Friday, April 25, 2008

Faith

NOTE: Looking back at this post, I have to laugh out loud. The guy I was seeing when I wrote this post turned out to be a total asshole, ,maybe more kindly put, a gigantic chicken! Even though it hurts, I love irony, and had to edit this post so I can remember later. So note to self: stay away from bad boy chicken! Sunday, May 25 '08

I took a deep breath and opened the freezer. There it was, tucked in the back corner--among other frightening and freezer burned items--a box of opened and unfinished Banquet chicken. Quickly offering up a prayer of thanks to God that nothing looked alive or too much like a science experiment, I made a list of reasons why it would okay for me to eat the chicken.

I thought about how hungry I was. I hadn't eaten anything all day, was in dire need of some kind of protein source, and I didn't have the money to order out again. I reasoned that anything cooked at 400 degrees for 50 minutes would be safe to eat. And I needed to start eating at home again. Since my partner and I separated, I had been avoiding the place all together. It was simply too painful to spend much time there.

But things had to change.

For one thing, I was beginning to crave making dinner and even cookies again, at home. I deeply wanted to be able to have friends over again, to make brownies for my brother and his friends. I had visions of finally and reorganizing my apartment and making it immaculate, of ridding it of everything that was old or no longer useful. I wanted to be able to feel comfortable in my own space again, to make the rooms warm and comfortable. I longed to open the blinds again and to enjoy the new beginning of another merciful spring.

But after this vision of new hope, I looked in the freezer and all I saw was that damn chicken.

I think the faith journey is sometimes like this-- by the grace of God we have some kind of restored vision, God gives us a glimpse of a different way of living and being made new. But then we look around and all we see is old chicken! And then it seems impossible to discern what we really need spiritually--is it the chicken? Or is it something new we don't have yet or maybe can't even imagine having?

I believe many people experience hunger for God, for community and for healing. And there are certainly a lot of food items laying around for us to choose from. We have the freedom to engage in wild experiments, to see what really fulfills us. Of all the food items in my house that day the chicken certainly held the most promise. Ultimately though, I ended up eating a bit of it and deciding, no, in fact, I needed something totally new! Maybe someone with a more common sense would've realized this sooner!

In any event, I am comforted.

If I had enough faith to attempt eating that scary chicken, I think I can muster enough faith to believe that God has a larger plan for me to actively participate in-- one of love and joy and hope and rebirth--and other things that I know I could not create or imagine on my own. That's not to say there isn't struggle.

But I deeply hope and believe that God guides and gives us wisdom. If only we can resist becoming chickens ourselves, or even playing chicken with God, no matter what our Creator is calling us to do!

Monday, April 21, 2008

tall fall re call

i'm the 1
A.M. prayer collect call
outlasting 3
blasphemous hours at least

i pretend during the day you turn down
the listening part of your godhead
to mute the sounds i make--

later near the unmade bed
i kneel in
you reel me in and in your winding in
i'm born again

then stupid me i think
that i see can again

bind up my blind mind
that cannot find your mystery--
your gift is abstract time
and i'm high as the future

Friday, April 18, 2008

whoa...

the days are flying by.... things have been at a fever pitch at work and with my volunteer work.... i have planned an escape from all my responsibilities on may 16.... may 16.... may 16.... must keep going!

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

more grace

condensed version of the story: i needed a car on very short notice and didn't know where i would get one. Then God gave me the car below!! Isn't that cool?! The last car that I felt like God "gave" me was the 1996 Geo. Click here to read about all the fun i had in that :)

Sunday, April 13, 2008

spring

Not sure where to start or what to write. I feel filled up with thankfulness and gratitude for life and for the mercy and compassion I have been shown by others.

I know what I write here must come across as gloomy oftentimes. I am not exactly sure who is reading my blog at this point-- though I was recently surprised to find out that 20 people are subscribed through RSS feed (thanks to feedburner)! I was pretty convinced only one or two people were reading here anymore, so it was pretty neat to find out otherwise!

