the f word

no, not THAT word.
the word I have in mind is considerably less popular.
i think its safe to say that it isn't popular at all
because it requires so much from us.

forgiveness

this word is like a burr in my saddle
a splinter under my skin
it refuses to leave me in peace
it hounds me
i stubbornly put off yielding to it.

when you need to forgive and you don't
you suffer to a ridiculous degree
such a degree that you'd think that you'd want to say 'uncle' already.
still you cling to your right to ruminate
and you and everyone around you suffers
when something trips the switch and sets you off

why hold something so destructive?
is it really too hard to surrender to forgiveness?
no.
it isn't.. .
yes! it is.
pride won't bend
oh, why won't it bend?
i've been hurt.
i'm justified.
i have a right to be angry.
i am angry.
how can i forgive people who pretend there is nothing to forgive?
how can i forgive when they're not sorry
and I'm left with all this damage?

I'm not God, after all.

God has a metaphorical 'sea of forgetfulness'.
Which in my mind could also be called the 'ocean of forgiveness'
Its capacity?
Infinite.
When he forgives, its as if he tosses the offense into the depths and it never surfaces again.
He doesn't forget because if he did, he wouldn't be God.
He knows what's in there.
But he knows how to forgive.
He can leave it there and never bring it up again.
Maddening thing is, he forgives those i can't seem to forgive
and he expects me to do the same.

I have a 'puddle of i'm not going to forget-fulness'.
Everything i try to throw in there piles up.
I can still see it.
and i do not forget it.

forgiveness?
it goes against all my inclinations.
but my inclinations are all inclined wrong.

i want it for me
but i don't want to extend it.
and there it is,
laid bare and obvious.
this will never work
a puddle will never do.
limited capacity is nowhere close to adequate in the face of that maddeningly gracious infinity.

This quote from the book 'The Shack" by William Paul Young, I can't say i love it, but it certainly got my attention and its on my mind...a lot.

". . . I'm stuck, Papa. I can't just forget what he did, can I?", Mack implored. "Forgiveness is not about forgetting, Mack. It is about letting go of another person's throat."

snap

sometimes when you really hope something will change you may see possibility where none really exists.
Then you have a moment where you realize the truth.
no change is going to happen.
and you feel like an idiot for thinking that it even could.
and you're angry
and you're sad
and something in you just snaps.
again.

light

Luke 11:33 "No one lights a lamp and hides it or puts it under a basket. Its put on a stand to give light to all who enter a room. Your eye is a lamp for your body. A pure eye lets sunshine into your soul, but an evil eye shuts out the light and plunges you into the darkness. Make sure that the light you have is not really darkness. If you are filled with light, with no dark corners, then your whole life will be radiant, as though a floodlight is shining on you."

I read this last week and I've though about it quite a bit.
Tonight I discovered that the first thing God says in the first chapter of the Bible is 'Let there be light." and in the last chapter of the Bible, God IS all the light anyone needs. There is no more use for the sun, there is no dark, so nobody needs lamps, candles, lights. . No more dark?
But its all we've ever known. . living with light and dark.
No more use for the sun?? God will be all the light anyone needs.
What kind of megawattage does He give off??!!
None of us can look directly at the sun.
It is too much for us.
It will fry our retinas,
blinding us.

Revelation 1: 12 *John was praying, this is what he wrote* ". . .suddenly I heard a loud voice behind me, a voice that sounded like a trumpet blast. When I turned to see who was speaking to me, I saw seven golden lampstands. Standing in the middle of the stands was the son of man. His eyes were bright, like flames of fire. His feet were as bright as bronze, refined in a furnace and his voice thundered like mighty ocean breakers. He held seven stars in his right hand. His face was as bright as the sun in all its brilliance. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead, but he laid his right hand on me and said: 'Don't be afraid!"

Somehow all my puny thoughts about God seem so childish.
I can't imagine such contact.
I'd faint too.


He IS light.
I can only reflect dimly.
He's like a football field full of klieg lights. .
I'm a penlight.
He's a raging infero.
I'm a birthday candle.

A voice like ocean breakers, trumpet blasts? I've heard the noise of several trumpets playing triple forte. .ear splitting. I've vacationed ocean front. . i've heard the pounding of the waves in a storm. . such power.
A face as bright as the sun?
The sun gives off the equivalent in light of 4 trillion trillion (yes, double trillion) 100 watt lightbulbs.
Its core temperature is 15,000,000 degrees.

