Searching for Sacred

I have been using the metaphor of gestation and pregnancy to describe my journey into writing.   The “pregnancy” was long – I am thinking close to twenty-five years now.   I started writing in elementary school.   When the house was asleep, I would write out stories on lined notebook paper and then tuck them away in my closet.   I wrote in a journal faithfully through high school and college.   I wrote from my soul – it was honest, and it was dark.   In my mid-twenties I started graduate school and continued writing.   Up until then, I wrote only for myself.   During this time, a vision seed was planted – someday I would write for a larger audience.   It took another several years for that seed to gestate before I went into labor.    The labor process was painful – it meant letting go of doctoral studies (and thus quitting something I had started for the first time in my life.)   I had felt a calling on my life. ...

I used to be afraid of the night until I realized the gift that it has to offer. When I was 16, I went on my first wilderness backpacking trip in upper Michigan. I, along with a bunch of guys, spent a week hiking 50 miles and canoeing 100 miles. Towards the end of the trip, our leader and guide Kent, had us set up camp on a small island in the middle of the river. It was a perfect spot to camp with one exception – no source of clean water. Kent suggested that if we waited until it was dark, we would be able to take our canoes upstream a bit and hear fresh spring water flowing into the river. In the daytime, there was too much noise, too many distractions that would prevent us from successfully finding our much needed water. But in the silence of night, we would easily find what we were looking for. And he was right. We found what we were looking for (and the bonus adventure of getting into a splash war with a beaver -- who knew an oar could also serve as a makeshift beaver tail!)...

“Thank God for the hill, the sky, the morning sun, the manna on the ground which every morning renews our lives.” Thomas Merton For six straight summers, I was the luckiest girl in the world. I got to attend Sugar Creek Camp, which was indeed the best camp ever. For a week in August, I got to hike at Turkey Run State Park, swim, ride horses, canoe, and leave my bed in the middle of the night to watch meteor showers. The counselors were amazing and the smart ones eventually became co-conspirators with me and my fellow prankster extraordinaire, Sarah. How many camp counselors actually help you pull pranks on other cabins and counselors? I suppose that was the better option than finding themselves taped to their bed (Mandy Baldwin, if you are reading this, I extend my heartfelt apology.) For all the sheer glee Sugar Creek Camp brought to my life, my favorite part was the morning. We had the option of tying a sock to our bed and being awoken at 5:30 in the morning to go fishing. I am ...

When is the last time you really wanted something? When have you pursued something just beyond your reach? What do you long for? David writes in the Psalm 42, “As the deer longs for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God.” He goes on to describe darkness in his soul. Despite this darkness, despite the seeming silence of his God, David holds on to his longing and waits for God. He longs for relief from his condition and yet keeps his eyes fixed on the hope that this darkness will lift and he will once again sing praises. We live in a culture that works against the idea of longing. We are all about instant gratification and quick fixes. We are full of food, noise, entertainment, and stimuli. We have stuffed ourselves so full we have drowned out space for longing. We are content with the junk, but I fear we are missing out on the really good stuff. Longing leads us to a deep intimacy. It is pursuing something beyond us – something more than what we currently have. To lon...

We reap what we sow. If we plant seeds of negativity, bitterness, and general ugliness, we should not be surprised when our life and our relationships seem downright awful. Who wants to be around someone who complains and argues all the time? Certainly not me. Some of us are grumblers. We have a malaise about us. We are far from optimistic in our outlook on life. We believe nothing good will come of our life – we are destined for misery. This is difficult company to be around, but if it is another person I have the choice to gauge my proximity. I will work hard to avoid bad attitudes, for I know they are contagious. I hear whining and I start to get cranky. I can generally keep my distance from such stink; that is unless the stench is me. Kindness is a powerful tool in removing the foul odor of bad attitudes. Someone much wiser than me once said, “Every day you will make a mark on someone’s life. It is up to you what kind of mark that will be.” Sometimes it is difficult to choose ...