Anyway I just wanted to write that I am fine. I am more than fine actually. It sounds foreign and weird to say these next words, and I don't say them lightly, but I really know that God has been working in my life in a very powerful way. More and more I am having experiences that strengthen my faith and give me understanding about God's love and grace.

So um, all of that sounds nice, you may be thinking, but what the hell exactly does it mean? I used to hate when people would say stuff like that because it didn't make any sense. It sounded jargony. It sounded untrue. It sounded like something OTHER than my experience of God. So what do I mean?

Things like....going to church to volunteer, seeing someone else volunteering and starting to feel like I didn't need to come to church... and then having a person in need walk in the door a minute later and being able to help them... and realizing if that other person hadn't been there I wouldn't have been able to leave the church with the person who needed help. Things like talking to strangers and people in deep pain and being able to just be there, to just be comforting. I realize that because of my own pain, I can understand and help others.

Today in church the sermon was about compassion. As I was listening to it I realized that I am in a kind of reciprocal agreement with God. Maybe this doesn't make sense. What I mean is that I feel people have shown me mercy and compassion and have helped me, very often in the name of their faith, and in the name of God, and I feel like because of that, I am bound to do the same for others as an expression of my own faith. "Bound" is a weird term. It implies an obligation, and hmm I guess maybe I am "obligated"!

But i don't like that. I don't like the word "obligation". My faith is not an "obligation". Maybe its the same way a marriage works. You can pull out the piece of paper and talk about your commitments and obligations, but that's never what a good marriage is.

Lately I have realized that I am motivated by God's love and mercy in my own life.

That still sounds like a lot of jargon I guess, but its a start.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

poem

is there any reason I am on fire?
you ask me while my eyes
are closed while the heat and light
breaks through in bright (what else)
orange and red, i go

right through, I see the source
of my own blood,
of my own course. Then trouble
you too of course
then your own blood;
all trouble!

But have you ever known
that eager, undeniable, willing
sort of seeing? In the mourning
it slips up above the edge
and you start saying Oh my God

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

when God speaks, part 2

I had to make another post because the first one became too long.

Last night I went out to the lady's house I am house-sitting out in the woods and looked at my denomination's 900 page "so you want to go into the ministry in our denomination eh?" manual.

I read through this psych eval where they seem to penalize you for having divorced parents and other stuff and analyze every detail of your life. They look at you and divide your life into different skill areas. It seems like there must be some kind of points system. I wonder how many points "dad murdered grandfather" would get me?

Anyway it only took a couple of hours of looking at this terrifying document to realize that there was NO WAY I would be able to make it through the process. I wrote to my pastor and told him I had made a mistake and definitely was not called into ordained ministry.

Then today while driving to work, I started to think that maybe I am called to something, as I believe we all are, but just not to this. I started to think about poetry and about all the beautiful forms of poetry there are. I thought about sonnets and about all of the rules there are for writing structured poetry. And then I thought about free verse, and how there are technically no rules, but how you have to have an awareness of rules to do it well. And I thought to myself, if my calling is a kind of poem I am more like Howl and less like the structured process my denomination has people take. And I realized that it okay. In fact, its kind of cool.

Later today day I had a meeting that was planned at the last minute with an advocate I care deeply for and respect. She asked me to help coordinate a new work study we received through the college to help with our advocacy for the homeless. After we had met with the work study we continued to talk.

Out of the blue she asked me the question I have been asked before, the question that used to freak me out. And it goes like this: "Maria, have you ever thought about going into the ministry?" Then she started to tell me about the Unitarian church.

I told her I was shy. She said I was NOT shy, that I spoke up at every injustice, that I spoke for the voiceless, the powerless, that I did not tolerate injustice. She told me I had the Spirit of Christ and that the world needs pastors that actually love and have compassion for people.

