Month: February 2013

West by Sea

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west by sea cover

I wanted to promote a friend of mine. I’ve known her for over twenty years (I hadn’t realized until I did the math).
Her name is Michelle and seven years ago she was diagnosed and received treatment for a brain tumor. She goes for her check up in a few weeks and after that, she and her husband are sailing around the world, and inviting us to vicariously be a part of this.

I love this idea! I can’t wait to follow them along on their journey. For me, I am not a fan of the water or boats, so this will definitely be vicariously.

I’m including links to the website, the Facebook page and the Kickstarter if any of you are able to donate monetary funds.

I will probably add a couple of more posts when I have more time, but I really wanted to get the word out.

In addition to their story, preparation and Michelle’s health, their sites include many helpful tips and organizational ideas and information about traveling, which I’m finding both useful and fascinating.

Visit West by Sea and enjoy the trip.

Bon Voyage!

West by Sea Facebook
Kickstarter

Spiritual Changes

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“Few of us look as good as we once did. It is a fact of life, the price of getting old. We have our bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes. Life damages us all. Even our spiritual life may not be what it once was.”
-Traveling Light by Father Thomas Connery

My spiritual life was never what it is now.

I’ve always had a strong sense of G-d, but also a terrified sense of what’s next? I was always concerned with what happens when we die. I’m still concerned, but it consumes me less. As a child, I hated going to funerals, although the one time I was given a choice on the matter, I opted to go because I was close to the woman.

Since joining the Church, I’ve attended at least six funerals in the last three months. I knew none of the deceased. I found something uplifting with the funeral message that life isn’t ended, but changed. Honestly, I’m not sure I believe it – it’s a lot like grasping at straws for me – I want it so very badly, but I still have the question in the back of my mind.
In my spiritual life, I never fit. When I did attend a religious school and temple, I disliked it in the extreme. It was too formal. Odd I know coming from someone who spends three to four mornings every week in an extremely formal ritual of Mass.

But all of the Hebrew schools I found didn’t explain anything to me. I felt unwelcome. We were either too religious or not religious enough.

We followed the rites with our children, and that was more than that it was required. I could feel the thousands of years of tradition and it felt wonderful. Even my son in the pain from his bris, I felt the connection to a place thousands of years old, thousands of miles away in the desert. It was a bit overwhelming and I remember it distinctly to this day.

There was a scene in Supernatural recently, where the character of Dean says, “Dayenu”. I’m not sure what he meant by that – it was one of those things that I let go because I just didn’t know, but I remember a song Dayenu from our Passover Seders about goats. I might be remembering it wrong. I really enjoyed those Seders. I still have my torn, scribbled on paper copy of the one we got from shul, and that was the best school I could have gone to. We learned Yiddish and the Bible stories and the traditions like reading a Haggadah for Passover and lighting Chanukah candles and watching those cheap wax candles melt so quickly, more quickly than they should have, and learning why you don’t light a Yartzeit candle until your parents die because it’s not right to do it before.

My Dad also taught me that you don’t put hats on the bed, you don’t give out more information than is asked for, you give more than you get, you don’t take gas money if you’re going in the same direction, and if someone needs a helping hand, you don’t ask why, you reach out your hand. He did these things quietly.

My mother was equally generous with her time and her money and her love, but she did it much more noisily. She didn’t expect a thank you, but it would be nice. Her family always came first. She didn’t have medical treatments because that would mean time off from work and time off from work would mean less money for the family’s needs. How in the world does a $48,000 house cost $275,000 and it’s still not enough.

My parents were smart and funny, well, my father was hilarious. He loved his kids and his grandkids more. My mother did also.

I miss them.

And in this journey through Catholicism, they’re the only ones I worry about. How would they feel? For one thing, they wouldn’t want me to be miserable hiding my feelings, hiding my faith. They wouldn’t want me suicidal. They would want me to do whatever I felt was right to take care of my kids and myself.

From the moment I walked into the church, I was welcomed, and not just welcomed, but I felt welcome. I was allowed to ask any question, even irreverent, even to the priest himself.

I really do feel as though I belong.

It’s funny, growing up and well into adulthood, I was very uncomfortable seeing crosses with Christ depicted on them. It was torture. Why is it everywhere? It wasn’t until I started attending church and when I stopped avoiding looking at the large cross which is always positioned over the Father’s shoulder when he reads the Gospel. I started really looking and feeling the empathy FROM it, not my feeling sorry towards it for His torture and murder, but the amount of comfort coming from it amazed and overwhelmed me. There was light filtering in through the skylight and the lingering smell of strong incense and the most amazing feeling of arms wrapped around me, and I knew then; it was months ago, but I knew then: I was falling and

He caught me, and he hasn’t let go, and I won’t let go either.

