I read or heard a famous author talk about his first published book. He said that after writing so many other books, he went back and read his first one. He said that it was just plain awful. Yet, he decided to publish it again to show people something. He said that, like anything in life, we grow and get better at things. He wanted to offer his first book to that concept.
I feel a little bit the same way about this blog. I've gone back and read some of it. I also have come to know that some of what I have said was misunderstood. I've struggled with posting something new for over a month now, not knowing how to resolve this personal struggle. I don't want to be misunderstood. I want people to quit making negative assumptions about me and see me as I grow. In this culture, we are taught to sit back and judge one another. We do it from across the room. We might be willing to write a letter, read a blog or send an email. When did we quit talking *with* each other. Where are the dialogues? Why is it so hard to walk across the room and talk to someone?
I, honestly, think that this is the biggest problem in most churches and families. In order to sit and talk with someone, you must make yourself vulnerable. You must be willing to listen to their side of the story. Most importantly, you are not going to be in control. You might hear something you didn't want to hear. You loose the ability to judge someone from a distance. You might realize that you were wrong about someone. You might realize that people grow and they change.
I think that is my biggest struggle right now. I want people to see me as a growing, learning person. I have learned from my mistakes, and I have paid for them. I want people to make an effort to get to know me, instead of judging me from across the room. Real, authentic, relationships require effort and time.
In the past couple of years, I have shed some pretty big layers. I have let go of a ton of things as I try to grow in this new skin of mine. As I was talking to a trusted friend, I told her that I feel so vulnerable. She told me that I *feel* vulnerable, because I am *being* vulnerable. I don't exactly like this feeling. I feel as if I have been rubbed raw with all that has happened lately. I hope that this is what I am supposed to be doing. I hope that there is some reason for it. I hope that people start seeing me for who I really am, as I try walking around in this new layer.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
I'm human too
Much of my time spent as a new grad nurse was not very rewarding. I fell victim to the 'we eat our young' philosophy of nursing. One particular experience left me with memories I have tried to forget.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
I was hired on as a postpartum/antepartum nurse. As part of my orientation, I spent 2 shifts on the labor and delivery unit. This L&D unit was a group of women hardened by working with the most critical patients in the area. They were asked to do impossible tasks, and not appreciated or paid well for their efforts. On top of that was an ongoing dislike and distrust for postpartum nurses.
I went with my preceptor into a delivery of a fetus. They had tried everything to stop the labor, but the baby was coming. I had overheard the discussion between the nurses and the resident over resuscitation of the baby. After determining that the baby was not viable, they informed the mom that the baby was not going to survive. She started sobbing and became hysterical. Unfortunately, she was a young mother with no one there to support her. The nurses were trying to explain things, the doctor was fretting over the decisions, and I was left in a corner. So upon delivery, the doctor placed the baby in the warmer next to me. As everyone started to focus on helping the mother, one nurse told me to keep watch over the baby. I looked down at this perfectly formed tiny baby. She was breathing! I was shocked. I did not question the decision not to resuscitate. I just wasn't prepared to watch this baby struggle for breath. Those experience, hardened nurses remembered that this child was a real human being. Since the mother was unable to hold the child, they wanted someone to be with her. So that left me, a brand new nurse with no training in how to handle any of this. Those nurses remembered that the baby was a human, but they forgot that I was. They made no effort to explain things to me, or help me in my task. They just left me to do the hardest job in the room. They ate the young one.
I am now one of those experienced nurses. I have spent 3 years working in an emergency department. We get used to many, many things. I catch myself as I offer up a new nurse to perform an unpleasant task. I, sometimes, am all to willing to eat the young nurses. Yet, someone grabbed a hold of me and reminded me that this is not the nurse I want to be. I want to be the nurse that remembers that my co-workers are human too. We nurses deserve to be treated with the same care and compassion that we give our patients. If we don't start taking care of ourselves, who will be left to care for the vulnerable? I am working very hard at taking care of myself. It is a huge commitment. Sometimes, I regret making this commitment. Sometimes, I want to be the nurse who refuses to take responsibility for her actions. I don't like examining my part of a problem. Worse than that, I feel like I am the only one doing it! But, I know that I am not. I have received too much help over the past 3 years defining who I am as a nurse. I work with some really great people. Hopefully, we will keep reminding ourselves that we nurses are humans too.
