Complexities

   "So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Sprit control your mind leads to life and peace." Romans 8:6

  God is good. Always. 

  I was blessed to be away for a bit. It was a much needed break but a week away in summer means the gardens had a chance to get ahead of me. The harvest has been early and plentiful. For that I am most grateful. Few things taste better than a ripe tomato warmed by the sun!

  During my time away, there were many open and candid conversations with my friend and the people we were staying with. At some point I made the following comment, "Values shape beliefs. Beliefs shape our values." My head nearly exploded as the ramifications of this idea lit the gray matter up in a display that would put fireworks to shame.

  I've been mulling it over ever since; this circle within circle interconnectedness of identity, culture, familial and generational traditions, experiences, and finally gender. These influences on our understanding of our place in the world are very complex but they can also be conflicting. This morning I need to add truth to the mix because truth is influenced by our beliefs and values.

  God is good. He blessed us with His Spirit for times such as these because human truth is not always right or even remotely true! So how on earth do we discover what is true? How can we measure the validity of the truths we are taught?

  Yesterday came with yet another fireworks explosion. The way to truth is to find the love. If what we value or believe is absent of love, chances are it is a lie.

  Simple, yes?

  However, as a human being, I know my own understanding of love is broken. So how on earth am I ever going to unravel that which needs unravelling?

  Baby steps. 

  For example, if I believe a woman is worth less than a man, it means I don't value women the same way as men. Since I don't value women the same as men, it means I believe they are less than. See? Circles within circles!

  When I look at this idea through a lens of simple kindness, one of the many facets of love, it is not even remotely kind so therefore it is not true. 

  I can hear my culture, upbringing and experiences rebelling against the idea that women are as valuable as men.

  The inaudible voices can be very loud at times. And I say inaudible because no one ever told me directly that women are worth less than men but I learned this lesson well all the same.

  This is the hard part: letting the inaudible speak regardless of what it has to say. It can be ugly and hate filled and angry. But, as long as the inaudible remains in the shadows, Love's truth is unable to give it the peace it is really crying out for. Shutting it out doesn't provide space for forgiveness or repentance. 

  Forgiveness and repentance are acts of love and kindness.

  If I choose to allow the Spirit to grow my understanding of pure love, the Jesus love and way, it means I am willing to replace the rotten cornerstones which have been the foundation of my values and beliefs. Because you know one of the things I value the most?

  Truth, as seen through the eyes of Jesus. 

  PS. "But, as long as the inaudible remains in the shadows, Love's truth is unable to give it the peace it is really crying out for." 

  This sentence was added in during one of the edits. Immediately after writing it, I felt a shift in the fabric of my being and understanding.

  The inaudible is not my enemy. 

  The voice belongs to Cricket, crying out to be heard and set free of the toxic values and beliefs that were heaped on her tiny head and heart. It's all she's ever wanted.

  You know something, Cricket? It's all I want, too, for both of us.

  Lord Jesus, hear our prayer. AMEN!

  

  

  

  

Intersectionality

 "I (Paul) pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you may know what is the hope of His calling." Ephesians 1:18

  The Oxford dictionary defines intersectionality as the following: The interconnected nature of social categorizations such as race, class and gender, regarded as creating overlapping and interdependent systems of discrimination or disadvantage." 

  Clear as mud. Except the other morning I was up earlier than normal. 

  A dead ash tree towers above my neighbor's yard. Bleached and skeletal branches seem to touch the sky. Three birds had perched high in its branches to catch the first warming rays of the sun. A robin trilled his wake up call to everyone. A Mourning Dove grumbled about the early rise. The third member of the trio was a tiny Goldfinch, dressed in brilliant yellow livery, who trilled his welcome to the day. It was a chorus fit for the grandest stage in the grandest city in all the world.

  The three birds sang for a long time. None was threatened or angry about the other bird sitting so close. I wished...I wished people could be more like them.

