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Three a.m., or, Codependent with God.

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I woke at three a.m. on Thursday morning. I was completely awake. I had to go to the bathroom, but I didn’t have any of that middle of the night fog. I wondered if it was God waking me up.

I’m still suspicious of this. My previous minister made it clear what she thought of these middle of the night experiences. This is of course the same person who explained the story of Samuel being awoken by God in a Sunday school class. (It is in the first book of Samuel, chapter 3 if you are interested). So apparently in her mind, God only talked to people back in Biblical days. She was a bad role model for how to follow God.

I’m still getting over that, and learning I have to figure this path out for myself. It isn’t easy.

I felt around for the call. Was it a call, or not? Usually a call has a bit of an insistence to it, but not always. It is nice to think that God isn’t like a hungry insistent baby all the time. Maybe God just wants a cuddle. I think God sometimes just wants for us to spend time with each other.

Sometimes there is some urgency to a call – something needs to be done right away. I understand those calls. I don’t like them, but I understand them. I can recognize them.

I could get up and write. I always have more to write. I have a huge backlog of mostly finished pieces and three memo books of “seeds” to get me started if none of those appeal to me at the time.

But it was three a.m. I’d gotten in bed at 11, and it was probably midnight before I actually went to sleep. I don’t like being around myself when I’ve not had enough sleep.

Then I heard it. God reminded me that God made me, and knows how much sleep I need. So it wouldn’t be a problem. So it was a call.

And then we had a little wrestling match. Thankfully when I wrestle with God it isn’t anything like what Jacob went through. It never is all night, there never is an angel there, and nobody cheats. Plus, no new name to deal with. (Genesis 32:24-31)

This time I was reminded of the line in Isaiah, where he points out that the pot can’t tell the Potter what to do. (Isaiah 29:16)

But I countered with the story that Abraham talked God out of wiping a city off the map without giving the inhabitants a chance to redeem themselves. (Genesis 18:16-33)

I felt a “click” of sorts. It is like I rounded a corner in my relationship with God.

I am willing to be a partner with God. I’m just not willing to be God’s lapdog.

This is totally opposed to everything I’ve read from everyone who writes anything about spirituality. They write about self sacrifice and selflessness. I’m talking about self care.

Sure, God has my back. I’ve seen it often enough, when I’ve answered the call and everything has worked out. There was a time when a friend needed to talk and we stayed up so late I didn’t have time to study for the test that was scheduled the next morning. It turned out that the teacher postponed the test. Then I had a lot of expenses recently, and not much extra money coming in from my beaded jewelry sales. Yet somehow we have more money now than we did before the car repair and the chiropractor visits. So I know that God is always making up for whatever God asks me to go through.

But I still didn’t want to feel like I have to jump when God snaps a finger at me.

But then I do. Or do I?

I want to be obedient to God.

I don’t want to fall out of favor. This connection with God is important to me, and I don’t want to lose it.

But then I feel like I’m in a codependent relationship with God, or like God is the angry, abusive husband and I’m the harried housewife. Yes, God, I’ll do whatever you say. Oops, God got mad – it must have been my fault. If only I was better, God wouldn’t act like that.

Starting to sound familiar?

I don’t want that kind of relationship with God. The only way not to have that kind of relationship is to establish boundaries.

If God is love, then I have to believe that God wants only the best for me, and isn’t going to push me around. I have to believe that God wants me to stand up for myself. I have to believe that God is cheering me on for saying no, even to God.

Codependency and Christianity are intertwined. They don’t have to be. That is a human invention. It isn’t the way Jesus wants us to relate to God. Jesus is about us having a direct relationship with God, and not one based on fear. Respect, certainly, but not fear. The Hebrew word “yare’ ” is often translated as “fear” but it also means respect, admiration, reverence, or to stand in awe, according to The NAS Old Testament Hebrew Lexicon.

God wants willing participants in the plan to make the world better, not cowering creatures. God wants us to stand tall, not throw ourselves down face first in fear. Sure, we have to respect God. We aren’t in charge. We didn’t create ourselves. Hubris is a dangerous thing. But we are better servants when we are strong than when we are weak. We are better when we are willing than when we are afraid.

I think this is what that call was about. It wasn’t about doing anything. It was about becoming something.

Poem – package of personhood

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Remember that you are not
you.

You can have a feeling of being human
and still
the stillness
the silence
creeps in
and then
in that moment you know.

