Posts
And a merry Yuletide and Festivis Greetings to all, this Christmas Eve in Canada's Picture Postcard City. By the way, if you could actually get here, the snow is, like, dude, AWESOME!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
A White Christmas in Greenwood
And a merry Yuletide and Festivis Greetings to all, this Christmas Eve in Canada's Picture Postcard City. By the way, if you could actually get here, the snow is, like, dude, AWESOME!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Faith - the Pagan Years
So, we move on...
Married life continued, pretty devoid of spiritual leanings, beyond spurts of fear and doubt, until after my son was born. I was continuing to harbor a great fear of hell and a doubt in my own salvation that I could not shake. I felt sure that I had either never actually been saved, or that I had lost my salvation, largely through abandoning or leaving behind a church family when I married my ex. I was sure that had been an act of rebellion, at least in a spiritual sense. I don't want to belittle or deny the love I felt, and still feel, for my ex. I married him because I loved him. That is an essential fact. But as in all human endeavors, there is so much more to it, all knotted up in a variety of motivations. Love was the major motivation. But it wasn't, in retrospect, the only one.
Another reason I married, then, was fear and a kind of age-based desperation. I was 27 years old. He was the first person who had ever asked me to marry him. I thought he might just be my last chance. I wanted company, stability, to be settled. He was stable and settled, for the most part. We got along well, never ran out of words... it was comfortable.
Another reason may have been that spiritual rebellion I mentioned. I knew I didn't want to marry the pastor's son, or the preacher with hopes of going to New Guinea... and I thought they may be my only other chance. I was, at the time, unwilling to wait upon God and His will for me in this area. I was afraid. So, in choosing to marry, I essentially chose to turn away from the family of God. Thus my fears and doubts about my own salvation and eternal possibilities.
Now, I'm not sure if you've noticed this... but much of my life has been fear based. Perhaps all of it. ?
Any way, after my son was born, I continued to have a deep and overwhelming fear of ending up in hell. I struggled with this. It seemed so unlike a God of love, who would sacrifice his only child for the likes of 'me'... to also be a God who could just as easily condemn His own creation to a place of never-ending suffering. I mean, I could understand a God who punished us for our own good, who used suffering to bring us back to Him, who allowed bad things to happen, in order to bring us home. I could understand a God who let us walk away from Him, giving us over to our own free will. But a God who would, at some point say... time's up, no more chances... well, even that I might understand. But to add to that the wrath that must be part of condemning a soul to never-ending suffering, with no chance at relief? That just doesn't sound like love to me, and so I had a lot of difficulty reconciling a God who loves me, with a God who could exact such a payment.
Then one night I had a vision. I was laying in bed with my infant son on my chest. And I felt sucked in... and so incredibly small. I knew I was in the presence of God. He was so awe-some and BIG. And he was Love... After a time, God asked me a question. He asked me if I could ever imagine anything my son could do that would cause me to cast him off For Ever. I could think of no such event. God said to me then, that He loves me in the same way that I love my own son. If I, in my imperfection, could never cast my son aside forever, how could I imagine that God could do the same to me? He told me to not fear Hell, and be in peace.
That vision has had a profound effect on me... and, perhaps because it's just *me*, not always in good ways. For one thing, it was, and still is, difficult for me to reconcile Christianity (at least the teachings I understand to this date) while completely denying the possibility that Hell is for people too.
This dichotomy led me, eventually, to Paganism, kind of.
I came to believe that God could reside in many forms, and that God could reside in His creation. I never fell to actually worshiping the creation, as some Pagans do. I came to worship the Creator. I never stopped believing in Jesus or the Spirit. My understandings of them became entwined in Pagan ideas of multiple gods which I meshed with the Catholic belief in a Tri-une Godhead. My rituals, celebrations, "spells" and such, though timed to the waxing and waning of the moon, and to the solstice's and equinoxes of the sun, were my form of prayer and worship of the Creator. Nothing more nor less.
Recently, though, I've begun to realize that this takes away from God in ways that I am no longer comfortable with doing. Prayer and worship should add, not lesson, eh? In trying to come to terms with a God who could be both loving and righteous, in an attempt at creating a faith that was encompassing 'more' than I felt Christianity allowed, while thinking I could somehow keep the 'good parts' of Christianity, like love and heaven, while rejecting the righteousness and hell aspects, I was truly deceived into believing that my faith was 'more'. In reality, I was making my God less, somehow. And in the process, likely making myself somehow less, as well...
Married life continued, pretty devoid of spiritual leanings, beyond spurts of fear and doubt, until after my son was born. I was continuing to harbor a great fear of hell and a doubt in my own salvation that I could not shake. I felt sure that I had either never actually been saved, or that I had lost my salvation, largely through abandoning or leaving behind a church family when I married my ex. I was sure that had been an act of rebellion, at least in a spiritual sense. I don't want to belittle or deny the love I felt, and still feel, for my ex. I married him because I loved him. That is an essential fact. But as in all human endeavors, there is so much more to it, all knotted up in a variety of motivations. Love was the major motivation. But it wasn't, in retrospect, the only one.
Another reason I married, then, was fear and a kind of age-based desperation. I was 27 years old. He was the first person who had ever asked me to marry him. I thought he might just be my last chance. I wanted company, stability, to be settled. He was stable and settled, for the most part. We got along well, never ran out of words... it was comfortable.
Another reason may have been that spiritual rebellion I mentioned. I knew I didn't want to marry the pastor's son, or the preacher with hopes of going to New Guinea... and I thought they may be my only other chance. I was, at the time, unwilling to wait upon God and His will for me in this area. I was afraid. So, in choosing to marry, I essentially chose to turn away from the family of God. Thus my fears and doubts about my own salvation and eternal possibilities.
Now, I'm not sure if you've noticed this... but much of my life has been fear based. Perhaps all of it. ?
Any way, after my son was born, I continued to have a deep and overwhelming fear of ending up in hell. I struggled with this. It seemed so unlike a God of love, who would sacrifice his only child for the likes of 'me'... to also be a God who could just as easily condemn His own creation to a place of never-ending suffering. I mean, I could understand a God who punished us for our own good, who used suffering to bring us back to Him, who allowed bad things to happen, in order to bring us home. I could understand a God who let us walk away from Him, giving us over to our own free will. But a God who would, at some point say... time's up, no more chances... well, even that I might understand. But to add to that the wrath that must be part of condemning a soul to never-ending suffering, with no chance at relief? That just doesn't sound like love to me, and so I had a lot of difficulty reconciling a God who loves me, with a God who could exact such a payment.
Then one night I had a vision. I was laying in bed with my infant son on my chest. And I felt sucked in... and so incredibly small. I knew I was in the presence of God. He was so awe-some and BIG. And he was Love... After a time, God asked me a question. He asked me if I could ever imagine anything my son could do that would cause me to cast him off For Ever. I could think of no such event. God said to me then, that He loves me in the same way that I love my own son. If I, in my imperfection, could never cast my son aside forever, how could I imagine that God could do the same to me? He told me to not fear Hell, and be in peace.
That vision has had a profound effect on me... and, perhaps because it's just *me*, not always in good ways. For one thing, it was, and still is, difficult for me to reconcile Christianity (at least the teachings I understand to this date) while completely denying the possibility that Hell is for people too.
This dichotomy led me, eventually, to Paganism, kind of.
I came to believe that God could reside in many forms, and that God could reside in His creation. I never fell to actually worshiping the creation, as some Pagans do. I came to worship the Creator. I never stopped believing in Jesus or the Spirit. My understandings of them became entwined in Pagan ideas of multiple gods which I meshed with the Catholic belief in a Tri-une Godhead. My rituals, celebrations, "spells" and such, though timed to the waxing and waning of the moon, and to the solstice's and equinoxes of the sun, were my form of prayer and worship of the Creator. Nothing more nor less.
Recently, though, I've begun to realize that this takes away from God in ways that I am no longer comfortable with doing. Prayer and worship should add, not lesson, eh? In trying to come to terms with a God who could be both loving and righteous, in an attempt at creating a faith that was encompassing 'more' than I felt Christianity allowed, while thinking I could somehow keep the 'good parts' of Christianity, like love and heaven, while rejecting the righteousness and hell aspects, I was truly deceived into believing that my faith was 'more'. In reality, I was making my God less, somehow. And in the process, likely making myself somehow less, as well...
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Faith as a Young Adult
So, here we go again.
After college graduation I got a teaching job in Fallon, Nevada. At first I lived with one of my brother's who happened to be stationed there (in the navy), and later I moved into an apartment of my own.