I'm more than amazed by thoughts of God's light, his power.
But even more amazed by this question:
Why love?
Why love us?
Why does such greatness love such disobedient, troublesome, ungrateful, irrational, childish creatures?
I don't know.
But I'm so glad.

The thought of such power unbuffered by love is scary.

1 observation and 2 thoughts

i work in a hospital.
The main lobby has a little chapel, sandwiched between Tim Horton's and the public washrooms.
its a nondescript little room, all beige and earthy, maybe 8 feet x 8 feet.
quiet.


i like to take my breaks there.
I go in and shut the door
i feel like i can finally breathe.
there are no phones ringing.
no computers.
no demands.
no endless tasks.
There are several pictures on the walls, i can see them in my mind. . the floral still life. . the winding path with grecian trees, the cloud 'angel' picture.
There is an old communion table at the front of the room, lettered with these words: "Do This in Remembrance of Me"
There are chairs enough for a small army, lining the walls, empty.
and there's a Bible in the centre of the table, flanked by boxes of kleenex.

observation 1:
The most well worn page in this Bible is, Psalm 23. Its grimy and smudgy. . and tear stained. Its almost always turned there when i come in. I love that. I wonder how many different people have looked up maybe the only thing they know: The Lord is my shepherd. .

thought 1:
as i had trouble trying to focus and not think of work, not hear the noise outside the door, trying to pray, i thought of writing one honest page per day.
I could not stop thinking of that. . . one honest page.
So, this is what i've started to do, write to God one page every day.
A way to 'pray' that helps me focus and corral my thoughts, which go wandering off in every direction.

thought 2:
this morning as I wondered why it was so hard to 'hear' God speak to me, I know the disconnect is on my end, I thought about how hard it is to talk to people when they're sleeping. You call their name over and over and over, you try to tell them something -- nothing. You say their name a bit louder. You shake their shoulder. . they mumble and mutter. .still not waking. You're speaking to them, they're fast asleep. hmmmm. . . am i asleep? i think so.
I think a most of us are.

arrrrghhhhhh!!!!

I'm not sure I've ever uttered the 'word' "arrrrghhhh" actually, but i'm feeling like it.
I'm frustrated.
Its tough for people like me
who like food.

Right now its a really good thing that I am not in the company of one of those "I don't have a problem with my weight" kind of people.

The way I'm feeling right now, I'd have to sit ON my hands, to keep them from going up around their neck.

You know, the kind of people who say things like:

"I forget to eat sometimes"

*are you flippin' kidding me?*

or

"I've never had a problem with my weight."
(of course, you haven't)

or


"I don't have a sweet tooth, I almost never eat dessert"
(is this even possible? its downright suspicious -- how can such a person be trusted?)

or the thing that really makes me wanna hit them:
"I can eat whatever I want. I just burn it off."

@$#%^&**!!!!!!!!!


I'm having a ridiculous day in which everywhere I go there are THINGS I WANT TO INHALE.. market this morning. . bought my grandchildren giant cinnamon buns with icing. . I did not succumb to these evil rounds. But they smelled so damned cinnamony.

Then my grandson wanted to visit the church beside the market. . the one that sells PIES and APPLE DUMPLINGS WITH WARM CARAMEL SAUCE every week, to raise funds. Naturally, he wanted to check out the basement, where they SELL the dangerous items and he wanted a glass of juice. Deal is you get a beverage with the purchase of one of these sin bundles. frig, frig FRIG!!! Idiot me buys him one, which he hated. . and wouldn't eat. and this is why he's so thin. So now I was really crumbling. the smell. . oh my gosh. .the look of that golden thing. . I scooped out and ate the apple from inside its pocket of pastry and salvaged a deteriorating situation. But that wasn't the last of it. I then took him to the chocolate shop, where the most curious thing happened.