Right now is temporary.
Right now is a blink of the eye.

Right now you are a soul in a vehicle
made of flesh
which itself is made of elements
and chemicals
and mostly water.

The only think that holds this
package of personhood together
is the will of God.

Whether you wanted to be here
or like many you are surprised
and struggling
and a little resentful

This is what the deal is –

Relax and it will go much easier.

It is only temporary.

It isn’t about the money.

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I got my Christmas bonus last week. Of course, it isn’t called a Christmas bonus. This is a government job. It is a “longevity” check. But we get it around Christmas, and not on the anniversary of our hire date.

Every employee who has worked for Metro for at least five years gets this check. It is a tiny thing at the beginning, and a little more each year. There were years where the budget was tight and we didn’t get it at all. Things are better now, and it is a nice thing to have back.

I noticed my reaction to it this year. I have this reaction every year, but this time I noticed. I’m trying to observe myself from the outside. I’m trying to see what I do out of habit and instinct and ask myself why. I want to see if that reaction or course of action is still useful. Sometimes we outgrow our actions, but we still do them because we haven’t thought about them.

I saw this money and wanted to spend it right away. I didn’t even think about buying presents for others. I didn’t think about sending some of it to a charity. I wanted to spend all of it on myself.

I wanted a treat, or a toy. I didn’t want to buy anything I needed. I wanted to buy something I wanted. I don’t even have anything in mind. I just wanted to spend this money, and spend it fast.

This is why for many years I didn’t have much of anything in my savings account.

I’ve gotten over that feeling for the most part. For the most part I’m sane. For the most part I save money and pay extra towards the principal for the house and car notes. But right now the desire to burn through that money shone like a torch.

I didn’t. I thought about it. I saw that feeling as the outsider it is. I saw it as a symptom. I saw it as being not really from me, not the real me.

I started to think about what that feeling meant. At first I thought that I was going on survival mode. If I convert that money into something physical, I can see it. I can keep it with me. Just like wandering tribal people who move their camps with their flocks, I wanted to convert that wealth into portable currency. Money is better if you can wear it as baubles on your coat, you know.

But where does that feeling come from? I’m not planning on escaping. I’m not foreseeing any need to bug out any time soon. Even if the zombie apocalypse does happen, I don’t see that bartering with beads is going to be the mode of commerce. But who knows? It worked for the Dutch when they bought Manhattan.

So I dug deeper. There had to be more to this feeling.

It is all about comfort and self soothing. This past month has been hard. Financially, materially, it has been fine. Emotionally, not so much. There’s been a lot of upheaval in my family recently. Too much drama and not enough sense.

When bad things happened I used to soothe myself with eating sugar and carbs, or smoking, either pot or clove cigarettes. I used to soothe myself in the same way that many people soothe themselves – to do everything possible to not actually address the situation itself. Sadly, a lot of our soothing methods result in even more problems.

I’ve gotten past a lot of those soothing methods, but apparently I’ve not purged myself from the “need” to spend money to cheer myself up. I’m glad I saw it as the craving it is, and didn’t succumb to it.

We can all learn from our cravings. They teach us what we really are searching for. I didn’t really want to spend all that money. I wanted what the money could buy. And really, I didn’t even want that. I wanted what it represents.

In this case I was searching for security and stability. I was trying to retreat into primitive ways of coping, rather than dealing with the problem at hand. Part of the solution is to stick with the feeling. I’ve spent so long trying to run away from my feelings that I’m not sure how to have them sometimes.

If you use crutches all the time, then you never develop the strength in your legs to stand on your own. Losing the crutches doesn’t mean that you suddenly have the ability to run, much less stand up straight. And it hurts, these first few unassisted steps. You want to grab the crutches back, or find something else to hold on to.

This is why a lot of people at AA meetings are chain smokers. They just traded one addiction for another. The problem hasn’t been addressed. It has just been transformed into something a little more socially acceptable, and a little less likely to result in legal problems.

I’m stripping away my crutches and my props, one by one, and it is hard. But it is essential. Sometimes I’m tired of all this growth I’ve done and I want to sit back and take a break. I don’t, well, not often, and not for long. I’ve learned that if I take a break, the break morphs into a full stop, and then I have to get started all over again.

Kindergarten 12-18-13 – Holiday

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The order today that I was given was J, S, and V. I chose V first because I didn’t get to work with her last week.