Adjusting my sails
Recently, someone told me that a good leader learns how to adjust his sails in order to keep going. I've only sailed once, and I ended up in a very cold lake! Hopefully, I've been able to do a better job of adjusting in real life. I certainly don't have any idea of where I am ultimately headed. I keep getting reminded that I am not in control anyway.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Last week, I walked into a meeting with someone, and he asked 'Are you OK?'. I reacted with the common answer, 'yes'. I, now, wish I had given the true answer. Not really. I've had a very hard couple of weeks trying to work through some things. I've decided to face how I am causing problems. I am looking, searching for the root cause of my anger and frustrations. I am becoming aware of how my anger and frustrations have affected others. It is hard to look inside and see how you hurt others. It has been easier for me to blog about how others have hurt me.
I, now, recognize there was a double edge to our decision to leave our church. I wanted our departure to hurt other people. I was hoping that they would feel the same hurt I was feeling. I think I would have acted differently if I had been more conscious of my intentions.
Also, last week, I was dealing with traumatic memories. I have sought care in coping with some of the events I have experienced as a nurse and EMT/paramedic. It is very hard to find someone willing and able to sit and listen as I rehash things. Yet, I will continue to keep my feelings bottled up if I don't spend time rehashing. I had several heart to heart talks with coworkers, colleagues and friends.
I will admit that I was rubbed a bit raw last week, wondering if I am doing anything right. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it. But, a kiss from one of my kids always helps me get things back into perspective. Getting authentic feedback is like a new gust of wind. I can adjust my sails with more accuracy now. My job as a mother and wife requires me to keep moving forward with this family as we try to find our way in this world. I am humbled, and grateful for those who do the work required for authentic feed back. However, next time someone asks me 'Are you ok?'. I might take a minute and try to give an authentic answer.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
and Dyin'
A few years ago, I was reading a book with stories of several midwives. I was shocked when I read that most of them spent time working in hospice or with terminally ill patients. I was still of the mindset that they are totally different realms of care taking. When I asked my midwife about this she said it was perfectly logical. "It is the two thresholds."
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
There is something very similar to creating a space for bringing a soul into this world, and dealing with the left over space as a soul leaves this world. I had the privilege of spending time with a group of women who gathered around another mom as she spent her last days on this earth. Fittingly, this same woman was a doula at the birth of my third child. I dedicate this story to her.
The emails started coming out, and we knew that she was nearing the end. One can only fight off the ravages of cancer for so long. I am a nurse, so when I saw an email about her developing a condition, I knew she was hours away from leaving us. Another nurse friend of mine recognized it. She started The Vigil. We would all meet in the lobby of the oncology floor to be present for our friend, and each other. Soon, a very motley crew of women formed. People were knitting, writing, working on the computer. Someone set up an altar on a table for us to place whatever we wanted to. We sat, cried, laughed, hugged and just simply waited. Waited, not knowing exactly when the event would happen, but sensing its approach. We searched for answers, not even understanding the questions to ask. Waiting. Finally, most of us decided it was time to head to our own homes, leaving a couple of us behind. Ultimately, death is a private event. As we hesitantly started leaving, the one who started The Vigil said that she wanted us to join in a circle and hold hands. Among us were Catholics, Pagans, Protestants and Jews. We had no common words so we just chanted one long Ohm. It's beautiful sound fading out as each of us released our own fears and anguish.
The call came very early in the morning for me. I was dreaming of my friend when the phone woke me. She was sitting in the middle of a circus, looking around at the lights, holding her daughter. The sound of the phone ring melting into the dream, bringing me out of it. As it happened, I had an appointment with one of the Episcopal Nuns at the Convent later that morning. Because I had gotten up so early, I made it in time for the Eucharist. As we approached the prayers for the departed, my tears started flowing, and I managed to utter the name of my friend. I sat in the chapel openly grieving, sobbing. I have never participated in communal grieving this way. Once I overcame my embarrassment, I found it cathartic.
