Reflection – Ash Wednesday

As I find myself observing my first Ash Wednesday since my baptism into the Catholic faith (I observed two before today), I am hesitant to choose that one something to give up. There are truly so many things available to me, not necessarily bad habits that need eliminating or rectifying or sins that need reconciling, but between candy and dessert, soda and McDonald’s Breakfast Burritos, television and internet, the present list goes on like a persistent gnaw at my subconscious, and I’m not sure where my Lenten (or should I say life -) priorities should lie.

In addition to giving something up, what do I add to my day to encourage me in my spiritual contemplation, the new awakening to my continuing faith journey? In the past, I’ve committed to a daily reflection. Unfortunately this has lasted about two days. Maybe I’ve taken on too much, been overly ambitious, trying to publish a missive rather than a thought.

Should I pray more?

Should I give myself some extra alone time in the morning to reflect and ruminate? Perhaps use as a model the Daily Examen of St. Ignatius?

Everything I’ve mentioned and thought about for this Lent looks good and interests me, but so far none feel right; none feel faithful.

None fit.

They all feel forced, a put-uponing rather than a release, a lethargy of excuses rather than an arousing of spirit or a growth to carry me through these next forty days.

I am at odds with myself and it all feels muddled; a disarray of good intentions amid the clutter of listlessness, torn between excessive piousness and not enough, walking the fine line of knowing who this Lent is for – my outer self or my inner soul.

As I spend the rest of today in G-d’s grace, I’m hoping He will show me which direction to take at this Ash Wednesday crossroads.

Lenten Quotations

Lent comes providentially to reawaken us, to shake us from our lethargy

.– Pope Francis

You can do more than pray after you have prayed; but you can never do more than pray until you have prayed.

— A.J. Gordon

Remember that lent and ash Wednesday is not just about putting away the bad things. It is about creating good things and helping the poor and the needy, being kind to people and much more.

— Jacob Winters

It is not just about giving up our favorite food but its about going further and giving up things like hatred and unforgiveness. You need to clean your heart and prepare yourself for purity.

— Amanda Jobs

For 36 more quotes about Lent, and for the source of these for, go here.

Ready for Lent?

Not quite, but my church is!

Holy Thursday or Mass of the Lord’s Supper

A lot was going on today.

There was a prayer service this morning, and surprise, Father J called me up for a special blessing. I do not like the center of attention place, but I really like all of the warm-hearted and good wishes that I’m being given. When I turned to go back to my seat, one of the women in the front (who I don’t know), grabbed me and hugged me. There is a lot of hugging.

In fact, as an aside, the only group who hugs more than this church is the posse!

While on my errands, I received a call from my going-to-be-godmother who is also the parish office manager to say that Father J had a revelation.

This worried me.

It should have.

He wondered why I wasn’t having my feet washed at tonight’s mass.

My first reaction was, “NoNoNoNoNo…”

I do NOT like people touching my feet. They’re dry and very ticklish and let’s just leave it at that. Basically I only take my socks off to take a shower.

I was told that I didn’t have to, but it was one of those you shoulds but you don’t have to, and I’d still have to do it next year, so I said, ‘whatever he wants me to do,’ which has been my usual response to most things that I know I can get through but don’t want to say yes. (Like Wales and LARP and an emergency c-section, but I digress.)

I’m already carrying the oil of catecumen in the processional, and I am supposed to announce it. It needs to be very loud. At rehearsal, they made me say it three times because my voice is too timid. If they let me type it on tumblr, I could have gotten it in ALL CAPS, bolded and italicized, and it would have been perfect.

And then of course, I’m carrying a glass jar of oil that’s been blessed by the Bishop for the parish for the entire year. No pressure there on not tripping and throwing it through the air like Daffy Duck.

One of the things that has surprised me about all of the things asked of me for the ritual of becoming Catholic and observing Easter has been how non-plussed I am about everything.

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” I say, and surprisingly I’m not.

I’m more nervous about meeting tomorrow’s train than anything I’ve been asked to do.

I’ve gotten a tiny surge of anxiety and in my mind asking myself, ‘you want me to do what?!’ but it’s fleeting, and I nod my head and smile and I mean it.

