Category Archives: Spiritual
Fatty, Fatty, Five Foot Four – Can’t Get Through the Kitchen Door ( or I’m Heavy from All Those Stones I’ve Already Thrown at Myself)
With some hesitation, I am entering the fray started recently by someone’s criticism of an overweight television personality.
A couple of years ago, I lost about twelve pounds, because of knee problems, surgery, and a slow recovery due to my pain being prolonged by Fibromyalgia. The simple fact was, I was bed-ridden, sleeping a lot, and couldn’t get to the refrigerator on my own. Encouraged by this, I went on the Adkins diet and lost thirty-three more pounds. I looked so much better that some people didn’t recognize me. I felt so much better that my whole pattern of life changed.
But I’m still addicted to food. It’s just that since I like meat, fish, eggs, cheese, leafy green vegetables, and nuts, I can now pretty much eat all the time and gain weight slowly enough to have some control over it. (However, my husband dislikes most meat and all green leafy vegetables, so my grocery bill has almost doubled.)
Goodies and baddies. Baddies and Goodies. A reality of life: there are no unmixed blessings or troubles.
Long ago, I recognized that I have a tendency to become addicted to pleasures, because pleasure temporarily deadens emotional pain. God helped me recognize this in time to head off serious alcoholism in my late twenties, avoid temptations to adultery in my thirties, and finally stop smoking three packs a day at age forty-eight.
Unfortunately, by fifty-five I ended up in physical pain and in a wheelchair,( but fortunately allergic to most pain killers.) Friends, grace, and prayer helped me get through about six or seven years of this, but the delight of good food also played a significant part. When not able to exercise, while dulling both physical and emotional pain with the only pleasure left, I gained eighty pounds. I jokingly, but truthfully, say that I didn’t quit smoking, I just switched to smoking food. I am actually five foot- two inches tall and after my fourth child weighed one hundred and four pounds. Do the math. I became seriously obese in my sixties. I am still overweight for my small frame and height, just not grossly so. But, the need for the pain killer of food is still my current challenge.
Certain personalities are susceptible to emotional stresses in different ways than many others are. They are not only over-sensitive to slights or criticisms of themselves, but imagine others are also, and take on everyone else’s presumed pain. I remember getting stomach cramps every time a teacher got onto any pupil.
Also, some people’s ability to visualize wonderful possibilities, makes them idealistic and inclined to judge themselves and others as falling short.
The positive side of this is that when they have enough talent and brains, to actually gain influence, they can make a difference and make life better for many. But, the need to make a major difference in the world, produces a chronic sense of failure for many, while also tending to make them unsatisfied with the lack of vision and achievements of organizations they are involved in. Thus alienating them from others and creating an even greater sense of failure. Some of us “do not work and play well” with others in organizations or even religious institutions.
There are obvious addictions, some more destructive than others. But many go unrecognized or appear harmless. An addiction to shopping doesn’t do much harm, if you are rich, but can destroy solvency and relationships, if you are not. An addiction to judging others can pass as righteousness, when it actually simply serves to distract us from our own unrecognized pain over our failure to be the person God has created us to be.
Not only is nobody perfect, but nobody ever manages to become perfect. We are all different. And the areas, that we each are being called to grow free in, will not be on the same life schedule as someone else’s. In the gospel of Matthew we are called to be perfect only in forgiveness, of ourselves and others, which requires ongoing admission of failure and repentance on our part, until our last breath. And paradoxically, I believe that takes knowing we are loved totally.
An addiction to cleaning house can seem virtuous, unless it makes life miserable for everyone else, or requires time that is needed for something else God is calling us to do or be. Workaholics frequently end up divorced. Addiction to affirmation leads people to be chameleons, who then have a difficult time discovering whom God has created them to be. The list goes on and on. Whatever need controls us, no matter how positive the results may seem, is an addiction and will keep us from becoming the person God created us to be.
Working with the elderly, it’s become obvious that many are unable to accept help and can’t find peace, when they can no longer do for others. That may sound virtuous, but it’s not, when that is no longer whom God is calling us to be. When we are being called to be still and not only KNOW that He is God, but to be empty enough to be filled with Him, to become one with Him, then even just hating not being able to do for others, will defeat finding that which is actually the pearl of great price we all seek.
