Doin' the Work

   "Teach me Your ways, O Lord, that I may live according to Your truth!" Psalm 86:11

  A friend asked me what "doing the work" actually means. They made me pause for thought because I'd never really put this concept into definitive terms. So this morning, while salsa is simmering away on the stove, it seems like a good idea to explain what this means to me.

  It all started the moment I asked the Lord to not let me be bitter about all the things that had happened in my life and to my life. It was my very first prayer as a believer.

  Bitterness is the devil's poison. It consumes all the good things, all the blessings the Lord so freely gives because it blinds us to them all. I admit, at times, bitterness has a way of creeping in but only for a moment, a season if you will. I've discovered that in talking/writing/praying about how I am feeling, there's a release as I come to terms with the things which made me feel this way in the first place.

  Doing the work requires honesty with God. There are no bad feelings He cannot soothe, no pain He cannot heal. However, being honest with God means we need to be honest with ourselves, too. This is not always a bad thing although the enemy of our souls delights in making sure we only focus on the shortcomings of our humanity, the sins we have committed, the harm we have done to others. The devil doesn't want us to see all of God's blessings that make us special. he definitely doesn't want us to embrace the forgiveness Jesus has waiting for us. We only need to ask.

  My heart's desire is to become the woman God ordained me to be at the dawn of time. He has taught me to forgive. He has given me grace when I cannot find it in my heart. 

  If memory serves me, in the book, The Shack, God talks about forgiveness as taking our hands off someone else's throat. It's not about them, it's about and for our own peace.

  It's why the Lord teaches us to forgive over and over and over again. Each time we forgive or even make the choice to do so, our death grip on someone else loosens and we are freed. Letting go of a need for vengeance or justice is one of the hardest things to do but hanging on to them is a breeding ground for bitterness when we feel neither is happening. 

   In God's time, it will. We may never see it or know about it. I've learned to be okay with this after having many a prayerful conversation with Jesus about it all. At least, I try to be okay with it.

  (I just want to say that if someone is a danger to a child or has harmed a child or if personal physical safety or even life is in danger, please, get in touch with the authorities immediately! Abuse in any form is utterly unacceptable.)

  Giving ourselves space and time is important, too. Wounds are incredibly complex. While I have often found healing in one area surrounding a specific event, the Lord will frequently have me revisit the memories because there's more to it than simply a one and done. So patience is important. It's the sister of surrender.

  Now, surrender isn't because we have been defeated, not at all! The best way to think about it is as if someone came over for dinner. Their plate is filled at the stove, it's taken to the table and set before them. It doesn't matter if the plate has a chip on it. (Smile...I like this visual. Can you imagine if the plate you were offering was given to Jesus? I don't think He'd care one bit that the green beans were overdone.)

  So we offer the plate and in return we are filled. That's surrender, too, making space to be filled.

  Doing the work is also nurturing gratitude and expressing it. Sounds a bit like a cliche but it isn't. Prayers of gratitude help us get outside of our pain, our struggles. Being thankful makes the hard stuff come easier.

  Doin' the work also involves community. Sometimes, the hurts are just too big to unravel on our own. But if we are willing to find healing, it may take the involvement of a therapist or group to help understand the impact of those experiences. It might take some time to find who or where that is. There are many options available to anyone looking for support. Don't be afraid, either, of recognizing when it isn't the right fit. God has something better ahead.

  People who have experienced similar things have taught me a great deal about the impact of abuse and trauma on every aspect of my life. 

  I know well from experience that fear is the greatest obstacle. Curiosity and desire will kick it to the curb.  

  I've had to put on the brakes every now and then because sometimes, it can be more than I can handle. Sometimes it takes time to gather up enough courage to face what needs to be faced. That's okay. 

  I also pause to let all I've learned sink in because it takes time to digest a new understanding or to allow the wounds time to heal. That's part of why my blog isn't something that is written every day. 

  As long as I am on the earth, this journey will continue. There is no timeline. No deadline. No final grade. There is no one pressuring me to "get over it." I simply want to. 

  There are some things that have happened which had such a profound impact that complete healing may only happen when the Lord calls me home. I find it hard to accept some days but nevertheless, these things I give to Jesus because in Him, anything is possible.

