Today I was feeling grumpy all day. In the morning because my stomach hurt and I didn't seem to be well-nourished, and then later, just tired and all-around grumpy.
And then it hit me. I'm feeling lonely.
I have a great husband who is cooking one of my favorite dinners (stuffed shrimps), two amazing boys who give me spontaneous hugs even when I grump on them (if that's not grace, don't know what is!) and I'm feeling lonely.
So I called a good friend. Then I called another. Then I texted one. Then I left another message.
My friend Megan said it best "Every year, New Year's sneaks up on me." Christmas is full of anticipation and planning, and then New Year's arrives for me, with no plans in place.
I'm feeling better now. I connected with a couple of friends. Snuggled with my boy on the couch, and chatted with my husband. We'll be asleep before midnight most likely.
And next year? I'll figure out some ritual to end the year. Keiko suggested burning paper. Love it.
I've got lots to catch up my readers on this coming year - owl autopsy results, plans and dream manifestation.
Wherever I am tonight, it's okay to feel what I am feeling.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Receiving the Gift
A few days ago a sweet friend gave me a gift of a hand-baked loaf of sweet bread. Oh no, I thought inside. This isn't really for me. After all, I can't eat wheat. I haven't for years. Better to stop this and have her give it to someone who would enjoy eating it. And then I stopped my thoughts in their tracks. No. Receive the gift. Just receive it. Receive the spirit of love, receive the intent and the care. Just receive.
I have a lot of friends struggling right now with what to do around Christmas. They celebrate it - the presents, the anticipation of Santa, the tree - but feel a bit awkward about not really connecting with the Jesus part. They've confided in me that they are occasional church go-ers, or feel a bit hypocritical doing the Christmas thing without the baby Jesus.
I'm always surprised how people think that they've gotta believe before they step into a church. As if the faith comes first (it never does!) or that once you're inside the church doors everyone else is full of certainty (they aren't). Or even, that if you're pretty sure this isn't your thing, that there isn't some piece of goodness to behold.
I always think about my experiments with yoga like my experiments with faith. One class I could barely keep up as the teacher moved through countless poses. One style was way too hot. One teacher led a class so relaxing I kept falling asleep. But I didn't give up on yoga. In some cases, I knew I had to try a different style. And mostly I just needed to keep coming back. But in every case, I was a bit more flexible afterwards.
Christmas is that moment of grace. Yes, it's about Jesus. But even if you're not there yet (or ever) it's about light. And however you celebrate it, there's a gift of grace to receive. An unexpected connection with the divine that pursues us in spite of ourselves.
Today I was reminded of the magic that's afoot right now. I was hiking in the canyon with my brother-in-law and son, and we saw a red-tailed hawk sitting on a low bush just off the trail. It was only five feet away, but we could have easily passed it since it was so camouflaged. Ten minutes later we saw a coyote (which I haven't seen for months in the canyon) and then a second hawk, perched on a fence just steps from us. The hike ended with a downpour (which we waited out in Safeway) and one of the most fantastic double rainbows I've ever seen.
Sometimes I feel like God whispers and I just have to stop and pay attention. Today I felt like God was singly as loudly as the first graders in the Winter Show.
Receive the gift.
I have a lot of friends struggling right now with what to do around Christmas. They celebrate it - the presents, the anticipation of Santa, the tree - but feel a bit awkward about not really connecting with the Jesus part. They've confided in me that they are occasional church go-ers, or feel a bit hypocritical doing the Christmas thing without the baby Jesus.
I'm always surprised how people think that they've gotta believe before they step into a church. As if the faith comes first (it never does!) or that once you're inside the church doors everyone else is full of certainty (they aren't). Or even, that if you're pretty sure this isn't your thing, that there isn't some piece of goodness to behold.
I always think about my experiments with yoga like my experiments with faith. One class I could barely keep up as the teacher moved through countless poses. One style was way too hot. One teacher led a class so relaxing I kept falling asleep. But I didn't give up on yoga. In some cases, I knew I had to try a different style. And mostly I just needed to keep coming back. But in every case, I was a bit more flexible afterwards.
Christmas is that moment of grace. Yes, it's about Jesus. But even if you're not there yet (or ever) it's about light. And however you celebrate it, there's a gift of grace to receive. An unexpected connection with the divine that pursues us in spite of ourselves.
