Letting Go Of The Rope

This story is from Destination Joy. You can read more from Earnie Larsen here.

"Marilyn is over fifty years old now. She grew up on a farm where the girls were as expected to toss bales of hay and fix tractors as the boys were. Marily could outthrow and outwork any of her brothers. She did it to attract her father's attention, but it never worked. Her father only wanted sons. Her original sin was being born female.

She walked off the farm decades ago, but looking at her hardy, rough exterior, you know the farm never left her. Marilyn's ancestors were all alcoholics, including her father. She married an alcoholic and drank addictively herself for twenty-five years. Fifteen years ago, she found a shaky sobriety. She was dry and grateful but far from peaceful. Marilyn relapsed often in those first years. She'd plow ahead with her program, then be so overtaken with feelings of inadequacy, sadness, and rage she couldn't stand it. After relapsing, she persevered by continuing to work the Steps as persistently as she worked on the farm as a child. She truly was grateful; she just wasn't very peaceful. Somehow, the terrible wounds of her abiding sense of rejection, failure, and inadequacy from her youth never left her. She couldn't shake the broken-glass feeling of never having been accepted or, as far as she could tell, loved by her father.

But then the divine father she calls God came and got her.

As she talked about this experience, her tired, rough face changed. A light of innocence appeared. It was as if a child was emerging, fresh and innocent. For Marilyn, this experience came in the form of a dream. In her dream, she was a child living on the farm. She was holding one end of a rop that went over a bar above a deep well. The other end of the rope dangled above the open mouth of the well. That end of the rope held a huge, stinking, fetid mass of something, she said. The obvious thing to do was to let go of the rope, and send it far away down the well. The problem was she couldn't let go of the rope. Something beyond her control demanded she dutifully hang on to the rope. Then the most amazing thing happened. Her father, who had been dead thirty years, walked up to her, put his hand on her shoulder, and said, "It's okay. Let go of the rope, Sweetie." And she did. With tears in her eyes, Marilyn told us one of the fondest memories she had of her father. She couldn't remember the circumstances, but for whatever unfathomable reason, her father had called her Sweetie. It only happened once, but she never forgot.

No matter how big the enemy or how powerful the affliction, there is one answer greater than any obstacle that can stand against it: the connection with the God of our understanding. The God who comes and tells us, as he did with Marilyn, it's okay. Let go of the rope. Every day, every hour, one day at a time, stage by stage and step by step - let go of the rope.

I cried the first time I read this passage.
Good, healing tears.
Which reminds me that a nun once told me that tears are a form of prayer.
I cried some more when she told me that.
It's hard to hold onto a rope when it's wet with tears.

From East To West

It's the middle of the night and insomnia is my companion. Dearest one is having the bed and covers all to himself. I rarely have insomnia anymore and for that I am grateful. With all the hoopla from the furnace being out yesterday, I was late in taking some medication, which usually throws my sleep schedule right out the window. A little blip on the radar screen of life. Every time there's a full or nearly full moon, and the sky is clear, once during night it shines right through the bedroom window onto my face. It feels like being kissed by God.

A few days ago I didn't get outside for my walk until the sun was just about to disappear over the horizon. At one point I thought there was a car coming up behind me. As I turned to see, I realized I had mistaken headlights for the moon breaking through the clouds. It was shining brightly on the road. It felt a little surreal. For on one side of me was the clear, dusky sky and sunset. On the other was a dark sky filled with the moon and a few stars. Between the two were dark, black clouds. I kept stopping and looking from one side to the other, in awe of the view. There are times when Creation evokes a deep gratitude within me. I stood there and whispered 'thank you' over and over again.

Last month, when I found myself in a deep funk, I took stock and asked myself what was I doing when life was at its best. What works? Two things that I had let slide from my daily routine were yoga and a 20 minutes session of meditation. That period of meditation puts me squarely in the present. Being in the present scares me. Whenever I practice this period of meditation for any stretch of time, I eventually end up abandoning it, because it shakes me up at the core. On the flip side there is also a sense that it is working within me at levels my consciousness can't touch. I've heard it referred to as 'Divine Therapy.' Over the past few weeks I have slowly returned to the discipline of meditation.