I understand now; just a little bit, but I do understand.

Your Work in Me

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“Jesus, I welcome your work in me this coming year. I want this year to be a time of growth in my journey with you.”

I’ve been attending church services for almost one year now. I started the actual Masses during Holy Week. There was never any intention to join the church. I just needed a place to sit quietly and think. I knew that I would talk to G-d. I hesitate to call it prayer; it was a simple conversation. True, it would be a one-sided conversation: I’d do all of the talking and hope that Someone was listening. It was the one place I could say, or think, anything and there was no judgment, no scorn, no bad things.

Whenever anyone came into the church while I was there alone, they left me alone. On occasion someone would ask if I needed anything, if I was waiting for anyone, I’d get a wave or a smile, but no one ever asked why I was there. No one ever asked me to leave. To be honest, that was the primary reason I chose a church for my thinking: I would be welcome.

The first time I spoke to G-d here, He answered with the church bells. It was perfect, and all of the scared things, all of the hurt, all of the anger just went away, and I cried.

There were so many more moments like that, and every time I was ready to lose faith, another sign, another answer came to me, and I went on for a few more days, finding comfort in the stability, the steadiness of the daily Mass.

I wasn’t quite alone any more.

Things would happen at home or I would be upset and certain that this was my last day, and the Gospel would be read, and it was the exact answer that I needed for my exact problem.

There was a ray of light hitting a pew, an extra strong scent of incense while I was reading a passage, the smell of the candle wax melting. Sitting in my ‘usual’ pew, I glanced up, not anything special, just a slight lift of my head, and I would have sworn that I could see Wales. Upon closer inspection, through that one particular window that you could only see from my seat at just my height was the trunk of a tree and green leaves hanging heavy, dripping water with bright sunlight coming from behind it through the spaces where the trunk split. I took a deep breath and my lips curled up.

It was Wales.

So I stayed.

The quotation above is something that I didn’t know I was looking for. I’ve heard people talk about Jesus, and the moments when they felt the pull. I’m cynical but open minded and I’ve never really been a believer in that sort of spiritual stuff. I do believe in ghosts, but Jesus, Son of G-d, that’s a bit much.

When I was called, when I knew, it just happened. It wasn’t getting hit by lightning, but it was profound and I could feel it. Once I decided that I would be baptized, I wouldn’t wait; I needed to speak with the Father immediately, as soon as possible. I knew that it would be a difficult concept for my family, and most of them still don’t know, but I have the support of my best friend and my church family (and all of them would have supported me either way – no one ever asked me about conversion; they just enjoyed what I was getting out of the Masses).

When I read that quotation, it is exactly what I’ve been looking for.

I’ve been much more spiritual; much more calm and thoughtful, and forgiving. I feel G-d on my shoulder and I do pray now – actual prayer in addition to the conversations I still have with G-d.

I will keep that quotation in my notebook, and remind myself of how far I’ve come, not just in other parts of my life, but in the spiritual part, the faithful part. It makes me stronger, it makes me more confident, it makes me smile because I feel it so deeply; I feel the love and the support and it centers me and reminds me to take those moments to think; to think and then do in all parts of my life.

I look forward to the upcoming year. I’ve looked forward to observing Lent, and missing out on my Diet Coke reminds me of the other things in my life that I should be thinking about. I’m writing more, which was one of my intentions for my Lenten Pilgrimage. I am feeling my faith and living my faith and after becoming nearly a completely different person in the last two years, this faith, and my journey with Jesus Christ is like putting on a comfortable sweater, tucking into a cup of tea and a good book or a friendly voice on the phone.

Day 5 of Lent

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Today at Mass the Church gave out these small metal crosses that fit into the palm of your hand. The Father said that they’re to remind us of Jesus’ temptation by the devil in his forty days in the desert, and for our time during Lent, whenever we’re tempted by something, we should take this cross out and look at it, hold it in our hands, turn it over, read the Scripture on the back (John 3:16) and fight through the temptation. Remember that G-d is always by our side; we just need to have faith.

It was kind of funny with what I was thinking about as he said it, and it made me realize how often my mind can wander, and how my dreams often will take me places that I’m not willing to go to when I’m awake. I also think that some of that is the stress of my house. I’ve been taking a few extra deep breaths, and I’ve been biting my tongue a bit more, but change is coming; for better or worse.