She is missing her front two teeth now. This seems early. Doesn’t that normally happen between first and second grade? I’ve heard that children are physically maturing sooner these days. The theory is that it has to do with all the hormones they feed cows and chickens. We eat that meat, we get those chemicals.

V was a superstar today. She was very quick at finding the letters. She wanted to work with the Insta-Learn board that we had worked with for the past month but it wasn’t in my basket today. In fact, there was nothing I recognized in my basket today. I’ve been tutoring kindergartners for three years, so it is a big deal to say there was nothing I recognized. Half the time I have to figure out the goal of the supplies in the basket. Having familiar supplies makes this easier.

There is always a goal. There is always a purpose to the different bags and boards in the basket that the teacher prepares for me. If I can figure out the goal, then I can figure out how to get there. It is kind of like writing a sestina. If you know the ending words to the poem, the poem virtually writes itself.

V did amazingly well, and I told her so. She beamed. I love seeing her smile, and I feel that she doesn’t smile that much at home. I didn’t even ask her about her Christmas plans because I’m just not ready to hear the stories she was going to tell me. She makes up stories about her home life all the time, because the reality is just too much. Or, rather, it is not enough.

If the average everyday home life is hard, Christmas is going to be impossible. I can’t help this. I can’t fix it. So I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to remind her of the train wreck that was coming in a week.

It is like when I was taking care of my Mom when she was terminally ill. I was in college and I didn’t want anybody asking me how she was doing because it meant I had to stop and be real for a bit. It meant that I had to take off my “everything’s fine” mask and show how much pain was underneath. Sometimes the kindest thing was for people to not ask and just pretend along with me that all was normal.

Interestingly, she did talk about a holiday – but it wasn’t Christmas. She was telling me about her Halloween costume. (a pumpkin) J later told me about his Halloween costume as well. (Robin, and his Dad will be Batman). So they know something’s coming, but they’ve got it mixed up. Or maybe they have it better figured out than we adults do. Christmas done with costumes and lots of candy might be a lot better.

We played with the supplies, V and I, working with letters and colors and numbers. We had a few moments of normal, and it was nice. Even I forgot about how different and potentially awkward Christmas is going to be for me this year. Somehow we created a little oasis for both of us.

We went back to the room and J caught my eye and waved his arm to work with me. Sure – why not? Now, this means I’m going to make sure I work with S first next time. They all seem to want to work longer with me this year, so I’m not getting to as many students as in the past. I feel they are trying to monopolize my time, and that isn’t fair to the others on the list. I try to redirect but there is only so much you can get a 5 year old to stay on target sometimes.

Half of my time with J was spent trying to get him to be gentle and calm. He threw the letter dice rather than rolled them. He jumbled all the letter cards and tossed them like leaves. A lot of time was wasted with him having to pick items up off the floor that he had dropped by being so exuberant. Or is it manic? He was also a bit loud, and I had to remind him that there were other tutors just down the hall. The teacher tells me he hasn’t made any friends, so I’m trying to work on the most socially off-putting behaviors as well as teaching him how to read.

Not having ever had children, I’m sometimes at a loss on how to work with them. But, I’m learning, and the biggest thing I’m learning is that each one is different. So even if I figure it out, the next student will surprise me.

Sometimes I dread going into the school to tutor. I never know what I’m going to be doing and how it is going to go. Usually I remember to pray beforehand, and that helps. It reminds me that God is always in charge, and whatever happens is whatever is meant to happen. It also reminds me that God is always with me, even when I feel lost and alone.

Nativity pictogram

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I saw this little image of the Nativity yesterday and it started me thinking. It is kind of like a pictogram, or a Chinese written word. It has all the basics of the scene in a compact version. The idea is transmitted in a sort of shorthand.

4

It shows Mary and Joseph with Jesus in the stable. It is a humble place, nothing fancy. It was probably drafty and simply put together. It wasn’t meant to be a holy place, but it became one.

Isn’t this like us?

The stable is our bodies, while our souls are inside. We are lit by the light of God.

God in us is the same as that image – Jesus being born in a stable.

Be that image. Let your body be that stable. Let it be that humble, worn, unexpected place where God gets in and makes everything different.

Nothing was the same after that moment.

God shows up in the most unexpected, unadorned, unusual ways. God shows up in the muck and mess of our daily lives. We don’t have to be special for God to come to us. We already are special. God loves us as we are – God made us this way.

