with me, always

This morning, as I drove to work (where thoughts waft and blow on the wind through the sunroof and the windows), I got to thinking about hugs. My husband is out of town, and I missed our morning hug that sometimes amounts to just a quick arm across shoulders, but still stamps the day official. That shoulder thought made me remember that a friend whose shoulder I can always count on is also out of town. Just as I was about to make what usually looks the next logical connection--that I would just have to wait for those particular interactions for a few days and deal with that particular loneliness--I remembered.

I am never alone.

Never. I smiled and said, "I was quick today! I know you are here for me. Thank you, Lord, for being my friend." The lonely feeling eased, my heart rate actually slowed a bit, and I felt the warmth of my heart opening. Where I had been missing a physical hug and an emotional shoulder, I began to feel a hug in my soul.

A really nice way to start the day.

obstacle or bridge

The image memory is kinetic. I can feel each muscle as I strain against the arm around my waist, screaming and shaking my head so hard I can feel my brain. Punching my fists at someone, and feeling the soft tissue give under the blows. I try to kick, but need my feet under me for balance, for stability.
It's been a long time since I've seen this scene play out in my mind's eye. In fact, every time a teacher in oh, probably junior high, said the words "mind's eye," this is what I saw first. It's pretty dark, and the space is smallish, but I want OUT!
It used to be, when I felt this memory - and I only call it that because it's always been so vivid - or dream, I forced it away, fearful that it was how I would behave if I wasn't careful. That it was some primal, perhaps evil, instinct that could derail all of my dreams, my life. I'd see this on days when I was at the end of my rope: tired, stressed, lonely, isolated. Essentially, when I let my guard down.
Today, after enough time that I had forgotten, but not enough time to not remember, I again felt the intense feeling that I actually was there, in the vision. And I was struck by my reaction. First, I wondered if it was just me - the real, true me - wanting to come out; to break the mold of my false self (the one that's trying to please and impress). I wondered why I wouldn't let myself out. Second, I wondered if it was not a dreamed or imagined image, but an actual memory of an actual event. Only then did I remember the other feelings that had always been part of the package.
Tonight, I'd let my guard down. I was at the Adoration chapel, trying to be patient, to wait, to feel and hear. I wrote for a while, words that flowed freely to God today, but had been getting stuck lately, leaving me frustrated, and my soul tense. I went back and read some journal entries from a few months ago, and found some of myself I'd been ignoring again. I sat and waited. "Father, love me." Each time I say it, my heart opens just a little more, my eyes get more and more wet.
It's an interesting thing that happens when I allow my heart to open. I actually feel like the spaces between my ribs are widening. Usually at the point that I feel that, I get scared. I stop allowing for the presence I'm hoping for. Not tonight. And what I saw was not what I expected. Another turn in the path. An obstacle to overcome, or a bridge to cross?

perhaps one day

I have a pain in my shoulder. I call it my shoulder, but if I were to point to it, you might say it's in my back. I know it's my shoulder because when I lift my arm one way, there is a clicking feeling in my shoulder, and if I lift it another way, the pain is less. We're not talking super evident pain: if you didn't watch me or know me, you might not notice, because I rarely mention it. For the most part, it doesn't bother me; I can still do things I need to do. On occasion, it interrupts my sleep or makes me feel especially tired. I know of something I can do to alleviate the pain, but it requires a partner, and sometimes the need to explain to someone is just not worth the energy to me. I can live with it, so I do. Every once in a while I do wonder why it hurts in the first place, since it comes and goes with no rhyme or reason, no obvious causes. When I do mention it, I get the usual questions: What happened? Did you do something to it? Have you been or do you need to see a doctor/chiropractor? How long has it been like that? Perhaps one day I'll find out what it is that makes the same spot hurt again and again. 

I have a pain in my heart. I call it my heart, because it's easier to explain that way, but in reality, I feel like it's a pain in my soul, because sometimes it affects my ability to pray, to give, to receive. And where it hurts is not a physical place, but a place I can feel, nonetheless. Sometimes this pain makes it impossible or difficult to eat, to sleep, to get out of bed. Other times, it is almost impossible to notice. But it's always there. For the most part, it doesn't bother me; I can still do things I need to do. I know some things I can do to alleviate the pain, and I am in the process. When I mention it, I get a variety of questions: What makes you think that's okay? Do you really think praying/therapy/talking/sharing can help? Can't you just get over it and move on? 

Both sources of pain have forced me to take a good look at who I surround myself with. I'm learning what a safe place is. I'm learning that I don't have to rely on myself. I'm learning that the important thing is how I will get through, moving forward; how I will use what I learn. I am blessed with spirited and strong children who challenge me, a loving and generous husband, and friends I can easily call family, as well as family members who have shared experiences, and are willing to listen. Most of all, I am blessed with a desire to pray and open my heart, even when it hurts, when it feels like it's crumbling, cracking, and falling apart. I look forward to the day I can step back from the mosaic that is my heart pieced together and see the beauty as others see it. Right now I'm too close to see anything but the details, and the work is too new to truly appreciate progress. 

cool little story

Yesterday, I shared a cool little story with a new friend, and he said, "Sometimes the answer is right there in plain sight. We just miss it." Or forget to look. My story in a nutshell: I was having trouble with a meditation on the Centurion whose servant was healed. I wrote about my difficulty in the devotional book, and my son came and read a passage from his book--mostly unrelated. The next night, he told me about leafing through his bible and coming across a story he found interesting....the story of a Centurion whose servant was healed. He proceeded to tell me about the footnotes and references that explained--very neatly--just what it was I'd been having trouble with. I thanked him for sharing, and told him about my frustration the night before. Then I thanked God for the wink.

This morning, driving to church, I remembered that I had not read the daily readings in a couple of weeks, and had missed at least a day in my devotional, and wondered (yet again!) why it is so hard to develop and keep good habits, when bad habits--even new ones--seem to develop on their own. The next thought I had was that the answer is right there in plain sight. That's when I realized what I was missing. The answer really was right there.

God gave us free will. We tell the kids that all the time. We talk about it. We know it. I know it. And that is the answer to my question. I fall easily into bad habits because I simply don't make a choice. Here's the thing: when I choose, or decide, to make a change for the good--to pray with my devotional, for example--each day I need to further make the choice to follow through with the decision. Each and every day. Why? Because I have free will. When I don't decide, when I let my guard down, or just wait too long to say, "now it's time to read this and pray," there is a golden opportunity for someone else to make an offer. It's far simpler and easier for me to just sit and do nothing at all, or to play on my phone, or even to do the dishes just because they are sitting there, than it is to determine that it is now time to pray--or exercise, or whatever else it is that would be the good habit to form.

I've recognized this before. I blogged once about reading some advice regarding the decision to be married each day. The fact that I am a married woman is not changeable, but how I feel about that--on days when one or both of us is stressed or grumpy, sick, or whatever--is something I can decide to work with or against. I can't necessarily change how the daily situation makes me feel, but I can determine how, or if, or when, I will deal with it. Making that decision purposefully has been a game changer for me. Why I did not apply it to other aspects of my life is one of the mysteries I am still working on solving.

My life is a prayer, and I am working toward seeing it that way each day, not just when I remember to think about it.