"Grief is ugly. The journey through it is excruciating. When people have worked through it, they will bear scars. But they will feel cleansed, unburdened and full of hope. For strange as it may seem, people who travel this jagged road are almost always enriched. They are more realistic, more compassionate, more profoundly human. In short, they are nearly always more beautiful than they ever could have been before traveling through grief."
-Judith Tate Learning to Live Again: The Journey Through Grief for the Widowed or Divorced
This is an excellent quote, that I feel really captures my journey for the last nine months. A journey I am still in the middle of. It expresses the pain and healing that I have experienced. A scar is a very accurate description. I will never look the same as I did before. The scar is a part of who I am. I will never forget the wound. It reminds me never to make the same mistake again. It reminds me of the pain that may seem so long ago. But the great thing about a scar is that while it may remind me of the pain, it doesn't still hurt.
Someday this divorce will be just a scar. It's no longer a gaping wound, bleeding and infected. But it's also not completely healed. Sometimes the initial scab opens back up. It still hurts. It still bleeds. It's still tender. But it's healing. The pain isn't as bad or constant. And it's getting better. And someday, it will just be a scar. A beautiful scar that makes me who I am.
I would never wish this experience on anyone. But I would never go back to who I was before. I have learned things about myself and about life that I probably would not have learned otherwise. I believe it has made me "more realistic, more compassionate, more profoundly human". And I will be a more beautiful person because of the scars.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Grace for God
I read something last week that I've been chewing on quite a bit. I'm still not sure how I feel about it, but I do think there is something valuable in it. I was reading a pamphlet on being angry with God. It mentioned something from the Jewish tradition where a rabbi prayed that God would forgive him for the things he has done, and in turn he would forgive God for the things He has done. It raised an interesting thought: if we expect God to grant us grace and forgiveness for all the ways we mess up, can we offer the same to God?
The initial problem I have with this concept is that I believe God is perfect, and to say that he needs grace or forgiveness seems to contradict that. But it's not that God needs our grace (after all, who are we to forgive God), it's that we need to grant grace. I may know in my head that God is perfect, but there are still times that I wonder why He did or did not do something. Let's be honest: there is a reason that the question of theodicy is still debated. Theodicy is the theological term for the age-old question of why an all-powerful and good God would allow evil things to happen to good people. If God has the cure for cancer, is He responsible for keeping it from us? Tons of books have been written about the issue, and yet the question persists. We may answer the question in our heads, but when a situation hits our heart with the question, all those answers don't seem to matter. I believe it's one of those things that will never be fully understood until we get to heaven.
So can we offer God grace for the things He does that don't make sense and seem to betray His character? My CPE supervisor commented this week that our relationship with God tends to be so drastically different from any other relationship we have. She said she will never forget the day she realized that her earthly father couldn't protect her from everything. And she will never forget the day she realized her Heavenly Father couldn't protect her from everything either. But she knows He wants to. And He hurts just as much as she does. Why He protects some people from some things, and not others, I may never completely understand. But I am not called to understand everything completely. Faith has to play some role.
If God is truly our friend, and we treat Him that way, should we not offer to Him the same grace we expect from Him? My head may know that He is perfect and does nothing wrong. But my heart wonders sometimes.
Don't write me off as a heretic who's gone off the deep end. I'm not trying to convince you of anything. These are just my theological questionings. It's something I'm chewing on.
The initial problem I have with this concept is that I believe God is perfect, and to say that he needs grace or forgiveness seems to contradict that. But it's not that God needs our grace (after all, who are we to forgive God), it's that we need to grant grace. I may know in my head that God is perfect, but there are still times that I wonder why He did or did not do something. Let's be honest: there is a reason that the question of theodicy is still debated. Theodicy is the theological term for the age-old question of why an all-powerful and good God would allow evil things to happen to good people. If God has the cure for cancer, is He responsible for keeping it from us? Tons of books have been written about the issue, and yet the question persists. We may answer the question in our heads, but when a situation hits our heart with the question, all those answers don't seem to matter. I believe it's one of those things that will never be fully understood until we get to heaven.
So can we offer God grace for the things He does that don't make sense and seem to betray His character? My CPE supervisor commented this week that our relationship with God tends to be so drastically different from any other relationship we have. She said she will never forget the day she realized that her earthly father couldn't protect her from everything. And she will never forget the day she realized her Heavenly Father couldn't protect her from everything either. But she knows He wants to. And He hurts just as much as she does. Why He protects some people from some things, and not others, I may never completely understand. But I am not called to understand everything completely. Faith has to play some role.
If God is truly our friend, and we treat Him that way, should we not offer to Him the same grace we expect from Him? My head may know that He is perfect and does nothing wrong. But my heart wonders sometimes.
