Snapshot

(a shot from yesterday)


in seminary, we talked about spiritual formation in the context of "knowing, being, and doing".

so . . .
today . . . .

knowing:
i am loved. by god. by herb. by friends. it is a good thing.
it is okay . . . it is all okay.
a little bit at a time, for a long time produces great progress.
there is grace for me and for me to give to others.

being:
patient
nervous
wound up
trying to enjoy
grateful
filled with joy
quiet

doing:
painting & art-making . . . lots of experimenting and giving myself permission to just create without expectation
volutneering at the hospital
inhaling and exhaling
swimming
margarita drinking

have a great day!

Sometimes . . .

Sometimes
It snows.
For weeks on end.
And you're are not used to that.
Because even though you live in Colorado
It doesn't really snow that much in Denver
At least not THAT much.

And your body hurts.
All the time.
Because let's face it . . .
You are sick.
And that makes you sicker.
But it is true.

You have lots of little infections
that somehow jumped into your body.
It isn't your fault really . . .
I mean, who gets Lead Poisoning and Lyme Disease on PURPOSE?
Nobody.
That's who.

There I said it.
Did you catch that?
I ever so subtly slipped in two of my little illnesses.

I walk through life . . .
sometimes behaving like I'm sick . . .
because I AM sick . . .
but pretending that I'm not . . .
because I don't want to be sick.

But sometimes you turn 25 and you get tired
and your body aches
and you don't want to return any of your phone calls
even to your friends
and you can't think clearly anymore
not like you used to.
you're brain feels foggy and murky.
and you are certain you have a brain tumor.
and you tell your sister this while hiking through the mountains
even though you should probably be sipping tea somewhere
but you won't
no, not for at least two or three more years.
because you just won't slow down.
why would you?

you continue to work your crazy therapy job
dealing with clients you are not yet qualified to deal with
in the name of "helping the underdog"
by providing inexpensive therapy. . .
and because you are too tired to research your options
and find another job.
but that doesn't strike you as odd.
you just assume everyone is too tired to find another job
even though they are exhausted.

and on the weekends,
you babysit to pay for your high-rollin' lifestyle
that requires things like
paying rent on time
and gas for your car
and eating.
you know, luxuries.
things that your $12/hr with a master's degree won't pay for.
and you don't mind.
sure a bigger paycheck would be nice, but you just figure this is all a part of life.

clearly, you are making really good choices for your life at this point.

and sometimes your digress.
because you have a brain tumor . . .

ANYWAY, you tell your sister about this brain tumor
as your hike through the forest.
because it couldn't be anything else.
i mean, when did you have to start pausing between words
because you can't think of the next one?
clearly, the word-chooser-part of your brain is broken.
with a tumor.
and your sister . . .
oh, she teases you.
endlessly.
because sometimes that is just what sisters do . . .

so you have this "tumor" and it is really too bad
because
you used to be so smart
and you don't feel smart anymore
and you can't pick out the words that you are grasping for
and you used to have such a nice vocabulary.

So you do what any exhaustsed, worn out individual would do:
you start a book group to reclaim your vocabulary!
And you just chalk it all up to being a little misplaced
and even a little depressed
from finishing graduate school
and turning 25
and all of a sudden being an adult for the first time in your life.

But that was almost five years ago.

Turns out somewhere along the line
you must have eaten paint chips
and forgotten about it.

Note to self:
Don't eat anymore paint chips.

And sometimes
even if you weren't sick
you DO just feel a little depressed
and that's okay
you aren't apologetic about that.

i mean come on . . .
you are a Christian so you know
this was NOT the life we were designed to live . . .
at least not ALL of the life we were designed to live.
and that IS depressing.
it SHOULDN'T feel "right".

But even though sometimes your are okay with being depressed,
Sometimes, it makes you even more depressed.
And sometimes, you even start to despise yourself for it a little bit.
Okay, a lot of bit.

And sometimes you know
That all of this crap that you are and that you feel
Is not real
It is not true
Sometimes you know that it is all a veil.
It is covering something that is more real.
Things like joy and kindness peak out from random corners and dark crevices.
Creative things pour out of your brain and your mouth.
And you know there is more.

And sometimes that depresses you because you can't seem to grasp the "more"
But sometimes
It brings just enough hope.

And then
Sometimes.
Just sometimes,
After the ground has been covered in snow for a full month,
You look outside of your window
For no reason at all
And you see
Grass.
Flat, tired, wilty green-ish grass.
But grass none the less.
And you cry.
Because you had forgotten that
While the snow may come . . .
While it might pile itself real high up all around you . . .
It melts.
And there is grass beneath it.


(*a fun song recommendation for today . . . well, okay, not fun . . . actually kind of melodramatic . . . but quite insightful and clever and sometimes, if you are feeling overwhelemed by a month's worth of snow . . . very comforting . . . because somebody else feels that way too . . . check it out!)

By the way . . . the song isn't really about snow or february or wood chopping or flower bulbs . . . . and neither was this post.

Wisdom for the Day

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Marriage: A Tool for the Depraved? VOL. 6

When Herb and I were going through pre-marital counseling, we were asked by our counselor to think about the areas we might struggle in. We replied that while we knew there would be difficulties, we could not answer that question until we were in the middle of it.

Well, we are in the middle of it. We are in a relationship with the least amount of boundaries that there can be between two people. Like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, our close friends and roommates have stumbled across the occasional glimpse behind the curtain. They make their way back until the inevitable happens. They stop. They reach a point at which, despite their love for us, they can go no further. You know what I mean. We have all seen parts of our friends that we just don't want to approach. Their drudge. Their junk. We see it. Clearly. Often, we are even affected by it. But to really address it often requires that we pay a cost that is far too high - it is incongruent with the actual value of the relationship. Instead, we navigate and negotiate the relationship and our boundaries so as to be the least impacted while avoiding all unnecessary conflict.