I still had strong emotional ties to some of the members of the Church Of Christ which I attended at college. These folks desperately wanted me to connect with a Church Of Christ in Reno, which was a 90 minute drive. The drive didn't discourage me so much, but the idea of hanging around in a strange town, with strangers, to get from Sunday morning services through to Sunday evening services seemed a daunting task for a shy person such as myself. And there was a Church of Christ in Fallon. I thought it might be best if I attended locally and become more a part of the community I was living in, so I went there.
It was friendly enough, and though it was more traditional than the church I attended in college, it seemed to have the same basic principals of trying to follow the first century Christians, so I wasn't entirely uncomfortable. It just seemed like it was, perhaps, more entrenched might be the word. For one thing, there was an actual church building with room for Sunday school, and a bus to pick kids up to bring them there, along with an actual home for the pastor and his family on (or next to) the church grounds. And the people pretty much seemed to have already decided upon what the first Christians did, so there wasn't much intense bible study or discussion about the day to day functioning of the church. I just assumed that it had all been hashed out by them in the past. I think, now, that more likely it had been decided upon by some distant 'authority' and just accepted by the congregation. While the end results may be the same, I think the process is important, and these folks (myself included) missed out on a lot by just maintaining the status quo rather than doing any real, personalized inquiries. It just felt like the depth of understanding wasn't there. It was more like... well that's how we've always done it, and ... well that's what the bible says, rather than any real meat to the reasoning behind the 'why' things were done the way they were in this church.
Any way, things fell into a pattern of 2 services on Sundays and bible study (kind of) on Wednesday evenings. The congregation seemed to welcome me, mostly because I was single and employed, and the pastor's son was "of a marriageable age" with no prospects. It was NOT a good match, but the congregation continued to hold out hope for us.
During this time in my life my faith was kind of on hold, really. Church was more of a social thing, or habit, than anything with real significance. There were some exceptions to that, which I hope I can recall and include here. But for the most part, my faith was stagnant, and my participation in the church community was by rote. In that, I wish I had toughed out the 90 minute drive and weird afternoons to attend the one in Reno. (shrug)
As I said, there were a few exceptions to the auto-pilot portion of this experience. One was with a sweet woman whose husband was in the Navy. They had a slew of blond kids. Any way, for a short period of time, I stayed with them. It was just a month (or so) shy of summer, which I would be spending at my folks home in Spokane, and I didn't' want to bother finding an apartment for such a short period of time, just to leave it for the summer months. Carol (I think that was her name) was on a fairly strict diet of her own devising and choice, and also pretty consistent with exercising. I often joined in. She spoke to me about how she had had a huge weight problem, but was content as long as it wasn't affecting her health. But at some point, God had put a burden on her heart about her weight. God was informing her that one aspect of being god-like was self control, and that her weight may hinder others in their own path. Something about her being a visible example. Any way, it was, perhaps, one of the first times I had encountered someone modifying their behavior based on a burden laid onto their heart, from God. It impressed me. I was also clear in understanding, at the time, that God lays different burdens on different people, and that just because God called her to get fit, that may or may not apply to others, depending on God's plan and timing and all. The concept of needing self-control applies to all, I think, but the manifestation of it, and the timing, must rely on God's calling to each person in their own heart.
Any way, things just kind of ... continued... along those lines for about a year, until there was a personal kind of crisis for me. That summer I had to attend a few classes in Las Vegas (before coming to my parents home for the rest of the summer). The classes were needed in order for me to obtain my full teaching credentials in Nevada. Any way, I was staying in a dorm, which was horrid, and just trying to get through the 6 weeks. And a man who had been an elder from the church in Fallon had a home outside Las Vegas. He kindly offered to have me stay with him on the weekends. To give me something to do, some place to eat, and such. (The dorm didn't provide food, and the university cafeteria was closed for the summer, so I was living on canned, cold anything I could get from the nearby convenience store) Any way, things got 'weird' with this man. If you've read much of my postings, you have discovered that I have a sieve for brains when it comes to memory, and that certainly applies to this period of time. In any case, it "feels" like there were inappropriate events of some kind, between this man and myself. What I know for sure is that he terrified me, and once I was away from him, after the first weekend, I hid from him for the rest of the summer. It was all pretty terrifying, and I have no actual ideas about why that is so... what happened? maybe nothing but innuendo and my imagination, but I can only rely on the terror I felt at the idea of running into him again. The classes ended, and I successfully avoided this man and made my way back to Fallon, and on to my parents home for the rest of the summer. Whew, all is well, yes?
Well, not really... because when I returned to Fallon, this man had returned and was an established elder in the church there. I couldn't handle the idea that this man was in a position of authority over me. By this church's reckoning, single adult women were not in authority over themselves. Either their father's still were, or the other church authorities, such as the pastor or elders, held authority over single women until such time as they married. Now, that was loosely the case in the church I attended during college, but it had never been a burden. It may not have been an issue here, either, in any real sense, but the *idea* of this man having any authority over me terrified me to no end. I couldn't get past it. So, my involvement in this church faded, or perhaps ended abruptly. I'm not sure which.
That fall a high school friend of mine moved in with me. He needed some place to stay, I needed a friend. It was all good. He was a spiritually minded person, and we ended up going to a church together. I *think* it was a Church of God, but I'm not sure. It was a little place with a young pastor and his wife, and 4 ancient ladies. They had a vigorous Sunday School ministry and bused in tons of kids for Sunday School and services. It was quaint, and the folks seemed to take God seriously. During this time my spiritual learning's became quite possibly confused. I'm still not sure. This church taught that things like women not cutting their hair, and not wearing pants mattered. Men should shave and keep their hair short, women should never show their elbows or knees, no one should work on Sundays... Most of the bible study here was in short bursts of text, possibly taken out of context, and lined up or connected in ways that weren't meant to be, but I don't know that for sure... At some point I realized I was 'going along with it all' with out any real conviction or calling from God to do so.
Things got estranged with this church community after a year or so, for 2 very different reasons. The first was that they had a somehow-connected visiting pastor (he came a few times a year for 'revival' meetings??) This man had a desire/calling to preach the word in Papua New Guinea. And the local church community wanted me for his life-mate in this. I don't think it would have been a good match. But they did, and my lack of enthusiasm caused some unspoken strain, as it were, between myself and the rest of the congregation. Also, at the time, my roommate had been diagnosed with Aids, and this particular pastor was absolutely phobic about Aids in particular, and homosexuality in general. Now, when a person has just been given a death sentence (as Aids was, back then) the last thing they need from their pastor is a reaction of disgust and fear. We, my roommate and I, didn't stop attending this church, at this time, it just became strained and weird.
Any way, another bunch of circumstances led to eventually leaving this church behind me. Mostly they have to do with my now ex husband. We began seeing each other, and the church sermons went from the sin of sodomy to the sin of an unholy alliance with non-believers. Now, at this point in my life, I was 27 ish, and my only serious prospects for a spouse (ever) were a pastor's son, and a preacher who wanted to move to New Guinea... neither of which had personalities that seemed to mesh with mine. My ex and I were, and still are, best friends. I thought I had fallen romantically in love with him, and perhaps I even had. I'll be honest, I didn't enter into the marriage in a prayerful way. It may have even been an act of spiritual rebellion, or perhaps even of personal desperation. I don't know. Any way, the result of my marriage was pretty much a halt to church attendance and spiritual matters of any import. My ex had no real spiritual bent, then. I think he does now. But it was never really discussed between us, and I think for both of us, spirituality was just on the back burner, at best, during our marriage. Its one of the things I would change if I could... (there are so many)
So, in summary, during my young adulthood, my spirituality was largely based in both fear and unthinking compliance to church traditions.
More in another post... my pagan years... (sigh)
After college graduation I got a teaching job in Fallon, Nevada. At first I lived with one of my brother's who happened to be stationed there (in the navy), and later I moved into an apartment of my own.
I still had strong emotional ties to some of the members of the Church Of Christ which I attended at college. These folks desperately wanted me to connect with a Church Of Christ in Reno, which was a 90 minute drive. The drive didn't discourage me so much, but the idea of hanging around in a strange town, with strangers, to get from Sunday morning services through to Sunday evening services seemed a daunting task for a shy person such as myself. And there was a Church of Christ in Fallon. I thought it might be best if I attended locally and become more a part of the community I was living in, so I went there.