Joy is a state of being. It is not an emotion. Joy is too easily confused with happiness, but they are not the same. Happiness comes and goes. It is contingent on our circumstances. If something good happens, then we feel happy. A moment later, we hear a piece of bad news and we feel sad. Our joy is not moved by the ups and downs of life. It is steadfast. Joy is having the confidence, peace, and hope that we will survive the tough things of life. It is the hope that even if we should physically die, our soul will never die. Joy knows that when bad things do happen, it is not God or the universe conspiring to destroy us. Many of us have lost our joy. When bad things happen we start to wonder why God is rejecting us. We question God’s love and promises. “If you are so good, then why is this happening to me?” In our anger, we may deny God. I spent years giving God the middle finger because I was angry at my circumstances. I perceived God as distant and uncaring. God failed to protect...

In my previous posts within this series, I have focused a lot of attention on our inner thoughts, emotional well-being, and personal spirituality. Today, I am writing about the benefit of getting out and being involved. If we remain in our own little worlds all the time, staring intently at our navels, it is likely we will become self-centered. We could become like Narcissus and fall so deeply in love with our own reflection that we would rather die than stop staring at it. At the very least, staring so intently at our own navels will lead to boredom (there is only so much belly lint). On the flip side, only focusing our attention on others leads to the martyr syndrome. We help others to avoid looking at our own depravity, but then we grow weary from all our giving and self-sacrifice. We move from feeling good about ourselves because we are someone’s hero to feeling resentment because they need so much. We need to have a both/and attitude – spending time in self-reflection AND spe...

The only direction I know to go with humility is to be open about my own journey. I was tough as nails. I took great pride in my physical strength. My strength showed itself best in high school. Each summer, I would take a week with my church group and build a house in Tijuana, Mexico. We would build an 11’x22’ house complete with a concrete floor, stucco walls, and shingle-rolled roof. The best part for me, it was all done without the use of electricity or a cement mixer. I was not overly athletic, but I could lift a ninety pound concrete mix bag with no assistance (I would laugh because it often took two of the boys to carry a bag). I physically worked hard – when others would take breaks I was still going. Others noticed my ability and I felt affirmed. I also took a lot of pride in my emotional strength, or at least that it how I perceived it at the time. I was stoic, and I never cried. Not only did I lack tears, but I felt nothing. At funerals, graduations, and sad movies, other...

Growth is the visible sign of progress. If you walk through my laundry room, you will see three vertical lines of hash marks. These little black marks represent the physical growth of my three children. Periodically, they ask to be measured for they are confident they are indeed taller than the last time they stood with their backs straight and heels to the wall. For my preschoolers, signs of growth are equated with more independent skills and privileges. Someday they will be big like mommy and daddy and do things like ride a two-wheel bike and drink coffee (or at least this is what they tell me.) They want to grow up. In case you doubted their intention, just refer to them as a baby and they will quickly correct you, “No, I am a big kid.” Physical growth and maturity is an inevitable part of our humanity. Many of us try and turn back the clocks of aging, but we all eventually get wrinkles, gray hair, and atrophied muscles. Emotional and spiritual growth trajectories fall into the o...

“Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1). Faith believes without seeing, touching, or truly knowing. The healing process is a journey that will take us to unexpected places. There is no absolute map, for each path is unique to the one on the journey. It is like having a trail guide. If you have never seen or used a trail guide, allow me to explain. I have section hiked portions of the Appalachian Trail through North Carolina, Tennessee, and Virginia. For this section of the trail, there is a little pink book that if you follow along page by page, it will tell you where you might find a water source, a good place to sleep, or various hazards to avoid or at least be aware (like bears!). I have hiked one particular 40-mile section three times – once in snow, once right after the spring thaw, and once in extreme heat. The guide book helped me stay on the trail, but it did not have solutions to frozen ground, ice covered wood, high w...

Back in my youth ministry days, there was a popular quote: “Salvation is a journey, not a destination.” I resonated well with this quote then, and find it just a true now. In the letters of St. Paul, he often wrote about running races and enduring hardships. In his letter to the Philippians, he stated, “Not that I have already achieved this, but I press on to win the prize.” At the beginning of this liturgical year (Advent 2010), I began meditating on the word, “Steadfast.” As part of a physical expression of this word, I decided to once again run a half marathon. I am not a runner. I am especially not a fast runner (think 11-12 minute miles). But I completed the 13.1 mile goal in May 2010 and have continued running a couple of times/week. In my running, I have noticed something significant. Wherever I have set my mark as a finish line, I go no further. If I set out for a 3 mile run and then start dwelling on how tired I am or the slight cramp in my knee I move the finish line clos...

