Putting it back again....sigh....

I hate the fact that I cannot write clearly what forms in my head. I cannot play the piano in front of people on purpose because I have in my head how the music should sound, and what comes from my hands is never quite what I intend to give to others. I get angry and depressed and then I realize it is all about pride.
My parents wanted me to be Miss America. My dad used to sing that song as I walked out of the bedroom, dressed for a date or something. He made me laugh. And then my Mom would point out all the things that were wrong: make-up (need a little more blue eye shadow) hair (the curl didn't hold on the left side) clothes (that shirt really doesn't go with those pants)
Small things, we think don't mean much, little criticisms and they cut as deep as "You're fat, you're ugly, and I don't like you."
This ruler thing is still haunting me. Enough conversations since I deleted this one below tell me how critical we are of ourselves and each other. Left unchecked, this demon does more damage to us than we are willing to admit. When we give it out, when we receive it...we kill ourselves and each other slowly and sometimes deliberately. So it needs to stop now. Right now.
So here it is again, flawed and broken and incomplete. But if one person stops hurting themselves or someone else, I will gladly take on the humiliation of being a lousy writer.
In Christ's Love always,
Cindy

THE RULER

Mostly I remember fourth grade in Catholic school. Sister Mary Esther and her ruler. I didn't get hit too often with the ruler, she saved that for the boys. For me, it was digging her fingernails into my head, lifting my desk off the ground and dumping its contents all over the floor (because my books were not properly stacked), various punishments or humiliations in the front of the room and finally tying me to my desk with ropes because I would not sit still.
And you still wonder why I couldn't be a nun. I suppose I will go to my grave wanting to be a priest. Actually confessing that desire in this pseudo-public way really doesn't help me get past it much either. And no, I have no desire to be a priestess. That would be ridiculous. Any power I might have comes from God, not from manipulations of the earthly elements, which is how we tend to define priestess, I think. I can't weave magic and I don't want to.

But I do want to help people with the forgiveness of their sins. In this last week alone, without any deliberate action, I have heard people's sins. I have heard people's pain. And there is a lot out there. We are all the walking wounded to some degree.
The wounds by themselves will not kill us. Not forgiving them, however, will kill us. I met a woman not long ago who wanted to die. In fact I met three people who wanted to die...and those were just the ones who told me of their desire. It must have been another Holy Spirit moment for me because this woman, who was in her early 60s, said she was ready to go and be with God. I said maybe God had more for her to do. I said maybe she needed to forgive some people while she was still here. She told me she had forgiven everyone. I asked her, did you forgive your husband? She told me she would die before she would forgive her husband. I smiled just a little bit, maybe God would like for you to forgive him, I said. Maybe God was keeping her here for exactly that task. And we continued our little visit.

Each day, I meet someone new who tells me something that ultimately wonders a question in their heart: Does God love me at all? And with great confidence, I try to respond, with about as much indirectness...or directness,as I am allowed: Of course God loves you! God loves all of His creation. But that is so hard to hear and so hard to receive sometimes...and especially when we have disappointed ourselves.

A long time ago, when I was a Methodist minister, I preached "It's a Wonderful Life." Do you remember the movie? Really remember? The story about who finally decided he would be better off dead. A man who dreamed of being something great and never got out of Bedford Falls. He thought his life amounted to nothing.

Somewhere in a drawer, I still have that perfect 'thank you' note from a parishioner about that sermon that said, "I am a bit frustrated with you, Cindy. I usually write out my grocery list during the sermon...but you words kept me listening to you!" or something like that. I never got to preach very often, but people remembered the stories I told. (That is one of the dangerous things about preaching: you want them to remember, but when they tell you that they do, you can surely get puffed up about it!)The sermon about George Bailey also included a story about making fudge. (Not my personal story, it was Mary's story and she let me tell it) I got a letter from a woman saying she had been depressed and thinking about suicide...but my sermon got her to think again and differently. Wow! Then once I walked into a hospital room and the woman called out from her bed to her family, 'It's the fudge lady!' (She had to explain what she meant, and I laughed-- it was a very good story) I still have the cassette of it. Maybe once a year I listen to it...and oh, my how Roman Catholic it sounds to me! Perhaps our blindness about ourselves is a gift...maybe.

Could go in ten other directions with this, but this story is about the ruler.

We beat ourselves up daily with that ruler. We think we know who we are supposed to be and we know we are not that person. We think we know what other people are supposed to be for us and they let us down. The closer a person is to us, the greater the pain. Well, if I have learned nothing else, I have learned that all love relationships come with pain. It wouldn't be love if it didn't hurt sometimes.
Let me be clear, I am not talking about the manipulative kind of hurts that some people cause or receive to maintain control over a relationship...the kind that uses and abuses the other...I am speaking of the cost of being vulnerable between two reasonably healthy people. Hurt is just part of the deal. We couldn't love if we weren't willing to risk getting hurt. When God gave us the ability to love, He sent us His Son to give us the ability for forgive ourselves, those we love deeply, and even those we hate deeply. Remember that hate is really love turned inward instead of outward.

That ruler can help us "stay within the lines" when we need to stay within the lines, but it can also create intense despair. We beat ourselves up for who we are and for who we are not. We beat ourselves up for who they are and for who they are not. Only because we have "a ruler" that tells us one thing is right and another thing is wrong.

I wish I was writing this more clearly. (There's my ruler showing itself!)But perhaps poorly is better than not at all. I get little clues from friends that some people I know are actually reading the stuff I write. Thank you. I intend to do good. I am not always successful.

BUT...

How many suicide attempts will I witness this season? How many won't make a mistake and actually die? How many hearts will be broken because we didn't live up to our own expectations? How many people are going to feel empty on Christmas morning? How many are going to dwell on what they didn't get, or that Aunt Grace still thinks you are a size 10 and you are a size 14...shouldn't she know that by now? Doesn't she care about me?

I'm glad God has given me the grace to sit with people who hurt. I am especially glad that God have given me wonderful people who are willing to sit with me when I hurt.

I have a dream that maybe this Christmas, no one will die by his/her own hand. I have a dream that we can each say thank you to each other...not for what we get, but for who we are. And who we are depends on Him who created us. Let all people know we are all children of God. He loves us and He wants us to love His creation.

George Bailey really had a wonderful life. No, it wasn't what he dreamed of, but it was a life that mattered, that touched others...and it was time for George to let his life touch him...and to let in all that love that surrounded him into his heart. It's OK, it is worth the risk. Love and be loved. Don't throw away the gift of life. Really.

I John 4:19 "We must love because He first loved us."

Love,
Cindy
Posted by Teresa's Garden at 7:27 AM