It was friendly enough, and though it was more traditional than the church I attended in college, it seemed to have the same basic principals of trying to follow the first century Christians, so I wasn't entirely uncomfortable. It just seemed like it was, perhaps, more entrenched might be the word. For one thing, there was an actual church building with room for Sunday school, and a bus to pick kids up to bring them there, along with an actual home for the pastor and his family on (or next to) the church grounds. And the people pretty much seemed to have already decided upon what the first Christians did, so there wasn't much intense bible study or discussion about the day to day functioning of the church. I just assumed that it had all been hashed out by them in the past. I think, now, that more likely it had been decided upon by some distant 'authority' and just accepted by the congregation. While the end results may be the same, I think the process is important, and these folks (myself included) missed out on a lot by just maintaining the status quo rather than doing any real, personalized inquiries. It just felt like the depth of understanding wasn't there. It was more like... well that's how we've always done it, and ... well that's what the bible says, rather than any real meat to the reasoning behind the 'why' things were done the way they were in this church.
Any way, things fell into a pattern of 2 services on Sundays and bible study (kind of) on Wednesday evenings. The congregation seemed to welcome me, mostly because I was single and employed, and the pastor's son was "of a marriageable age" with no prospects. It was NOT a good match, but the congregation continued to hold out hope for us.
During this time in my life my faith was kind of on hold, really. Church was more of a social thing, or habit, than anything with real significance. There were some exceptions to that, which I hope I can recall and include here. But for the most part, my faith was stagnant, and my participation in the church community was by rote. In that, I wish I had toughed out the 90 minute drive and weird afternoons to attend the one in Reno. (shrug)
As I said, there were a few exceptions to the auto-pilot portion of this experience. One was with a sweet woman whose husband was in the Navy. They had a slew of blond kids. Any way, for a short period of time, I stayed with them. It was just a month (or so) shy of summer, which I would be spending at my folks home in Spokane, and I didn't' want to bother finding an apartment for such a short period of time, just to leave it for the summer months. Carol (I think that was her name) was on a fairly strict diet of her own devising and choice, and also pretty consistent with exercising. I often joined in. She spoke to me about how she had had a huge weight problem, but was content as long as it wasn't affecting her health. But at some point, God had put a burden on her heart about her weight. God was informing her that one aspect of being god-like was self control, and that her weight may hinder others in their own path. Something about her being a visible example. Any way, it was, perhaps, one of the first times I had encountered someone modifying their behavior based on a burden laid onto their heart, from God. It impressed me. I was also clear in understanding, at the time, that God lays different burdens on different people, and that just because God called her to get fit, that may or may not apply to others, depending on God's plan and timing and all. The concept of needing self-control applies to all, I think, but the manifestation of it, and the timing, must rely on God's calling to each person in their own heart.
Any way, things just kind of ... continued... along those lines for about a year, until there was a personal kind of crisis for me. That summer I had to attend a few classes in Las Vegas (before coming to my parents home for the rest of the summer). The classes were needed in order for me to obtain my full teaching credentials in Nevada. Any way, I was staying in a dorm, which was horrid, and just trying to get through the 6 weeks. And a man who had been an elder from the church in Fallon had a home outside Las Vegas. He kindly offered to have me stay with him on the weekends. To give me something to do, some place to eat, and such. (The dorm didn't provide food, and the university cafeteria was closed for the summer, so I was living on canned, cold anything I could get from the nearby convenience store) Any way, things got 'weird' with this man. If you've read much of my postings, you have discovered that I have a sieve for brains when it comes to memory, and that certainly applies to this period of time. In any case, it "feels" like there were inappropriate events of some kind, between this man and myself. What I know for sure is that he terrified me, and once I was away from him, after the first weekend, I hid from him for the rest of the summer. It was all pretty terrifying, and I have no actual ideas about why that is so... what happened? maybe nothing but innuendo and my imagination, but I can only rely on the terror I felt at the idea of running into him again. The classes ended, and I successfully avoided this man and made my way back to Fallon, and on to my parents home for the rest of the summer. Whew, all is well, yes?
Well, not really... because when I returned to Fallon, this man had returned and was an established elder in the church there. I couldn't handle the idea that this man was in a position of authority over me. By this church's reckoning, single adult women were not in authority over themselves. Either their father's still were, or the other church authorities, such as the pastor or elders, held authority over single women until such time as they married. Now, that was loosely the case in the church I attended during college, but it had never been a burden. It may not have been an issue here, either, in any real sense, but the *idea* of this man having any authority over me terrified me to no end. I couldn't get past it. So, my involvement in this church faded, or perhaps ended abruptly. I'm not sure which.
That fall a high school friend of mine moved in with me. He needed some place to stay, I needed a friend. It was all good. He was a spiritually minded person, and we ended up going to a church together. I *think* it was a Church of God, but I'm not sure. It was a little place with a young pastor and his wife, and 4 ancient ladies. They had a vigorous Sunday School ministry and bused in tons of kids for Sunday School and services. It was quaint, and the folks seemed to take God seriously. During this time my spiritual learning's became quite possibly confused. I'm still not sure. This church taught that things like women not cutting their hair, and not wearing pants mattered. Men should shave and keep their hair short, women should never show their elbows or knees, no one should work on Sundays... Most of the bible study here was in short bursts of text, possibly taken out of context, and lined up or connected in ways that weren't meant to be, but I don't know that for sure... At some point I realized I was 'going along with it all' with out any real conviction or calling from God to do so.
Things got estranged with this church community after a year or so, for 2 very different reasons. The first was that they had a somehow-connected visiting pastor (he came a few times a year for 'revival' meetings??) This man had a desire/calling to preach the word in Papua New Guinea. And the local church community wanted me for his life-mate in this. I don't think it would have been a good match. But they did, and my lack of enthusiasm caused some unspoken strain, as it were, between myself and the rest of the congregation. Also, at the time, my roommate had been diagnosed with Aids, and this particular pastor was absolutely phobic about Aids in particular, and homosexuality in general. Now, when a person has just been given a death sentence (as Aids was, back then) the last thing they need from their pastor is a reaction of disgust and fear. We, my roommate and I, didn't stop attending this church, at this time, it just became strained and weird.
Any way, another bunch of circumstances led to eventually leaving this church behind me. Mostly they have to do with my now ex husband. We began seeing each other, and the church sermons went from the sin of sodomy to the sin of an unholy alliance with non-believers. Now, at this point in my life, I was 27 ish, and my only serious prospects for a spouse (ever) were a pastor's son, and a preacher who wanted to move to New Guinea... neither of which had personalities that seemed to mesh with mine. My ex and I were, and still are, best friends. I thought I had fallen romantically in love with him, and perhaps I even had. I'll be honest, I didn't enter into the marriage in a prayerful way. It may have even been an act of spiritual rebellion, or perhaps even of personal desperation. I don't know. Any way, the result of my marriage was pretty much a halt to church attendance and spiritual matters of any import. My ex had no real spiritual bent, then. I think he does now. But it was never really discussed between us, and I think for both of us, spirituality was just on the back burner, at best, during our marriage. Its one of the things I would change if I could... (there are so many)
So, in summary, during my young adulthood, my spirituality was largely based in both fear and unthinking compliance to church traditions.
More in another post... my pagan years... (sigh)
Monday, December 8, 2008
Social Life?
Hi,
Meandering mind today. (sigh) I do hate that when my brain cannot quiet itself. Even more so when it won't pin itself down to any particular worry. Whee.
Today, I think I'm mostly thinking about friendships. Likely because I'm feeling lonely. I don't really understand friendships. I certainly have no skills at starting one. Thus the loneliness I suppose.
When I was little, I had a sister who was one year older than I, and social. I pretty much got all of my childhood friendships as a result of tagging along with her. I never learned how to establish one for myself. I'm sorely noticing this lack now. Not that I blame her, in any way. I just wish some of her talent had somehow rubbed off on me.
Later, in High School, and even college, my friendships were all a result of Kelly. She glommed onto me in Jr. High, decided we were friends, and from that point forward, her friends were my friends. So, again, I didn't learn how to make a friend, how to approach someone, how to discover if we clicked, how to go from "Hi, How ya doing?" to.. ."Wanna get together sometime?"
Then, post college, I was in a new town, no sister, no Kelly, and no friends. After an incredibly depressing and lonely year or so, there, another single young teacher who was new to town adopted me as her friend. Once again, I learned nothing of the process for how to go about this.
A few years later I married my now ex-husband/current best friend. He was well established in the town, and had friends and such. But then we moved to Reno. Neither of us ever really got into any social circles there. We had work acquaintances and such. And, I think because we had each other, and jobs, that was enough.
