HOLDING QUESTIONS (LESSONS FROM A DRAGONFLY)

I am holding questions -
and my arms are weary.
My mind is tired & perplexed at their weight,
my heart is heavy at the lack of resolution.

There have been questions written silently in a journal,
questions shouted to the sea,
questions with tears over coffee with a friend,
And questions of bewilderment in the intimacy of my family.

There have been questions of concern & curiosity,
questions of philosophy & theology,
questions of fear & doubt,
And questions from shock & incredulity.

There have been questions, too, of reverence & remembrance,
of assurance & love,
of beauty & faithfulness,
And all those answers are YES.  Yes and Amen.
These are the ones that anchor me.

But there are so many that will not fit in the Answered Pile...
There are no logical categories for so many of them in my human mind.
I cannot comprehend the ¨higher ways¨ and I sigh in my longing to do just that.
I am frustrated by my humanity, by my dual (duel??) earthly-spiritual realities.
I live in this place but have glimpses of another,
I am trapped in an earthly body,
Yet see that there are answers beyond me.

Oh to have explanations!
An interpretation of these sad losses & events
To justify the unjustifiable, to respond to the unrespondable
To bring closure to the unclosable...
These are flitting about me like dragonflies near a river,
They hover nearby with the sun glittering on their translucent wings,
thinking, pondering in the sun.
They are both beautiful & mysterious.
Suddenly, they are gone, off to another rock further ahead, upstream!
It seems they are making headway somehow, they have a destination.
And they are using the wind under their wings to lift them up
and take them upstream, against the current,
where they will sit & ponder again under sunlit glintings of truth.

Their wings look too frail to carry heavy burdens.
But they know how to use the breeze.
They innately know their next stop, the next step.
They are unhurried, peaceful.
Yet they progress - against the current & in the face of dangers.

I am holding questions as they seem to -
And hope that in my frailty there will also be beauty,
for the questions are worthy.
Some are frustratingly rhetorical, unanswerable this side of heaven.
And so I try to lay these down in the Mystery Pile -
and to be ok with that.
To be ok with a God who breathes mystery, who is mystery,
who doesn´t necessarily love mystery in a superior, look-down-on-you kind of way -
but who requires mystery to be who he is & orchestrate what he does.
Because simply put, if there were no mystery, He would not be God.
And if there were no God, there would be no life for me, no meaning.

So I hold my questions
on dragonfly wings
on this path of life.
I anchor myself in the answered ones.
And I carry the mysterious ones in a heart
that trusts the Love, the Purpose and yes, even the Mystery, of God.






Photo by: hjhipster

STIRRING UP JUNK

There is a strange phenomenon that occurs during crises.  Old, unbidden, unrelated junk gets stirred up in your life and comes barging into the room.  It makes itself known right in the middle of your crisis like an unwelcome salesman.  A friend of mine likens it to a walk on the beach after a big storm - there is all kinds of junk washed up on the sand for everyone to see.  Great.  Nature doesn´t escape this phenomenon; we apparently don´t either.

As if a crisis isn't bad enough on it's own!  No, it has to go and stir up a bunch of other junk at the bottom of your life.  That is really hitting below the belt if you ask me!  Cruel.  Cold.  Heartless.  Unnecessary.

No one asked my opinion if I wanted this Plan B growth option.  I wasn't invited to vote or write an essay on why I might be against it.  No one sent me the Ten Top Reasons why stirring up junk in a crisis is essential.  And life is not even picky about the junk!  It can be junk, sins, secrets, old habits, blind spots, old skeletons, unresolved issues,  patterns, weaknesses - apparently anything goes!

I did not sign up for this.  Of course, I didn't sign up for the crisis either...

For me, it is this stirring up of junk that is almost worse than the crisis itself.  You expect the crisis to knock you down, sit on your chest and carve out every emotion known to man.  But all of that is at least due to a known crisis!  It's awful & overwhelming & seemingly interminable.  But at least you know why - and deep down you sense that someday you will see light at the end of the tunnel (at least most days you do.)