I have been given a certain grace to accept what I need to do or maybe it’s that it’s like an obstacle course. I jump through the hoops to get to the prize, and of course this prize is being in communion with Jesus Christ.

Once it was there in front of me, it was there. No doubt. No question that I believed and this was the right thing and if you ask anybody there is not one thing in my life that I can say that about.

If you asked me what’s for dinner, I’d answer, but it would be with a question mark – a kind of ‘is that okay’ at the end that I have never said or felt with joining the church officially.

Telling people made me more anxious, but once the statement was out of the way, the decision was right, and I always knew it.

Tonight, all of us oil and banner carriers were standing in the back waiting for our cue when I noticed a smoky wisp at the front of the church. I didn’t smell incense, and thought at first that it was that dust that you see in a ray of sunlight, but I realized that it was indeed the incense, but it wasn’t a smell, it was the way the incense rose. I watched it climb slowly, steadily and I promise you it was in the shape of a Jewish star. (Also called a Star of David, and it is through David’s line that Jesus is born.)

I could feel myself getting emotional. It was only the most recent moment of clarity.

While Father J was washing feet, he seemed to say something to make the person more at ease. We laughed, and he poured the water over my foot.

I’m pretty sure they put ice cubes in it. I have never felt water that cold and my foot jerked. I’m lucky (or was he the lucky one?) that I didn’t kick him in the face.

It was a humorous moment, but when he laid his hands on me, the humor went away and a most incredible feeling came upon me, I want to say ‘washed over me’, but that seems a bit cliche, although that’s what it was. He dried my foot and leaned forward to kiss it and looked into my eyes and said, “G-d bless you,” and it was a moment much like the one earlier with the incense.

If in my mind thngs don’t make sense, there is no rationale or reason to it, these moments of clarity, of faith, of knowing give so much calm and comfort and warmth.

After that we venerated the altar, eucharist was given and we walked and sang as a group to the parish hall for the host to be kept for adoration and tomorrow’s mass.

The kids were a little antsy, but one more mass for them. We have lots of cleaning and grocery shopping to do tomorrow. (Good Friday fasting is much different than Yom Kippur fasting.)

As I said, there are things I’m anxious and nervous about, but I think it will be okay; I hope so anyway.

At this moment, I feel content, so i’ll post this and go to bed.

Grumbles, Grumblies, Grumblr

Today’s homily was about grumbling. The Grumbles. Grumblies. Father J may have looked directly at me, but that may also have just been my guilty conscience. He was saying that we should have less grumblies. The Grumblies are those things that pick at your brain and land on your very last nerve, like typos or posts with your instead of you’re, captions that don’t match the picture or any number of things like leaving the toilet seat up or the tea kettle turned the wrong way.

If you follow my blog with any regularity, you all know that I am a grumbler. I grumble. I grumble a lot. Sometimes, well, no, that’s not fair; it’s always warranted, at least in my mind, but sometimes all it needs is an outlet. I post here. It gets ignored. I’ve actually cut back on the grumblies; I was becoming Peter and I did not want that. I do not want that. There are times that I need the comfort and the hugs and the shoulder to lean on, and asking for it is just too hard.

Another problem my grumblies have is in the need to get them out; it’s not always the best idea to name names. However, when not naming names, the problem is often misinterpretation as to the subject of the grumblies. Another downside is the common feeling that whatever is bothering me isn’t what’s been word-vomited and that leads to the assumption that it’s passive-aggressive. I will tell you a secret: It is almost never passive-aggressive.

I do know how it sounds, but sometimes, truly it is just the truth coming out and there is only one way to say it, like tearing the band-aid off, but in my world, I don’t want to hurt anyone, so I hem and I haw and I stall and stammer, and grumble here and grumble there, and talk circles around the real matter-at-hand that in the end no one knows what the problem is, but everyone is all pissed off and there is a new conundrum, and no one knows how that happened. But I guarantee, with 85% accuracy that I was not being passive-aggressive.

You know, there’s stuff that’s been going on for many, many weeks. Only a handful of people know what it’s about, and I would hazard to guess that even they’re in the dark because I don’t talk about it. I don’t have anyone to talk to about it. So I grumble.