I picked up a bag of chocolates for Lindsay and Mike, I told myself, and a couple of little 'chocolate pizzas' for the grandkids. I was surrounded by hand made chocolates, roasted nuts, candies -- by now I was really messed in the head. I fished out my new wallet and being new, the card holder pockets were a bit stiff. I tried to get my card out. . it was wedged in so tight i couldn't. I only pushed it further in with each attempt to get at it. The cashier gave me a paper clip. . and watched me as I fumbled. I then asked her if she had anything pointy, she handed me a pen. I tried to pen the thing out. No luck. The cashier giggled nervously. I finally looked up at her and said "You'll have to cancel that, I can't get at my bank card." When I asked her if that had ever happened to anyone else, or was it just me, she grinned and said "No, just you." James wasn't too disappointed, he was only thinking about his cinnamon bun anyway. It was actually kind of hilarious.

You'd think I would have been in the clear after all that. But no.

We went back to the Arts Centre to meet Opa, who was waiting for Eri to come out of her ballet lesson.

While I had eaten sensible bran flakes and fruit for breakfast, Rob hadn't and he wanted to go to Tim Horton's for a bagel and a coffee. The kids of course chimed in their wishes for "chocolate mint donut and a chocolate milk".

Tim Horton's is of the devil.
Cookies, donuts, eclairs, donuts, tea biscuits, donuts, fatty fatty muffins and donuts.

Rob ordered his brunch, the kids had their donuts and chocolate milk.

I had a diet pepsi.. . .niiiice.

but I stole a teeny pinch of each donut. *tiny, miniscule* I did not lose control with my mouth, but my mind was already gone. At this point i was convinced that the entire city was made out of sugar and dipped in chocolate.

We got home and what did I flippin do next?? I made some squares. . i'm not even kidding you.
Butter, peanut butter, butterscotch chips, marshmallows, coconut, rice krispies. Deadly. I quickly got the squares in the pan and hid them in the fridge.

I made an organic spinach salad with fat free raspberry dressing, cooked some mushrooms in broth, had a piece of lean, grilled chicken leftover from the other night and a small, whole wheat english muffin, toasted with 1 measured teaspoon of non hydrogenated margarine. It was good. I went out to do some gardening. Distraction is good, yes. . very good. I needed to stop throwing myself under the food bus.

I'd sent the cinnamon buns packing with the grandkids, I had eaten only the apple and not the dumpling. The chocolate store fiasco kept me on the straight and narrow and I ended up having a 2 cm. square piece of square and then desperately ran to the freezer for a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich, which I wolfed down guiltlessly as I promised myself that it was better than the squares. . and you know it really was good and it really was better.


I then went downstairs and like a sicko, I watched . . . The Food Network!! What the . . . . what is WRONG with me?? I felt like i was having a bona fide meltdown. How can I reconcile my old nature with my new behaviour?? How can I be me if I don't bake? Why can't I be liberal with the olive oil and the butter, why do i have to measure things and count points? Why can't I be normal? Why is the world full of delicious garbage to eat? Why is every second commercial on TV about food? and every first commercial about someone with no weight problem? What kind of skewed message are the propagandists pushing anyway??

This is an epic, rest of my life drama. . and I need to get a grip!!!

I made some supper. . low fat, whole wheat mac and cheese. It was really good.
I ate 1 cup's worth. BLAH. I don't like 1 cup's worth. . i like more.

I'm seeing the pattern as I write it all down. . INSANITY! sanity. . INSANITY! sanity. Thursday night I was jubilant, high on control, happy -- like I could KICK FAT'S BUTT!! Today, I'm the one being kicked. ^&#$%^^%$ !!! pardon me.

I'm going to go for a walk now. As I get into this sixth week of 'health improvement' and vanity boosting, I realize I'm always going to be living with this familiar tension. The 'honeymoon' is over. . there will be days like this and they are usually on the weekend. I'm not sure why this is so. My Monday - Thursday resolve seems to evaporate when the sun sets on Friday nights. I am not without weapons of my own. .and working out is definitely going to be my weapon of choice. Maybe this is going to be my great equalizer?

oh great. .

i'm getting hungry.

arrrrrggghhhh!!

mending

I was thinking today, as I was mending a favourite pair of worn workout capris.
Thinking about mending.
Does anyone mend any more?



I could have easily thrown the capris out. I didn't.
I've mended them before. But today I mended them again because I really like them.
I thought some more.
This question is far deeper than it seems on first thought.
Mending is more than sewing.
Mending is for more than things.

Of course its easier to look at flaws and toss.
Socks have holes?
Throw them out and buy more.
Your vacuum cleaner doesn't work any more?
Put it on the curb on trash day and get another one.
Shoes worn out?
buh bye. . in the garbage.
Zipper broken?
useless, it goes in the bag.