A couple of disclaimers: 1) “Diagnonsense” is not an original word from my brain; it is from the film Girl, Interrupted . 2) I am in no way diminishing the validity or effects of mental illness. In fact, I believe society does not take them serious enough. I am taking the liberty to use the word “diagnosis” beyond psychological labels for various mental illnesses. In this segment, I am attempting to address the labels placed upon us by our own creation or ones given to us by someone else. Diagnosis can be official (e.g. depression, bipolar, panic disorder . . .), or it may be based on the roles we played in our families or social groups (e.g. trouble-maker, odd one, instigator, black sheep, oops child . . .). Whatever the source, our diagnosis shapes how we perceive ourselves and how we relate to the world. First, let me elaborate on the positive. The actual diagnosis can be helpful in that it can highlight what we are up against. I personally have understood the effects of depr...

I love books, especially books that make me think. My bookshelves are lined with everything from the ancient writings of the mystics and saints to the literary words of Flannery O’Conner and J.D. Salinger. It appears I cannot get enough of the written word. That being said, allow me to discuss my favorite book. The most influential I have read in many years (aside from the Bible) is “The Monster at the End of the Book” by none other than loveable and furry old Grover. For those not familiar with Grover, he is one of the stars of Sesame Street. The premise of the book – Grover exerts all his efforts to prevent the reader from turning the pages and thus moving closer to the monster at the end of the book. He uses rope, bricks and steel in attempts to hold down each page. The reader of course continues towards the end of the book only to find the monster is Grover.  And recognizing the craziness of his efforts to avoid the conclusion, he announces, “Oh, I am so embarrassed.” Our ...

Be still. Sure, no problem. Let me just quiet my brain, shut out all the distractions, ignore the multitude of tasks surrounding me, and simply be still. But this is exactly what we need to do. It is here that I reluctantly confess to those who read this, I am a control freak and being still calls me into a space of uncertainty. I am ambivalent in regards to the unknown. On one hand, I am adventurous – I love travel and discovering new things. I love to have the freedom to explore; to step off the beaten trail and be amazed at the revelation of the unexpected. But, even when I explore, I do not venture out so far that I could not eventually find my way home. My adventures have boundaries – I know my limits to my strength, knowledge, emotions, and resources and I do not intentionally veer beyond my line of confidence. I only walk the tightrope of life where I know I have a secure safety net under me. On the other hand, the few times when I have actually had the courage to be still ...

To some, especially those familiar with the grief process, acceptance may seem like the wrong place to start. After all, the five stages of grief begin with denial and ends with acceptance. Healing and grieving often go hand in hand – grieving over lost dreams, mourning of painful memories, longing for what we believe should have happened in our lives – letting go of loss allows us to take steps into hope. Healing is accepting who we are, where we are, and where we have been. It is embracing the narrative of our lives. It is accepting the temperament of our personality, our physical appearance, and our genetic tendencies and capabilities. It is welcoming the resources we were born into including our families, our heritage, as well as our physical and temporal settings. We accept these things that are beyond our control. Accepting who we are may sound obvious. But how many of us spend our time and energy comparing ourselves to others around us. “If only I was more like . . . then ...

I have neglected my blog. I have not exactly neglected writing, though lately it has become more personal and at this point fairly raw. In other words, I am not ready to make it public – perhaps someday, but not this day. But, I do believe I need to continue practicing the art of writing and sharing my thoughts and ruminations with others. Lately I am pondering what authentic healing looks like. More specifically, what do I know about the healing journey as a fellow traveler and a therapist? I think I know a few things. I am facilitating a group discussion of the book, Living Your Strengths. For those of you unfamiliar with the book, it was published by Gallup and is a Christian spin-off of the original book, Now, Discover Your Strengths. Aside from the brilliant marketing that does not permit book sharing, each book comes with a code to take the online strengthsfinder test and discover what your top five (out of thirty-four) signature strengths are. I was slightly surprised by ...