I think we must all have those moments where the grass is always greener somewhere else, and we want it – the envy and the lust and the need and the longing, not so much of what someone else has, but how much better we’d be if we had the same thing as them – that it must be so wonderful over there, but of courses, we’re only seeing what they want us to see.

Their world is different, but it can be equally difficult. We just don’t always see their forest for their trees.

There are a couple of people I’d like to trade with – take a vacation from my life and let someone else stand in for me for a while.

However, I do need to remember that I have three children, and I am their example, as poor as some days that is, so I will work on this coveting and temptation and see where I am in forty days.

Fall Forward

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As part of my New Year and dealing with my depression and keeping a healthy focus in my life, I have been reading a book, Achieve Anything in Just One Year by Jason Harvey. Every day, there is a quotation, a short reading and an assignment to work on. I try to do this every day, but there have been some assignments that were hard, and so they were put off to give them the consideration that they deserved.

The last few days have been related to failure and how to change your present habits and deal with failure better since failure is the foundation, the stepping stones to success.

Today’s assignment asks the reader to take our failure and fall forward.

I have a friend who will take my ‘failure’ (although he would never call it that) and gives me a poke, just enough to propel me forward, and that is one of the things that this assignment reminded me of. For this assignment, though, the point is to give myself that little poke, on my own, not relying on my friend, and take whatever the failure is and fall forward to the next level.

Immediately, as I began to write my response, I was thinking of Wales, and since that it is my spiritual place, the place that reminds me of what I can do and the strong feelings that it can evoke in me, I thought this was a good reflection both for falling forward from failure and the faith that I’m trying to see more of and work on recognizing during this Lent.

One of the things the writer asked me to remember were those moments in childhood when we’re learning to ride a bicycle and flew down that hill with abandon.

My problem is I never flew down that hill with abandon. The closest I came to anything like that was Wales. I let go of my fears in Wales because it was Wales and because I had no choice.

If I didn’t drive, I didn’t go home.

If I didn’t climb as close as I could to Dolwyddelan, I would have missed the one thing that I’d wanted for so long – Llywelyn’s castle; his birthplace.

If I didn’t push down my fear, I would have regretted it.

As it stands now, while there are things that I didn’t do while I was there, but there are so many more that I did and it’s the first time in my life that I had absolutely NO REGRETS.

I need to remember this.

Ash Wednesday

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This is my first post since beginning Lent.

This morning I realized that this is my first rite since deciding to become Catholic. I’ve been going to Mass, but I’ve never participated in any sacraments. And I’m actually not allowed to because I’m not baptized. However, I was told receiving ashes is not a sacrament.

But it is a rite.

And in realizing that it is my first one, this is actually a big deal for me.

It stops being ‘hanging out in church three days a week, sometimes four’, and solidifies my commitment to Christ. It is almost (or really past) time to start telling my family about my decision. Except for who is reading this, I’ve only told my best friend, my priest, my therapist and my husband (in that order). My family is not very religious, but I still worry about their reaction. Part of it is not only a step forward in my faith, but also in my continuing journey. Asserting myself positively as I become more myself. Asking my family to accept me as I grow and change.

As part of that first step, I was nervous walking into the gathering space. There was no room for deep breaths. The door opens and there are people waiting for you, and then I start to have a little panic thing going on. I don’t know what to do.

The Father greeted me with hello, and I respond with a good morning, and then go on to receive my ashes. I don’t know what the woman said to me. She smiled, reached her thumb out to my forehead, and said something. I think I thanked her, although I’m not sure if you’re supposed to do that. At least, no one laughed at me.

Once she touched my forehead, though, I no longer felt weird.

I belonged.

I was in the right place, doing the right thing, and I could feel it.

Mass went as usual, but it felt big.

Important.

Some days the Mass does feel that way. You can feel, literally feel the Spirit upon you and those days feel Big.

Today was one of those days.

There’s music, but it’s somber.

There are no Alleluias. Father told us yesterday that those were the last ones until after Lent.

The Deacon is back from his holiday.

All of the vestments are purple. Having a young daughter, I always think of purple as a happy color, but adorning the church and the Christ on His Cross, it is dark and muted and thoughtful, and not at all happy.

There’s penitence, and apologies, but certain words evoke certain images, and every time for me, when I hear penitent, I hear Sean Connery’s voice, and then Harrison Ford:

“A penitent man. Kneels before G-d!”

And then the Father uses the phrase, ‘a Lenten Pilgrimage’ and I smile broadly. That is what I called it yesterday in this very space, and I know that I am traveling in a new direction. I have everything I need, and I am ready.

I bow my head to receive the prayer.

And thus begins my first Lent.