Now, I'm married to a man with Asperger's, who only feels the need for 1 friend... me. He has no skills at getting from "How ya doing?" to "Come on over for..." And he doesn't seem to miss it either. That's the problem. I think I do miss it. I'm not sure exactly what I miss... but something is lacking here.
Some of it, I think, is the lack of routine. A lot of it is the lack of purpose, for me. Currently, being unemployed, in a tiny town that has rolled up its sidewalks for the winter, I don't even seem to have "how ya doing?" going for me.
I know that there is a solution out there for me. Once it feels like my health will be consistently good enough for me to volunteer at the local school, and once we can afford the gas to get there and back on a consistent basis, I will be able to establish a routine, perhaps a purpose, and at the very least, the "how ya doing?" kind of connection that I am missing.
Beyond that? I have no idea how to progress beyond that. So far in my life, people have all done that part for me. I'm not sure I can continue to count on that at this point in my life. These are folks who've made a choice to live in this remote village. They are established, have friends and families and commitments. Why would they even think of including me? Why should they add me into their lives? I dunno... (sigh-shudder)
I just honestly have no idea how to proceed, here. I don't have the skills.
We were chatting with a man on the street recently. He suggested trying a church. I think that may be a good idea. But I am also scared, because I don't know how to tell if a church will help or hinder my spirituality, which is tenuous currently. I don't want to fall into false teachings in order to fill a social need. I don't know how to tell the difference between false and true teachings, except by the urgings of my own heart. In the past that has not led to the best of spiritual decisions.
So, now what?
How does a person learn how to make friends?
Meandering mind today. (sigh) I do hate that when my brain cannot quiet itself. Even more so when it won't pin itself down to any particular worry. Whee.
Today, I think I'm mostly thinking about friendships. Likely because I'm feeling lonely. I don't really understand friendships. I certainly have no skills at starting one. Thus the loneliness I suppose.
When I was little, I had a sister who was one year older than I, and social. I pretty much got all of my childhood friendships as a result of tagging along with her. I never learned how to establish one for myself. I'm sorely noticing this lack now. Not that I blame her, in any way. I just wish some of her talent had somehow rubbed off on me.
Later, in High School, and even college, my friendships were all a result of Kelly. She glommed onto me in Jr. High, decided we were friends, and from that point forward, her friends were my friends. So, again, I didn't learn how to make a friend, how to approach someone, how to discover if we clicked, how to go from "Hi, How ya doing?" to.. ."Wanna get together sometime?"
Then, post college, I was in a new town, no sister, no Kelly, and no friends. After an incredibly depressing and lonely year or so, there, another single young teacher who was new to town adopted me as her friend. Once again, I learned nothing of the process for how to go about this.
A few years later I married my now ex-husband/current best friend. He was well established in the town, and had friends and such. But then we moved to Reno. Neither of us ever really got into any social circles there. We had work acquaintances and such. And, I think because we had each other, and jobs, that was enough.
Now, I'm married to a man with Asperger's, who only feels the need for 1 friend... me. He has no skills at getting from "How ya doing?" to "Come on over for..." And he doesn't seem to miss it either. That's the problem. I think I do miss it. I'm not sure exactly what I miss... but something is lacking here.
Some of it, I think, is the lack of routine. A lot of it is the lack of purpose, for me. Currently, being unemployed, in a tiny town that has rolled up its sidewalks for the winter, I don't even seem to have "how ya doing?" going for me.
I know that there is a solution out there for me. Once it feels like my health will be consistently good enough for me to volunteer at the local school, and once we can afford the gas to get there and back on a consistent basis, I will be able to establish a routine, perhaps a purpose, and at the very least, the "how ya doing?" kind of connection that I am missing.
Beyond that? I have no idea how to progress beyond that. So far in my life, people have all done that part for me. I'm not sure I can continue to count on that at this point in my life. These are folks who've made a choice to live in this remote village. They are established, have friends and families and commitments. Why would they even think of including me? Why should they add me into their lives? I dunno... (sigh-shudder)
I just honestly have no idea how to proceed, here. I don't have the skills.
We were chatting with a man on the street recently. He suggested trying a church. I think that may be a good idea. But I am also scared, because I don't know how to tell if a church will help or hinder my spirituality, which is tenuous currently. I don't want to fall into false teachings in order to fill a social need. I don't know how to tell the difference between false and true teachings, except by the urgings of my own heart. In the past that has not led to the best of spiritual decisions.
So, now what?
How does a person learn how to make friends?
Friday, December 5, 2008
Faith, ack! - College
During college my faith took a variety of twists. The first time I heard the concept of "being saved" was during the college years.
(*Please note: the quotation marks around "being saved" are not meant to be disrespectful in any way. For me, they simply indicate my confusion on this concept, I think)
My family was on a trip of some kind. I remember that my sister and I were hanging around a campground and came upon a group of young adults. I think they were having a sing-a-long, but I could be remembering that badly. (If you haven't noticed the trend, my memory is often vague) Anyway, at some point we became involved in a conversation with some of the folks there, and they told us about "being saved". I don't think either of us put much thought into it, but we went along with them, and said a prayer. After which we were both declared to "be saved" and now we were Christians! Hallelujah. As a Catholic, the idea was pretty foreign. I remember the family getting all angry at the idea that Catholics weren't Christians. "How dare they say that?!?" In my background, the idea of hell and salvation weren't really mentioned, and sin was connected only to the confessional. So the concept of getting saved was new and certainly not fully understood, by me. Any way, my sister and I were now saved, and said so to my mother when we returned to our camper. I am not sure what I expected, but I remember feeling let down when her response was something equivalent to "that's nice." To me, even though I didn't understand the events at all, it felt significant. Something had definitely touched my heart that evening, and "that's nice" seemed like a kind of non-reaction. (shrug)
After this event, I remember singing church songs when I did my chores, and trying to "feel" more when I prayed in church, and stuff like that. I kind of felt the same way I used to feel in the confessional, when the priest declared me to be forgiven. But it seemed to last longer. For a time, I think, my sister hang out with some of the folks we met on this trip. A few of the folks we met were involved in our church choir, as was my sister, if I remember that correctly at all. Then, and one point, I was somehow connected to one of the choir members who had been at the campground. I have no idea how that occurred, but somehow we began to have bible studies at her parents' home, about once a week. I don't remember much of the bible from then, but I do remember that she wanted to make me more nutritionally healthy... start eating breakfast, more fruits and veggies. I think I was one of her college projects? Who knows?
Through her, I also became involved in a retreat and a week long bible study class. During the class I began to get an awareness that this "being saved" thing was somehow big, and important, and that it should be life-changing in some real sense of the word. I met folks that made daily life choices based upon their faith and their biblical understandings. This wasn't just for Sunday any more! It fascinated me, confused me, and in many ways stymied me. I had no idea how to get from point A to point B. I didn't even know where point B was! I just knew I wasn't there.
It was during this time in my life that my sister and I became less connected. She and I were attending different schools. She was engaged, and becoming interested in the Mormon church. I think that was to please her fiance' largely, but as I said, we were less connected then, so I can't really know. Any way, for some reason, she was no longer part of the group of campers, and I was, off and on. I began to feel like it would behoove me to stop being Catholic. Peer pressure, I think. As things went, this connection to that group of folks began to fade into non-existence. I was busy with my college life, depressed about both the loss of my sister and severely depressed about the loss of my "one true love" who had decided to tell me he was gay EXACTLY when I had decided he was going to pop the question. Wrong! I didn't recognize that what I was going through was a depression, but it was. I struggled with it, over eating, not sleeping, and generally keeping myself so over-extended that I couldn't think - ever, for about 2 or 3 years. During which time my religious/faith life kind of gurgled on a back burner, so to speak.
During my last 2 years of college, perhaps just my last year?, my roommates became much more active in their own Christianity. They went to church, bible study, choir, weekend retreats, and talked about God in their lives. In many ways I wanted to be a part of this, but was cut off from it because I spent weekends at home. Not being part of the whole Sunday Church thing somehow made it difficult to be part of the rest. I was beginning to question many things, though. What was salvation? Saved from what? why? how? Was I actually saved? What about Hell? (shudder) How does God want me to be? How can I KNOW any of that for sure? I suppose it's the same old "finding yourself during your college years" story... but it was mine. I struggled with all of this a lot, alone, and with no sources of information. Much in the same way as I struggled with my depression. And in many ways, with the same end results... a long and agonizing journey in a maze with what appeared to be no end.