I want to fix things. I want to say things, so I only say half of what I wanted to say – dipping my toe in the water as it were and I end up with my foot in my mouth. I apologize and try again with more words, with explanations that are so wordy and twisty that a contortionist would feel at home in my sentence. And I do it again, and I hope that all I get is my own foot in my mouth as opposed to someone else’s foot up my ass.

I stay quiet when I should speak out, and a mole hill becomes a mountain. And I grumble. And no one listens. And at some point it comes to a head.

In this particular case, today’s instance is more complicated than when I usually do this. There’s baggage. There’s misunderstanding. There are private issues that I can’t grumble about. There is consideration that I need to give, but sometimes it bothers me that I feel as though no consideration for my issues is given to me. I’m expected to step back, to take the deep breath, to wait, and for the most part, that’s okay because I try to know where that expectation is coming from, but some days are harder than others, and this is one of those days.

The stress is piling on with family and teenager and what’s for dinner and mother in law (who is truly the easiest person to get along with in the world), sorting out my sister’s schedule, Easter and church and wow, it’s next week already, and I have more appointments and yesterday’s doctor’s visit was a bit more intense than I planned on and now I’ve got more appointments for blood work and tests, and today I hit a wall.

I could feel the misplaced snark, but not snark, more like it’s nasty cousin, and the anger that had no place, and I needed to just shut up, which I did. Mostly. But it’s pent up, and instead of a full blown volcanic eruption, I released little currents of steam, drips of hot lava and tumblr grumblrs.

I’m not even sure if it helps me.

I know what I want.

I want someone to read my mind. To tell me what I’m thinking and that it will be alright, and I can ask anything again and say anything and it will be alright, and normal is a horrible word, but I want normal, even if normal is a little different. I want it back. I’m trying so hard not to be a jackass that I’m being a jackass, aren’t I?

Babble, babble, grumble.

I’m reading Ashley Judd’s memoir and I’ve said this week, in some places, it is just too much. Too much emotion, too much spirituality that is too familiar and so a bit heartrending, too much pain. I think of how lucky I was, and am, and so much of the emotional upheaval and depression from her, I feel, and I feel as though her recovery tools might be helpful for me, so I might try a couple. Parts of it I’m finding intense and stressed. I could use a massage after this book.

Tomorrow is Wednesday, but more than that it’s a New Day and I have a chance to try again. Maybe I’ll get up the courage to send a message, to ask the question, to say the words.

In the meantime, I will have Mass, which is a balm on my heart, and I have my Memoir Workshop and before this weekend I will ask someone for a hug. Not anyone off the street, but I will walk in and ask someone for a hug, and that will get me through for a short bit.

It will be alright, right?

Empathetic Spirit

“The commitment to help our poorest sisters and brothers is not an option, but an expression of our love for G-d.”

“…but also a turning toward our neighbor with a generous heart and empathetic spirit.”

“I will do a random act of kindness as an expression of my love for G-d.”

(the Living Gospel, March 28, 2014)

I’m having such a hard time concentrating on today’s readings. I read them easy enough, I had feelings that I thought I could express and then I started answering asks and reading things and getting frustrated.

I think the most frustrating thing is being called a liar. If only it were that easy to taint someone. Actually, it is that easy if you say it enough times. But the truth is, I’m not lying about this. I would even check my facts and have no problem admitting if I’m wrong, but lying? Really? Why would I want to have this argument when there are so many easier ones? Not to mention that the difference between my number and theirs doesn’t make a difference in what we’re discussing, and if you want to get into a pissing contest, I have absolutely no problem putting my integrity up against the other party.

And sadly, this is all in my head when I should be concentrating on G-d and Jesus and the next three weeks.

I have so much on my mind – that nervous excitement about the next few rituals. Will I trip? Will I be able to kneel this Sunday? My knees suck and I only fell over last Sunday. Can I carry the oil on Holy Thursday without dropping it? Will everyone come who I want to be there? I still need to send messages to four people. We’re going to visit our families before Easter. I have two doctors’ appointments and a mammogram that needs to be scheduled. My memoir workshop is starting next week. The workshop teacher has a book published so I need to come up with money to get that.

On the other hand, my almost-godmother keeps sending me inspirational cards that make me smile every time I read them. I’ve had more signs of hope this week than in the last two months. Doesn’t take the worry away but I’m in a better place. I printed out all those wonderful messages for my First Scrutiny and they also make me smile whenever I look at them, and I have all of the post-it notes from the likes from my becoming an Elect. (I’m going to do that again for the Vigil by the way.)