Today I was reminded of the magic that's afoot right now. I was hiking in the canyon with my brother-in-law and son, and we saw a red-tailed hawk sitting on a low bush just off the trail. It was only five feet away, but we could have easily passed it since it was so camouflaged. Ten minutes later we saw a coyote (which I haven't seen for months in the canyon) and then a second hawk, perched on a fence just steps from us. The hike ended with a downpour (which we waited out in Safeway) and one of the most fantastic double rainbows I've ever seen.
Sometimes I feel like God whispers and I just have to stop and pay attention. Today I felt like God was singly as loudly as the first graders in the Winter Show.
Receive the gift.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Putting Others in a Box
My oldest son desperately wanted pink rain pants.
Hmm, I thought. I let him wear a pink dress-up skirt when he was three, but now he's in first grade. As much as he thinks he wants pink pants - he'll walk into school one day, someone will make fun of him, and he'll never wear the pants again. So I decided that I'd get him the black ones, and tell him the pink ones were out of stock.
Needless to say, my guilt started running amok.
And when the pants arrived, my 6-year-old demanded, where are my pink pants?
So we negotiated the return of the black pants and amazingly enough he waited patiently for the pink ones to arrive in the mail. I waited with a bit of guarded fear as he showed his friend that came over his pink pants, but I shouldn't have worried. He gets to have his own journey in these matters.
At the same time, I ordered ten pairs of new pants for my youngest son -- who seems to go through multiple costume changes each day, and has an affinity for shorts. So with winter upon us, boxes of 4T pants arrived each day in the mail. He tried them on, and they fell down to his knees. Alex is 4 1/2, but he doesn't wear size 4 pants.
Alex's size has always been a sensitive issue for me. At one point he was negative ten percentile in weight, and falling fast, though he ate just as much as anyone in the family. We changed his diet and he started growing rapidly, but lately he might be lagging again. I worry that I haven't been vigilent enough of those foods that disrupt and irriate his body, and mostly I just want him to thrive. And my beautiful, energetic son wears size 3 pants.
I know that I often put people in boxes, especially the ones I love. I try desperately to cram them into the space that I think they will be most comfortable, or the place I want them to be. Or I'll put a negative label on them - they are "messy" or can't pay attention.
I think I put God in a box sometimes too. "I'm not ready for Christmas yet, God - I need more time to get ready!" or people will put me in a box if they know I am a Christian.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my father's house there are many dwelling places." John 14: 1-2
God is small and big, pink and black, male and female. God is all of these things and more. And more than I could possibly understand most days, which depending on the day, makes me want to shout out in worship, or weep with the enormity of it all. What boxes has God been put in by others in your life? What does opening God up for you look like?
Hmm, I thought. I let him wear a pink dress-up skirt when he was three, but now he's in first grade. As much as he thinks he wants pink pants - he'll walk into school one day, someone will make fun of him, and he'll never wear the pants again. So I decided that I'd get him the black ones, and tell him the pink ones were out of stock.
Needless to say, my guilt started running amok.
And when the pants arrived, my 6-year-old demanded, where are my pink pants?
So we negotiated the return of the black pants and amazingly enough he waited patiently for the pink ones to arrive in the mail. I waited with a bit of guarded fear as he showed his friend that came over his pink pants, but I shouldn't have worried. He gets to have his own journey in these matters.
At the same time, I ordered ten pairs of new pants for my youngest son -- who seems to go through multiple costume changes each day, and has an affinity for shorts. So with winter upon us, boxes of 4T pants arrived each day in the mail. He tried them on, and they fell down to his knees. Alex is 4 1/2, but he doesn't wear size 4 pants.
Alex's size has always been a sensitive issue for me. At one point he was negative ten percentile in weight, and falling fast, though he ate just as much as anyone in the family. We changed his diet and he started growing rapidly, but lately he might be lagging again. I worry that I haven't been vigilent enough of those foods that disrupt and irriate his body, and mostly I just want him to thrive. And my beautiful, energetic son wears size 3 pants.
I know that I often put people in boxes, especially the ones I love. I try desperately to cram them into the space that I think they will be most comfortable, or the place I want them to be. Or I'll put a negative label on them - they are "messy" or can't pay attention.
I think I put God in a box sometimes too. "I'm not ready for Christmas yet, God - I need more time to get ready!" or people will put me in a box if they know I am a Christian.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my father's house there are many dwelling places." John 14: 1-2
God is small and big, pink and black, male and female. God is all of these things and more. And more than I could possibly understand most days, which depending on the day, makes me want to shout out in worship, or weep with the enormity of it all. What boxes has God been put in by others in your life? What does opening God up for you look like?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)