But this stirring up of junk?  Flaunting your weaknesses in the face of pain?  It´s like kicking a guy while he´s down!  It is so overwhelming & feels so very unfair.  Right when you feel defenseless, raw, naked, vulnerable , confused and weak, these old ghosts rise up like half-empty helium balloons, hanging at eye level and just bobbing there.  Sometimes they just appear quietly like that and bob.  Other times they explode into the room like an unexpected firecracker set off by the neighborhood kids.  It bursts onto the scene unexpectedly, uninvited, aggressive & destructive.  It always makes my heart skip - and then discouragement is quick to settle in and push me onto a path of dejection & self loathing.  The loss of confidence I experience in facing the original crisis is lost and it takes an enormous effort to re-engage and refocus my energies on the original war after this distracting & disarming side-battle.

Why are these old battles so devastating?  In part, it´s simply because they are old.  They have history with me because they are big things that can take a lifetime to overcome - selfishness, communication patterns, emotional reactions, pride, past hurts revived, difficult relationships, forgiveness, etc.  There are not small, easy-fixes.  They are complex, deep-rooted & require a lot of emotional, spiritual and relational work.  It is when these things appear in the midst of my crisis that I despair because I have no strength to face these giants.  Yet they come to me.  They seem to be sent to me...they are the real enemies I face.  Somehow in my crisis (in my case, a death), I am somewhat of a victim.  But these ¨ghosts¨  of mine, they really are mine to face.  I might want to play the victim to my past or circumstances or my personality but in the end, I have to own up to my own stuff and deal with it.  I have to make choices - to believe truth and to move forward to set healthier patterns in motion.  Oh how I need a supernatural strength in these times!

I confess that I have definitely felt that God has taken me beyond ¨what I am able¨ lately.  Yet  as I look to Him as my Shepherd on this journey of grief, I somehow must accept that He knows the avenues of clean-up and healing necessary at this time.  Somehow, they are related.  Somehow, they are entangled and pulling one up by the roots may mean victory in several areas.  Or maybe it´s about a place I need to get to, a person I need to be, a truth I can understand no other way, a humility or compassion only born of facing junk and giants.

I can´t say that I understand this or like it.  But I suppose there is one thing we could all agree upon: God is clearly the original multi-tasker!

Photo by:  TW

LOVE WITHOUT BORDERS

LOVE.  The most sought after, fought after, laughed about, pined over, mystifying concept in all the world.  There is nothing more sung about, ranted over, written about, danced about, sacrificed for, declared, celebrated, scared off, confused, delighted, acted out or cheered on around the world.  There are infinite rites, passages, ceremonies, gifts and customs among the nations to express it.  Besides greed, perhaps no more exorbitant sum of money has been spent on anything else in all of time!  Love is the ultimate international language.

Love is well studied and myriads of books, seminars, conferences, retreats, pod casts, etc. have spewed out the inadequate, can´t-do-it-justice findings.  The ancient Greeks would most likely be horrified to know that we have only one word in English for love!  How can ¨I love ice cream¨ and ¨I love you¨ possibly require the same verb?  I guess some cultures are just smarter...

Many of us are familiar with the six loves in Greek (four of which are found in the Scriptures): eros (romantic, sexual love), philia (deep friendship), ludus (playful love), agape (selfless love), pragma (longstanding, practical love) and philautia (self-love).  I couldn´t agree more with Roman Krznaric, an Australian cultural thinker, who wrote: ¨If the art of coffee deserves its own sophisticated vocabulary, then why not the art of love?¨  Indeed!

In our quest to understand love, we have been known to look at love pyramids, love diagrams, love circles, love lists, love charts, love graphs, outlines, designs, stages, types and kinds (these all really exist!)  We have terms to describe various versions of love outside of the Greek ¨classics¨ including: puppy love, maternal/paternal love, tough love, brotherly love, self-love, conditional love and divine love, just to name a few.  

