Contemplation

"The early Franciscans said the first Bible was not the written Bible, but creation itself, the cosmos. 'Ever since the creation of the world, God's eternal power and divinity--however invisible--have become visible for the mind to see in all the things that God has made' (Romans 1:20). This is surely true; but you have to sit still in it for a while, observe it, and love it without trying to rearrange it by thinking you can fully understand it. This combination of observation along with love--not with resistance, judgment, analysis, or labeling--just observation with love and reverence, is probably the best definition of contemplation I can give. You simply participate in what one Carmelite described as a long loving look at the real."

~Fr. Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation of Center for Action and Contemplation

 

For years now I've said that I learn the most about God by observing nature.  The seasons teach me about death and new life, patience and joy.  The rising and setting sun remind me that the sun always comes up, even in the darkest of times, even when hidden behind a cloud, I know that the warmth of God's love is here- always.  I hear God in the rustling sound of wind as it gently blows through the leaves of a tree, in the sound of the owl hooting outside my window or a mourning dove's haunting serenade.  I see God in the beauty of flowers planted neatly in a garden and wild flowers that find a way to push through a crack in the concrete.  I feel God's love when the sun warms my shoulders, when a gentle breeze hits my face on a hot summer's day. 

 

Everyday living is so full and demanding that it leaves little time to be still.  We are bombarded with sound and movement.  Our monkey brains are moving so fast that we scarcely know what is happening around us.  The most important things go unnoticed while the things with no eternal value get all of our attention.  This is why the annual Michigan trip is so important to me.  My husband and I stay in a little cabin on Central Lake situated amongst cedar trees a few feet from the lake where our Bass Tracker boat is docked.  Each morning, we eat a quick breakfast and take our boat out fishing until noon.  I spend a lot of the time reading a good book, holding my rod with a little curly tail grub lure attached (my favorite is the sparkly chartreuse one!) sitting perched in my seat in the back of the boat.  We fish until noon, spend the afternoon hiking, biking, sight-seeing and just relaxing then we're back at it from abut 5:00 to dusk. 

 

Today's meditation put the power of that time into words.  We literally "sit still in it for a while, observe it, and love it without trying to rearrange it by thinking you can fully understand it. This combination of observation along with love--not with resistance, judgment, analysis, or labeling--just observation with love and reverence, is probably the best definition of contemplation I can give. You simply participate in what one Carmelite described as a long loving look at the real."

No Holding Back

"I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving.
If this is arrogant, God, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.
Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels
in the open sea."
~Rilke's Book of Hours; Love Poems to God

In 1988 I was living in Marietta, Georgia.  I had spent the last 15 years in a marriage that was anything but supportive and fulfilling.  In fact, in retrospect that relationship had never been built on mutual love and respect.  We were married a year and a half when my first child and only son was born.  We were both over the moon in love with our sweet little boy but our relationship was painful and weak, not solid and true like I dreamt marriage would be.  By the time Jeremy was 2 1/2 years, we added 2 beautiful baby girls to our family- Erin and Lauren, born 14 months apart.  My three babies were the light of my life.  I focused my heart and prayers on becoming the "perfect" wife and mother- surely this was God's desire for me; surely God would "honor" my prayer for a loving Christian family! 

We had been living in Georgia for 2 years.  A lot changed in those short years.  I remember driving down the street in my minivan on a warm sunny day when I looked up and caught site of a soaring hawk.  What a site!  I immediately felt connected to that giant bird with outstretched wings floating effortlessly through the sky- so beautiful and strong.  In my soul, there rose up a Yes!, a That's It!  I realized that I had been working for so many years at being the "right" woman, the woman I thought I should be; it required a lot of effort- the opposite of no forcing and no holding back.  I was 33 years old and wishing that life would hurry up and get over with already.  I was exhausted... tired of working so hard to be someone other than Becky.  But, gazing upward at that majestic powerful bird, I knew in an instant that I must stop the desperation and somehow learn to Live life freely.