  I thought about the birds, how each is unique and beautiful in their own way. I thought about the tree as being the source of what brings them together. They didn't fight over it. Each bird had found a place uniquely suited to their size because a Dove could never sit where a Goldfinch can!

  

  Intersectionality...The three songbirds have many disadvantages in common despite their differences in appearance and size. They are prey for cats or foxes. There are bigger birds in the sky who will kill them. Their offspring are extremely vulnerable until they can fly. Weather and the elements can be lethal to adults and chicks alike. 

  

  I am trying to understand a very complicated social construct created by discrimination in all its forms. As an English speaking, educated, white person in North America I have distinct advantages or privileges based solely on these things. In fact, I got these things with very few or no obstacles because I was white.

  However, as a woman with a disability I have also been subjected to discrimination and prejudice solely because of these things. I can't change the obvious signs of my gender but I am able to hide my disability so most people don't even know about it. (Officially, it's called "Passing.") However, I hear what is said about those of us with these sorts of challenges all the time.

  Intersectionality is when there is cross over discrimination between various areas of prejudice. It's the dead ash tree connecting everything.

  My dead ash tree is the culture I was raised in which taught me there was a hierarchy of gender and skin color. I am trying to cut the thing down. Much of it has already fallen thanks to Jesus but I will be the first to admit, I have a long way to go and a great deal to learn.

  I have been challenged to fight racism by the racially oppressed. Yet, how do I fight something that has been part of human nature since the Neanderthals were wiped off the face of the earth by humankind as we know it? How do I fight something that set tribe against tribe? Culture against culture? Religion against religion? How do I fight something the devil has forged in the human heart for generation upon generation? How do I prevent this generation from teaching the next ones to hate?

  Maybe I need to sit in someone else's tree for a while. Maybe I need to invite them to sit in mine. Maybe we can find a common enemy then. Maybe then we can work together to change how we view ourselves and each other based on the lies we have learned.

  Maybe...

  

  

  

  

  

  

Grace

   "Give us today the food we need, and forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us." Matthew 6:11-12 

   I've been given a feast: a mental one with a smorgasbord of ideas, realizations, and a richer understanding of what it means to be Jesus centered. This, in and of itself, is the greatest of all of these because this is the source of all the other ideas and realizations.

  All because I had an interaction with someone whose skin color wasn't the same as mine. 

  "I can't escape this!" They waved their hands to delineate their entire being.

  Even though they said a great deal more, those four words have captured my heart.

  The enemy loves to have us hate ourselves. That's what he does. he nurtures it, feeds it, and encourages it to grow. It is the legacy of generations, of sexism, racism, of fear and yes, culture. Our enemy will season and marinade this toxic feast with trauma, neglect, insult and abuse because self loathing fosters hate. And that is all he is about.

  This might outside the box but this is what I felt called to do at the time: 

  When I was a brand new believer discovering the freedom found through repentance and forgiveness, the devil came to mind. Frequently. I forgave him for being what he was and in a way, I felt sorry for him because he had turned his back on love. I swear I heard him scream because there can be no greater wound caused to the father of lies than an offering of grace. 

  he is still my enemy, the world's enemy, and so that's why there's no capital even on the pronoun identifying him. But I don't hate him, I hate what he does. 

  he's not going to win anyways. (Smile.)

  

  Those four words, "I can't escape this!" have continued to be at the forefront of my mind and heart. I've been rehearsing what I'd like to say to them, regretting what wasn't said and praying about the entire situation. 

  In the midst of this came the BIG PRAYER, "Lord, how do we stop racism?"

  He was very quick to answer, "Change humanity. Teach them how to love."

  And that, my friends, is at least a whole other blog! Oh, maybe I don't need to write about it. I know a Good Book.

  

  

  

  

The Light of the World

   "Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace." 

Luke 1:78-79

  Zechariah's prophecy following the birth of his son, John, is one of those verses which leap off the page and into the heart. That's why it bears repeating today. Even though Zechariah spoke these words before Jesus was born, the joy of scripture, of knowing how the story ends, gives the us ability to see prophecies come to fruition. 