But no one can hold a candle to God´s love.  Love was the major reason I decided to become a follower of Christ.  Discovering at 16 the amazing, crazy, ocean-sized love He has for me simply blew me away!  He captivated me then and He still does today.  His agape love for us is the only perfect love we will ever experience.  Every other version of love - no matter how wonderful - is still marred in some way, for we are imperfect.  How could I resist Him?

Last year, in spite of the pain, we experienced a beautiful love in our family like never before.  As one of us suffered, we all suffered and there was no sacrifice too great to make for Jenna.  Dani stayed by her side, massaged her every day and demonstrated a loyalty & depth I had not seen to that level before in her.  Jordan wrote her notes, cried for her in his room, prayed for her on her bed, did his homework at the hospital & dedicated goals to her in his soccer playing.  Bruce left work behind, read Psalm 23 over her, held her hand for hours, ran several times a day to Burger King for shaved ice for her and valiantly tried to keep us all together in one piece.  As for me, I have never known maternal love to the extent that I did last year, even when I held them as beautiful babies and couldn´t keep my eyes off them.  The love & adrenalin that ran through my system day and night that subconsciously & organically warned me ¨a child you love is in danger¨ carried me through sleepless nights, long waits at the hospital, endless medical errands  and the suffering of my mother-heart that the whole process dragged me through.  It was a year to think about her, pray unceasingly for her, sacrifice for her, love on her, write about her, dream about her and serve her - plus hold my other two dear ones in their anguish.  And although I did it far from perfectly, I didn´t know I had it in me. Most of all, burned into our minds forever, is Jenna´s love toward us - in her gratitude, in her uncomplaining attitude, in her surrender, in her humor in the midst of pain, in her fighting, in her concern for us, in the verbal gifts of love she gave to each one of us as she realized the end was drawing near.  She left us with words we will always treasure as she recounted & affirmed her love for each one.  The closeness of death brought out an appreciation for the preciousness of one another like nothing else we have experienced.  Love can bring out the best you have to give.   

All of these assorted, random thoughts about love this year come down to this:  there are no borders for genuine love.  No political frontiers that can keep it out, no bitterness that cannot be conquered, no sin too big to be forgiven, no relationship too difficult, no war too awful, no illness too devastating and not even death itself, for:

¨love is as strong as death, 

its jealousy unyielding as the grave.

It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame.¨

S. of Songs 8:6

Whatever kind of love you are celebrating on Valentine´s Day, I hope you will remember all the kinds God has given you to enjoy.  I pray most of all that you will experience His divine, sacred, unrelenting love for you - for that is the most stunning love of all.  Love without borders...that is the kind He has for you and for me - and all the world.  Celebrate it!

THE WINTER OF GRIEF

" It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.¨

Psalm 74:17

The winter of grief pierces my heart.  The bitter cold has made bones of the trees outside.  They stand naked, vulnerable, frozen in their dormant posture.  They seem much like me in their waiting, in their defenseless exposure, in their inability to move.  They have been reduced to attitudes of  essential survival.

My heart goes down early with the sun (how soon the darkness comes in winter!) and withdraws in loneliness.  It instinctively searches for warmth & quiet in its hibernated state.  It is a serious season, a seemingly unending one and its barrenness stretches out before me.

Yet in spite of the cold, there is a certain beauty - pristine snow and its painting of the winter wonderlandscape, glowing indoor fires, hoodies & hot chocolate, flannels & fleece, cinnamon candles & music floating like the flakes themselves - all a juxtaposed part of this season.  There is the hope of the evergreen, the uniqueness of each snowflake, the fun of snow sports, the warmth of family, the sweet dreams of sugarplums and even the early crocuses with their promises of spring.

But my grief is desolate & raw right now in winter. I cocoon up against the flurries of sadness, the wind chill of depression and the bleakness of the wasteland of energy & passion.  I observe the beauty of this season from afar, like a tourist, yet I am restless & yearning for another.

Where I live now there is no snow in winter, just the cold.  Last week the almond trees blossomed.  They are always the first and most eager for spring.  But they brought false hopes; two days ago another northern chill swept over the country in defiant response.  My heart ran again for cover.