It was all I could do not to cry. I knew it was God speaking back to me, answering me in a way that I would recognize. This happened less than 24 hours after I had told this other pastor that I was not called. God spoke to me through this woman. I realized that maybe she is right. But how could it be possible?

I really am one fucked up, traumatized individual. I know that I am half crazy. But damn I know what its like to suffer. I want to spend my life trying to ease people's pain, trying to give joy and hope to people. But how can I do that when a lot of the time that is not my own experience?

I guess I need this kind of peace always in my life and its just not always there. I want to experience God more than I do and help others get closer to the kind of peace that I sometimes feel, the kind of peace that i know, beyond a doubt, is from God.

when the God speaks, part 1

Lately I have been depressed. Depressed over the emptiness I feel in my life. It has been very confusing for me because my life is so full. How could I feel so empty? How could I feel like everything is so meaningless? But I did/do.

I feel angry at God for everything I have had to live through, even though I realize its futile. The last few days have been depressing in particular. Work has been crazy. The fallout from my relationship has been coming through in different weird ways. God taught me a little lesson the other day, luckily a kind one, one about just how quickly I would give up all kinds of responsibilities and self-respect, just to have one wild night with a guy (that didn't end up happening).

I finally went and saw a therapist. She said that I am an incredibly strong woman that has excelled at burying my pain and that when I feel emotionally numb it may be because I shut myself off from my emotions, and just focus on achieving. And truly, when she sat there and repeated back to me all the various things I told her I lived through, especially the part about my dad, I didn't feel anything at all. It felt like someone else's life. I certainly FELT like I SHOULD be alarmed, but I was completely numb.

Unfortunately though she said all of it just builds up like a pressure cooker (and she had this neat prop ready) and unless I let some of the pressure out, something bad will happen. Anyway just talking to her about this was very difficult, and I left feeling really crappy.

I realized she was right though. Stuff just boils over sometimes. I can think of instances. Once, a few months ago, I was sitting in church and in front of me there was a dad and his maybe 8 year old daughter. He suddenly put his hands on her hair to smooth it down. When I saw this, for whatever reason, I started crying in grief. It comes up and over me at weird times when I am unprepared to experience it.

I think this is because I haven't dealt with it.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

grief and the alaska option

I've always wanted to go to Alaska...someday. A few days ago I was at a coffee shop sitting at the bar talking with a friend. I was talking briefly about my breakup. The barista chimed in and asked me if I had tried rearranging the furniture in my apartment. I said I had and that it wasn't working anymore. Then he said a series of things that shocked me. If you know me you know that I am not shocked easily.

He suggested that I could go to Alaska. In response I said that I had heard once you go to Alaska you never come back. Then he told me that a girl broke his heart in five years ago and he finally had to leave town. He said he was so depressed he went to Alaska and worked on a fishing boat for two years nonstop. He said that after that the idea of coming back home didn't bother him anymore, he was so happy to be off the damn boat and out of the miserable cold.

So. I guess there's the Alaska option. I wonder what the "Alaska option" would be for me. For now though, Fiona Apple, red wine, workaholic-ism, prayer and the occasional cigarette will have to do. What would intense grief make you do? .....Is it REALLY always true that wherever you go there you are?

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Rain by Claribel Alegría (translated by Margaret S. Peden)

As the falling rain
trickles among the stones
memories come bubbling out.
It's as if the rain
had pierced my temples.
Streaming
streaming chaotically
come memories:
the reedy voice
of the servant
telling me tales
of ghosts.
They sat beside me
the ghosts
and the bed creaked
that purple-dark afternoon
when I learned you were leaving forever,
a gleaming pebble
from constant rubbing
becomes a comet.
Rain is falling
falling
and memories keep flooding by
they show me a senseless
world 
a voracious
world--abyss
ambush
whirlwind
spur
but I keep loving it
because I do
because of my five senses
because of my amazement
because every morning, 
because forever, I have loved it
without knowing why.