  We know Jesus came. We know why He lived and died. We know who sent Him. We are able to sit in the confidence of knowing all of this. It is of great comfort.

  Yesterday brought a wonderful conversation with my boss. There was another situation arise where I felt led to speak up (in public no less!) It was not well received and I was left feeling very uncomfortable with it all. An understatement if there ever was one!

  My boss reached out to check in because she also had concerns about what had happened. She wanted to make sure I was okay. Others who witnessed the exchange reached out, too. This meant a lot.

  I confess to not remembering much of it. My whole body was shaking and I was utterly terrified to say anything at all! (The prayer posted a couple of days ago was a direct result of this situation.)

  It took a couple of days to process the whole thing and I am still working through some of it. There is a great deal of sadness left in the wake of it all.

  We have grown tremendously with many new staff who may not yet fully understand the true nature of peer support. I was blessed to learn the ropes from the best. As one of the few veterans, it's my turn to pass this knowledge on; to nurture a kind, gentle and respectful way of finding connections with people regardless of who they are.

  I also have Jesus as my model because everything we are encouraged and taught to do falls in line with what a life in Christ should look like. I say "should" because we don't always get it right! A Jesus centered life is what enabled me to embrace grace, to see the bigger picture, to recognize their inexperience without resorting to angry defensiveness. He enabled me to meet them where they were at.

  And that's peer support in one sentence. My job has made me a better Christian, my Christian life has made me better at my job. 

  I choose to carry His light of peace in all that I do, in all that I am, in all that I want to be.

  

  

  

Possiblities

   "Because of God's tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace."    Luke 1:78-79

  I met with our new pastor this morning. Even though she has been a member of our church for a few years, she is taking the time to get together with everyone on an individual basis. She wishes to strengthen her knowledge to be more able to encourage, develop and utilize the unique giftings everyone has been blessed with.

  Her initial idea was to ask me to become the Compassion Coordinator specifically charged with addressing the needs of the community at large. It involved being a contact for our local community partner, CONTACT, which is an organization that supports basic needs amongst other things. Funds are raised with the help of sales generated at a second hand store. There were a couple of other areas involved as well like setting up a booth during a huge community fundraiser walk to meet people and offer support to the walkers. (I must have looked a bit like a deer in the headlights!)

  After some conversation, she quickly acknowledged that it is far more than I am comfortable with or even able to take on. That's why it was ideal for her to meet me on a more personal basis, to see if the shoe would fit so to speak. 

  

  Then she asked me to dream. Not all conversations can be comfortable. I shared that this wasn't something I ever did. It piqued her curiosity so I explained that trauma makes it very hard to envision the future. Not that there isn't any hope for it, I am a gardener after all who plants seeds and anticipates a harvest.

  She reframed her question. Our parent church, The Meeting House, was forced to close its doors because they were unable to get the required insurance specifically related to abuse or misconduct by its members. No one is surprised by this in light of what has happened there. While I am deeply saddened by yet another loss in a long series of losses, I know God is bigger than all of it.

  As a Meeting House site who has had the privilege of being both an independent entity and part of the larger one, we are now in a position to find a future, a brand and a purpose for ourselves. All this while remaining under the Anabaptist umbrella and staying focused on a Jesus centered life. That does not change. 

  This is what she wanted to know. What type of church would I like to see? What would it take for me to be able to invite someone who is homeless to a Sunday service? What prevents this from happening?

  I've shared at some point how it feels as though I stand with my feet in two different worlds. The one I work in which is surrounded by homelessness, poverty, hunger and suffering. Often, there are addictions and broken minds which contribute to the vicious cycle of need. This is not always the case. A job loss, a divorce, an accident are sometimes all it takes to end up living life out of a grocery bag.

  The other half of my life is home, a car, running water, a yard, a garden and a Sunday service where I am surrounded by people whose lives are equally blessed.

  "What type of church do you think Jesus would like us to become?" was her next question.