The next day, on Sunday, we gathered at a friend's house on the lake. As a group of moms, we always came together to decorate something for an expecting mother. This time, we gathered to decorate a cardboard casket. It was a day full of tears and laughter. The children all got to paint whatever they wanted. It was amazing to watch them. For most of the children, it was their first experience with death. They got to see it as a celebration, and to feel the presence of a supportive group of people. Towards the end of the festivities, someone noticed a rainbow over the lake. Not one rainbow, but two appeared. It was a sight that I will never, ever forget. It seemed as God was telling us that everything would be OK. Something about a promise, a promise that tells us to trust the process. We really have no control over how we enter this world, or how we leave it. After this experience with dyin', I now know I can trust the process. I know that this group of moms will simply show up. We'll sing, chant, pray or whatever we need to do to help a soul as it leaves this world. I found this experience to be a very Holy one. It was a space filled with amazing people, renewed friendships and healing. I am so grateful for having shared it. Thanks Serenity, I am in your debt.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Birthin'
As I sit at my computer tonight, I am a bit maudlin. Our baby turns two years old tomorrow. Her entrance into our family has caused quite a stir. In honor of that day, I have decided to share some of the story surround her birth.....don't worry, I won't give too many details.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
I drove home from my Advance Cardiac Life Support Class. I had been feeling a bit uncomfortable, but wasn't due for another 2 weeks. Yet, something did seem a bit different. There was a beautiful full moon out. We live out in the country, so the stars and moon get very bright. As I went to sleep, I started to wonder if this would be the night. At about 2 am, I got the answer. My water broke while I laid in bed. I waited awhile to see if anything would happen. No real contractions, nothing. I finally got a bit nervous and woke up my husband to tell him we were going to have a baby today. We called the midwife to give her advanced notice. We then settled into waiting. I walked around our property, enjoying the full moon. It was interesting letting the moon light my way. I have never been brave enough to walk around at night with no flashlight, but this time was different. I wanted to visit the creek, and sit beside the running water. Finally, with no real contractions, I went back to bed. I realized that I needed sleep more than I needed a walk. Shortly the kids all woke up. We called a friend to take the kids away for a fun day at the lake. Steve and I sat around wondering what was going to happen.
At the onset of this pregnancy, I had made a firm decision. I had no preconceived notion of how or where I would give birth. We had planned for a home birth from the beginning, but understood the very real possibility of needing to go to the hospital. I had even verbalized to my midwife that I was going to be fine with a c-section, if I needed it. I had nothing to prove with birthing this baby. I realized that I had no real control over what was in store. I was just willing to trust my body, my midwife and this process.
I had a few contractions here and there. It was a matter of stopping what I was doing and moaning through them. Yet, I never had more that 3-4 an hour. I started getting frustrated and scared about a stalled labor. The birthing tub had been set up, I had napped. I even ate a full lunch. We spoke with the midwife all day. I was beginning to get nervous, realizing that a long labor was not a good thing. I called a Priest friend of mine. I asked her if she had any prayers for a stalled labor. Her answer startled me "What are you afraid of?" This question caught me off guard and caused me to think. I gave the standard answers of 'pain, something going wrong, a long labor'. She kept listening and I kept thinking. Finally, I was able to utter my deepest fear. I was simply afraid of the power that lay within me. I was afraid that I would have the birth that I had always dreamed of.