   The greatest motivator for "doing the work" is having the most important lesson of all reinforced every time I dip my toes into the Black River. I now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is with me. He has always been there, even in the darkest depths of the water. 

  I want to close out today with acknowledging that doing the work involves prayer. A lot of it be it visual, vocal, song, silence, waiting, or giving thanks for the sunshine. Prayer is the foundation of a healing relationship with God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Prayer is the key that unlocks the truth. And that, my friends, is something to be thankful for!

  

  

  

A Cold One

   "A person without self-control is like a city with broken-down walls." Proverbs 25:28

  Thank You, Lord, for leading me to this verse. It is perfect in every way.

  The subaudible had its way with me yesterday. I found myself reacting to a situation which ignited the automatic responses which were mastered in the years I lived with a husband. 

  If the subaudible had a smell, it would be the aroma of whiskey, beer and manure caked, leather boots.

  If it had a sound, it would be the click and serpent's hiss of an opening beer can.

  Years ago, I went to a presentation regarding Eye Movement Therapy. It was held at the local Legion, the place where war veterans gather to drink. Even though it was in an environment I wanted no part of, the draw of learning about a way to heal trauma was far too important. 

  In the background, the Legion was preparing for opening. The tinkling, musical chatter of beer bottles, while harmless in and of itself, triggered a massive surge in my fight/flight response. The person doing the lecture was rather taken aback when I shared what was happening. She said my trauma was far too complicated for EMT to be much help and that I needed far more therapy than what this technique could offer.

  Over the years, I've learned there are no short cuts. Ya gotta do the work.

  I've also learned that the Lord is always there to help me see the way out. He is my greatest and most trustworthy therapist.

  I find myself rather disheartened in realizing just how quickly the subaudible can usurp my self-control. The smell of beer, the sound of a can opening, opens the floodgates. The old ways learned to survive the onslaught of anger and nastiness which were attached to these sounds takes over. All the things I did to appease the drinker smother the ability to even think about doing something else. The urgent need for survival also disconnects the thinking brain to allow the automatic mechanisms complete control. 

  I think our subconscious has no concept of time. It's sole purpose is for survival and it will cause us to do anything towards that goal. Even if the surviving is done in unhealthy and unsustainable ways. Yes, submissiveness helped me survive the long, dark years with an alcoholic. But in doing so, I lost myself.

  Even though I don't drink, alcohol made me its slave all the same.

  It's safe to say I lost control yesterday. Not in a violent, explosive way because that isn't in my nature but by assuming the posture of submission and appeasement. I behaved like a whipped dog. I didn't even realize that's what I was doing until today. I just knew something had gone terribly wrong.

  Oh, Lord, this pattern of behaviour is so deeply ingrained that I find myself incredibly disheartened. My marriage ended twenty years ago but that old life, the old ways, the un-Godly ways, still have the ability to hijack the present. And that's the hardest thing about all of this.

  Will I ever be free? 

  Help me, my Lord, find my way out.

  

  

  

Another World

  "All the heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display His craftsmanship. Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make Him known. They speak without a sound or word; their voice is never heard." Psalm 19:1-3

  The harvest is under way. A pan full of tomatoes from the garden, celery, peppers, garlic and fresh basil is roasting in the oven. The best and easiest way to make spaghetti sauce! Cook it hot and leave it undisturbed until the veggies start to char. Once most of the water is roasted away, it all gets pureed with an immersion blender. The easiest couple of hours where the oven does all the work.

  The black currents are frozen in bags, waiting for the last few berries to ripen. When they are all picked, it's time to make black currant syrup AKA Ribena. It's a delicious addition to ginger ale or club soda. Just in time, too, the last bottle from last year is nearly gone.

  It was wonderful to be away again for a couple of days to visit another friend of my friend. They live beside the Gull River about two hours north of here. It's a beautiful area where the multicolored granite of the Canadian Shield erupts from the ground. The shimmering, twisted layers of pink, gray, red and black are offset by the deep greens of cedar and pine forests. Occasionally, a flash of sky and shadow appears in the numerous lakes, ponds and streams which dot the land. 

  The Gull river runs quickly, deep and smooth. The water was warm and a pleasure to swim in to get away from the heat and humidity of a mid-summer's day. 