Yesterday after the 20 minutes were up I felt different. When I stopped to assess the feeling I thought to myself, "oh, I'm in my body." After years of having vacated my body due to childhood sexual abuse, it feels like an incredible gift to trust my body enough to be in it. Anytime I stop living life from the neck up is cause for celebration. I'm trusting that as I continue to heal and grow, inhabiting my body will become the norm.

Yesterday, during my time of meditation, I got this sense that who I am is enough. Right now. This moment. As is. I felt myself open up and receive that who I am is enough as Truth. What other response can one have to that except 'thank you'? It's a little like seeing the sun set on one side of the road and the moon shining brightly on the other. The whole of who I am can be embraced. Thanks be to God.

It's Really Him

Yesterday I drove half an hour to attend Mass in a bigger parish.
Slipping into a pew right behind two rows of older women,
I watched as they jostled and teased each other, obviously comfortable
in one another's presence.
Just before Mass began a young mother, carrying a tiny baby,
came in with her husband and toddler.
She sat in front of me a few rows up.
Her face was framed in between the shoulders of these elderly women
and I watched as she bent down to smile at her baby.
Such a look of tenderness and love radiated from her.

A few minutes later, I saw a young girl,
on the cusp of puberty, lean against her father's shoulder and
rest her head.

It's not often I go to Mass in a bigger parish. In our own tiny church we gather around the altar to receive the Eucharist. Every time I am in a bigger parish I look at the line of people waiting to receive the Eucharist and think to myself we are such a motley crew. Every one with a story. Every one with a need. Every one moving towards a moment of grace.

Yesterday as I stepped into the aisle, the young couple with their tiny baby were in view. Behind me a little boy must have been watching them, too. I heard him ask his grandma, "Is the priest going to bless the baby?"

Before I got to the front of the line I heard the tiny white haird woman who was assisting the priest with communion, hold up the Body of Christ and say with quite the emphasis, "The body of Christ!" She said it in such a way that she was simultaneously saying, "Do you believe it?" and "It's really Him." She said this over and over again as she held up Jesus for each one, each time with the same devotion and zeal.

There's that Christmas song that asks "Do you hear what I hear", "Do you see what I see? For several years now I've been praying for the ears to hear, the eyes to see and a heart to respond to God. For a brief moment in time yesterday that prayer was answered.

Ripped Open

It's the middle of the night and here I am on the page about 6 hours too early. That's going to mess with my day tomorrow. C'est la vie. My compounded tiredness of the week caught up to me and I chose to nap in the early evening. At this moment I'm fully experiencing the relationship between cause and effect.

Yesterday I went to church an hour early and enjoyed sitting in the sanctuary alone. I set up the altar for Mass and then sat in my pew with the lights off. Daylight streamed through the old fashioned single pane windows, keeping me company. It was a very peaceful place to spend time in contemplative prayer. A real stillness settled within me. For once the stillness was bearable and even soothing.

Eventually people started to come in for the Mass. First the priest and then little by little, we gathered. I can always tell when the priest comes in because the first thing he does is turn on the lights. Sometimes I wonder what big city people would think of our relaxed ways out here in the boondocks. The Mass starts when we figure all the regular attenders who are going to show up, do. If that means it starts 5 minutes late then, oh well. If that means there's only three of us, oh well. Today we had 15 or so gathered around the altar for the Eucharist.

One thing I especially appreciate about this priest is his emphasis on a heart relationship with Christ. He often talks about the emptiness of praying, attending Mass, receiving the Sacraments without those things coming out of a heart relationship.

Today, as he was emphasizing that point, I gazed at a statue of the Sacred Heart Of Jesus. Often when I look on it I remember a day when I felt like Jesus told me he wanted my heart open, exposed and touching his. It wasn't a pleasant image - more like my chest had been ripped open and Jesus then grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me close so his exposed heart could mingle with mine. I don't exactly know how the cause and effect of that translates into daily life, but I continue to find that image a comfort, a challenge and something to ponder every time I gaze upon His face.