I think it was around this time that my sister was married, in a Catholic church. Her fiance' was becoming Catholic to 'surprise' her, I think, at the same time she was studying to be Mormon for him. Catholic won. I don't actually know the circumstances surrounding either thing, but that is how it looked from my perspective. You may wonder why I keep bringing my sister up? It's because we were raised as if we were twins. We felt like twins. I remember that, at least once, we even shared a kind of waking dream. When we were little we planned on marrying brothers, living in homes next door to each other, and building a tunnel between the homes to connect them. Being apart from her was painful to me, and still is. I'm not sure how or why, but my journey in faith is also somehow tied to her. It's not like we ever talked about such things... but for me, the tie is still there. ??? I think that because of her marriage, and the fact that our lives were simply no longer in sync, we were much less connected in any real sense of the word. (sigh)
Back to faith and college...
In my last year or two of college, during the summer, some guys knocked on the door. This was during the same time frame as when my roommates were all 'into' church and bible study. Any way, these guys were talking about the bible and I decided I'd be willing to start studying with them. It may have been a way to connect to my roommates more, but I also felt some kind of calling within my heart, I think.
So, I actually remember some of this bible study. I learned about Jesus, some. I learned that God cannot be in the presence of sin, as God is righteous. I learned that everyone sins. Sounds fairly hopeless, eh? We all sin, so God cannot be with us. That's where Jesus comes into the story. I learned that he died on the cross to pay for our sins. Now, of course, I'd heard this all before, but this time it was connected in ways that actually made sense to me. It touched me somehow. And scared me a lot. You will learn, if you read these posts, that faith and fear are a gigantic knot inside me... very intertwined in ways that are probably unhealthy, unrealistic, and paralysing...
After learning that the only way to be with God was through the death of Jesus... (and that was, for me perhaps, more about avoiding Hell, than about being with God) the bible study turned towards the need for baptism. This group of folks believe that getting baptised, as an adult, and a full dunking at that, was the only path to salvation. Well, when they had finished pulling out scriptures to support these ideas, and had answered some of my questions, they seemed to just "wait"... And at the end of that week's bible study, Larry (the one in charge) didn't say anything about when we would next meet up. There was an atmosphere of expectancy and waiting and a feeling that "we're done now" and that somehow, I was supposed to "do" something now.
Part of me was feeling a burden in my heart to take action, to ask to be baptized. Part of me was wondering why... hadn't I gotten saved a few years ago, with my sister? Part of me was willing to do what ever it took, for these study sessions to continue, as I was still hungry for more of this kind of learning. With my Catholic upbringing, I still couldn't trust myself to just read the bible and understand it without some intervening authority figure, I think. And part of me just wanted to have an excuse to continue to see Larry. I think I had a bit of a crush on him?
So, I told him I was ready. I still don't know if I was actually ready. I certainly didn't understand. But perhaps that is a big part of faith. Take a leap without understanding it. Trust that God will do His part and make it somehow real, with or without my understanding. There was a flurry of activity suddenly. Phone calls to who? I didn't know. "Get changed" and I'll pick you up in a half hour, I was told. I changed into something that I wouldn't mind getting wet in. And got into a car with Larry. I had no idea what to expect.
Larry drove me to a house, where there were about 50 people standing in the yard. Then everyone caravaned to a nearby lake. There was singing, and I was baptized. Followed by more singing, and hugs from strangers, and mostly I was overwhelmed by it all. I think that they taught that something with the Holy Spirit was supposed to happen at baptism. I didn't know what, exactly. I don't know if I felt anything that would be explained by the new presence of the Holy Spirit in my heart. I'm not sure faith is supposed to 'feel' like anything. For the most part, it seemed like I was going along for the ride, being swept up in it. Does that negate the salvation? I don't know. Does the fact that my motivation for asking to be baptized was so mixed and multi-faceted negate the salvation? Did God do His part? Or did my own confusion and mixed - purpose prevent Him from effecting my salvation? I don't know.
After I was baptized, I became slowly aware (I can be dense sometimes) that I was expected to become part of a particular church. The house were all those folks gathered was actually a church. The people there were members. They gave me a concordance, signed by church members, with bible quotes and encouragements overflowing through out this book. I ended up becoming involved in a Church of Christ. It was an independent congregation, not connected to The United Church of Christ. They were based largely on the belief that we should be emulating the first century Christians. I think that was pretty much the main teaching of this church. And they were sincere. When someone had a question about why the church did things one way, and not another, they did an investigative bible study, and came to some kind of group consensus about what would be the right action to take, based upon biblical evidence of what occurred with first century Christians. The concept intrigued me. People who actually thought through the 'why' and 'how' based on biblical research? People who made decisions based on what they understood of biblical principals? WOW!
Now, much of what they did seemed weird to me, but not actually a burden. They didn't use instruments during church. They didn't let women speak out in church. We had to go through a male person, most used their spouse. Us single women used whomever... but the extra step didn't seem to hinder me, so I figured 'what ever.' And I assumed that they had done the research to come to these conclusions from some biblical premise, so it was all fine and dandy with me.
So, I continued with this church through the end of my college career, and for a few years afterwards. I attended weekly bible study, unless a class interfered. I went to church on Sundays, often twice, unless I was home for the weekend. I even changed the weekend visiting, to leave fairly early on Sundays most of the time, in order to be back for church.
I learned, too. I learned about the concept of 'once saved-always saved'. And the idea that this might be false. Didn't Paul worry about "losing his crown" or something? I learned that some folks "thought" they were saved, but weren't. Didn't Jesus say something about people expecting to get into heaven, and having Jesus tell them "I never knew you" ? I learned about the gifts of the spirit, and that some people think they are still active on the earth, and others think they passed away with the death of the apostles. I learned about predestination and free will.
I learned that there were more questions, and no answers, and lots and lots more fear than I had before.
Whee!
(*Please note: the quotation marks around "being saved" are not meant to be disrespectful in any way. For me, they simply indicate my confusion on this concept, I think)
My family was on a trip of some kind. I remember that my sister and I were hanging around a campground and came upon a group of young adults. I think they were having a sing-a-long, but I could be remembering that badly. (If you haven't noticed the trend, my memory is often vague) Anyway, at some point we became involved in a conversation with some of the folks there, and they told us about "being saved". I don't think either of us put much thought into it, but we went along with them, and said a prayer. After which we were both declared to "be saved" and now we were Christians! Hallelujah. As a Catholic, the idea was pretty foreign. I remember the family getting all angry at the idea that Catholics weren't Christians. "How dare they say that?!?" In my background, the idea of hell and salvation weren't really mentioned, and sin was connected only to the confessional. So the concept of getting saved was new and certainly not fully understood, by me. Any way, my sister and I were now saved, and said so to my mother when we returned to our camper. I am not sure what I expected, but I remember feeling let down when her response was something equivalent to "that's nice." To me, even though I didn't understand the events at all, it felt significant. Something had definitely touched my heart that evening, and "that's nice" seemed like a kind of non-reaction. (shrug)
After this event, I remember singing church songs when I did my chores, and trying to "feel" more when I prayed in church, and stuff like that. I kind of felt the same way I used to feel in the confessional, when the priest declared me to be forgiven. But it seemed to last longer. For a time, I think, my sister hang out with some of the folks we met on this trip. A few of the folks we met were involved in our church choir, as was my sister, if I remember that correctly at all. Then, and one point, I was somehow connected to one of the choir members who had been at the campground. I have no idea how that occurred, but somehow we began to have bible studies at her parents' home, about once a week. I don't remember much of the bible from then, but I do remember that she wanted to make me more nutritionally healthy... start eating breakfast, more fruits and veggies. I think I was one of her college projects? Who knows?
Through her, I also became involved in a retreat and a week long bible study class. During the class I began to get an awareness that this "being saved" thing was somehow big, and important, and that it should be life-changing in some real sense of the word. I met folks that made daily life choices based upon their faith and their biblical understandings. This wasn't just for Sunday any more! It fascinated me, confused me, and in many ways stymied me. I had no idea how to get from point A to point B. I didn't even know where point B was! I just knew I wasn't there.
It was during this time in my life that my sister and I became less connected. She and I were attending different schools. She was engaged, and becoming interested in the Mormon church. I think that was to please her fiance' largely, but as I said, we were less connected then, so I can't really know. Any way, for some reason, she was no longer part of the group of campers, and I was, off and on. I began to feel like it would behoove me to stop being Catholic. Peer pressure, I think. As things went, this connection to that group of folks began to fade into non-existence. I was busy with my college life, depressed about both the loss of my sister and severely depressed about the loss of my "one true love" who had decided to tell me he was gay EXACTLY when I had decided he was going to pop the question. Wrong! I didn't recognize that what I was going through was a depression, but it was. I struggled with it, over eating, not sleeping, and generally keeping myself so over-extended that I couldn't think - ever, for about 2 or 3 years. During which time my religious/faith life kind of gurgled on a back burner, so to speak.