Lenten Pilgrimage

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After doing my own reading and talking to my close friend, I’m going to approach Lent as a pilgrimage of sorts. In that way, it goes along with my view that the last couple of years were and are a path that I’m following until I end up where I belong, wherever that is.

As a non-Catholic for my whole life up to this point, I’ve thought of Lent as that part of the year most like Yom Kippur. Time to atone your sins and with Easter renew your year, much like I do at that time of the year in the Fall or most people do in January at the New Year.

I’ve come to find that it’s much more than that. Of course, it’s whatever each individual decides to do for themselves, so please don’t take this as a directive that now suddenly I’ve attended Mass for less than a year and I’m some kind of expert. I only know my own observations and what my friends’ have told me, not to mention any specific questions I’ve had answered, either through asking or Googling.

As a child, I was under the impression that Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are fast days, and that meat isn’t eaten on Fridays during Lent. I am planning on observing these dietary restrictions with the addition that I will also eliminate bread during most of the week of Passover. This year is definitely a transition for me; I also remind myself that Jesus himself was celebrating Passover at His Last Supper.

I’m abstaining from two things for the next forty days (although I think it’s slightly longer than that). Diet Coke (and all soda really, but that’s the only one I drink) and the bakery scones I’ve been enjoying too much. I’m replacing the Diet Coke with water and green tea. I really don’t like green tea, but I’ve been reading that it counteracts some of the bad things that aspartame does to your body, so I’m going to try it out. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll drink my usual black tea and water.

This is an extraordinarily difficult thing for me to give up. Except for an occasional morning tea or lemonade in the summer or Starbucks drinks, ALL I drink is Diet Coke. I would guess that I average about 28 12 oz. cans in a week.

The only advantage I have is that they’re decaffeinated, so I won’t have the pleasure of going through a caffeine withdrawal. Been there, done that, wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

I won’t be replacing the scones with anything. Part of that is to save the money and part of that is to lose the weight I’ve gained in the last couple of months out of the blue. Both saving the money and losing a bit of weight will be advantageous for me come October.

I also want to use this time for my writing. It was suggested that I trade one hour of Tumblr for one hour of writing, but I don’t have the willpower to do that; it would just make me miserable every time I ‘cheated’, so it’s not going to be a 1:1 ratio.

However, I will commit to writing certain things for the next forty days and hopefully keep it up as we go through the rest of the year.

The first thing that I want to write about on a daily basis is my faith journey, whether that’s this past year and how it’s brought me to this place or what I’m feeling on that day during the Lenten season. There are so many days that I have a monologue in my head about the faith and spirit that I’m feeling and I never get them down, so I’m hoping that this will help me get it out. I also have my Mason Jar project continuing through the year. There are still a couple of things that I haven’t put in it yet, but that’s separate from Lent.

The second thing I want is to be more consistent in my blogging. Whether it’s non-fiction blathering or Fan Fiction and Meta, I want to be posting, if not daily, then consistently, so it’s expected, both by me and by my readers. I’ve had my blog nominated for a couple of new blog awards and my essay about writing was recommended in January. These are great things, and make me very proud of what I have done, but with new readers comes higher expectations, and my expectations for myself should be higher than the reader. I want to try and live up to that.

I think what that means are at least two writings per day: one related to my faith and one for general writing.

Most importantly, I’m not dreading what’s expected of me this Lenten season. I’m looking forward to it; the challenges, the commitments, the creativity, the walk with Christ.

My Journey Towards Faith

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I’ve spent a lot of time on Tumblr writing about my new found obsession, Supernatural. This show really has everything – good music, complex characters, a cast that loves their jobs and more pop culture references than you could possibly name, not to mention the puns.

I may eventually share those essays here if there is a want for it, but my friend, who encourages me in all things, and especially writing knows exactly which buttons to push to get me off my ass and before I knew it, I had over 5000 words in three essays about the show, the characters and my predictions for the future of the all of the above.

In addition to that taking up much of my time, I kind of had a relapse with my depression. I wasn’t more depressed or down, but I could feel that I fell off the wagon. I think I’m back on as long as I stick to my routines that I have really grown accustomed to, and more than that, comforted by.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned here what’s been happening in my religious life. A quick overview would be that I was raised Jewish, and followed all of the holidays, more so when I was a kid, but I’ve tried to give my kids the feel for the traditions that I grew up with. As far as faith, I’ve never been very religious in that way, although I knew most of the Bible stories, and believe in them.

Last year around this time, I kind of fell apart. It was about two months after an official diagnosis of severe depression and other things were happening in my life that would be inappropriate to discuss on a public blog, but I found myself at our local Roman Catholic Church. I knew I would be welcome, and so I wandered in to pray by myself and catch my breath so to speak. I did this several times whenever I was ‘sent’ there through the various signs (truly neon) that were sent to me on certain days and I followed those feelings.