Graced Confetti

Bobbie at emerging sideways wrote a meme post a week ago called wonderful, glorious me where she listed 5 things she loved about her body. She left the meme open for others to consider themselves tagged. I sat at my computer screen and did a quick head to toe evaluation of my body and came up with one thing. My beautiful blue eyes. Everything else I might love about my body were dependent, in my mind, on being 80 pounds lighter first.

I was still thinking about that meme when I went clothes shopping this past Saturday afternoon. Just know that I'd rather go to the dentist than shop for clothes. I don't have a full length mirror at home and God knows I sure wouldn't be undressing in front of it if I did. But on Saturday I stood in front of one and took stock. Thighs the size of what my waist once was. A belly as big as when I was nine months pregnant. And all those dimples so far from my face were not a pretty sight. I stood there feeling disgusted with myself. I tried to just accept what was, reminding myself that I'm dealing with the food issues in my life. Or rather with the issues that masquerade as food issues and as a consequence, my fat body. After 26 years of yo yo dieting I no longer have a diet head mentality. I celebrate that. I do have more calm and peace than when I was still bingeing my way through life. Yet I stood there knowing I'd rather be dealing with all that from within a thinner body. The body, that when I'm in it, feels comfortable, like it fits yet screams at me for protection because its thinner self awakens so much sexual baggage. Baggage that lies and says my worth rests in what I have to offer sexually.

I blocked all those messages from my head and prayed "Help me be content even if I never get to see a thinner me reflected in a dressing room mirror". It's just as futile to think we'd love ourselves more if we stopped sinning as it is to think we'd love ourselves more if we were thinner. If I'm going to live this journey one day at a time I want to love myself now. It's easy to talk about the unconditional love of God for others. So hard, at times, to believe it for myself.

Before I went shopping on Saturday I went to my AA meeting. I asked God to help me open my spirit wide to receive the gift of story happening in the room. Stories of gratitude to anger and tears were shared and I felt blessed to be there. I don't think I've ever left a meeting without a renewed sense of hope for the journey. Without having witnessed a living testimony of what it looks like to rest in the unconditional love of God.

Yesterday at church I prayed for the grace to open my spirit wide to what God might have to say to me. I was still stewing over my disgust at my body and while Jesus may never have been fat, I know he understands what self loathing can do to a person. How crippling it can be. How it can spiral out of control and lead to destructive behaviour. I celebrate nearly 12 weeks of abstinence from sexual addiction today so God help me not numb myself into oblivion. Help me not seek that which will bring release from self loathing only to add to it when the numbing effect wears off. Help me accept where I am on the journey, disgust and all.

During the scripture readings yesterday, this line jumped out at me:

"But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain." ~1 Corinthians 15:10

I rolled those words around in my mouth like a sip of good wine. Sometime during the Mass I realized the disgust I felt about my body had been superseded by how beautiful I felt in my spirit. I don't know if I looked radiant on the outside but boy did I feel it inside. Moments like that are pure gift. I whispered to God, "I feel beautiful." And I knew what I really wanted was the beauty that radiates from a countenance that speaks of God's blush of grace.

You know how a person empties the pockets on their clothes before washing? Some days I feel like I'm collecting all those little bits of lint and paper like a bag of confetti....each bit a remembrance of the graced moments in my life. One day I'm going to the other side and I see myself reaching in my pocket and leaving a trail of graced confetti as I go.

So where does that leave me today? I'd still rather experience those moments from a body that was 80 pounds lighter. I doubt I'll care on my death bed what the scale says. I do know I care in this life though. I still can't come up with a list of 5 things I love about my body. But the hope lies in that I don't stay stuck in the self loathing when it hits me these days. I don't numb myself into oblivion trying to escape it. I don't do any of these things perfectly and for today I can rest in that. The grace of God meets us where we are. And how thankful I am that I don't have to be thinner, or prettier, or smarter, or sinless first.

