just be with me

over the past few months, i've begun to learn the power of emotional presence.  i've been shocked at what a powerful thing it is to truly be there for someone, to be willing to be "in it" with them, whatever "it" is.  the difficult truth about life is, it's supposed to be hard.  sometimes we just can't fix whatever feels broken.  sometimes we don't even know what's broken.  but in the darkness, feeling your hand encompassed by the hand of a friend is the most comforting thing in the world.  and that friend isn't even trying to comfort you.  he's just there.

i played with my baby.

anxiety (who sometimes feels like my constant companion) had made me low.  somehow she makes me less confident about myself, makes me question if i'm the person i want to be.  i guess i'm always looking for the reason she's there, even though it's like grasping at thin wisps of smoke.  i can always conjure up a reason that has to do with what's wrong with me.  clearly, not a productive path.  that path circles round and round, down and down.

but tonight i made a good choice.  i'd just put my kids to bed, except my baby, since he didn't seem quite ready.  so i decided to play with him.  we play a lot, mostly as we do things like getting him dressed, changing his diaper, and it's almost impossible to pick him up without trying to make him laugh.  but i don't usually set aside much one-on-one time just to play with him.  so this spontaneous playtime was a novel thing.  i hid his little keys under the blanket until he could find them in a second. he even hid them from me!  we played the xylophone and we played airplane (maybe his favorite) and he coyly ate a cheerio he found on the carpet.  i tickled his neck and cheek with my mouth and nose, and he returned the favor with a giant, slobbery, wide-mouthed, baby kiss!  we went outside and crawled in the grass, and felt the trunk of each tree, and before we went in, i let him ring the wind chime.  there's a little ceramic blue bird attached to the string, and he was enchanted with it, entranced almost.  i could sense how content and calm and loved he felt.  usually when i put him in his crib, he cries for a few seconds before he rolls over and falls asleep.  but tonight when i laid him down, he didn't cry at all.

his contentment and joy rubbed off on me.  i haven't felt this good all day.  in this journey, i've considered the impact of many of my relationships on my mental state, for good or for ill.  i'd never considered, though, the power of my relationship with my baby boy.  i feel so connected to him, and he sent anxiety packing, at least for awhile.  thanks, little man!

listening

when we talk to people, what is it that we do, exactly?  do we merely relay information?  do we smile and say a few words so we can then pass politely by and get on to whatever's next?  do we make trite comments about the weather or the family or whatever is going on around us?

or do we listen?  to listen, you first have to get someone to open up.  sometimes that's hard, and sometimes it isn't at all.  you could say something like, "how are you?" and really mean it.  do we make time to hear the whole answer?

do we really connect with that other person?  are we willing let them hurt if they hurt and to be with them for a moment in whatever it is they're going through?  do we even let them go through it, or do we make them pretend everything's great, so we don't have to feel uncomfortable, or so we can get home and vacuum the living room?

sometimes it's the most lonely in the middle of a bunch of people.

sometimes those people are even smiling and talking to you.

sometimes they even love you.

almost home

my husband has been gone for almost five days and i've been alone with the three little ones.  i thought we were coping pretty well until yesterday, when the anxiety hit pretty hard.  today's been worse, with no relief at all.  i don't know if i'll ever get used to these feelings.  i just don't know what to do with them.  also, my phone died.  talk about feeling cut off from the world!  i wonder how i'll feel when he gets home.  relieved, i hope, and happy.

no man is an island

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."


John Donne, Meditation XVII

frustration

sometimes i feel so frustrated at myself.  i had a really great morning, but this afternoon i have felt so anxious, so down.  i guess just the fact that i feel bad is sometimes enough to make me frustrated. (i've been working on that.) but the thing that really kills me is, i know if i could just share my grief with someone who really cared, or if i could just cry-- really cry-- i would feel so much relief.  sometimes i would like to blame the people around me for not caring, not asking, not being emotionally available to me.  but after my mom stopped by, i talked to a good friend on the phone, and another friend called and left me a message, i realized-- it's me.  at least in a large part.  i've always thought of myself as such an open person, ironically.  i suppose in many ways i am.  but sharing this burden, opening myself up, becoming vulnerable, letting it out!  this is what escapes me.  i don't have such a hard time hurling a few words at the subject, but the tears are still trapped inside, building pressure.  sometimes i'm most lonely when i'm not even alone.   

balm of gilead

When sore trials came upon you,
Did you think to pray?
When your soul was full of sorrow,
Balm of Gilead did you borrow
At the gates of day?

