Mission: Care for Self Day #6

Figuring out what it looks like to take time to myself during these family-filled weekends will be interesting. We were at a track meet all day today. Literally - from 8 in the morning until 5 in the evening. We were rained on, wind-blown, and cheered-out by the time we rolled into our covered parking spot over here at the Peasley Canyon Lodge. It was a long and full day...and I wasn't actually that intentional about finding a moment or two to be present to myself. But maybe on days like today, simply taking a few minutes to write about my thoughts in this space is enough. And I must say that sitting in those damp bleachers all bundled up in blankets and watching my little ladies run their little hearts out is quite fun actually! I'm one proud mama.

p.s. I've decided that every Sunday, in an attempt to establish a form of Sabbath, I will take a break from blogging. Rhythm...that's what I'm trying to establish here.

Mission: Care for Self Day #5

I knew sticking to this commitment to intentionally caring for myself everyday would be a challenge. I knew that setting limits to what I require of myself each day would be a necessary part of this commitment. I knew that I would struggle with a paradigmatic shift in learning how to balance my own needs with the often demanding needs of my children. I knew that it would be a task that would incite the kind of creativity that I often don't fan into flame on a regular basis. I knew it would be a challenge. But I didn't know it would lead me to a place of deep sadness. Or perhaps, unconsciously or subconsciously...or not, I knew that this sorrow existed and the busyness and failure to be truly present to myself was a way to avoid this space of deep sorrow.

Granted - it has been an emotionally-charged week. Brian traveled to Colorado for his Grandfather's funeral. Elmer was an amazing man and everyone who met him was sure of it. He lived a long and beautiful life - but knowing this still doesn't detract from the sense of loss. The 11th anniversary of Columbine came and went. And we discovered that my granny has been diagnosed with Breast Cancer. It has most certainly been a tough week. But I don't think that is the only reason I have met such sadness this week.

Because I've also experienced a growing sense of peace as I've faced this sadness. I think this may have something to do with joy and sorrow being interwoven or at least intricately connected. My hope is that the more time I am willing to face, to feel, to acknowledge the sadness, then the greater my capacity to bear it and grow in hope within it.

I've done a decent job at caring for my body these past few days. I am still trying to figure out what it means to begin really caring for my spirit. I'm open to suggestions.

Mission: Care for Self Day #4

Just a small lesson for today: Sometimes self-care is simply taking a moment to ask yourself what you need. There are moments, days, or seasons where needs are easier to assess. And there are moments, days, or seasons where identifying need seems like a nearly impossible task. For today, however, sickness is declaring that my body needs rest. Therefore, I am signing out early tonight.

Mission: Care for Self Day #3

I heard something interesting at that little seminar on Secondary Trauma that I mentioned in an earlier post. Laura van Dernoot Lipsky (the author of the book posted above) talked about how often there is a fundamental notion of scarcity at the root of many of our systems, institutions, religions and philosophies. A perspective rooted in the notion of scarcity claims that there is never enough time in the day, never enough money, never enough people to work the fields, never enough resources. This mentality is sneaky and dangerous. It leaves a person exhausted, bound by obligation, and thereby, unable to experience the abundant life.

One of the reasons I wanted to commit to this endeavor was so that I could develop eyes to see the abundance all around me...even amidst the chaos and deceptive appearance of scarcity. I grew up in a home that functioned out of the oppressive notion of scarcity - there was never enough money, there weren't enough hours in the day, there were too many needs for a working mom, an angry stepfather, and a distant father to tend to. I worked in a church that was often plagued by the same spirit - there were never enough resources, never enough people serving or giving, never enough youth trips or activities. Essentially I internalized this concept of scarcity and deemed that I just wasn't enough...and so I had to work harder and harder and harder. Until one day I was exhausted.

I want to believe that it is possible to experience life in a different way. I want to place the notion of abundance and peace at the center of my daily living. I want to believe that there is enough...for each and every day...if only I have eyes to see and ears to hear.

I did yoga today. I felt the joy of having a body that could move with grace and strength and take in the breath of life. Today I believed, with each breath for those 45 minutes, that my body and it's glory has something to do with the abundant life.

Link...

I have had the privilege of intersecting paths with many remarkable people during my time at MHGS. One such individual is a gifted woman and artist named Heather who vulnerably and ingeniously invited our student body to experience Lent in a new way through 7 weeks of performance art. I was only able to attend three of these performances and was deeply moved by each piece. She posted a blog about the experience here. If I have learned anything during my time at this school it has been that I desperately need to be surrounded by people willing to take creative risks and people with the audacity to stretch imagination. Heather's creativity, like many others, has been food to my hungry soul.

Mission: Care for Self Day #2

I am finding it especially difficult to type words this evening. Perhaps it is because I am simply exhausted - worn out from illness, emotionally-drained, and aware of my loneliness this evening as I sit on my couch in this silent apartment. But I'm inclined to believe that my difficulty with words tonight has more to do with the heaviness that this day holds for me and so many others. I learned today that sometimes care for the self can take the shape of allowing the space and time necessary to enter into memory - not in a way that could in anyway be experienced as re-living the memories, but in a sacred way that holds onto the present and the future while entering into the past. I remembered today. I remembered the horror, the loss, the confusion, the community, the faces, the places, the media, the protesting, the conversations, the songs, the dance, the trees, the trips, the book, the girl. But there was something different about today's process of remembering - I was able to remember my "self" in all of it - who I was then, how I was then, what I was longing for, how I was naive, what I needed, who I was becoming, how my world was being cracked open. In the past I would have felt guilty for spending too much time thinking of my own woundedness when so many others were far more wounded and directly impacted by the shooting 11 years ago - but today I valued my own life enough to acknowledge my pain and my growth as worthy of remembrance as well.

One last quote from Serene Jones in her book Trauma & Grace as I sign out for the night:
"The fragmented anatomy of trauma can leave one without a world, without speech, stories, memory, community, future, or a sense of self; theology's task is to renarrate to us what we have yet to imagine."

Memory...

I did a lot of reading on trauma this past term. This was partly due to the nature of my classes, partly related to work at my internship, but mostly it had to do with the work I am attempting to do personally and within the context of my own therapy and theological questioning. I've discovered some remarkable books along this journey thus far, one of which is titled Trauma and Grace by Serene Jones. On this day in particular I have found myself thinking upon much of what she has written on theology and it's role in the process of healing from trauma. Here's a quote that prefaces the very first chapter of the book:

"Too often we believe that when physical healing occurs, mental healing naturally follows, and that with time, all wounds heal. Such is not always the case, however. Violence often cuts so deeply into our minds that surface healings cover it over and, hidden away, allow it to expand. The balmlike work of theology and of religion is to uncover and mend such wounds. And what medicine does this? Healing lies as much, if not more, in the stories we tell and the gestures we offer as in the doctrines we preach."

I posted some thoughts on Columbine and Cassie last year that you can find here.

And because I love her still and love this video, I couldn't resist reposting it here as well.