We cannot get rid of our addictions by ourselves and we can’t get rid of them all at once. There are seasons of life and there are times we are called to new freedom in specific areas. It takes recognizing our own addictions, however subtle or harmless seeming, so that we can accept the grace to get free. In other words, we have to work to cast the log out of our own eye, before we even think about judging someone else. Self-awareness is the basic need for ongoing conversion, for letting Jesus truly become Lord of our whole selves.
I am still finding that is a full time job at seventy-five, even though I accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord at thirty. Letting Him be Lord of our whole self, even the parts we don’t want to see, is a lifetime job and only He will know when we’ve become the unique, loved, but still imperfect person, that He created us to be, so we get to go home.
The Absolutely Most Important Thing for Parents and Teachers to Recognize
It’s that every child is different. They arrive different. They are motivated differently. They learn differently. They express themselves differently. Their emotional responses to everything in life can be light years apart from their siblings and even you. Their strengths and weaknesses are like day and night from one another. And whether it’s your children or your students, many or sometimes, even most, will be different from you in all these ways.
That sounds obvious, but if you watch yourself as a parent or teacher, you soon realize that we expect them to respond as we do, to be motivated by what motivates us, to come from inner viewpoints that are similar to our own. To even have the same intuitive knowledge about people or right and wrong that we do. Even your first child may seem like an alien from Mars and throw you for a loop as a parent. (That difference may inadvertently insure that they remain an only child.)
To a certain extent it is their inalienable right to be different. The reality, of course, is that to some extent as social beings, we all have to learn to accept group limits and learn to adapt as best we can in a world that does not center around us.
The most helpful tool for recognizing and understanding many of these differences that I have found, so far, is the Meyers-Briggs Type Indicator. My husband and I are extreme opposites on every area of personality that this attempts to describe. (Married for fifty-four years, we consider our marriage a witness to the possibilityof world peace. Though we admit that his intense dislike of change and my devout cowardice at the thought of raising five children alone may have been significant factors.)
And our five children are mixes of every imaginable combination of our personality traits. Imagine my surprise when everything that worked so well with number one, evoked a totally opposite response from number two, etc., etc., etc.
Though as a past consultant on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I’ve done workshops on its significance in education, spirituality, marriage, and management, at seventy-five I am not up to date on the best resources. The internet has many, but the quality varies greatly. If you are interested in following up on this, use the Association for Psychological Type as a guide.
Addendum: For examples of differences in a first and second grade class see post: Important Things I Learned from First Graders When I Was Forty: June 28
Call on Somebody You Know!
I have been creating and leading devotionals at a nursing home for about a year and a half. This is a rich experience in every way. Speaking to a group of people, most of whom are comatose or deaf, is humbling to say the least. And spending time with a dear friend there, who is losing it mentally, triggers memories of my mother’s journey into the darkness of Alzheimer’s.
Sometimes the caregivers and I share a moment of gentle humor, that brings a tiny sunbeam into the darkness of the situation. It’s really the only way you can persevere in this kind of situation.
Interestingly enough, with my mom, flashes of her own humor would surface unexpectedly. When she was still living with us, she would want to help me, though she was no longer really competent. One day I was working at home at the counter in the kitchen. She kept offering to start dinner for me, so I finally, to just get some time to focus on finishing my work, put a large pot of water on to boil for six ears of corn and a small pot of water on for a pack of frozen broccoli. I told her to put them in when the water came to a boil. A while later, she said, “Eileen, something doesn’t look right.” So, I stopped reluctantly to check it out. She had put the small amount of broccoli in the huge pot of water and all the ears of corn in the small pot of water, which had all boiled away.
I said irritably, “Oh, my God!”
Without a blink’s hesitation she replied, “Call on somebody you know!”
Winter Grace: Humor and Hope
Winter Grace is a book by Kathleen Fischer on Spirituality and Aging.
I particularly like the chapter on Humor and Hope
Here’s a quote:
But only when we have lived long enough to experience humanity in its range and complexity is our humor at its deepest and truest. Redemptive humor is more than the ability to enjoy an isolated humorous situation. It is an attitude toward all of life. Not only is humor a gift of the later years; it is indispensable to hope and healing during that time. Humor recognizes that limitations and failures are not final and unredeemable tragedies. Like a ray of sunshine piercing a dark and overcast sky, humor suggests God’s abiding presence and brightens our human prospects……Humor is a gentle reminder of the reality of redemption
Tunnel of Fear
Homing through a frost
of silent shooting stars,
the blowing icy flow
of winter’s crystal breath,
my car lights tunnel
through its frozen milky way.