Nativity scene with Magi – I almost missed the best part.

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I saw a picture of the nativity that took my breath away recently. Maybe it was the size. The picture is maybe three feet high by four feet across. Maybe it is the colors. Maybe it is the composition. Maybe it is all of it together, and more.

I apologize for the pictures. It is framed behind glass and there are a lot of fluorescent lights at the store. But, something is better than nothing.

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The first thing that got my attention is the tender scene of the Holy Family. It is to the right of the picture, bathed in light. It appears that all the light is coming from Jesus. Then I notice the shepherds kneeling, holding a candle for light, admiring Jesus. They were the first to be told by an angel that the Messiah had been born. They are joyous and overwhelmed. What they have waited for has finally happened.

2

A dove looks on. This is the dove of peace, the dove of the Holy Spirit, and the dove of Noah, all at the same time. Doves are powerful symbols.

Then I wondered where the Magi were. There is no logical reason for thinking this. They don’t appear until 12 days later. The shepherds and the Magi aren’t together in the story, so they shouldn’t be together in this image.

Then I pan over, looking to the left. There they are, just getting off their camels. There they are, just about to come in. The artist has shown a moment in time, just for us, the viewer to see.

3

The Magi haven’t seen Jesus yet, but they know He is there. He is the reason for their long journey.

Mary and Joseph haven’t seen the Magi yet. They don’t even know they are coming. They are still overwhelmed with the miracle that has just happened to them.

It is just us, the viewers, who are privy to this scene. We see it all.

It nearly made me cry, to see this moment. To think that I am seeing this slice of history. And to think I almost missed it. The Magi were there all along.

We read from left to right in America, and we view pictures the same way. Once you learn a pattern it is hard to break. I almost missed the Magi because I jumped straight ahead to Jesus.

When I saw them it was such a surprise that I gasped a little. There they were, and I almost missed them.

How often do we do this? We jump ahead to the good part, forgetting that it is all the good part. We forget that everything counts, every character, every brush stroke. We only see a piece and we miss out on the big picture.

The Magi are coming. They are on their way. They are in the desert, wandering like the Jews did, but not for forty years. They are following the same God who leads us all to freedom. At the end of the journey lies redemption, and proof that God is here, with us.

Choice – not coercion. On defining women by relationship to others.

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Women are defined by who they are connected to. Meeting new people, you’ll hear these questions – “Are you married?” or “Do you have children?” Both questions seek to define the woman by who and how she is related to others. Women are rarely seen as valid citizens, much less as people, if they are not connected. A woman who tries to define herself on her own merit and ability is in for a hard time.

Romance novels teach women an overwhelmingly unrealistic life goal of finding and keeping a spouse. Men don’t get this script. Ever. Men don’t fill themselves with a diet of definition by relationship to others. Men read about adventure, and superheros, and strength. The characters, their role models, are strong and independent. Women read about being swept off their feet. Men are active, and women are passive. Women’s lives are things that happen to them, acted on by others.

There are countless books for women and young girls about how to find and keep a mate – whether it is a boyfriend or a husband. There are specialized ones if the woman is over 35, where it is seen as more difficult to land a choice selection. The books are framed in the language of strategy and the hunt. Women have to seek out men, because otherwise they will be left out, and left wanting.

There are no books for men like this, and there are no books telling women how to live a happy life without a spouse, thank you very much. If you are single you are seen lesser-than. “Spinster” is not equal to “bachelor”. It should be. Being single, of either gender, needs to be viewed as a valid life choice, and not a failure. It is better to be single and happy than married and miserable.

Single women who wish to remain that way often go into nursing, teaching, or library services. All of these jobs pay enough money that a woman doesn’t have to have a spouse to support her. Yet all of these jobs are nurturing jobs. They involve taking care of and helping other people. So a woman is still defined by her relationship to others, whether she is single or not.

It wasn’t that long ago that women who got married lost their names. They were described as Mrs. John Smith – never as Mrs. Jane Smith. It was as if John suddenly developed a female alternate persona. It was never that the woman gained status, it was as if she just disappeared. By removing her first name and differentiating her by just her title of Mrs., she lost her identity as a unique person.

How often are women who have children referred to by the children’s names? She is “Sally’s Mom” – Sally is never seen as Jane’s daughter.