This is not what we desired in our marriage. We have done our best to blur the lines between where one begins and the other ends. Our goal has been to combine ourselves, our things, and our hearts as much as possible in order to make it impossible to separate us from each other. We wanted the other person to see "everything".

In taking down all of the curtain we have with other people, we are exposed. We have given another person the privelage to not only go behind the curtain, but to take it down, fold it up, and put it on the top shelf in the linen closet . . . that infamous shelf where we put things we don't want to throw away, but we know we will never use again. Without the curtain hanging their to protect us, everything is fair game. We are being seen like never before. Feedback that nobody has ever dared to share is being heaped on faster than we know how to process it.

We are frightened. We are angry. What we see is difficult. And being seen is even more difficult. I don't think we realized that creating the deepest type of intimacy that we are capable of creating during the first months of marriage would hurt so badly.

Blending ourselves means that what's mine is yours. So, in addition to acquiring my witty sense of humor, an all access pass to the fruits of my kitchen skills, and my quirky view of the world, Herb got all of the sour stuff too. The student loans, a wild set of in-laws, and an old Honda Civic. Wait, it gets better. Herb gained the baggage that comes from being a part of a broken family, having a mild case of depression, and the world view of a narcissist. Who would have guessed all of that was wrapped up in that pretty white dress and gauzy veil?

The reality is that "having and holding" one another is a big job. "Having" always seemed like a good thing. "Sure, I would love to have some ice cream." Having has never so much seemed like "choking down" to either one of us. There is a lot to have and a lot to hold and it takes more than nine months to learn how to do so. Our new marriage is not strong enough to hold the weight of "having and holding" all that has been presented to us by the other. So we wait, endure, fight, and make-up. Rinse and repeat. It is disheartening, sometimes, to see the commitment to your love turning out to be the hardest thing you have ever done. And, again, it is harder to see your love struggle so hard to love you.

In my most dramatic, selfish, and fatalistic moments, I want to walk down the street, pass the park, and forget how to go home.

Last night I happened to glance at my wedding vows. They are posted on my laptop but I try not to look at them because they do little more than make me feel like a complete failure as a wife. However, this little line stood out to me, "I will journey, explore, and adventure alongside you - even when the path seems uncertain and the outcome is unkown."

I have no idea how to get to where the path is leading us. Most days, I can't actually see the path. I often want to sit in a corner in the basement and wait for the hard part to pass. I want to fast-forward us about 25 years. In this fantasy, my hair will be cool - wirey silver ringlets. I will have a huge ass and I will wear a lot of velvet tunics and bangle bracelets. Herb will have a gaggle of neighborhood teenagers that follow him around for no aparant reason and call him Chief. He will chase the neighborhood cats with more urgency than he does now. He will develop an odd laugh and call me "Queenie" and pinch my huge velvet clad ass in front of our friends and neighbors to make them squirm. And we will like each other. Really like each other. We will banter in the kitchen as kids and dogs run between us. We will see the other's junk and we will call them on it without personalizing it.

But my wedding vow was prepared for the present reality and prescribes a different approach than a sojourn in the basement for a "Sex and the City and Sudoku party" scheduled to last until the year 2031. "Journey, explore, and adventure". Three very strong verbs. A verb is an action word. This means I cannot sit down and wait for this part to end. It means I have already committed to staying actively engaged. So I I come out of the basement and come alongside of Herb; verbing as much as I can.

Grace, she carries a world on her hips

We spent some time this weekend with a friend in need of some grace. And the person she needs it from can't give it to her. This same tune has been playing on the Harjes Haus soundtrack all week. I am also in need of some grace from someone in my life who can't give me the break I don't deserve but desperately require in order for our relationship to continue living.

It is so easy to be angry at these people who see our faults, point them out, and then hang them over our heads chanting, "You are not good enough!" It makes me so angry. We're wrong, okay?!!?!! Me, my friend, the whole flippin' world - we are wrong. Not just in what we did but in who we are. We are so wrong we couldn't possibly be made right on our own. We get it. So, just stop saying that. Just stop!

But when I woke up this morning, I realized that I understand where they are coming from - much more than I would like to admit. I realized that I do the same thing. I realized that it fits right into something that has been nagging me the past week. I expect so much more from Herb than what I am willing or able to give him. I demand grace from him, but I am very very slow to give it to him.

For me, the source is fear. I am so scared to make allowances for the faults of others in my life, for fear that I will be absolutely wiped out by their faults. I fear for myself. My life. My safety. I fear that if I overlook a misstep, an oversight, an unkind word, a miscommunication, a hypocritical action, that I am opening myself up to pain.

And maybe I am. Maybe grace requires pain? Maybe it can't exist without pain? Maybe pain is the source of grace? Maybe I have to count on being hurt if I give grace?

Grace
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
It could be her name

Grace
It's a name for a girl
It's also a thought that changed the world
And when she walks on the street
You can hear the strings
Grace finds goodness in everything

Grace, she's got the walk
Not on a ramp or on chalk
She's got the time to talk
She travels outside of karma
She travels outside of karma
When she goes to work
You can hear her strings
Grace finds beauty in everything

Grace, she carries a world on her hips
No champagne flute for her lips
No twirls or skips between her fingertips
She carries a pearl in perfect condition

What once was hurt
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things

Grace makes beauty out of ugly things

(lyrics by U2)