After I hung up with her, I had a really, really good cry. I had been holding a huge amount of stress in my body, and I needed to let it all go. I needed to prepare a space for this new soul to enter our family. After crying, I told my husband I was going to try to take a nap. Steve went to the other room to watch TV. A few short minutes later a contraction hit, then another, then another. I moaned through each of them. Soon, I heard Steve talking to the midwife on the phone telling her to come on over. After a few more contractions, I headed for the birthing pool set up in our bedroom. I soon realized that real labor had begun. With each contraction, I had to hold my husband's hand. I quickly learned to get a little ahead of the contraction and started my moaning early. It seemed to help me from fearing the intensity. I felt in total control of a totally out of control situation. Soon our midwife arrived with her assistant. Their presence was quiet and reassuring. Soon I began to push our baby out on my hands and knees while in the water. I felt her head pass out, and I reached down to feel it. I rubbed her hair while she remained in side of me. It was the most amazing feeling. There I was, in the middle of this incredibly physically, emotionally and spiritually demanding act. Yet, I was able to embrace it. I was even enjoying it. With the next contraction, she came out into the water. The midwife assistant and I fished her out of the water, and I pulled her to my chest. As I lay back, I realized that I had done it! I had delivered this baby, by myself! I did it! After looking to see that we had a new daughter, and a kiss from my midwife, I looked around. All I could say was 'God is in the room.'
The Presence of the Divine was so tangible at that moment. I had felt the powerful force of Healing. I had been surrounded by prayers and love. My midwife, her assistant and my husband had provided me the space to do what I needed to do. We, together, had created a Holy Space for the entrance of another soul into this world. While I do realize that it was a baby that was brought into the world, I think that she wasn't the only one to be born that day.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Blessed are the peacemakers...
Matthew 5: 9,10
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven."
So notice here, it does not say peacekeepers. I think there is a huge difference between one who makes peace, and one who keeps peace. Although, I am not exactly sure how someone might make peace. I think that Peace is actually when we rest in God's love. For in human terms, there is very little peace. I think there is primarily conflict. Yet, how do we deal with the inevitable conflict?
I think one of the most insidious ways of dealing with conflict is to avoid it at all costs. In order to do this, one must set up an appearance of peace. This forces people to become peacekeepers. At first, keeping the peace seems easy enough. It avoids the conflict at hand, and the peacekeeper gets immediate satisfaction. Yet, because this is only an appearance of peace, more and more effort goes towards appearances. I think slippery slope usually leads to someone being a 'peace monger.'
"Friedman (1996a, 1996b, 1999) had a special concern with emotional fields created by leaders that value togetherness over individuality, creativity, and/or imagination. He observed that Awhen a self-directed, imaginative, energetic, or creative member (low in the organizational hierarchy) is being consistently frustrated and sabotaged rather than encouraged and supported, 100 percent of the time it will be true that, regardless of whether the disruptors are supervisors, subordinates, or peers, the person at the very top of that institution will be a peace-monger@ (1996b, pp. 35-36), a person who believes good feelings are more important than progress, and who goes to great lengths to avoid anxiety and conflict at all costs."
(http://www.academicleadership.org/emprical_research/The_Edwin_Friedman_Model_of_Family_Systems_Thinking.shtml)
When I read this article, I was astonished. It gave me great insight into my own frustrations. I have been in several systems whose leaders were peace mongers. I now recognized that I was being sabotaged, and discouraged, for the sake of a sense of peace. It really had very little to do with my own abilities or creativity. It has very little to do with me in general.
So what did Jesus mean when he said 'Blessed are the peacemakers'? What does a peacemaker look like? I think that he is probably causing a bunch of trouble! He threatens a system's false sense of peace. He forces people to take a hard look at the reality of a situation, challenging their appearances. He doesn't settle for a false, terminal peace. He struggles for God's enduring Peace. I think that he simply makes room for God. That seems simple. Yet, in a world full of people wanting immediate ego gratification, that is harder than it looks. I think Jesus calls them Blessed because that he knows how hard this job is. In order to be a peacemaker, God must first bless you with the ability to perform this task. I suppose that making peace probably involves humility, kindness and discernment. I think that the peacemaker must be given the vision to see the greater picture, calling all of God's children into Love. All of God's children. Peace is meant for every person, not to be gained at the expense of another.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Repentance
A definition of Repentance found in the Episcopal Watchman, volume 2. Hartford, June 28, 1828.
"The word Repentance, in the original, signifies "a change or alteration of the mind, so as to influence one's subsequent conduct and behaviour for the better." It implies a conversion from sin to God; "not a single act or change, but a lasting, durable state of new life." "
Another definition:
1 : to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life
2 a : to feel regret or contrition b : to change one's mind
So, if one is Repentant, they take a very big turn in their life. It is not just 'I'm sorry'. It is action which, with God's help, can change one's life. I think that, perhaps, it can change the lives of all involved.