Suddenly, I glimpse a shadow,
a hitcher thinly coated
with the jacketed nonchalance
of adolescent bravado,
James Dean image not quite masking
the soft edges of his youth.
A fragile hope flickers
at my moment’s hesitation,
then quickly disappears
behind me in the night.
My “Good Samaritan” – extinct,
afraid of death – dead of fright.
Travel Visions
An opulence of travel visions:
Paris, London, Lisbon, Prague,
beauty rampant with history and art.
Yet etched forever in my mind
the beaches and cross-crowned cliffs
along the shores of Normandy.
A cliff face sheering from the ocean,
Pointe du Hoc, where army Rangers
climbed point blank into German guns.
Now, just empty bunkers on pitted earth
and beaches, wave washed innocent,
below silent sentinels left behind.
Row on row of small white crosses
guarding fields of blood-rich ground,
Old Glory whipping, snapping in the wind.
Don’t Count on Drawing to an Inside Straight
It took me a long time to figure out that life isn’t a multiple choice question.
My father wanted me to be a nuclear physicist. My mother wanted me to be a wealthy socialite. My church wanted me to save my soul by having an unlimited amount of babies. It turned out that I wasn’t designed for any of these.
The reality was that I was a bottomless pit of needs and wants. The main one being to be loved unconditionally. I married a gentle, kind man, who has accepted me just as I am and never asked anything else of me. All he has ever wanted in our fifty-three years of marriage is to make me happy. Sadly for him, no human being can make anyone else happy.
Happiness comes from the paradox of first, realizing that we are fully known, understood, and loved by God just as we are. Then listening to God to discover the person God created us to be and at each stage and challenge in this life long process, staying open to the grace for the courage and perseverance to become it. It’s about who we become, not what we become.
Probably the most difficult part of the process is actually getting to know ourselves in our very unfinished state. Not a terribly pleasant experience and sometimes too discouraging to attempt without knowing with both mind and heart that God already knows us far better than we do, or anyone else ever can, and loves us anyway.
Ultimately, we discover that we are only called to play the hand we were dealt, and it may turn out we never find the card to the inside straight we’ve been bluffing hopefully with. But with God, it isn’t about winning a competition, it’s about how well we play the hand we were actually dealt, however humbling that may turn out to be.
A way of working on this is just reading the bible like a story or a letter written for us personally and discovering that Jesus also was unfinished and grew in holiness. That he grew through challenges, many of them from women, who had no credentials as women in Judaism, and some of whom were not even Jews. He recognized God in a Gentile woman challenging Him to minister to Gentiles. This was a world changing difference in His assumption that His mission was limited to being the Jew’s Messiah.
Jesus was familiar enough with Jewish Scriptures to apply them to His life challenges, while spending time aside praying and listening to God. He allowed God to speak to Him and call Him to growth through the people and situations in His daily life all the way to the very end. He was still growing even on the cross. There’s a big leap between, “My God why have you abandoned me?” and “Father, I commend my spirit into your hands.”
Christian spirituality is the dialogue between Jesus in the scriptures and our experiences in daily life, through taking time to go to God for understanding of what He is saying through those two, and for the grace to respond.
Our becoming only ends with our very last breath.
Grace for the Hard Times
I’m seventy-five now and once again, I can walk, climb a hill, and even dance a little. In my late fifties, I was dependent on a wheelchair to even get across my house. It was a long house with a lot of two stair changes in levels, so it wasn’t really handicapped accessible. The house, designed by my architect husband to uniquely suit our own way of living, was in the middle of our hundred acre weed and rock sanctuary, almost fifteen minutes from town, down dirt roads, and through a creek. It was my idea of heaven, until I ended up in a wheelchair.
My five children were grown and gone and my husband worked long days, six days a week. So, I was pretty isolated. I put a roll away bed in the middle of my kitchen, where I could spend the day, and usually manage to cook meals and load and run the dishwasher and the washer/dryer.