I reflect, somewhat bemused, on the fact that the southern hemisphere of the world is in summer - maybe I am just in the wrong place!  And those countries along the equator who have no winter at all... do they not have a ¨winter¨ in their grief there?  I seriously consider moving...but I´m pretty sure the winter of my grief would stubbornly refuse to leave me until it´s time is done.  It clings to me with chilling yet intentional purpose.

My soul yearns for warmth, sunshine, the soft-hued colors & fresh air of life-giving spring.  I long for its promises, its breath and spirit.  I long to come outside, out of my hiding, out of my cocooning, out of the sadness of loss.  I know I have a long journey in front of me but I just want to turn this corner into tender, verdant spring.  To move, grow and progress.

Oh may I be persevering during this winter of grief!  It will not last forever and there is purpose in it just like all the seasons.  Help me to understand that in this apparent dormancy, there is growth and life; it is just not as evident.  Things are hibernating, resting, preparing for the surge of growth & life that is to come.  Let me walk this one out faithfully, one day at a time.  There will soon be a thawing, a warming, the songbirds will return and the flowering will begin...  

¨Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him.  

As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains,

like the spring rains that water the earth.¨

Hosea 6:3  

Photo by:  blmiers2

A DOCTOR SPEAKS

We received this letter not too long ago from Jenna's "favorite" Doctor, the one who was her very first contact at her first appointment, took out her "umbilical tumor", ran her quickly through numerous tests during the Christmas holidays last year to find the main tumor, diagnosed her cancer and was the surgeon in a number of her surgeries.  We were touched by his generous words & wanted to share them with you:

Dear Pamela and Bruce,

I wanted to tell you that your affection and appreciation is absolutely reciprocal.  Jenna has always been a a special patient for me and I know that she has been so for all the specialists that have known and treated her.  I don´t say this because of the medical challenge that her case represented from the very beginning but because of the quality of person that Jenna was and the admirable fortitude with which she confronted her illness.  We were all conscious that her case was quite advanced with a limited survival rate and we tried to fight with all available resources, but unfortunately the norm is that these situations don´t end the way we would all like and the illness was unstoppable. 

Although in the last phase of her illness because of my work obligations [he was her digestive surgeon and not involved in her whole process] I wasn´t able to visit her as I would have liked, during that time I have often thought of you all and frequently asked the endocrinologists and oncologists about how she was she was doing whenever I had occasion.  Knowing Jenna and her family has been a life lesson for me.  A lesson of love, serenity and inner strength when things go bad.  Because of all of this, the one who will always be grateful for having known her is I - and I give thanks to God for that.

Affectionately,

Ignacio

(Dr. Ignacio Machado Romero)

Original letter in Spanish:

Queridos Pamela y Bruce,

Quería deciros que ese cariño y aprecio hacia Jenna y su familia es absolutamente recíproco. Ella siempre ha sido una paciente especial para mí, y se que así lo ha sido para todos los especialistas que la han conocido y tratado. Y no lo digo por el reto médico y quirúrgico que desde el principio supuso su caso, sino por la calidad como persona de Jenna y su admirable entereza para afrontar la enfermedad. Todos éramos conscientes que era un caso muy avanzado con una supervivencia limitada y tratamos de luchar con todos los medios disponibles, pero desgraciadamente lo habitual es que estas situaciones no tengan el final que a todos nos hubiera gustado y la enfermedad ha sido implacable desde el principio. Aunque en la última fase por motivos de trabajo no he podido visitarla tanto como me habría gustado, durante todo este tiempo me he acordado muchísimo de vosotros e interesado por su evolución preguntando a endocrinos y oncólogos siempre que tenía ocasión. Conocer a Jenna y su familia ha supuesto para mí una lección de vida. Una lección de amor, serenidad y fuerza interior cuando las cosas vienen mal. Por todo esto el que estará siempre agradecido por haberla conocido soy yo, y doy gracias a Dios por ello.

Un abrazo.

Ignacio

Photo by:  Total Assist Locum Agency

SHE SEES

I am touched to share this poem written by my friend John Simmons in response to my poem ¨Senseless¨ yesterday.  I am so glad to think upon this great contrast - heaven & earth - and now, to share it with you.