During my last 2 years of college, perhaps just my last year?, my roommates became much more active in their own Christianity. They went to church, bible study, choir, weekend retreats, and talked about God in their lives. In many ways I wanted to be a part of this, but was cut off from it because I spent weekends at home. Not being part of the whole Sunday Church thing somehow made it difficult to be part of the rest. I was beginning to question many things, though. What was salvation? Saved from what? why? how? Was I actually saved? What about Hell? (shudder) How does God want me to be? How can I KNOW any of that for sure? I suppose it's the same old "finding yourself during your college years" story... but it was mine. I struggled with all of this a lot, alone, and with no sources of information. Much in the same way as I struggled with my depression. And in many ways, with the same end results... a long and agonizing journey in a maze with what appeared to be no end.
I think it was around this time that my sister was married, in a Catholic church. Her fiance' was becoming Catholic to 'surprise' her, I think, at the same time she was studying to be Mormon for him. Catholic won. I don't actually know the circumstances surrounding either thing, but that is how it looked from my perspective. You may wonder why I keep bringing my sister up? It's because we were raised as if we were twins. We felt like twins. I remember that, at least once, we even shared a kind of waking dream. When we were little we planned on marrying brothers, living in homes next door to each other, and building a tunnel between the homes to connect them. Being apart from her was painful to me, and still is. I'm not sure how or why, but my journey in faith is also somehow tied to her. It's not like we ever talked about such things... but for me, the tie is still there. ??? I think that because of her marriage, and the fact that our lives were simply no longer in sync, we were much less connected in any real sense of the word. (sigh)
Back to faith and college...
In my last year or two of college, during the summer, some guys knocked on the door. This was during the same time frame as when my roommates were all 'into' church and bible study. Any way, these guys were talking about the bible and I decided I'd be willing to start studying with them. It may have been a way to connect to my roommates more, but I also felt some kind of calling within my heart, I think.
So, I actually remember some of this bible study. I learned about Jesus, some. I learned that God cannot be in the presence of sin, as God is righteous. I learned that everyone sins. Sounds fairly hopeless, eh? We all sin, so God cannot be with us. That's where Jesus comes into the story. I learned that he died on the cross to pay for our sins. Now, of course, I'd heard this all before, but this time it was connected in ways that actually made sense to me. It touched me somehow. And scared me a lot. You will learn, if you read these posts, that faith and fear are a gigantic knot inside me... very intertwined in ways that are probably unhealthy, unrealistic, and paralysing...
After learning that the only way to be with God was through the death of Jesus... (and that was, for me perhaps, more about avoiding Hell, than about being with God) the bible study turned towards the need for baptism. This group of folks believe that getting baptised, as an adult, and a full dunking at that, was the only path to salvation. Well, when they had finished pulling out scriptures to support these ideas, and had answered some of my questions, they seemed to just "wait"... And at the end of that week's bible study, Larry (the one in charge) didn't say anything about when we would next meet up. There was an atmosphere of expectancy and waiting and a feeling that "we're done now" and that somehow, I was supposed to "do" something now.
Part of me was feeling a burden in my heart to take action, to ask to be baptized. Part of me was wondering why... hadn't I gotten saved a few years ago, with my sister? Part of me was willing to do what ever it took, for these study sessions to continue, as I was still hungry for more of this kind of learning. With my Catholic upbringing, I still couldn't trust myself to just read the bible and understand it without some intervening authority figure, I think. And part of me just wanted to have an excuse to continue to see Larry. I think I had a bit of a crush on him?
So, I told him I was ready. I still don't know if I was actually ready. I certainly didn't understand. But perhaps that is a big part of faith. Take a leap without understanding it. Trust that God will do His part and make it somehow real, with or without my understanding. There was a flurry of activity suddenly. Phone calls to who? I didn't know. "Get changed" and I'll pick you up in a half hour, I was told. I changed into something that I wouldn't mind getting wet in. And got into a car with Larry. I had no idea what to expect.
Larry drove me to a house, where there were about 50 people standing in the yard. Then everyone caravaned to a nearby lake. There was singing, and I was baptized. Followed by more singing, and hugs from strangers, and mostly I was overwhelmed by it all. I think that they taught that something with the Holy Spirit was supposed to happen at baptism. I didn't know what, exactly. I don't know if I felt anything that would be explained by the new presence of the Holy Spirit in my heart. I'm not sure faith is supposed to 'feel' like anything. For the most part, it seemed like I was going along for the ride, being swept up in it. Does that negate the salvation? I don't know. Does the fact that my motivation for asking to be baptized was so mixed and multi-faceted negate the salvation? Did God do His part? Or did my own confusion and mixed - purpose prevent Him from effecting my salvation? I don't know.
After I was baptized, I became slowly aware (I can be dense sometimes) that I was expected to become part of a particular church. The house were all those folks gathered was actually a church. The people there were members. They gave me a concordance, signed by church members, with bible quotes and encouragements overflowing through out this book. I ended up becoming involved in a Church of Christ. It was an independent congregation, not connected to The United Church of Christ. They were based largely on the belief that we should be emulating the first century Christians. I think that was pretty much the main teaching of this church. And they were sincere. When someone had a question about why the church did things one way, and not another, they did an investigative bible study, and came to some kind of group consensus about what would be the right action to take, based upon biblical evidence of what occurred with first century Christians. The concept intrigued me. People who actually thought through the 'why' and 'how' based on biblical research? People who made decisions based on what they understood of biblical principals? WOW!
Now, much of what they did seemed weird to me, but not actually a burden. They didn't use instruments during church. They didn't let women speak out in church. We had to go through a male person, most used their spouse. Us single women used whomever... but the extra step didn't seem to hinder me, so I figured 'what ever.' And I assumed that they had done the research to come to these conclusions from some biblical premise, so it was all fine and dandy with me.
So, I continued with this church through the end of my college career, and for a few years afterwards. I attended weekly bible study, unless a class interfered. I went to church on Sundays, often twice, unless I was home for the weekend. I even changed the weekend visiting, to leave fairly early on Sundays most of the time, in order to be back for church.
I learned, too. I learned about the concept of 'once saved-always saved'. And the idea that this might be false. Didn't Paul worry about "losing his crown" or something? I learned that some folks "thought" they were saved, but weren't. Didn't Jesus say something about people expecting to get into heaven, and having Jesus tell them "I never knew you" ? I learned about the gifts of the spirit, and that some people think they are still active on the earth, and others think they passed away with the death of the apostles. I learned about predestination and free will.
I learned that there were more questions, and no answers, and lots and lots more fear than I had before.
Whee!
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Faith, ack! - Childhood
Wow, such a big topic. I'm not even sure how to begin. Perhaps I should start with an historical perspective. Personal history, not 'History', as it were.
I was raised in a Catholic family. When we were little, I remember going to church on Sundays. I particularly remember getting all dressed up. Lacy dress, uncomfortable plastic-like hat with that annoying elastic chin strap, stockings (white of course), and those oh-so-common black and white saddle shoes, all shined up. Is it odd that the plastic hat with the elastic chin strap is the most vivid of my early 'church' memories? (shrug)
I remember that during church there was always the threat of being separated from siblings for misbehavior. With 4 brothers and 1 sister, and only 2 adults, I still don't know how they managed us. We weren't given anything to amuse ourselves with, either. It was church, not play time. No books, crayons, gum... just church. I think I remember that we never ate before church either. Something to do with fasting before taking communion? I'm not certain about that...
I remember CCD which is a Catholic version of Sunday school. I think it was on Tuesday evenings. I don't remember anything that was done during CCD. Well, except a bit of stuff leading up to our First Holy Communion. Even that is sketchy. I know I didn't understand it, because on the big day... with my sister and I all decked out in miniature wedding dresses - complete with veil, I remember wondering if I was going to have to eat a piece of Jesus' little toe! Clearly I didn't understand the ritual of communion.