  The very first thing that came out of my mouth was I would like to be part of a church who is not afraid of the unknown.

  The second was the need for a willingness to be vulnerable.

  It has given me much to think about, pray about, so that I understand what this means.

  My pastor is enthusiastic about the values of peer support. I've often wished that more people understood what it is because peer support enables me to put the teachings of Jesus into concrete practice. Most of the time anyways. Sometimes it's not so easy. 

  The ole gray matter is going a gazillion miles an hour so Lord, I will continue to seek Your vision for this little church in a little town in the middle of Ontario. Help me be faithful in sharing it. AMEN!

 

  

   

  

Prayer

  "Our Father in heaven, may your name be kept holy, May your kingdom come soon." Matthew 6:9

  My heart is very heavy this dark and rainy Wednesday. It feels as though the sky is crying my tears.

  It is burdened by the hatred that exists in this world. It is burdened by the hurt we do to one another in the name of race or religion or gender. It is weighed down by the greed, the grasping, demanding perversion of need, that supersedes generosity and compassion and caring.

  It is tired of the lies, the half truths, used to foster even more hatred.

  Forgive us, Lord, for how we teach our children. 

  Help us forgive those who taught us to hate or to be afraid of someone else because of their race, their religion or their gender.

  Teach us, Oh Lord, the way of love.

  In Your Name I pray. AMEN.

  

  

Drawing the Line

  "Anyone who belongs to God listens gladly to the words of God." John 8:47

  My stomach is still in knots because on Friday, I stood up for myself...in writing. It's because a situation is having an impact on my own mental health and well being. Yet over the last couple of days, there's been a constant barrage of toxic emotions. Why do I feel what I have done is wrong?  

  I bought a toy squirrel. It's small enough to fit in my hand. 

  When I was really sick, I had a small teddy bear that went everywhere with me. His name was Spaz. I would hold him when the overwhelm was too much. His soft fur grounded me in the moment and helped me get through whatever small errand life demanded like brushing my teeth. The anxiety was crippling back then but, praise God, He brought me through the need for such things.

  It's rather alarming that carrying a teddy has been replaced by a squirrel for the exact same reason; to get me through the demands of a day. I joked about it, using a squirrel for when things are getting squirrely but there actually isn't anything funny about this at all.  

  Hence the letter that has left me wracked with self-doubt and second guessing.

  I think I am more afraid of being ignored or dismissed. I am afraid my concerns will be brushed aside. 

  "Because you don't matter."

  And that, my friends, is NOT the Holy Spirit talking!

  In hearing the lie, I hear myself, I hear Cricket, cry out against it, "I do! I do matter!" 

  But, do I really believe this? 

  No. 

  Which is why it's so very hard to be vulnerable in stating my needs or wants. Life has taught me they don't matter either. 

  You know what I want? I want to buy a shrub that is suitable for a Bonsai tree. I've started one from a small, half dead Juniper shrub dug up from a neglected garden. The dead branches were cut away. The ones showing signs of life were left alone for now. Copper wire is being used to bend the branches into an aesthetic shape. Further pruning will wait until it gets growing again.

  I didn't have the heart to throw it away. There's something satisfying about bringing something that was near death into a new life. Maybe it's because I connect to its story.

  

  Once upon a time, there was a seed. It was planted and encouraged to grow. Careful pruning gave it a beautiful shape. Eventually, it was transplanted and moved from its home to a store where someone chose it above all others. The new bed where it would reside was carefully prepared and the shrub was placed in its forever home. 

  Then it was forgotten. Water came from the sky. Drought came in the dead heat of summer. Frost delved deep into its heart. One by one, the branches died as the shrub withdrew life from its limbs. It did this to survive. 

  The shrub no longer mattered, to anyone.

  Except God had a plan. He sent a woman to revitalize the garden, to dig up the dead plants and fill the garden with new life. She saved the shrub out of kindness, out of respect for its determined survival against the odds.

  God is my gardener. 