Without realizing it, in that moment, my world shifted on its axis and I would never be the same.  I couldn't keep damming up my emotions; I couldn't keep avoiding the truth of our broken marriage and wounded family.  My contriving (prayer/begging God/years of counseling/contorting myself) would not, could not change the reality of the mess that was my marriage- not at all the holy union of souls that I had dared to wish for.  I soon had the revelation that I had done enough.  I told my husband, "If you cannot accept me and love me as I am, I will have to leave.  I deserve to be treated as well as I treat you.  I'm not perfect but I am good enough to be loved."  It was another year and a half before I filed for divorce.  There were still stubborn roots of guilt and fear, vestiges of my old beliefs that held me back but once the dam started to crumble and the waters began streaming through, there was no stopping the flow of Life.

Today, nearly 30 years later, I continue to learn to free what waits within me, springing clear and flowing like a river, streaming through widening channels...
Amen
 

Our Heliotropism

"We turn toward love like sunflowers 
and then the human parts kick in."
~Anne Lamont

Toward the end of our European trip, we rode the tour bus to France.  I remember gazing out the window as we road down a long stretch of country road when all at once there were sunflowers as far as the eye could see; rows upon rows of enormous golden sunflowers.  This glorious site went on for what seemed like miles.  The sunflowers were at least 10 feet tall and every one of them was turned to face the morning sun; soaking in the rays and at the same time giving off radiate light back toward the heavens.  I was in awe!  A photograph could never truly capture the beauty of that field of sunflowers.  That site captured my idea of Heaven- full of radiant light, always reflecting Love.

Heaven is where I want to live... all the time.  That creates a dilemma for me.  I have used the resources I have to process the attack and rebuild my life.  Mainly, I've looked for the beauty and Love in this world.  I've called upon God to "show me the love in it all."  Like a giant sunflower, I've turned my heart toward the light and it has shown brightly.  The problem is not looking for the light, no, the problem is allowing myself to see the darkness.  There is always sundown, a good portion of every day is in darkness.  It is the way of this world- light and darkness, good and evil, beauty and the unlovely- they co-exist and are part of the whole.  That is where the human parts kick in.

"You can live in the light and still walk through the darkness when that's what this Life requires."
~Amy Frankl

These were the words offered by my counselor recently.  This image instantly struck a cord and opened my mind to a deep truth.  Living in the Light and walking through the darkness.  These words teach me to allow the All of life to be as it is- I don't have to "rosy it up" to be okay.  This idea comforts me and guides me through my fear of the dark.  I am learning to allow my vision to adjust to the darkness, I will see what needs to be revealed and trust that the light is still there.  Funny how long it has taken me to be open to this truth.  I've been afraid to allow myself to experience the darkness in this world, afraid that if I allowed myself to go there I might never find my way out.  What I've learned is quite the opposite, if I don't allow myself to go there by feeling my own demons of fear and anger and seeing the demons in others, I will keep on running.  I will be haunted and dreading what might be lurking in the shadows. 
From the moment that Bill held me down as I fought so hard to get away.  From that moment to this, I have felt overpowered by him.  I've sought inner peace; I've looked to forgive him.  I was desperate to get my Life back.  I've looked for the Love and the Beauty in it all.  And, I can tell you it is there.  But, "then the human parts kick in" I continue to struggle with heartache, fear and dread- dreading the day when he would be released from prison- and wondering how could I handle that? 
And, now that dreaded day has arrived.  Bill has been released to "transitional correction" until his parole date of May 15, 2016.  My emotions have overwhelmed me, ranging from terror to rage and feeling utterly powerless.  In the midst of it all, I (finally) allowed myself to fall into the dark pit of despair.  I cried and cried and cried some more.  I opened the dreaded plastic bin with all the newspaper clippings and documents I have refused to look at for years- Bill's confession, the police reports, the sentencing court report, the civil court report and divorce decree to name a few.  I let myself look at all of them and feel the horror and sorrow of it all.  I was overcome, literally, and couldn't function- I felt myself about to faint if I stood up, my head hurt so badly I couldn't sit upright, I couldn't eat because I was so nauseous that I knew it wouldn't stay down.  I fell apart.  It was days later before I realized that I was walking through the darkness that day- Life required it.  I cannot move on until I allow the brutal truth of that horrific event to be seen and felt. 
Here is the amazing part, since that day of reckoning, I have slowly felt peace creeping into my soul- not because I have willed it to be so, just because it is so.  It started with a deep feeling of exhaustion- as if there was no fight left- but slowly it began to feel like rest for my soul.  I have never seen the movie, Waiting to Exhale, but I keep thinking about that title.  For nearly 12 years, I've been waiting to exhale- finally, I can stop holding my breath.