I have three books that I’ve taken out of the library for my Kindle and I bought a book that was on sale (free really because I still have a gift card) about baseball by David Halberstam. He was the commencement speaker for my college graduation.

Today’s act that they recommend is a random act of kindness. This was a nice reminder that I have promised my soda money to Random Acts, and once this posts, I will donate the $15 to them. As it says above, “a generous heart and an empathetic spirit” is really the way of Random Acts as well as their “commitment to help our poorest brothers and sisters…” If I have taken anything away from Supernatural it is finding this charity co-founded by Misha Collins. They embody everything I want to stand for in my life, and are a worthy place for my money (and yours). I won’t say extra money because no one has extra money, but what little I have goes to them, my church and our local volunteer fire department. We can all spare something. Give up one coffee or lunch per week. It’s not much, but for a small charity or organization, it adds up.

This Lent I am taking who I was, who I became when I joined this vast family and who I will become after my transformation at Easter. It is the one thing I can truly grasp about Easter. It was always something I tried to do in the Fall during Rosh Hashanah, but it wasn’t until attending and participating in Mass for the last two years and taking the examples of friends who showed me so many things and mixing that with the amazement I feel when a Scripture literally speaks to me, I have no doubt that I am finding myself and my place in the world.

Part of my path is of course, being vocal and open and talking about all of this and writing these posts that just flow from my mind and my heart.

I am getting ready for my first confession, and in the class on Salvation, I was told to kind of run down the Ten Commandments and that would give me an idea of what I need to ask forgiveness for. In reading today’s excerpts that I’ve shared with you, I also realize that I need to show myself some empathy and compassion. I am often hard on myself when I don’t need to be. I think we all are like that with ourselves, but I should show myself the compassion that others show me.

I have to find confidence in myself as well. There are things I want to ask for but I honestly don’t know if they are selfish or intrusive, and the waiting stirs up so much doubt in myself and in my relationships. I’m always afraid to step on toes, to say the wrong thing, to ask for too much. Waiting is not easy, but it can often be a constructive place to be for a little while.

The last time I waited for a long time, I read The Count of Monte Cristo. Today I am reading many books that are weirdly interconnected even though they really don’t seem like it. I think I want to do a writing exercise next week. I just have to figure out a day and a town to go to. If I do, I’m sure I will tell you all about it. In the meantime, I guess I did find something to write about. I hope it means something. Sometimes I never know.

On the card I just received there is a St. Francis deSales quote: “When you come before the Lord, talk to him if you can. If you can’t, just stay there, let yourself be seen. Don’t try too hard to do anything else.”

Don’t try too hard to do anything else. I think I might try that; not try too hard. Let’s see how that works.

It’s Not Easy Letting Things Go

Yesterday’s reflection was about forgiveness.

Today’s homily was about what is most important and Jesus says: Above all else, love G-d with all your heart, mind & soul and second take that love and love one another.

My devotional asked: How do I make decisions about what is right and what is wrong?

I worry about this all the time.

How do I put things or actions in the right column or the wrong column, and not everything is so cut and dried, is it?

I’ve mentioned before in one of these that I do hold grudges. I still get a twinge when I think of certain people, and I’m not feeling particularly charitable, and that makes me feel bad. I try to let things go, but sometimes it’s not easy.

I’ve confided in people and then had them betray me with that information. I had a woman yell at my infant son when he was learning to walk and would fall down on the carpet in our second floor apartment above hers. This is no exaggeration. I have finally let it go, mainly because it’s not worth holding onto.

A few years ago, I met someone with this generous philosophy, and it was foreign to me. I mean, no, of course, don’t have a grudge, but if someone wrongs you why is it wrong to be angry and to hold onto it for a little while? In the last few years, I’ve seen my way and this more compassionate way side by side, and I will tell you that I’ve been the one to change. I have changed, and definitely for the better.

That doesn’t mean perfect; it does mean better.

I can see more clearly the rationale of not holding the grudge, of not having anger be the default, of letting things go when you can, and of compassion and forgiveness, which I’m finding seem to be running themes during this Lenten season.