  I ask Him to forgive me for believing I don't matter but more importantly, I ask for His help to forgive those who reinforced this lie. Perhaps we can talk about it some more, my Lord, because this nasty, gnarly old weed has been growing a long, long time.

  My friend just came in from work. One of the first things she said was, "You matter." She had no idea what I was writing about.

  God is good. AMEN.

  

  

  

  

More Roots

 "God blesses those who work for peace, for they will be called children of God." Matthew 5:9

  It was worthwhile spending some time reading over the last few posts. It's good to look back because it helps to see how the Lord has led and nurtured the slow processes of understanding and revelation. It was rather astounding to see how often the concept of weeds and buried roots appeared. It is also very reassuring to know the Lord will continue to lead me into a greater understanding of both Him and myself; as long as I am willing to submit to the process.

  I will because I want to be better than I am. 

  This is at the core of my existence, this desire to be better than I am. Through Christ, it is possible. Oh, I admit to many flaws because perfection is humanly impossible but it doesn't hurt to work towards discovering and embracing God's perfect plans and design.

  The biggest part of this is learning to let go, to let go of the old ideas and habits that stand in the way of growth. First it helps to identify what they are. 

  Yesterday brought a powerful insight regarding one of my biggest flaws. 

  It is the constant mental justification that allows other people to say or do things that cause me mental or emotional harm. It is a big, wide, open doorway that leaves me vulnerable to abuse and abusive situations. It has been a core value, toxic as it is, that has governed much of my life and the relationships within it.

  The thought of standing up for myself has my stomach in knots. Why is this?

  Are you ready for the avalanche of lies floating around in my head?

  1. It's not being nice.

  2. It's not being compassionate and patient with where someone is at in their own life journey.

  3. It's because I am too sensitive.

  4. It's because I don't have the right.

  5. It's because I am a follower of Jesus and must to be patient with the brokenness of others.

  6. It's because people don't need to be held accountable by me for the harm they cause.  This is up to God.

  7. It's because I am wrong or misunderstand or mis-hear or mis-remember.

  8. It's because this is the way it has to be.

  9. It's because I have to be the strong one and just take the hit.

 10. It's because I have to make allowances according to their position or title or role that puts them in my life in the first place.

 11. It's because I should be grateful for them even being in my life, for what they've done for me.

  Weeds! All of it! The list goes on but you get the idea.

  Oh, Lord, forgive me for believing the enemy's "truths." With all honesty, I was taught no other. Until You came into my life.

  So what happens when I don't follow these rules? It throws me into turmoil and feeds into the fear of being rejected or abandoned or punished. That, too, was the lesson learned when I stood up for myself.

  But here's the thing, I end up rejected, abandoned and punished even following these "rules." You know why? They are NOT of God! There is no love involved. 

  God's gifts of gratitude, kindness, compassion and a gentle nature have been hijacked and used against me for one purpose: to keep me in my place, to keep me prisoner.

  I used to joke with my therapist that we were creating a monster as I the began to explore boundary setting. Is being a monster one who is able to set boundaries, say "No," or protect what brings me joy? I think not.

  But the fact that I thought this way is also a bit of a wake up call.

  The "rules" have been the foundation of everything I say and do for far too long. They have ensnared my peace, my joy and kept me wrapped in a blanket of anxiety and fear. 

  Lord, grant me a bold heart and the determination to begin making the changes so long overdue. Help me stand strong in this resolution regardless of who I am dealing with. Give me the words to speak and open the ears of those who are listening. I claim the words spoken over me a long time ago, "You have a voice and it's worth listening to." AMEN!

  

  

  

Roots

 "You have allowed me to suffer much hardship, but You will restore me to life again and lift me up from the depths of the earth. You will restore me to even greater honor and comfort me once again." Psalm 71:20-21

  Last summer I planted some Elderberry bushes near the road; a favorite of people and birds. Over the years, the once quiet sideroad is growing busier as more houses are built to the north. As the bushes mature and spread they will help block some of the road noise. I chose them as a native species and because there are self sown Elderberries growing in the ditch across the road. It seemed likely they would do just as well, if not better, on my side without having to compete with weeds and long grass. At least, I hadn't expected the weeds.