I remember watching a few of my brother's at their confirmation. I also remember being confused. Confirmation is when you declare your faith as an 'adult' in the Catholic church. I think it's like a bar mitzvah for Jewish folks. I was confused about this because See, my mom, or perhaps both my parents, thought of this as the time that one became responsible for their own faith. This meant, according to our parents, that as soon as one was confirmed, one no longer had to go to church. That seemed odd to me. Why would one go through the ritual of confirmation in order to stop going to church? I still don't know, but that's what happened with each of my brothers upon their confirmation. Go figure. In fact, at one point my parents began bribing us to attend church, with the offer of a restaurant breakfast for anyone who went to church with them. It even worked periodically! Not sure if it did anyone any good, as far as church-life goes. It did, likely, add to the familial bond, though, which is always a good thing.
I remember a few times at the confessional. The thing I remember most about the confessional, was that no matter how lame and "surface" my confession was, I always felt some kind of big relief when the priest said "your sins are forgiven you"... even though that was always followed with some lame and seemingly pointless penance. I do vaguely remember one time, when the penance was not actually pointless, but related to the confessed sin. I was shocked! And it was difficult to complete the task as well. I don't remember the details. I think it had to do with slacking on chores or something, and I had to do extra that week ? maybe? Even though the memory is vague, the idea of an actual penance, connected to the sin, has stuck with me somehow. It just seems more just and useful than, say, 5 Hail Mary's or what have you.
As for my own confirmation, I remember that during the CCD classes that led up to it, we were assigned the task of reading one of the 4 gospels, and we were supposed to discuss it, individually, with the priest. I had never seen a bible that wasn't on the altar, so I was shocked at the very idea of reading one for myself. I think in old, old, Catholic tradition the bible was meant only for the priesthood, who then passed on the information to the members of the church, from the altar. I could be mis-remembering that as well, but I definitely remember feeling that reading the bible for myself was somehow dangerous and seditious.
I read the Gospel of Mark, because it was the shortest one. I don't recall any epiphanies or surprises. The only thing I remember from the discussion with the priest was that I was so nervous I could barely breathe, let alone speak. Apparently it went well enough, though, as I was allowed to be confirmed.
My sister and I were confirmed together. It was actually a big deal, for some reason, because the Bishop was officiating. We had to choose a sponsor. Perhaps as an adult version of a god parent, from baptism? I really don't know. Any way, the only person I could think of was my oldest brother's wife. But she wasn't Catholic. So, she ended up being a stand in for my grandmother. I'm not sure either of us understood that at the time, and I feel badly, because I think it hurt her feelings when she realized she was just a stand in. sigh
Any way, my sister and I bucked the trend, and for what ever reason, continued to attend church after our confirmation. I don't now why, honestly, but we did. It might have been for some actual sincerity of faith. It might have been to avoid being added to the litany of "fallen" siblings that my parents added to every dinner time prayer. Saying Grace had become both a prayer for the return to the faith of my brothers (listed by name) And a thanks for the food kind of thing. To me it always felt more like a session of public humiliation, but that may be just been my take on it. In any case, my sister and I did continue to attend church after confirmation.
As we entered High School, church became something more. I'm not sure what, or why, or how. But my sister and I were not just attending on Sundays, but we also went to a weekly Teen thing. Partly "advanced" CCD, and partly social activities. There were even week end retreats and other field trips of sorts involved. We even became involved in a weekly bible study run by some of the Teen leaders. I think this may have been the smallest of beginnings for actually learning about God and faith and those things. I can't remember any specific learning or awakening from this time in my life. It just feels like a foundation of some kind was being laid.
So, that's my religious up-bringing. Next: the college years...
I was raised in a Catholic family. When we were little, I remember going to church on Sundays. I particularly remember getting all dressed up. Lacy dress, uncomfortable plastic-like hat with that annoying elastic chin strap, stockings (white of course), and those oh-so-common black and white saddle shoes, all shined up. Is it odd that the plastic hat with the elastic chin strap is the most vivid of my early 'church' memories? (shrug)
I remember that during church there was always the threat of being separated from siblings for misbehavior. With 4 brothers and 1 sister, and only 2 adults, I still don't know how they managed us. We weren't given anything to amuse ourselves with, either. It was church, not play time. No books, crayons, gum... just church. I think I remember that we never ate before church either. Something to do with fasting before taking communion? I'm not certain about that...
I remember CCD which is a Catholic version of Sunday school. I think it was on Tuesday evenings. I don't remember anything that was done during CCD. Well, except a bit of stuff leading up to our First Holy Communion. Even that is sketchy. I know I didn't understand it, because on the big day... with my sister and I all decked out in miniature wedding dresses - complete with veil, I remember wondering if I was going to have to eat a piece of Jesus' little toe! Clearly I didn't understand the ritual of communion.
I remember watching a few of my brother's at their confirmation. I also remember being confused. Confirmation is when you declare your faith as an 'adult' in the Catholic church. I think it's like a bar mitzvah for Jewish folks. I was confused about this because See, my mom, or perhaps both my parents, thought of this as the time that one became responsible for their own faith. This meant, according to our parents, that as soon as one was confirmed, one no longer had to go to church. That seemed odd to me. Why would one go through the ritual of confirmation in order to stop going to church? I still don't know, but that's what happened with each of my brothers upon their confirmation. Go figure. In fact, at one point my parents began bribing us to attend church, with the offer of a restaurant breakfast for anyone who went to church with them. It even worked periodically! Not sure if it did anyone any good, as far as church-life goes. It did, likely, add to the familial bond, though, which is always a good thing.
I remember a few times at the confessional. The thing I remember most about the confessional, was that no matter how lame and "surface" my confession was, I always felt some kind of big relief when the priest said "your sins are forgiven you"... even though that was always followed with some lame and seemingly pointless penance. I do vaguely remember one time, when the penance was not actually pointless, but related to the confessed sin. I was shocked! And it was difficult to complete the task as well. I don't remember the details. I think it had to do with slacking on chores or something, and I had to do extra that week ? maybe? Even though the memory is vague, the idea of an actual penance, connected to the sin, has stuck with me somehow. It just seems more just and useful than, say, 5 Hail Mary's or what have you.
As for my own confirmation, I remember that during the CCD classes that led up to it, we were assigned the task of reading one of the 4 gospels, and we were supposed to discuss it, individually, with the priest. I had never seen a bible that wasn't on the altar, so I was shocked at the very idea of reading one for myself. I think in old, old, Catholic tradition the bible was meant only for the priesthood, who then passed on the information to the members of the church, from the altar. I could be mis-remembering that as well, but I definitely remember feeling that reading the bible for myself was somehow dangerous and seditious.
I read the Gospel of Mark, because it was the shortest one. I don't recall any epiphanies or surprises. The only thing I remember from the discussion with the priest was that I was so nervous I could barely breathe, let alone speak. Apparently it went well enough, though, as I was allowed to be confirmed.
My sister and I were confirmed together. It was actually a big deal, for some reason, because the Bishop was officiating. We had to choose a sponsor. Perhaps as an adult version of a god parent, from baptism? I really don't know. Any way, the only person I could think of was my oldest brother's wife. But she wasn't Catholic. So, she ended up being a stand in for my grandmother. I'm not sure either of us understood that at the time, and I feel badly, because I think it hurt her feelings when she realized she was just a stand in. sigh
Any way, my sister and I bucked the trend, and for what ever reason, continued to attend church after our confirmation. I don't now why, honestly, but we did. It might have been for some actual sincerity of faith. It might have been to avoid being added to the litany of "fallen" siblings that my parents added to every dinner time prayer. Saying Grace had become both a prayer for the return to the faith of my brothers (listed by name) And a thanks for the food kind of thing. To me it always felt more like a session of public humiliation, but that may be just been my take on it. In any case, my sister and I did continue to attend church after confirmation.
As we entered High School, church became something more. I'm not sure what, or why, or how. But my sister and I were not just attending on Sundays, but we also went to a weekly Teen thing. Partly "advanced" CCD, and partly social activities. There were even week end retreats and other field trips of sorts involved. We even became involved in a weekly bible study run by some of the Teen leaders. I think this may have been the smallest of beginnings for actually learning about God and faith and those things. I can't remember any specific learning or awakening from this time in my life. It just feels like a foundation of some kind was being laid.
So, that's my religious up-bringing. Next: the college years...
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
The Tobacco Miracle
Our personal Hanukkah
Let's start with, Yes, I know, smoking bad! So, with that acknowledgement, I shall move on to the post.
We had an early Hanukkah miracle this year.
With our current circumstances, we need tobacco. (sigh) (shrug - it is how it is, not how we would have it be)
Well, last month, a week before any money was forthcoming, we were basically out. Between my husband and myself, this was a serious shortage. We both smoke far too much. Currently, we need to. Any way, we were out, with at least a week before a reprieve.