I’ve always been able to see the other side, but putting myself on the other side to see what’s happening and why things are happening – well, it’s much harder, but it is better in the long run for my friendships, my personality and my blood pressure.

I will still get angry. I will still feel entitled, and want to argue or lash out or say it’s not fair when it’s not. But I have also learned to take a deep breath.

I have learned to look through other people’s eyes.

I have learned to listen.

I have not learned patience – that is one of the three things I pray for every day.

I have learned to be selective in what I do get upset about: choose your battles wisely we are told.

Yesterday, I talked about signs of hope. I’ve seen at least three this week. That doesn’t make what’s going on with me easier, but it pushes me out to the next day, and lets me calmly assess and calmly question, and every day is a new day.

A clean slate.

At least I try to wipe away yesterday’s hurt, or yesterday’s wrong, and move forward.

I will ask for answers. I will hope that I can continue to speak my mind. I’ve always been allowed to, and I will hope that hasn’t changed.

At the end of the week, I will ask for forgiveness on things that I have done and more than just apologize for them, a deeper apology will be offered and forgiveness will be sought.

This is more than just getting ready for my first confession. There are real people who I owe things to. I’ve reached out to some already. There are still one or two more.

First, I need to look at myself, and see what I’ve done that’s right and wrong and then I can seek out, and hope that it will all be okay.

Love G-d and love your neighbor. I’ve seen it done by people I’m close to. It’s not impossible. I can do it too.

Lenten Reflections

Lent is a time of introspection, something that I’ve done much more in the last couple of years. I know I seem sadder or more upset, and there is not any one thing causing that. I put this note here because I do tend to say things that are just below what I really want to say or I lean towards the passive-aggressive, and this series, 40 Days of Lent explores a lot of deep seated feelings and emotions, and when a scripture or reflection hits home, I just go with the flow. I don’t want anyone to jump to conclusions when they read my innermost thoughts. They’re innermost for a reason. That said, any personal questions may be directed to me if you think that I’m referring to something specific that you’re concerned with.

These meditations are for me and sharing them benefits me with your feedback and love, and they may continue beyond Lent, but it is too early to say anything on that subject.

“Our needs are provided for when we provide for the needs of others.” (Living Faith, Mar. 17, 2014)

“Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven.” – Luke 6

“…quick to condemn and slow to retract…”

“I will pray for a generous and more compassionate heart.”

(the Living Gospel, Mar. 17, 2014)

I read these after an internal monologue of hurt and anger this morning. Getting up an hour before I needed to and on the wrong side of the bed after a freakish dream that wasn’t over will certainly do that to a person. Not to mention that in addition to whatever, my son missed the bus and his grades came in email. No one was a happy camper this morning.

Then I took a deep breath and sat down to remember why it was internal and not out loud and I re-read today’s passages.

Judging for me can be a reflex action. It just happens when feelings take over. I still feel like the last kid picked for the team, except I’m not the last picked – no one actually wants me; they’re just stuck with me. I can tell you countless times in the last six months that it’s felt this way despite any contrary statements. I’m not the life of the party, I’m barely noticeable and I really am out of sight, out of mind. After a couple of years of this, it makes me feel just a little bit paranoid.

I’m always on the peripheral, left out, an afterthought. It’s probably not even on purpose; I just don’t leave an impression.

When I do finally become included, I like it to continue. I give my whole heart. And when it’s not reciprocated or taken away, I’m afraid, and it makes me feel upset over little things, to parse every syllable, to analyze every comma in a message, to add tone where there is none, and more problems ensue; some of which can’t be fixed.

I know that I’m guilty of knee-jerk reactions, but the longer I meditate on my reasons, I see that a deep breath and a short wait brings about a little more clarity than what I started with.

To be fair, understanding something doesn’t always change those judgments I made. It’s easy to give advice and less easy for me to take it. It’s also possible that my judgments are correct, but it’s unfair to expect anything to change because of my feelings or desires when there are other, more important, factors.

I would consider myself a compassionate person. It’s definitely more of a natural fit now, but even so, my heart tends to be more compassionate than my actions. Even if I know what’s right, I still might need a push in the right direction.

I need to stop the knee-jerk reactions, the judgment and the condemnation even if it’s only in my own heart, and be more generous with my understanding and reaching out as its needed, not as I want to be needed.