  I am not sure where they came from. Maybe they were in the lawn before the shrubs were planted or perhaps they came with the bushes. They are particularly hard to get rid of. Pulling the plant is easy. It's what's hidden under the soil that makes it difficult to get rid of them. 

  The plants have tender roots that link them to an infrastructure of runners deep beneath the surface. The slightest tug breaks them free of their foundation but doesn't address the source. The runner roots are both tough and brittle with tiny, hairlike roots. True to the nature of weeds, if the root is broken, it simply sends up new shoots. Some of these are completely entwined with the Elderberry roots which makes it difficult to pull them out.

  I hope to eventually kill these roots by destroying new growth as it breaks the surface. It could take a while but patience and perseverance are part of being a gardener.

  I am still in recovery from last week's panic attacks. I had a good day on Monday tackling other weeds in other gardens. By the time the sun set, it seemed things were back to normal. It was short lived, however. I'd offered to get groceries for work because it was my turn to shop. I woke up Tuesday morning stressed about it but not really knowing why. By the time I picked up a grocery cart, it was all I could do to focus on the list and get out of there.

  My friend came with me and after we got home, she asked me what had happened to send me into survival mode. It was a good question. She also inspired me to think about the roots of the anxiety, using the above mentioned weeds as a prime example.

  So these thoughts, this metaphor has been ticking away in my subconscious since then. I've asked the Lord to show me where the runner roots are buried.

  He has been faithful as He always is whenever I ask, "Why?"

  The root of anxiety is fear. Coming to terms with that has its own challenges because I have Jesus, don't you know, why should I fear? Admitting it means I've failed to trust the Lord completely.

  Maybe that's why I have worked so hard to hide it, deny it, and bury it deep because my life is governed by an all encompassing sense of outright terror and constant vigilance. While I understand this is part of being a trauma survivor, it really sucks the joy out of life. Not only that but it's hard to pinpoint the exact issues that feed it. 

  I guess the next question is, "What am I afraid of?" It's one that has been asked many times but there's a strong sense there's still a network of roots buried deep in my soul.

  This morning came with the revelation of being afraid to make a mistake or do something wrong. (Smile...nothing like tackling the biggest root first is there?) 

  It got me thinking about being in school; how ugly the big red X was. The fact there were more blue check marks never seemed to erase the storm of shame/guilt/fear the WRONG ANSWER instilled in my tender soul. 

  The red X did other things, too. It reminded me I was unprepared for all the questions that might come my way. It punished me for struggling with understanding math...You know, for the most part, school was easy for me. I graduated high school with honors with very little effort put into the work. Hmmm...there's some regret there and maybe that's part of the fear, too. What if I miss an opportunity to do more? I'll pause that line of thought for now, it's another biggie. 

  To be fair, grade 11 and 12 were wrapped in a blanket of depression no one knew about because I felt I was on my own. Needing help was a punishable offence, too, another big red X. It makes me very sad I still think this way because it is so ingrained. I am most thankful the Lord is helping erase this lie.

  Back to the red X. This particular weed has been fed, nurtured and fertilized by so many life events. Some were big but mostly they were little. These are the hardest because their impact accumulates over time. They are the little roots which help the big ones grow aren't they?

  It's time for a reality check. 

  There was a sale item out of stock which rattled my cage something fierce. Not being able to get WHAT WAS ON THE LIST filled me with a sense of failure. The red X ghosts began howling. It didn't matter that the store brand was the same price so the needed item was purchased anyways because the sense of being/doing/getting it wrong flooded into my soul.

  Lord, thank You for showing me all this, hard as it is. I need your help because I am tired of being afraid all the time. Maybe, as I pull weeds in the garden, You can help me find and pull all the thriving weeds from my heart through forgiveness and grace. Show me where this needs to happen, in Jesus' name I pray. AMEN!