Mary A. Pepper Kidder

heavy clouds but no rain

this title describes the weather today.  it also describes how i often feel.  my body, dying to break into sobs, but some invisible thing keeping me composed. . . and miserable.  so i count my little tears as blessings when they fall.  i shed two yesterday when i lost something and looked and looked and then prayed and looked some more and still couldn't find it.  at that moment, i was so upset, but dry as a desert.  i wondered how anxious i would have to feel, how terrible it would have to get, before God would have pity on me.  i prayed some more, feeling so pitiful before Him.  then i got up and walked right over to my missing object.  that was when the two tears fell.  i'd almost convinced myself He didn't care.

today one more slipped out.  it was because my sister loves me.  i woke up feeling sick to my stomach, and  couldn't shake it all day.  my sister had been sick this week, too, so i called her to see how she was doing.  i had wanted to offer to take her kids the other day, but hadn't been brave enough.  (her little boys are very active, and my house is only girl-proof.)  but she didn't lack for courage when she found out i felt crummy.  she showed up and loaded up my two little ones, and drove off with five kids aged four and under like it was no big deal.  brave?  that and so much more.  i felt so loved.  enough for it to rain just a little.

doing something

i used to be a big doer.  lately though, doing anything is hard most of the time.  but the everyday, necessary things are the hardest.  cleaning, doing dishes, doing laundry, cooking, shopping, getting out of bed.  (hmm. . . still wonder what my job is?)  however, i've discovered that i don't have such a hard time doing something if that something happens to be unnecessary and creative.  it's almost like the cravings i'd get when i was pregnant.  why watermelon?  i don't know, but i'm pretty sure if i could just get some damn watermelon i'd be feeling a whole lot better!  now it's: draw!  really, draw?  i've never drawn anything better than a stick figure without a nose!  well, guess what?  drawing makes me feel just a tich better.  not always, but sometimes.  also blogging.  also painting pots.  also gardening (but only sometimes).  and i have a hunch there might be other things, too.  i'm not going to go out looking for them, but i have a feeling they might come to me like an unearthly desire for an egg salad sandwich in the middle of the night.

working definitions

patience. not, perhaps, always suffering in silence, or sparing other the knowledge of your trials or emotions, although maybe sometimes, since Christ went as a lamb to the slaughter and opened not His mouth.
                maybe. . . not getting mad at God for letting you suffer.
                maybe. . . trusting Him enough to know that your trials will be for your good and He is trying to make you fit for heaven.
               maybe. . . not trying to snap people out of their suffering, but being willing to be with them in that moment, offering empathy, if possible, or just your presence, if not.
               maybe. . . accepting mortality and imperfection, knowing they will not be our final states.  keeping the goal of walking with the Savior instead of perfecting ourselves in order to receive his grace.
               maybe. . . receiving his grace now.

hope. not, perhaps, always wearing a smile or saying, "it's okay," "i'm okay."
           not, perhaps, just passively "hoping" that things will turn out.
          maybe. . . trusting that things will turn out, not how you want them to, but how God wants them to, if you can trust his vision of the future.
          maybe. . . being willing to suffer now in the hope, or faith, of a better world.
          not, perhaps, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, but taking a peek through God's spectacles and forgetting what exactly you saw, but trusting the memory.

love. being willing to suffer, to lose, to risk everything dear.
         being willing to sacrifice.
         being willing to be emotionally present and available at all times, especially when it may be inconvenient, or when it may cost you.
         favoring relationships over emotional homeostasis.
         prizing people over an absence of pain or grief.

on pain

". . . When pain is to be borne, a little courage helps more than much knowledge, a little human sympathy more than much courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all." (C.S.Lewis, The Problem of Pain, Preface.)