Friday, September 5, 2008
Deep Creek 08
The family vacation has drawn to a close. I will admit I had a great time although I had higher hopes and set myself for some disappointment. Overall I learned that loving isn’t easy. It isn’t always romantic. It isn’t always fun. It is work. Looking back over the last few days I don’t think I did a very good job. I am very selfish and individualistic. I don’t always look for the best in everyone and I don’t always listen with an open mind and an open heart. I don’t try to have conversations that don’t seem of value to or for me. I wish I were more inquiring, more accepting, more…loving…unconditional. Please help me!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
My eyes are dried out. It finally hit me and all I could do was cry. Big tears. Longing to leave my body. They wouldn’t stop. All the facades found to be only allusions of a recreated being. It was like looking into a mirror for the first time in what seems to be forever. Understanding doesn’t always come easy. Sometimes it takes staring hard into blunt realities. The adding up of all the logic in the world won’t provide the answer. Feelings have to be given permission to do their thing. Completely and utterly letting go of everything that holding on doesn’t allow. Realizing that it is ok to be vulnerable and imperfect more for myself than for anyone else. A mess of emotions running out with the tears. This is what being human is all about. Admitting to myself that I can’t do it all. I can’t be everything or everywhere I want to be. Just a speck. A twinkle. Grain of sand. Moment in time. Not able to be anything more or less than what God has created me to be. I wasn’t created to be able to do it all.
Understanding what happened a little better. What I must have made you feel like. We both felt helpless and victimized by the changes. Change is hard. Like taking all of our creations and turning them inside out until they are no longer recognizable by the same terms. For instance our favorite spot to sit and talk, where we go to get our coffee, or what makes our relationship different from others. It starts because something that once was. is less frequent and we convince ourselves that it is better to be completely banished than to be defined in different terms such as infrequent. It fits into an “all” or “nothing” mentality that ruins anything that might remain. Destroying the whole relationship and not working through the difficulties of change. Looking back I see it so clearly, but what do I do when the roles have changed? I feel like all the challenges still exist and I am part of their remains. Trying to hold on to the core while everything around it is morphing into something different.
Understanding what happened a little better. What I must have made you feel like. We both felt helpless and victimized by the changes. Change is hard. Like taking all of our creations and turning them inside out until they are no longer recognizable by the same terms. For instance our favorite spot to sit and talk, where we go to get our coffee, or what makes our relationship different from others. It starts because something that once was. is less frequent and we convince ourselves that it is better to be completely banished than to be defined in different terms such as infrequent. It fits into an “all” or “nothing” mentality that ruins anything that might remain. Destroying the whole relationship and not working through the difficulties of change. Looking back I see it so clearly, but what do I do when the roles have changed? I feel like all the challenges still exist and I am part of their remains. Trying to hold on to the core while everything around it is morphing into something different.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
“First they came for the Communists,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one
left to speak up for me.”
by Rev. Martin Niemoller, 1945
It was the perfect day. The skies were blue and there was a cool breeze. My friends and I were in Boston for a few days and we decided to walk through the Holocaust memorial. This was my second time through it and it impacted me just a deeply. I prefer to walk through it alone. This wasn’t our first activity we had been walking around a lot before making this stop. Our feelings about Boston were mixed. It is a beautiful city, but it seems like there is an underlying arrogance from some of the locals. Not only arrogance, but a bitterness. We felt out of place. It seemed as though you had to be a local to be part of what felt like was an elite group. Just before we arrived at the memorial we were walking around with our map trying to find it. As we were walking two women asked us what we were looking for. We told them we were looking for Fannuiel Hall. They said that we were very close and pointed us in the right direction. They also told us what areas of town to avoid after dark; they were a credible source because they worked for the D.A.’s office. It was one of the few congenial interactions we had while visiting Boston. I don’t think they had lived in Boston for their entire lives, but I would consider them locals if nothing other than to give them a boost for redemption. I hope that I can love people that I don’t know even if it is in a simple way. You never know when that person needs a gentle reminder to refresh their hope in humanity. This quote from Rev. Niemoller is a great reminder of what happens when we don’t take ever opportunity to help and love those around us. How do I get involved with things that don’t effect me directly? I must speak for those who don’t have a voice or aren’t given the platform they need. I want to plead the case of the forgotten.
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Communist.
Then they came for the Jews,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I wasn’t a Jew.
Then they came for the Catholics,
and I didn’t speak up,
because I was a Protestant.
Then they came for me,
and by that time there was no one
left to speak up for me.”
by Rev. Martin Niemoller, 1945
It was the perfect day. The skies were blue and there was a cool breeze. My friends and I were in Boston for a few days and we decided to walk through the Holocaust memorial. This was my second time through it and it impacted me just a deeply. I prefer to walk through it alone. This wasn’t our first activity we had been walking around a lot before making this stop. Our feelings about Boston were mixed. It is a beautiful city, but it seems like there is an underlying arrogance from some of the locals. Not only arrogance, but a bitterness. We felt out of place. It seemed as though you had to be a local to be part of what felt like was an elite group. Just before we arrived at the memorial we were walking around with our map trying to find it. As we were walking two women asked us what we were looking for. We told them we were looking for Fannuiel Hall. They said that we were very close and pointed us in the right direction. They also told us what areas of town to avoid after dark; they were a credible source because they worked for the D.A.’s office. It was one of the few congenial interactions we had while visiting Boston. I don’t think they had lived in Boston for their entire lives, but I would consider them locals if nothing other than to give them a boost for redemption. I hope that I can love people that I don’t know even if it is in a simple way. You never know when that person needs a gentle reminder to refresh their hope in humanity. This quote from Rev. Niemoller is a great reminder of what happens when we don’t take ever opportunity to help and love those around us. How do I get involved with things that don’t effect me directly? I must speak for those who don’t have a voice or aren’t given the platform they need. I want to plead the case of the forgotten.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)