  The variety of pebbles along the river bank is utterly fascinating. No color is forgotten or missed. The silty sand which wraps your toes in softness sparkles in the rippling sunlight of the shallows: a light show of stars beneath your feet. 

  I also heard a bat! It wasn't the echo location sounds heard as a child. It was more of a squawk. There were two of them flying close together so I figured it was one telling the other to back off their air space. They did sound rather annoyed. If bats hear sounds we don't hear, this must have been a very, very loud objection. I couldn't help but smile.

  This mini holiday leaves me with much to be thankful for.

  I am thankful for the childlike awe and wonder that leaves me transfixed by a pebble held in the palm of my hand. It is never the same twice no matter which way it is turned.

  I am thankful for the blessings of the river. For being cooled off. 

  I am thankful when my heart dances with the morning mist.

  I am thankful to have heard a Green Heron's cry. I'd never heard one before.

  I am thankful to have learned how to be still and free my senses. These joyful times and places become postcard memories, saved for those days when the Black River runs deep.

  

  I am thankful the Lord gave me a gift of awareness on so many different levels. I am thankful, in such precious moments, I can forget my troubles and get lost in God's most wonderful creation. At times, I can almost hear singing in the ripple of water, and in the leaves stirred by the faintest of wind's whispers..."Praise and glory and honour be to God, the One who made us all!"

  AMEN!

  

  

  

  

  

  

Processing

   "So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus. And because you belong to Him, the power of the life-giving Spirit has freed you from the power of sin that leads to death." 

Romans 8:1-2

  I spent the heat of Tuesday afternoon creating this collage. It's a big one, filling two11x14 inch pages. It was a time investment of several hours of magazine browsing and worth every second.

  I am glad I took the time because the art always helps when thoughts are too big for my brain; when the ideas leap into my consciousness far too quickly to make sense of them. It helps me slow down and catch my breath.

  It always amazes me how these come together, how random magazines contain everything I need to express a visual prayer. It's a subaudible language of a different kind learned through a walk with Jesus.

   In the midst of it all, there are two things which stood out, the keys to the whole piece. They are the two children weighed down by heavy, overloaded backpacks.

  The one on the left, with need as their burden, faces a storm of confusing, conflicting lessons about their place in the world. While it seems they carry the weight easily, backpacks have a way of getting heavier the longer they are carried.

  But then there is always hope as personified by the child on the right.

  "Love rejoices in the truth."

  No matter how heavy our burdens, no matter how long we have carried them, no matter what is in the pack, truth will set us free. We need not be afraid or ashamed to give it all to God. Truth can only be found through honesty.

  As I assembled the chosen images, I developed a richer understanding of how need has driven my choices, the good and the bad. Anyone in marketing knows this is the driving force behind everything. At its very foundation is the need to be loved and accepted.

  But all marketing ads contain a whole slew of fine print underneath the huge picture of happy people who have used their product. That's where the adverse side effects and warnings are written in tiny, tiny print with the sole purpose of absolving any sort of liability by the advertiser.

  The fine print is the subaudible of the advertising world.

  Advertisers know if we are unhappy, we will look to their products for fulfillment so they work so hard to help us hate our selves, our lives, our homes, and even the people in it. They feed our sense of inadequacies with a rich diet of must have's, must do's and must be's. 

  

  The hard part is not falling for it. Especially if the lessons of the media have been reinforced through relationships, upbringing and culture. The subaudible talks to itself, bolstering the toxic words it never says.

  Ah, but if we listen carefully, we can hear it. We can hear it when we look in a mirror. Chances are the mirror is not kind. 

  Who taught you this? What happened in the past that reinforced this idea? Where did you learn what beautiful is? Why do you believe it?

  I'll steal the "when." 

  When I give it to God, the subaudible will be silenced and I can look upon my reflection and see the person God sees. 

  "Love rejoices in the truth."

  Oh...wow..."beauty" as we know it is a man-made construct! 

  Now doesn't that idea rock my world...

  

  As I read through what was written, as much as I was speaking with you, dear reader, I was speaking to Cricket, the child who has carried a heavy back pack for a long, long time. 

  And you, dear child, are far more beautiful than a mirror could ever show. You always were.