There are two things going on here. .

1. Things aren't made to last any more. They're made to throw away.
Much more profit to be had making disposable items than in creating quality goods.
Cars don't last. Houses go up in no time and fall apart. Appliances give up the ghost. I have a perfectly functional 1950 Westinghouse oven. . yes my stove is 59 years old and all we do the odd time is replace a fuse. It amazes me. Be even more amazing, Kelly Ripa and Electrolux, i dare you. If I went out and bought a brand new oven tomorrow, I'd be lucky to get 5 - 10 years out of it and those years would not be without servicing.

2. We have no patience to fix. We're so ready to give up. Throw away. We didn't make the thing, we have nothing invested in it, we did not create, we did not design, we simply consume and discard.

This propensity of ours for using and tossing has crept into all parts of our brains.
We hit a snag. . we want to pack it in.
We have a rough patch, forget about it. . cut losses and move on.
Leave.
Effort?
blech.
Mend?
why bother?
meh.
whatever.

This alarms me.

Old fashioned isn't always bad.
Sock holes used to be sewn back together.
Zippers were replaced.
Vacuum cleaners were serviced.
Shoes were re-soled.

I think people thought that they might not be able to get another,
so they took great care with the one they had.
Preserving, conserving, protecting, maintaining.
Even when fixing was not possible and there seemed to be no use,
they got creative and found another use.
They valued.
They were more patient.

We live in a disposable world.
You name it, it can be disposed of.
No mending necessary.
Things
and
people
can be discarded
devalued
thrown away.

How can we stop?
How can we change?
I want to believe we can.

r-e-s-p-e-c-t

I've realized something.
I really need to learn about respect.

I've been under the impression that I've been a respectful person,
but I catch myself all the time, losing my cool, making snap judgements, assuming,
keeping score of rights and wrongs.

Lack of knowledge is a problem.
How often do I resolve to invest my time in knowing?
Not in knowing for the sake of ego building,
But in knowing people.
I think where I find myself lacking respect,
I am most often lacking knowledge.

I don't know people well enough.
Don't know what they've experienced, don't know what they've accomplished, don't know their struggles, their joys, their fears.
Its too easy to go through the daily thing we all do and see people
but never really see them. Do you know what I mean?

I am not well known.
People don't know what I've experienced, accomplished.
Don't know my struggles, joys, fears.

I might not be easy to know.
I might hide, I might not trust. Maybe I'm afraid.

Why don't I know others? Why don't others know me?
Do I care? Am I cared about?
Do i take the time? Is time taken with me?
Ever regret caring? taking time? It doesn't always work out does it?
Sometimes the more you get to know someone,
the more you wish you didn't! Can you relate??
But so what? Why judge whether someone is worth caring about or worth my time? worthy of respect?
Who do i think i am, anyway?
As if I can dole out respect like a benediction upon the lives of others.
As if I can respect capriciously, selectively. .
we do this.
i do this.
and miss out on building character
on trusting and respecting God to help with the really tough things in life,
forgiving,
accepting,
listening
investing (i don't mean money)
loving.

Wow, is it ever difficult to have respect for someone who has hurt you.
Lash out. Run away. Pull back. Must self protect.
Is it possible to step back from the hurt and still respect some aspects of that person?
Yes, its possible, but no, not palatable.
Can good be seen if its mixed in with the 'bad'??
Or does the bad stand out so much, the good is overlooked? - like disclosing tablets chewed after brushing our teeth. .all the good brushing is obvious, but goes unnoticed. . all we see is the bright blue evidence of the bad, of what we didn't do right.

How do we make sense of our own dark and light? We're all mixed up.
We love and withhold love.
We bless and we curse.
We respect and we disrespect.
We're messy and mean.

I find as i live my days that there's a fine, fine balance in living.
A balance between listening and speaking.
A balance between being knowing and being known.
A balance between your inner and your outer being.
We all walk around every day with balance issues.
The imbalance causes all sorts of problems.
Too weak here, not strong enough there.
Too strong here, too weak there.
Injured.
Lopsided.
Off centre.
Big head, small heart.
Too much dis, not enough re

I've realized something else.
Although I never seem to learn, I really do want to.