I don’t count to ten, but a deep breath held for an extra moment or two does wonders to stopping the misplaced anger.

Reconciliation

“…go first and be reconciled with your brother…” – Matthew 5

Next week is my class on reconciliation and salvation. I think they will teach me how to do my first confession, and Lent is chock full of reminders to become reconciled. In addition to the verse above, there is also the Scripture about the plank in your eye. I had to hear that one three times before I understood what it meant. I interpret it as another way to say ‘let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

One of the biggest problems I had as a teacher was forcing kids to say they were sorry when they hurt another child. I would never do it. What’s the point? They don’t mean it. I felt it was always better to explain to them how the other person felt and ask them what they thought about it. Nine times out of ten they apologized on their own or made some other gesture that expressed sorrow. I’ve tried this with my own kids to limited success. You have to model and hope it sticks.

I am also a grudge keeper; was. It’s a short list, but a fist-clenching one. Over the last few years, before I found my way to the church, I began to change. Not so much more forgiving as much as letting go more. I cannot express to you the positive change in me. Letting go of the grudges took so much anger out of me; anger that I didn’t know I had. It was just lying there barely below the surface, and it was a relief to be able to say that it wasn’t that as significant as I was making it out to be. It should not, and would no longer have a stranglehold on me. It didn’t deserve that much power.

Just as Lent started last week, I sent out three emails. I still have one to do, perhaps more than that. Two of them were an attempt at reconciliation. I’m waiting for a response from one, but for me the point wasn’t a response. The point for me was to express where I thought the trouble was and how I wanted to fix it along with a regret for where we are. I hoped as I re-read them that it wasn’t one of those I’m sorry if you were offended apologies. I don’t like those. It has nothing to do with if you thought you were offended; it was that you were offended. Or hurt. Or insulted. Or anything that was felt by the other party.

The other email sent was one that I don’t send often enough; the expression of how much someone means to me. I don’t often say it to all of the people who deserve it. I pray daily for a select group of people. They have their individual slots when the Father recites the intercessions. I’ve decided to continue to do emails like this one as signs point to certain people. Again, it isn’t for the satisfaction of an answer, it is for me to know that I’m expressing my gratitude in ways that I should do outside of Lent.

Of course, I get angry. Everyone gets angry, but now I have perspective. One of my problems with thinking about forgiveness is my long memory. It is a curse when there are things you want to forget in order to forgive and can’t get rid of them, but I still try to put them aside, and for the most part, I can do that now. I credit two people in addition to my walk with Jesus and G-d.

It was a long time coming, but in the last three years, I’ve found it a much better path to travel. My peace benefits everyone around me. I’m less likely to jump on every word, I think before I speak, and I let things go that are so inconsequential they shouldn’t bother me in the first place.

Lent is a time for me to think about who I want to reach out to, whether I’ve treated them badly or not as good as I should have. It allows me to think about how I approach things and gives me the chances to fix them, to adjust my thinking. It lets me appreciate and show my gratitude for people who are there for me who I don’t thank as often as I should. I think of them often. I’m grateful to them. I ought to say it more often.

Simplicity

True prayer is simple and sincere.

Growing up, I was uncomfortable with prayer. I preferred to talk to G-d about what was going on in my life and ask for things that I needed help with. It was a good system. I didn’t have to think about the vastness of G-d and universe, and certainly no one ever talked to me about Jesus except with the yearly reminder at Christmas.

When I first went to church, I read that day’s verse. It hit a little close to home and I cried. I sat there for two hours wondering what I should do, how to make things right. I talked about my problems, I asked what I should do, but it wasn’t until, almost involuntarily instead of asking for something for myself, I asked for my friend.

Once I was taken out of the equation, a warmth and calm washed over me. It was tangible. My eyes dried and I sat for only a few more minutes and knew that whatever happened, it would be alright.

Simple and sincere.

I am once again at a place where simple and sincere are my watchwords. This is not easy for me. I’m wordy. So afraid of offense, I talk around the issue and apologize before I need to, sometimes when I don’t need to at all and the sincerity gets lost in all the wasted spaces. I need to convey feelings, and they are so complex that the extra words are already forming and the reader will get tired of them as soon as they start reading. I need to be simpler. The subject is simple; why can’t the message be?