I sat explaining my recent experiences at church to a trusted friend. I, honestly, was afraid that she would judge me for going back to the same church. Instead, she seemed proud of me in explaining that I had repented when I left. It has taken me several weeks to start to understand this. I am beginning to realize that I might have created a 'lasting durable state of a new life'.
Repentance is harder than I ever could have imagined. I have spent a great deal of time and energy understanding my part in the issues at my church. I have also tried to express my regret and accountability. I worked very hard to try to show that I changed, and learned from my mistakes. Unfortunately, some people are not able to listen. Some people don't want to acknowledge this kind of growth in other people, because it threatens their perception of things. That is where my frustration reached the point of no return, and I left.
Fortunately, some people opened their eyes. Fortunately, some people kept after me. Fortunately, some people would not let me hide myself in this frustration. Fortunately, some people loved me enough for me to be able to see that love. A single act by a man at our church changed my life forever. He sat with me, imploring us to return to church. He understood our pain and frustration. He cried with me. Cried. He helped me see that we have a part to play in the healing of our church. He led our family back home. He joined us in an act of Repentance for all of the hurt at our church.
I have a new lease on life right now. I have found God incarnate in the words and actions of others at our church. I have experienced that Healing force of Repentance in a way I never thought possible. I never, ever, expected the act of walking away would become an act of Repentance. An act that helped turn me towards God and away from sin.
This is a crazy journey I am on right now. I don't get to understand all of it. I just keep showing up and trying to trust God to find me. For now, I will allow myself a moment of satisfaction. I get a glimpse of knowing that, every once in a while, I might be gaining an understanding of who I am in relationship to God. Repentance. Who would have thought it?
"The word Repentance, in the original, signifies "a change or alteration of the mind, so as to influence one's subsequent conduct and behaviour for the better." It implies a conversion from sin to God; "not a single act or change, but a lasting, durable state of new life." "
Another definition:
1 : to turn from sin and dedicate oneself to the amendment of one's life
2 a : to feel regret or contrition b : to change one's mind
So, if one is Repentant, they take a very big turn in their life. It is not just 'I'm sorry'. It is action which, with God's help, can change one's life. I think that, perhaps, it can change the lives of all involved.
I sat explaining my recent experiences at church to a trusted friend. I, honestly, was afraid that she would judge me for going back to the same church. Instead, she seemed proud of me in explaining that I had repented when I left. It has taken me several weeks to start to understand this. I am beginning to realize that I might have created a 'lasting durable state of a new life'.
Repentance is harder than I ever could have imagined. I have spent a great deal of time and energy understanding my part in the issues at my church. I have also tried to express my regret and accountability. I worked very hard to try to show that I changed, and learned from my mistakes. Unfortunately, some people are not able to listen. Some people don't want to acknowledge this kind of growth in other people, because it threatens their perception of things. That is where my frustration reached the point of no return, and I left.
Fortunately, some people opened their eyes. Fortunately, some people kept after me. Fortunately, some people would not let me hide myself in this frustration. Fortunately, some people loved me enough for me to be able to see that love. A single act by a man at our church changed my life forever. He sat with me, imploring us to return to church. He understood our pain and frustration. He cried with me. Cried. He helped me see that we have a part to play in the healing of our church. He led our family back home. He joined us in an act of Repentance for all of the hurt at our church.
I have a new lease on life right now. I have found God incarnate in the words and actions of others at our church. I have experienced that Healing force of Repentance in a way I never thought possible. I never, ever, expected the act of walking away would become an act of Repentance. An act that helped turn me towards God and away from sin.
This is a crazy journey I am on right now. I don't get to understand all of it. I just keep showing up and trying to trust God to find me. For now, I will allow myself a moment of satisfaction. I get a glimpse of knowing that, every once in a while, I might be gaining an understanding of who I am in relationship to God. Repentance. Who would have thought it?
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