In the end.... the words of Love

I never considered myself a feminist- I was trying to fill out a bra when other women were burning theirs. But recently I came face to face with patriarchy in all its assumed power and I was really pissed off. My intuition and research and thoughtful words spoken into a touchy family issue of elder care were all dismissed. After a quick one-time visit, the men in the situation were convinced that all was well. The man in charge has it well in hand, his records are orderly, the apartment is clean- "Butt out, sister". In this case, it's more "butt out, cousin", because I am not actually a daughter or a sister. I was informed that even if I were a daughter-in-law, I "wouldn't get a vote". Just writing that paragraph gets my blood pressure up and my stomach in a twist.

Informing me in this particular confrontation is my knowledge of the history- family disputes, alcoholism, greed, cognitive decline and the like- all quite irrelevant to my heart's response. I was hurt. I was dismissed. I was not valued. I was put in my place. And I dug into past occasions of being dismissed- by my father ("Learn to type, at least you could be a secretary.") and my husband ("You don't know anything about fiances. What will you do after I'm gone?"). I'm not enough, I'm not one of "them", the powerful, the knowing, the competent.


In my new writing discipline, I examined  my thoughts as they flow out and I write on the emotions under the thoughts.   For this entire week I kept writing- "Did I do enough? Could I have said it in a more winsome way? Do I have any rights to be part of the solution?" Why aren't my thoughts and points valid even if I'm only a cousin. Why should these dysfunctional men have all the rights even if they're the sons?"

My first conclusion is this isn't worth it. I'm going to quit trying, Maybe I'm wrong anyway, maybe I didn't see what I thought I saw.  I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself next time. I'm going to protect my feelings.

I doubt myself so quickly. I'd rather be blissfully ignorant hiking in my Hills than attacked and emotionally wounded. Clearly I'm not articulate or I would have been listened to. Why can't I defend myself?

Can you see my thoughts spiraling down, down? I can think myself right into a dark hole. A hole of self-doubt and regret and anxiety. I wasn't sleeping- my thoughts were dominated with what happened, why, and more why. When I'm down and out and confused, I need someone who can hear my heart, I need my sister. My sister- the rational voice into my jumbled thoughts. The brain of my heart. As usual she cut to the crux of the matter.

"He doesn't deserve anymore of your energy.

This is an emotional pinball machine and he's pulling all the levers.

Take your ball and leave."

Wisely she asked,  "What was your intent for the visit? Did those people hear your voice, need your words?  Did you support another woman  who was also trying to help?  The important message was the word of Love and you spoke it."

Yes. Yes. Yes. I spoke love and concern and "I'm on your side. I'm here if you need me." I supported the other woman even closer to the situation than I am. To her my words and actions said, "I support you. I see your heart. I know your intentions."  To my elderly cousins- much loved, more like a dear aunt and uncle, I'm the daughter of their heart since they only had boys- those two dear ones know I love them, know I care, know I am watching and cannot be dismissed. My words were heard, my message was received.

The patriarchy can continue in my extended family, the men can think they know best and make the best decisions.  But I know- words and actions of love and compassion trump any attitude of dismissal. I wasn't dismissed by the ones I went to love, I wasn't ignored or demeaned.  I was loved in return, I was heard and I heard them.  In the end, the ones who dominate and determine can continue their ways, I stand strong and more confident than ever that the word of Love wins in the end.

The pull of the moon.

Insomnia

Tidal ponds wax and wane with cycles of the moon,

rising, falling; increasing, decreasing.

Hanging luminous in the branches of a South Dakota tree,

super moon draws me from my bed,

Are the creatures of the sea sleepless

as well, as the moon tugs

us, from our comfort? KC

This week's super moon kept me up all night. As sleep eluded me, I wandered the porch and remembered my years in Italy.  



There was no air conditioning in southern Italy and the air hung still and heavy in the hot summer nights. I would slip into my daughter's room and will the thick metal door to open without its customary squeak. Then on tiptoe, I'd ascend the stairs to the patio, set on the flat roof.  Standing on cool cement, arms open for any breeze that might stir up from the nearby lake, I'd glare at the full moon.  

The Mediterranean Sea was merely a dark strip of water reflecting moonlight in the distance.  Under the bemused full moon, I would gaze in envy at the sleeping blocks around me and end with a long look south to the soft triangle of Mt. Vesuvius. It was thrilling during the day but in the midst of my night watch I only looked for any signs of its awakening. 

Familiar fear stirred in my gut and my dark questions trickled back. What would I take from my house if that dormant thing came alive and blew up? How much time would we have? Did I have fresh asthma medicine? Should we have a better air mask for him? Why did I live so far from home? 
What was wrong with me that I could not just return to my husband's arms and rest? 

Restless, exhausted, I lay down on the chaise lounge, the plastic straps already damp with dew, and curled into a ball inside my thin cotton gown. And waited for the moon to leave me alone. 

Faith Matures

The Lord turns my darkness into light. 