Two fairly new friends began bringing out delicious lunches and delightful movies twice a week. They also took me in the wheel chair to events at Museums and even Christmas shopping at a Mall. These visits and outings were filled with laughter and special treats of Caramel Frappuccinos and White Chocolate Macadamia Nut Cookies, that quickly became traditions.
One of the movies we watched was a Canadian film, Strangers in Good Company. This was about a tour bus of elderly ladies getting stranded in the Canadian woods. The younger woman bus driver had a sprained ankle, so the little old ladies had to rally and organize for survival. The women became quite resourceful in finding food. They stretched the rather large bus driver’s panty hose open on shrub branches, and held it across a creek to catch small fish. Another woman showed how to go frog-gigging with sharpened sticks. Shared leftover cookies, apples, and candy bars helped supplement foraging. The women bonded, sharing life memories, and renewing their spirits through taking time to just soak in the beauty surrounding them. Of course, at the end, they were rescued, but it was what they made of the time together, that was the point of the movie.
In spite of my friends helping me, I did struggle with depression over my situation, fearing it was permanent. But the movie made me re-evaluate my priorities.
Nature was really a source of connectedness to God for me. And my house was open to the woods around us through walls of glass doors. The kitchen was open to the great-room, so from both my bed in the kitchen (my “bitchen”) and my bed in the master bedroom, I could see and hear birds of all kinds, watch the hummingbirds kama-kazi diving at each other, and even watch a doe and her brand new fawn in the small clearing outside the windows. She brought the fawn just as it was learning to gambol and play. For several weeks she and I would both lie contentedly watching the fawn play. Other times, a male wild turkey would do his awesome dance in courting a couple of “ladies” in the clearing. A possum came in the evening and scratched on the screen door. A crazy, but beautiful cardinal, fixated on his reflection in one of the glass doors, spent days flying into the door and then regrouping in the plum tree next to it. Cardinals in the snow whitened winter landscape or among the spring dogwood blossoms were among my favorite things.
The movie made me realize that I experienced the presence and grace of God most in two things: the beauty of nature and in relationships. And wheel chair bound or not, I was blessed with good friends, a husband that loved me, and surrounded, up close and personal, by the beauty of nature. Even in a wheelchair, I had a bubbling spring of grace around me.
The Explosion of Experience: Enlarging My World View
After years of feeling like white noise to family and friends, since starting my blog three months ago, I have been shamelessly exploiting blogging as a way of expressing some of the opinions, insights, and experiences I’ve garnered in seventy-five years of living the questions of life. Now, that I’ve done my share of flooding the blogging world with the pent-up musings of a frustrated guruh wanna be, I’m focusing outward and discovering the amazing riches of exploring the world across all kinds of physical and metaphysical borders through other blogs.
It’s like being able to teleport yourself anywhere immediately and to experience the world through both another’s literal views and their mental viewpoints to far exceed your own limited mind and means. It’s what books , television, and travel have done in the past, except this is on a much more personal level and has the advantages of immediacy, convenience, freedom of choice, and even interaction, all without the need for affluence or influence.
I reread this and it sinks in even more, how mind expanding and world changing the internet is capable of being. Not just for young revolutionaries on the other side of the world, but for people of any age, any gender, any nationality, any religious persuasion, any financial means, any limits, as long as they can get to a library or coffee house that has computers and the internet.
I think if I had the means, I would pour money into making it available to all people in every country. I realize there’s misinformation and poison on it also, but where there are human beings, those exist. In the past, if our immediate environment was limited to that, the possibilities for overcoming it were few. Those possibilities have now exploded exponentially.
I want to mention once again just several of the blogs that I look forward to.
Doctor Dad @ carlocmd.wordpress.com; Beautifully described father-sons relationship, and insights into the daily experience of a caring, committed doctor in a third-world country.
patricklatter.smugmug.com; Vicarious mountain hiking experiences through amazing photography of the awesome landscapes of Canada along with first person commentary on the experience with each photo.
Field Notes from Fatherhood.com; a blog by a teacher in a private English school in Hungary. Excellent on many levels on parenting, teaching from the insider’s view, travel with children.
youllshootyoureyeout-kathy.blogspot.com; delightful travel experiences, laced with touching honest reflections on relating to a beloved father, once a public figure, now suffering from Alzheimer’s.
For humor: (of course) The Bloggess and also maleparentalunit.blogspot.com(one of my sons’ blog, so some prejudice involved.)