"I surrender myself to everything.  I love, I feel pain, I struggle.  The world seems to me wider than the mind, my heart a dark and almighty mystery."
~Nikos Kazantzakis (author of Zorba the Greek)

Listening for God

“I tried to discover, in the rumor of forests and waves, words that other men could not hear, and I pricked up my ears to listen to the revelation of their harmony.”
~ Gustave Flaubert

Fifteen years ago I went on a European tour with a group from church.  The tour began in Austria with it's stunning vistas and warm friendly residents.  On one of the first days, we took a ski lift down a steep mountain.  The site of the rich green landscape dotted with edelweiss was breath-taking!  And then, in the distance, we heard the sound of bells, all of different pitches and tones.  The sounds were random and yet rhythmic, beautiful and mysterious, hauntingly musical.  As the sound grew louder and we neared the bottom of the mountain, we began to see the source of the concert.  It was cows, many many cows, all with a different size bell around it's neck.  It was obvious that the different sizes of the bells helped to distinguish which cow had wandered off- they each had their own particular sound.  The simplicity of cows casually grazing at the foot of a mountain making music that resonated toward the heavens, found its way to my ears and finally took up residence within my heart.

"I don't want to think a place for you.
Speak to me from everywhere.
Your Gospel can be comprehended
without looking for its source."
~Rilke's Book of Hours; Love Poems to God

I'll Rise Up!

"And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again."
~ Rise Up lyrics by Andra Day

On Thursday, Jan. 7th, I received a telephone call from Becky at the Stark Co. Prosecutor's office to inform me that William Slabaugh was scheduled for release on May 15, 2016.  I asked where he would be living and whether or not a civil protection order would be in place.  After Becky did some checking she told me that I would need to file a request for a restraining order and should get it done in March so that it would be done before Bill was released or it would require appearing in court most likely with Bill present to process order.  Becky also recommended calling Kerry, the NE Ohio Victim Services representative as soon as possible for more information about his release.
On Friday, Jan. 8th, at 9:15am I left a message for Kerry.  It was then that I decided to check the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Corrections inmate search website.  You can count on one hand the amount of times I have gone to that website since he was sentenced because I hate seeing his mug shot.  I hate looking into the cold dead eyes that stare out of the computer monitor.  Just seeing him makes my pulse race and makes it difficult to breathe.  I was surprised to see a new photo looking out at me.  He looks a little older, his glasses are lined bifocals (something that he would've never tolerated in the past) but still his hair is dark and, as always, not a hair out of place.  As I quickly scanned the page my eyes stopped abruptly on the Release Date: 12/30/15!  I was so stunned that I kept reading and re-reading that date thinking I must've misunderstood it but no matter how many times I looked at it, the date remained the same.  Bill was already released and no one called to inform me that he was out!  While I was in the hospital, I received a pamphlet for VINE (Victim Information Notification Everyday)- it is the statewide notification system for victims of crime.  I registered as soon as I was out of the hospital and was assured that I would ALWAYS be notified if Bill was released or even moved from one facility to another.  It didn't take long for me to experience the breakdown in the supposed infallible system.  I learned that he was moved from a high security prison to a minimum security institution by reading the return address on the envelope when he was filing a motion to court regarding spousal support that he deemed was overpaid.  Over these 11+ years I have registered with VINE multiple times, by mail, email and 3 years ago (when he filed a motion to commute his sentence.)  Every time I have been notified of anything, it was actually Stark Co. Prosecutor's office that has called to inform me of what they know (for which I'm grateful because that's how I know what questions to pursue) but they never have the whole story.  Carol, from Victims Services in Columbus registered me more than once 3 years ago until she said she could confirm that I was definitely registered so that I would be contacted before his release.  sigh.
I spent 6 hours and many phone calls to multiple people (all gracious and shocked that William Slabaugh could've been released without me being notified.)  I talked to the county Victims Service rep. (3 times), the state Victims Service rep. (3 times), Bill's parole officer, the warden's office in Richland Correctional Institution trying to find out where is Bill?!?  Time and time again, I was told, "We don't know where he is right now."  At 3:15pm, I got a return call from the state Victims Service rep. and was informed that Bill was released for Transitional Corrections (a half-way house) in Canton where he would reside until Jan. 29, 2016 when he will be eligible and most likely have an electronic monitor applied until May 15, 2016 when he is "officially released" on parole.