"Christian faith is a leap into the unknown. Experience confirms the wisdom of every act of trust. The alternation of the darkness of faith leading to understanding, and understanding leading to illuminating the darkness of faith is the normal way that leads to growth in faith. Like everyone else, God wants to be accepted as he is - and he happens to be infinite, incomprehensible, inexpressible.  We have to accept him, then, in the darkness of faith.  It is only when we can accept God as he is that we can give up the desire for spiritual experiences that we can feel.  Faith is mature when we are at ease without particular experiences of God, when his presence is obvious without our having to reflect on it. One who has this faith simply opens his eyes and, wherever he looks, finds God." Thomas Keating, The Heart of the World

Several nights ago, before I tried to sleep, I stood on the porch and watched the moon climb the ridge. The air was cool and fresh. Quiet and luminous. 

 Early in the morning, I tucked my feet into moccasins and pulled on a sweater against the chill. I got in my car and drove out of my neighborhood with parking lights and followed the moon to a forest trail. 

The moon set, the sun rose.  




Back home in my cabin, a world and a lifetime away from the chaos of Naples, I heard a lone log truck downshift before the turn and growl up the climb to the timber forests down the road.

I inhaled the sweet air and watched the light dance across the pasture. I sat quietly and sipped tea, at peace with the pull of the moon. Finally, finding God everywhere I look. 

You are my lamp, O Lord;

the Lord turns my darkness into light. 

2 Samuel 19:29 NIV

Boundaries

I've been on another bike ride.  It's the season to be out and about in the beautiful countryside here in South Dakota.

We've had amazing rains and cool weather and the wildflowers have popped. Fields of them.

It's been great fun to drive through parks or hike on trails and see ....

Sunflowers

Purple burgamot

White yarrow....

Last week a new friend and I rode about twelve miles- uphill first, then down back to the car. That sequence always feels like a reward.  We're just getting to know each other so we shared our stories, and everything from food  preferences to our respective marriages.  We are both widows,  eat healthy or weird depending on your perspective, and met at a contemplative workshop so our faith is the glue.  It's a relationship I can see blossoming.

 

At one point on the trail, we rode through a tunnel of decent length .  You enter from the sunlight into the tunnel and the light penetrates about twenty feet onto the rough hewn stone.  The path is ahead and you can easily see the opening at the other end, with the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel showing the stone walls again.  Up to 1949 a passenger train traveled through this very tunnel.  Obviously there's plenty of room for a bike or two, even side by side. 

 

But in the middle, between the patches of light that glisten off the dark sides, it is pitch dark. Disorientatedly dark.  For a few seconds stretching into eternity, you are suspended. No sound, no light, no boundaries.  Only  your head knows you are still traveling toward light.


My friend and I were quiet but after a few yards out of the tunnel, we looked at each other. "That was uncomfortable."  And off we rode down the trail.  Safe in the light.

 

Humans need boundaries.  We use our senses to orient ourselves in the world. We see the horizon, we hear footsteps or cars approaching.  We feel the edge of the door frame in the dark of the night to get back to bed.  We even sniff before we eat and drink to confirm  our food.  When all of those senses are removed or blocked, we are lost.

What are other boundaries we need to keep our humanness "real",
 to be "found", not lost?


I love the saying, "Don't doubt in the dark what was revealed in the light."  Riding into the light at the beginning of the tunnel and seeing the light at the other end told me that the tunnel continued safely through.  The floor didn't disappear in the center. The walls were still safely there and holding up the stone ceiling.  But the utter darkness removed the signals I rely on to understand my world.
I had to trust.



I've been in other types of darkness.  I've lost my moorings and the old reliable symbols of safety in my world.  I've struggled with anger and wondered where the Transforming God was in all my frustration. I've wandered in the darkness of depression and wondered where the Comforting God was. I have held my precious child gasping for breath in the throes of asthma and I've sat at the deathbed of my beloved husband shuddering in the last breaths of life. Where is the Healing God in that void?

I didn't always trust what I knew was true. My intellect only went so far to keep me grounded. The bike ride through the void was only seconds long. It is much harder to remain in the darkness of disorientation when it lasts weeks, months or years.


At the time I didn't comprehend the Light at the other end of my emotional darkness. But He was there.


My anger didn't just go away.  I discovered the root of fear in my anger. God, who does transform, gently and slowly worked in me.  One day I realized I was no longer the angry woman I had been. I was changed.

My years of learning about myself through depression gave me the strength to be gentle with that self when I could have truly fallen off the edge of grief.  I learned deep in my spirit, there is always hope and resting in Him will eventually lead back to the light, back to the path.

My child with asthma grew up to be a runner and a man who is mindful of his health and now the health of his own child. He is compassionate and intentional about his body.  He has learned the limits of the human frame and, more importantly, the power of God to maintain health or heal to build faith.

And my husband passed into eternity, not easily or sweetly but fighting for every breath just like he fought for esteem and confidence in life.  His body could not overcome the Fall, just as none of ours will. But his spirit was healed by the God who is as interested in our spiritual wholeness as we are in our physical health.


Boundaries include more than physical ones. I observe when I'm missing the grounding of solitude or silence or a good night's rest.  I chose to be more aware of the visceral responses in my body when I'm confronted or offended. He is teaching me something new and healing my spiritual wounds.   And just like riding in the old railroad tunnel, I move through my discomfort- continuing in faith toward the Light.

http://www.blackhillsvisitor.com/featured-articles.html?pid=879&sid=952:Time-Line-of-Black-Hills-Railroads

http://www.rosyinn.com/5600a04.html