I bring these points up because sometimes you have to see injustice and imbalance before you can fix it. There is nothing wrong with being married, or having children. There is everything wrong with making those choices no longer choices, but mandatory. There is everything wrong with overt and covert social pressure to make women define themselves by getting married and having children. These are not life events that should be entered into lightly. These choices will affect a woman’s entire life. Women should marry or have children out of choice, not coercion, and know that they will be accepted if they choose not to do either of these things.

Are you ready?

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People are asking me one question right now. It is the same question they always ask this time of year. “Are you ready for Christmas?”

Are we ever? Really? Even if you’ve cleaned your house to the impossible standards of your mother in law, even if you’ve bought every relative and friend a present (or two), you aren’t ready.

You aren’t ready for Christmas, and you won’t ever be, and that is just fine.

Even if you think you are ready, there will always be something you missed. There will always be something that you forgot to do or a present you forgot to buy. Someone will always show up that you didn’t prepare for, and something will always happen that you weren’t ready for.

That’s part of Christmas.

We aren’t ever ready for Christmas, because we aren’t ever ready for Christ.

Christ is always more than we can handle, and always exactly what we need. Christ is the cup spilling over, an extra blanket on the bed, a second helping of your favorite meal, a friend there even before you pick up the phone. Whatever you have, Jesus has more of it and is giving it to you, with no questions asked.

And you can’t ever repay it. And that is OK.

You don’t have to pay it back. You have to pay it forward.

You pay it forward by being kind, by giving, by forgiving. You pay it forward by smiling at a stranger. You pay it forward by tipping the harried server extra at the buffet. You pay it forward by letting someone cut in line while in traffic.

The real meaning of Christmas has nothing to do with presents, and everything to do with presence.

It has to do with being real, and being kind, and being awake to the moment. Every moment is Christmas – every moment is a chance to serve Christ by being Christ to someone else.

So are you ready for Christmas? I’m not. And that is OK.

Christmas washes over you and pulls you down. You start to drown, your arm up, waving, begging for help. There you go, down for the count, and Jesus steps in.

Drop everything. Drop all your plans. Don’t buy a thing for Christmas. Don’t wrap anything.

Christmas isn’t about the gifts you give. It never was.

Christmas is about the amazing gift you get. You get God, right here, with you. You get God every day, in your heart, loving you – yes you – right now, as you are.

Are you ready?

Why have a happy childhood?

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What is the purpose of ensuring a happy childhood?

It is like Hollywood films. They always have happy endings. Then when you get to your own real life, you get miserable.

It is like women reading romance novels. They read about this amazing man who sweeps her off her feet, and then in reality, every man she meets doesn’t match up. He isn’t ruggedly handsome, he is rather plain. He isn’t a Duke, his hound dog is named Duke. He doesn’t have a six-pack belly, he drinks a six pack nightly.

So to try to create this false happy childhood isn’t fair. It sets children up to become miserable adults. They will learn the world does not revolve around them. They will learn that nobody thinks that everything they do is cute. They will find there are no special accommodations for them.

Bad mood.

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People try to blame women’s bad moods on their hormones, or the moon, or that they didn’t get enough sleep, or exercise, or healthy food. They never do this to men. It is that they are saying women can’t be anything other than happy and content and placid all the time. If they are upset or angry it is the result of something they did or didn’t do.

It never is the result of being talked down to, being belittled, being ignored, or overlooked.

Women are treated like children. We are treated as if we are incapable of making decisions, running households, running our own lives.

A female scientist is seen as an anomaly, a showpiece. She isn’t taken seriously. She is a woman first, a scientist second. Trade the word scientist for engineer, diplomat, doctor. It is all the same. Her gender is more important than her ability. Her hairstyle and clothing choices are questioned more than her skills.

How much of women’s anger comes from being treated as women, and not as people? How much from not being allowed to be who we want to be, but instead forced to fit into a socially acceptable mold?

A lot of anger comes from pain, and a lot of pain comes from being repressed, suppressed, oppressed.

I dare any man to go a month shaving half his body hair off every day, wearing hose that always bunches up in the wrong places, and shoes that destroy your feet and make it impossible to walk confidently.

And that is just taking care of the physical pain.

We need a “Black like Me” but for women. If men understood what it was like to be women, they’d get it. They’d stop blaming our moods on stupid things.

How much of women’s anger comes from dealing with men who treat them as less than OK? Who treat them as sexual objects? Who treat them as things?

Sure, we are in bad moods sometimes. It has little to do with what we have done, but what has been done to us.