I spent the next 2 days, trying to find my footing.  Allowing myself to be angry, afraid, teary and any other emotion that needed to be felt at that time.  On Sunday, Bob and I watched an episode of American Idol that we had recorded.  Near the end, Melanie Tierce walked in with her acoustic guitar and her piercing blue eyes and began to sing...

"You're broken down and tired
Of living life on a merry-go-round
And you can't find the fighter
But I see it in you so we gonna walk it out
And move mountains...

And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up
High like the waves
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again...

When the silence isn't quiet
And it feels like it's getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying
But I promise we'll take the world to it's feet
And move mountains
Bring it to it's feet
And move mountains
And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again...

All we need, all we need is hope...

I sobbed, literally, as I felt my Self rise up and I knew that I will rise up a thousand times again.

The Trajectory of Life

"...the trajectory of life is headed somewhere good, toward union. Trust the process and surrender to the urgings of life, gradually growing you up into fullness."
~Fr. Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation @ Center for Action and Contemplation

A dear friend recently gave me a little book by Anne Lamont called Small Victories- Spotting Improbable Moments of Grace.  I knew from the moment I laid eyes on that lovely little watery blue book that it was right up my alley and just what I needed- some victories, please!  There are so many nuggets in this little gem that I've taken to marking the best with hot pink tabs so they will be easy to find and re-read as needed.
One nugget that keeps swirling in my head is, "I was learning the secrets of life: that you could become the woman that you dared to dream of being, but to do so you were going to have to fall in love with your own crazy, ruined self."   Ha!  I have chewed on that statement and, at times, reveled in the thought that my crazy, ruined self  is lovable.  Not my put-together self nor my trying harder to be perfect self... it is my crazy, ruined self  that is lovable.  I guess I'll have to digest that one for a while. 

This day, I will trust the trajectory of this crazy life of mine and believe that it is headed somewhere good.  I will surrender to the urgings of life, that are gradually growing (me) up into fullness.  Amen

Reconciling the Ill-matched Threads

"She who reconciles the ill-matched threads
of her life, and weaves them gratefully
into a single cloth-
it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
and clears it for a different celebration.

where the one guest is you.
In the softness of evening
it's you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,
the unspeaking center of her monologues.
With each disclosure you encompass more
 and she stretches beyond what limits her,
to hold you."
~ Rilke's Book of Hours- Love Poems to God

For many years I thought, "I'm not beautiful but I know how to put myself together."  Here I am, 60 years old, covered in scars on the outside and just as many (or maybe even more) on the inside.  Now, I feel like a mess and don't even know how to put myself together. 
I remember the moment I first caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the hospital.  My face was an ill-matched patchwork of grafted skin from my scalp all sewn together with black thread.  My scalp was raw and bloody because the scalp, as my doctor explained, is always used for face grafting because it is "blushing skin" which is only found from the neck up and he wanted my graft skin to match the rest of my face as much as possible.  It was a horrific sight straight out of a horror flick! 

In the years since, I've become quite a make-up expert.  I draw on the rest of my missing right eye-brow trying my best to match the left one (symmetry is the goal here.)  I use makeup to blend and conceal and create the illusion of a normal face.  There was a time when I was sure that a large tattoo on the scar tissue of my left upper arm was the perfect fix but I learned that thick scar tissue does not tattoo very well so I dropped that idea.  As time went by, I gave up trying to conceal the scars because there are just too many!

And if that isn't bad enough, I'm discovering that the deepest and most difficult scars are internal- well hidden as it were but hardest to mend.  Several months after the attack , I went to a woman trained in healing by a Shaman.  She performed the ceremony and told me that my heart was broken into hundreds of pieces (no surprise, it sure felt like it!) but she went on to say, "Your heart was broken long before the attack!"  sigh... 

Now I must go back, way back to my own beginnings, and give myself permission to examine the ill-matched  threads of my life.  The broken threads that have long since been forgotten but still limit me from my own becoming.  The loudmouths from the hall (in my head) continue to yell, "You must be perfect!  Stop whining- nobody wants to hear that!  Get it together!" but, it's time to clear the hall for a different celebration- My Life!