregnancy should have lifted me to jubilant celebration, but instead it only reminded me of my own barrenness.  During the last month she had accidentally been careless with protective measures against conception, while across the map in my own corner of the world, I was purposely careless and pleaded with God to work a miracle through the physiological impossibilities shared between my husband and me.  She neither planned on nor wanted more children, but I longed for as many more as the Lord would give.  The last month in particular, I had taken bold and daring steps of faith and risked letting my hope rise again.  Like every other month throughout the last eight years, though,  the wave of hopeful anticipation and expectation crashed ruthlessly into the rocky shoreline of failed attempts and cold nothingness.  Allowing myself to hope again was simply becoming more than I could bear and I reminded the Lord of Proverbs 13:12 that says "hope deferred makes a heart sick..." At my core, I felt my heart becoming sick as depression mercilessly reared its ugly head again.  Nothing, however, could have prepared me for what God asked me to do that night on my way home when He said to lay my burden down...

Ripple Well

During the last couple months of 2014 I was feeling like I had lost something.  I noticed it affecting my work and I saw it in my distractions, lack of motivation, and generally fatigued countenance.  For the most part, I was the same as always.  I was upbeat in a group, I smiled at all of my patients and co-workers, and maintained my family life as usual.  I even laughed and went about my daily living as if nothing had happened.  But something did happen.  In early November, my entire world was shaken when I heard the news that one of my mentors was killed.  At 3:00 in the morning, word of her murder brought me to my knees and I could barely breathe.  My mind struggled to process what my eyes read in a message from a friend, and even now, several months later, I find it difficult to think about her.  The almost three month writing gap you see on my site is evidence of an internal struggle I faced in the wake of her death. When she would come to mind, I felt a pain that was unfamiliar and jagged.  My eyes would well with tears and I hurt. A lot. I would squeeze my eyes tightly shut and shake my head from side to side as if to forbid memories of her entry into my thoughts.  On the treadmill once, she refused to be denied access into my mind and I lost my breath and dropped to the ground in tears.  I gave myself those few moments, but something going on outside of me always demanded that I not linger on any emotional devastation.  I had to pull it together and keep going. But now...

To See

Two days a week I work at a locked psychiatric hospital located in south Los Angeles.  Tucked neatly between Inglewood and Compton, it's not in an area you want to be after dark and I recently discovered that it's not a place I want to be during daylight hours either.  As I took my exit one day recently, I approached the intersection where I make my last right turn to get to the facility.  When I neared I saw a man running across the street to my left with several more men running after him.  The scene was ominous, but it wasn't until I directed my attention to the stop light ahead that I began to fervently pray.  Across the street from me was a group of at least five other males, one of whom was on the ground being beaten so mercilessly that I feared the others would kill him. I didn't know whether or not they had guns, but given the area I knew a shooting wasn't unlikely and I was sitting right in the crossfire.  With a car in front of me, behind me, and beside me, I felt trapped and scared.  In a panicked state I could only watch in horror and pray to the heavens as he lay there on the ground while a multitude relentlessly assailed him. The truth is, I didn't know what to do.  Not knowing how much more violent it was going to get, I took a quick inventory of my options, but wedged between three cars I could only wait and seek the Lord. As I tearfully watched the man being attacked, I begged God to make them all stop.  I could think of nothing else to do but pray, so I prayed. And prayed. And prayed.  I had no idea what would happen next as I examined the flailing victim on the ground and my own precarious position. My heart hurt for the entire situation and my mind raced with what ifs.  The scene reeked of gang violence and I couldn't understand why I was there at that exact moment in time.  I didn't know what the Lord wanted of me right then or why timing worked out perfectly for me to witness it all.  Was I supposed to help somehow, and if so, in what way? Though I prayed relentlessly, I felt useless and frightened.  I pleaded for God to intervene and then suddenly the car in front of me moved and I had the opportunity to go around him.  I took one last glance at the ongoing assault and sped away in fitful prayer. I sought the Lord's intervention, but also my own understanding. Why was I there? What was God's purpose in allowing me to see it all? It would be days later before I realized that the answer was in the question.  

Beautiful

For the first time since I've been back from Vienna, I recently pulled out the notebook I kept while I was there.  Inside of it are countless recordings from professors on dream analysis, existentialism, and the general inner workings of Freudian psychoanalysis.  Mingled frequently within the academic jottings, however, were my own written prayers and pleas to God for understanding and deliverance.  I longed for insight into my purpose in being there, but more than that I often yearned to return home.  I missed my husband and son, and to put it simply, I was homesick before I ever even left home.  Since I've been back, though, I've had ample time to reflect on my time there and it now makes me smile.  I can still see Dimitri, a tiny Chihuahua that greeted me most mornings down in the breakfast hall.  I also remember finding immense comfort from the pages of my Bible while I nibbled on small, "schokolade" peppermint patties.  The two just seemed to go hand in hand.  Literally.  I can still smell the inside of St. Stephen's Cathedral, a place where all of my worries seemed washed away the minute I entered the magnificent structure. It's also unlikely that I'll ever forget the taste of the best vegan pizza I've ever had from a small pizzeria just down the street from my hotel. Reflection on these things continues to bring me immeasurable joy, but they are even more cherished because of the challenges and hardships I endured in order to experience them.  For me, it was an arduous journey that relentlessly tested the limits of my mental, physical, and spiritual strength.  I walked on foot for many long distances, stepping on glass along the way. I traversed bumpy roads to stand atop Am Himmel, and I endured nearly three weeks of intense sleep deprivation.  I got lost the first night there and I could scarcely converse with my family back home throughout my stay.  The dialogues were brief and the distance of time and space wide. In the city, I didn't speak the language, nor walk the pace.  I slept without air conditioning and ate what was available, and as I look back on it all now, it was in one word - beautiful.

On Facebook

My husband and I recently decided to close out our Facebook accounts, and while this elicited support from some, others weren't as understanding.  One person in particular let me know that, for him, Facebook was just a given and routine part of his day, a part of his life.  My initial unspoken response to this was "well, good for you, but that doesn't mean it has to be a part of mine." I didn't say it, but I was thinking it and I resented everything about the way in which he condescendingly presented his reasons for staying on it while belittling mine for walking away from it.  I felt like each individual should be able to make that decision independent of coarse objections from others.  Though I'm sure he was well intentioned, he nevertheless came across as judgmental and insensitive.  Absolutely nothing about the conversation made me want to talk to him again in the near future, and losing sleep over it the following night only irritated me more.  I was unable to shake the uncharacteristically pompous tone in his usually loving and humble voice, and no matter what I did I simply couldn't shake the feeling of annoyance and resentment.  In my prayers, however, I began to ask God if maybe I had made a mistake.  Was I supposed to stay connected so that others wouldn't feel disconnected?  Was I meant to ignore all the reasons my husband and I had for deactivating it so that a small few might not feel out of touch?  In the aforementioned conversation, the person also reminded me that my posts were inspiring to many and used by God often.  His point seemed to be that by me closing out my account, I was also shutting that door of usefulness in God's kingdom. This, too, I considered on my sleepless night of prayer.  Did God need Facebook to use me?  Did I need Facebook to be used by God? His answer was surprisingly unsurprising.