So what happened? I honestly believe that God stepped in. I know, many of you will think that is blasphemous. God providing for that evil weed? But I say, yes. Because God does provide for our needs and takes care of us.
Any way, this is what happened. We were out of tobacco. But we have a tray where we roll our own, that catches fallen bits of tobacco. And we had a box that held our ciggarette supplies. And we had ashtrays. Between those very limited supplies, and limiting our tobacco use to only when we were literally vibrating, our tobacco lasted until some funds came in.
In my heart of hearts, I believe this to be a miracle, reminiscent of the miracle of Hanukkah in which a lamp with only enough oil for 1 day, lasted 8 days. God provided light for them. I truly believe he provided tobacco for us.
Let's start with, Yes, I know, smoking bad! So, with that acknowledgement, I shall move on to the post.
We had an early Hanukkah miracle this year.
With our current circumstances, we need tobacco. (sigh) (shrug - it is how it is, not how we would have it be)
Well, last month, a week before any money was forthcoming, we were basically out. Between my husband and myself, this was a serious shortage. We both smoke far too much. Currently, we need to. Any way, we were out, with at least a week before a reprieve.
So what happened? I honestly believe that God stepped in. I know, many of you will think that is blasphemous. God providing for that evil weed? But I say, yes. Because God does provide for our needs and takes care of us.
Any way, this is what happened. We were out of tobacco. But we have a tray where we roll our own, that catches fallen bits of tobacco. And we had a box that held our ciggarette supplies. And we had ashtrays. Between those very limited supplies, and limiting our tobacco use to only when we were literally vibrating, our tobacco lasted until some funds came in.
In my heart of hearts, I believe this to be a miracle, reminiscent of the miracle of Hanukkah in which a lamp with only enough oil for 1 day, lasted 8 days. God provided light for them. I truly believe he provided tobacco for us.
want, need and necessity
The thing is, due to recent changes in my life, I'm learning a lot about the difference between want, need and necessity. Yes, there actually is a difference between need and necessity. Go figure! I've learned that, although I need anti-anxiety medication, and anti-depressants, they are not actually necessities. With out them I do suffer from depression and generalized anxiety. My mind races in ways that seem unstoppable, and focuses only on worries and problems, and poor choices from the past, and ways to beat myself up. On and on it goes. So, I do need those medications. But they aren't necessary in any absolute terms. The kind of terms I'm learning to redefine these days.
I can live without those medications. I have managed since the beginning of October. Not fun. But do-able. In fact, there are times when I think that if I ever manage to get health care again, I may choose to remain off those medications. It will depend, likely, on what my life circumstances are by then. If I have somehow managed to find a purpose to my life, to create a local support system (or even a friend or 2), and am able to maintain some version of a routine, I might just decide that I don't need the drugs. I might not. Time alone will tell.
Other things that I have learned about the difference between need and necessity: Heat is nice, but as long as the water still runs, blankets and baths will do the trick. Food is a good thing, but ramen will cover that need. Not in any way that is healthy, but actual health, when in survival mode, is optional to a degree.
So, what are actual necessities?
Love, connection, and hope.
Enough nutrition to live, enough warmth to not get frost bite, air and water. But mostly love, connection and hope.
On those days when I'm feeling connected to others, feeling loved and able to love, and feeling even a smidgen of hope, I'm okay. And Okay is a good thing right now!
The problem is, that currently, there is no certainty that we will be able to afford enough ramen, heat and water to make it. Not when we add tobacco to the small list of necessities. Yes, I know, tobacco should be more on the need or perhaps want list. In any version of objective reality, it should not be on any list at all. But, with our current circumstances, lack of other medications, battling depression and anxiety, living in more of a survival mode than I have ever experienced before... tobacco is on the necessity list. At least for now. (more on that in our Tobacco Hanukkah Miracle post)
Any way, current circumstances make hope a hard thing to hold on to. Perhaps I need to replace it with faith! (I'll do a rant on that soon too.)
So, given current circumstances:
I dunno.
Perhaps the trick is in trying to let the future not invade my thoughts quite so much. For today, I have enough heat to not get frostbite inside. For today, I still have ramen noodles and tobacco. For today I can be okay.
Another trick may be to realize that things are really not all that bad. I DO have a home. I do have a husband who loves me, and whom I love. I do have family (although distant) who care about me, and support me in any way they can from this distance. I do have some food in the cupboard and some tobacco in the tin. I have hot water for when the cold becomes unendurable, and I have blankets. I have this computer and a television to fill my days, while I search for a new purpose in life. I'm healthy enough, as are those whom I love. So really, what do I have to complain about? So many people on this planet have it so much worse! Maybe counting my blessings is a way to make it through.
I also know, or perhaps just think or hope, that my current circumstances will not last forever. Eventually my husband will get his disability status back, here in Canada. That will help with finances to a small degree (which will feel huge, by the way) and will help with future health worries, as he will be covered for basic medical, prescriptions, and emergency dental and vision concerns. That will be a relief. I also know (think-hope) that my retirement income will come through. That will help insure our ability to afford rent, heat, and actual food, as well as ramen and tobacco. And, I will likely, eventually, be allowed to become a citizen of Canada, which will allow for my own future health needs, and perhaps give me the opportunity to seek new employment, which might provide for that social network, as well as a new purpose in my life.
So, I do have hope for the future. Its the present that is scary. SO, I must go back to "today". Oh, and that faith thing, I mentioned earlier.
I can live without those medications. I have managed since the beginning of October. Not fun. But do-able. In fact, there are times when I think that if I ever manage to get health care again, I may choose to remain off those medications. It will depend, likely, on what my life circumstances are by then. If I have somehow managed to find a purpose to my life, to create a local support system (or even a friend or 2), and am able to maintain some version of a routine, I might just decide that I don't need the drugs. I might not. Time alone will tell.
Other things that I have learned about the difference between need and necessity: Heat is nice, but as long as the water still runs, blankets and baths will do the trick. Food is a good thing, but ramen will cover that need. Not in any way that is healthy, but actual health, when in survival mode, is optional to a degree.
So, what are actual necessities?
Love, connection, and hope.
Enough nutrition to live, enough warmth to not get frost bite, air and water. But mostly love, connection and hope.
On those days when I'm feeling connected to others, feeling loved and able to love, and feeling even a smidgen of hope, I'm okay. And Okay is a good thing right now!
The problem is, that currently, there is no certainty that we will be able to afford enough ramen, heat and water to make it. Not when we add tobacco to the small list of necessities. Yes, I know, tobacco should be more on the need or perhaps want list. In any version of objective reality, it should not be on any list at all. But, with our current circumstances, lack of other medications, battling depression and anxiety, living in more of a survival mode than I have ever experienced before... tobacco is on the necessity list. At least for now. (more on that in our Tobacco Hanukkah Miracle post)
Any way, current circumstances make hope a hard thing to hold on to. Perhaps I need to replace it with faith! (I'll do a rant on that soon too.)
So, given current circumstances:
- New town, no local friends or support
- No medications
- Truly scary financial situation
- Lack of sunshine
- Upcoming holidays which will need to go unrecognized
I dunno.
Perhaps the trick is in trying to let the future not invade my thoughts quite so much. For today, I have enough heat to not get frostbite inside. For today, I still have ramen noodles and tobacco. For today I can be okay.
Another trick may be to realize that things are really not all that bad. I DO have a home. I do have a husband who loves me, and whom I love. I do have family (although distant) who care about me, and support me in any way they can from this distance. I do have some food in the cupboard and some tobacco in the tin. I have hot water for when the cold becomes unendurable, and I have blankets. I have this computer and a television to fill my days, while I search for a new purpose in life. I'm healthy enough, as are those whom I love. So really, what do I have to complain about? So many people on this planet have it so much worse! Maybe counting my blessings is a way to make it through.
I also know, or perhaps just think or hope, that my current circumstances will not last forever. Eventually my husband will get his disability status back, here in Canada. That will help with finances to a small degree (which will feel huge, by the way) and will help with future health worries, as he will be covered for basic medical, prescriptions, and emergency dental and vision concerns. That will be a relief. I also know (think-hope) that my retirement income will come through. That will help insure our ability to afford rent, heat, and actual food, as well as ramen and tobacco. And, I will likely, eventually, be allowed to become a citizen of Canada, which will allow for my own future health needs, and perhaps give me the opportunity to seek new employment, which might provide for that social network, as well as a new purpose in my life.
So, I do have hope for the future. Its the present that is scary. SO, I must go back to "today". Oh, and that faith thing, I mentioned earlier.
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