Eventually, I began to attend the daily Mass three days a week, and I am still doing that today. Over the course of this last year, I discovered the Scriptures and the Word of G-d, and the role Jesus Christ has played in religious mythos and history of the Catholic Church (and all of Christianity, of course). At some point, I understood what was meant by ‘coming to Jesus’ and being ‘saved’. It was so clear in so many things that I was witnessing, both emotionally and physically. My head took a bit longer, but my heart knew what was to come in my life. I was lucky to have a very strong, supportive friend as well as a very supportive priest, regardless of any decisions I made in regard to remaining Jewish or converting to Catholicism.

At the very end of last year, New Year’s Eve in fact, I sat down with my priest to discuss my desire to be baptized. This will happen next Easter (2014), and while there will be bumps on that road that I will have to deal with, I know it is the right one.

The one question that has come up (from a family member) is whether or not I believe in the Resurrection. I don’t always have to see things to believe them, although I am extremely cynical in my ways. I do believe in ghosts, however, and if those manifestations are real, there is no logical reason that the Resurrection is not. So, yes, I do believe.

The reason I bring this up is that Lent begins on Wednesday, and since this is my first year attending church, for myself, I have decided to observe Lent, even though technically I’m not required to, and I will also follow the Jewish holidays that I would have normally celebrated including Passover next month. I don’t expect any of this to be easy. The point actually is for it to be a challenge – a kind of pilgrimage as part of the new path that I’m on.

In addition to giving up a couple of things, I will be adding writing and meditation to my Lenten journey, which will both focus me creatively and bring me closer to G-d.

I drink a lot of Diet Coke. It’s practically the only thing I drink, so I’ve decided that soda is what I will be giving up. I drink non-caffeinated, so there shouldn’t be any kind of physical withdrawal, only a psychological one, but because of the negative effects of the aspartame (I was told twice this week about them, both from my best friend and my brother), I will be adding green tea as well as regular tea and water. I am also giving up my favorite bakery scones, which is good both for diet and pocketbook.

However, Lent isn’t just about giving up things; it’s about adding G-d and Faith into your life and that is my intent, not only adding Faith, but adding my Dreams to this reflective time.

I’m going to cut back on some of my social media and prioritize things because last year at this time I checked out of my life. I wasn’t there for my friends; not for my kids; not for my husband, and to give credit where credit is due, he took on a lot more than he should have been expected to and with less complaint than he was entitled to. All of our problems aren’t gone, but I’m physically better; I’m mentally better, and the support system I have seems to be working for me. We still need work, but that is also part of my Lenten pilgrimage.

Thank you for giving me such great encouragement to this writing experiment. I’m happy that you will join me as I (hopefully) increase my writing output with quality, timely and entertaining posts. I’m enjoying hearing from many of you. Any of your suggestions on format and topics/prompts are always welcome.

Strands of Silver

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My son wanted to know why my hair was all of a sudden silver. Well, Mommy can’t afford her ‘real’ color.

And yes, my hair is not grey; it is definitely silver. And that’s not vain. And it’s been turning silver since I was about 17 just like my Dad.

The thing is, I like the silver. I really do.

But……..

When I was dating my husband, we went to a Halloween party and I dressed as Poison Ivy, so I decided to dye my hair red for the party.

I looked at my (short) red hair against my brown eyes and sallow, yellowy skin and I realized that I was supposed to be born a redhead, and I have been ever since (a couple of decades now).

It makes me sad when I pass by a mirror and see the silver shine and sparkle because that’s just not me.

It’s not vanity or age; it’s just not me.

It’s very much the same feeling I get from Wales. Having not been born there or having any kind of Welsh heritage, I still feel ‘from there’. It feels as though I’m being given the feelings and images of who I’m supposed to be and I just need the courage to take those steps.

I’ve been to Wales and it is embedded on my soul.

As for my hair, sure I’ve never let it revert back fully to silver until now. People tease me thinking I dye it to ‘cover the grey’ but that is so far from the reason that it truly pains me when it’s pointed out.

I am sad that I can’t afford something so small that feels so good; that lets me be me.

My hairdresser helped me pick a cheaper over the counter dye until I can go back to her, so I will hope for the best and dye it back tomorrow.

Because while I do love the silver, I’d rather be me. Redheaded me is a different person, and actually perhaps reverting fully back to silver and starting my color over again is a good metaphor for my life and what the rest of this year is going to look like.