Words To Ponder II

The Way I Want to Love You

by Julian of Norwich

You must learn to understand that all your deficiencies, even those that come from your past sins and vicious habits, are part of my loving providence for you, and that it is just with those deficiencies, just the way you are now, that I would love you. Therefore you must overcome the habit of judging how you would make yourself acceptable to me. When you do this you are putting your providence, your wisdom before mine. It is my wisdom that tells you, �The way you are acceptable to me, the way I want to love you, is the way you are now, with all your defects and deficiencies. I could wipe them out in a moment if I wanted to, but then I could not love you the way I want to love you, the way you are � now.�

Source: Revelations of Divine Love

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To The Best Of Our Ability

When dearest one brought me to this part of the country nearly 25 years ago I remember asking him, "Where's civilization?" We were driving along a two lane highway with trees hugging both ditches. As far as the eye could see there were trees - that part of the country uninhabited by people.

That stretch of highway is still there - upgraded to a four lane highway most of the way - but still the trees reach to the horizon.

This past weekend, after my AA meeting, I wished I didn't live so far away from 'civilization'. With a 150km round trip to get to a meeting it takes more than wishful thinking to get there every week. I feel like I am sponge soaking up so much goodness when I go to a meeting. If I lived closer to meetings I would take in more than one a week.

At my meeting this past Saturday I heard, I mean truly 'heard', a woman talk about working the steps to the best of our abililty. And it struck me that if I looked at all of my life in that vein I would take the pressure off myself to be somewhere other than where I am on the journey. I need reminding of truth like that. Then this morning I read Jim's comment and knew that he was essentially telling me the same thing. Here is his comment in case you missed it.

"Hope, none of us walk on water. Some would preach it like the entrance of Christ suddenly turns us into super saints who have it all together. Always, it is a journey. The "transforming of our mind" (Rom 12:1-2) is an on-going process that we attempt with Him. What you ask yourself is: Have I not come a distance from where I was? Does His presence speak to me in the journey?...If all you have is an attempt to change yourself, the Bible asks in Jeremiah: "Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots? then may you also do good that are accustomed to do evil". Indeed, the difference in us is "only" Christ "in" us; and that relationship we forge with Him brings unto us strength, patience, peace, grace, all that He is............"
jim Homepage 10.01.06 - 8:14 am #

You Are Loved

Part of being sick of the journey lies in getting plain sick of me. I can just about guarantee when I have written about some breakthrough that it will only be a matter of days before what I thought I learned I didn't. I merely had a brief glimpse of what is true and history shows me it will take many, many glimpses to have the breakthrough more of a part of my life than a fading memory. I wish I could get that. I mean I wish I could remember that in the moment. To appreciate the glimpses when they happen and then rest, knowing they will come around again. Any major breakthroughs in my journey have that quality of mystery to them. The kind where you really can't put into words what happened, how or when. You just know it did and you aren't the same as you used to be. I am not sure why I keep trying to put it all in words, but I do. How to honour the mystery without dissecting it to death is a mystery in itself.

I have been reading Rick's posts (parts one, two, three, four, five, and six) about his spiritual journey and they have been making me think hard. Think back. I have often said how thankful I am that I came to a relationship with God outside of a church. I was blissfully naive about any church person's expectations for a long while. It was several years before I realized people expected me to act a certain way or dress a certain way in order to be one of 'them.' Then I got it in a big, big way. The kind of way that has made me do the 'us' and 'them' dance ever since. I regret that reality. I have known for years now that Jesus is not into the us and them game. Never was. Never will be. I think Rick's words posted below are a key to the journey of being free of the us and them mentality. If God is looking for me then I know God is looking for you too.

"God is in our lives whether we know it or not. Even when you cannot feel God or think that you have lost your way, God is there. This journey is not about an institution or finding a church. This journey is about meeting and encountering God in our daily life and one definitely does not need to be religious to encounter God. I believe the message of Jesus’ life is about humanity discovering the nearing presence of God in our midst. God has come searching for us. God is looking for you. Regardless of where you are in your journey God is looking for you. God seeks us until we are found. It is about love. The love of God is the reason we exist. You are not bad and unworthy despite what conventional religion may have attempted to get you to believe. You are loved by the Source of Light and Life. Jesus said that the “kingdom” of God is in us.

Go to your closet, open your heart and you will find God is already there waiting for you.

You are loved.
You are loved.
You are loved." ~My Story: a brief pause