Her eyes opened with a clarity

they had never seen before

She sees beauty unimagined;

Colors that have no name here,

because the few that saw them

and returned, could not explain.

A garden of delight with strange fruit;

Apples tasted by Euphrosynus* the cook,

and his friends but which for us are

just a description in an ancient book.

There are not many conversations

there, because silence is the mystery

of the future age, while words are just

the tools of this world and inner

knowing of the heart has replaced them.

But the music! Oh what music!

As unimaginable as heavenly colors,

Such a chorus was never heard elsewhere;

melodies that dance with dizzying melismas,

An impossible range of sound, thunder

and ever so gentle harmonies,

all in praise of the King that none could

gaze upon, were not the eyes and heart

strengthened by glory.

Every pain and sorrow are gone.

There it is only a growing reunion,

and the wait is not as long as it seems

In the dull earth and vale of tears.

There, triumph is obtained,

but here, there is yet more

sowing in sorrow and struggle

In the morning, until the evening 

brings the joyful harvest.

Tears wash the eyes and the soul,

purifying, cleansing, refining;

tears mixed with grace, already

strengthening the eyes to see

what she sees.

*Euphrosynus was a 9th century monk from Alexandria serving in a kitchen monastery in Palestine. His humility & gentle spirit were evident.  He liked to remain quietly anonymous in his devotion. His far reaching spiritual heights were unknown to those around him.  He is known for one incident.

It is told that a head monk who fervently desired to know more of heaven prayed to see it and in a vision was walking in a beautiful garden that filled him with both joy & fear.  To his surprise, he also saw Euphrosynus, the cook from his monastery.  He asked Euphrosynus how he came to be there and he simply said, ¨through the great mercy of God.¨  The priest asked if he could have something from the beautiful place.  He decided on 3 luscious apples and Euphrosynus wrapped them up in a kerchief.

The next morning, the priest initially thought his vision was but a dream but next to him on a table were the 3 apples from Paradise.  The priest found Euphrosynus in church and asked him under oath where he had been the night before.  He answered, ¨the same place as you.¨ And explained that the Lord, in desiring to fulfill the prayer os the priest had shown him Paradise and given the fruit through him, ¨the lowly and unworthy servant of God, Euphrosynus.¨

The priest shared all this with the monastery brethren but Euphrosynus fled human glory and went to a place unknown, concealed except to God.  The monks always remembered St. Euphrosynus, and knew that they, too, ¨through the great mercy of God¨ would meet their brother someday in heaven. 

The slices of apples from Paradise were reverently used for blessing and healing.

The full story of St. Euphrosynus can be found here:

http://oca.org/saints/lives/2015/09/11/102581-st-euphrosynus-the-cook-of-alexandria

Here is the song which inspired the John´s verse about the music.  It is lovely!

¨give rest to the soul of the girl that you love...¨

SENSELESS

Who changed the artistry of my world?
For suddenly, all is Black and White.
Colors & designs are gone and beauty is hard to find.
I used to find it everywhere.

Where did the music go?
For suddenly, there are no lovely melodies,
No rhythm or harmony or dance tunes.
Only deafening silence or annoying loudness.

What cosmic chef stole the flavors?
For suddenly, neither food nor life has any.
No spice, no texture, nothing to set it apart.
There are no ¨parties in my mouth¨ anymore.

Which doctor anesthetized my nerves to feel?
For suddenly, I cannot touch what I love.
And what I touch has no feeling for me.
There is only a numbness in my fingers & my body.

What demon stole my sense of smell?
For suddenly, there are no roses or jasmine.
The lavender of life is only neutral.
Those natural scents used to intoxicate me.

The sudden absence of my dear one
has rendered my world senseless.
I can only press on in Black & White -
towards a future world & life of color,
of melodious notes, of flavor parties,
of wonderful, joyful textures in my hands,
and smells - oh! the smells!
of roses, jasmine & lavender again.



Photo by:  Joao Loureiro