Don't write me off as a heretic who's gone off the deep end. I'm not trying to convince you of anything. These are just my theological questionings. It's something I'm chewing on.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Donate blood
Allow me a soapbox for a minute (isn't that what a blog is for?). I donated blood yesterday because I feel strongly that it's a very good thing to do. I think it was my 14th pint total, over the course of about 6 years. I heard a story on Thursday of a little boy who received about that much blood while he was in the hospital with constant bleeding. They ended up fixing the problem, and he survived. It illustrates the value and necessity of donating blood. The blood I've donated over 6 years was depleted in a matter of weeks by one person. But what a precious gift to be able to give new life to a little boy. It didn't cost me a thing, but it's value cannot be measured. Despite all the advances in medical technology, we cannot manufacture or reproduce human blood. And as a Christian I am saved by Christ's blood. While on a smaller scale, we can also save someone's life by our blood.
Most of the blood I've donated was while I was in Michigan, and was donated through the Red Cross. When I came down to Florida, I went to the Florida Blood Center because they are the primary ones in the area. I love donating to them. The Red Cross does great things in all their disaster relief stuff, but as far as giving blood goes, they could learn from FBC. They use Chlorhexidine gluconate to sterilize the area rather than the betadine that the Red Cross uses. The betadine leaves a purple mess on your arm that I would have to clean up afterwards, whereas the chlorhexidine gluconate evaporates and leaves nothing behind. I also will rarely have a wait at FBC where the Red Cross would take me an hour to an hour and a half. But probably the best advantage of FBC is all the coupons and gift cards. I haven't been anywhere that actually pays for blood. The Red Cross would give cookies and juice to me, but that's it. FBC gives me that as well, but also get area companies to donate coupons, gift cards, etc. I think I've donated 5 times in the 10 months I've been here, and have gotten at least $65 in gift cards, a free oil change, a free pint of Godiva ice cream, two t-shirts, and lots of coupons to Orlando touristy places. Donating blood is a great enough thing in and of itself, but all the other stuff just make it even better (and encourage me to donate as often as possible). I have managed to time it so that I will be able to donate one more time before I leave, which I am glad about.
I know a lot of people don't like needles. I don't enjoy being stuck, but it's not that bad. I can think of many more painful ways to lose a pint of blood! 5 seconds of pain for the chance to save someone's life, $10-$20 in gift certificates, and free juice and cookies. Definitely an easy choice. I know some people can't donate blood because of traveling or medical conditions. But for all you other healthy people out there, go save someone's life! And if you live near an FBC, take advantage of them while you have them. They are great.
Most of the blood I've donated was while I was in Michigan, and was donated through the Red Cross. When I came down to Florida, I went to the Florida Blood Center because they are the primary ones in the area. I love donating to them. The Red Cross does great things in all their disaster relief stuff, but as far as giving blood goes, they could learn from FBC. They use Chlorhexidine gluconate to sterilize the area rather than the betadine that the Red Cross uses. The betadine leaves a purple mess on your arm that I would have to clean up afterwards, whereas the chlorhexidine gluconate evaporates and leaves nothing behind. I also will rarely have a wait at FBC where the Red Cross would take me an hour to an hour and a half. But probably the best advantage of FBC is all the coupons and gift cards. I haven't been anywhere that actually pays for blood. The Red Cross would give cookies and juice to me, but that's it. FBC gives me that as well, but also get area companies to donate coupons, gift cards, etc. I think I've donated 5 times in the 10 months I've been here, and have gotten at least $65 in gift cards, a free oil change, a free pint of Godiva ice cream, two t-shirts, and lots of coupons to Orlando touristy places. Donating blood is a great enough thing in and of itself, but all the other stuff just make it even better (and encourage me to donate as often as possible). I have managed to time it so that I will be able to donate one more time before I leave, which I am glad about.
I know a lot of people don't like needles. I don't enjoy being stuck, but it's not that bad. I can think of many more painful ways to lose a pint of blood! 5 seconds of pain for the chance to save someone's life, $10-$20 in gift certificates, and free juice and cookies. Definitely an easy choice. I know some people can't donate blood because of traveling or medical conditions. But for all you other healthy people out there, go save someone's life! And if you live near an FBC, take advantage of them while you have them. They are great.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Knowledge vs. clarity
I went to a divorce support group at Forest Lake today. My primary reason for going was to see how they did their group, as I am wanting to start one in Michigan. I am the first to admit that I wasn't very optimistic today when I went. But that was because of a bad encounter I had in a similar meeting on Divorce Care by the same guy a couple weeks ago. I thought it may have just been the setting we were in, so I decided to try the actual group once, even if it was just to learn what not to do. My primary issue is the approach they take, which is clearly illustrated in the format. It's a two hour session. The first hour and a half were spent watching two videos on various aspects of divorce. The last half hour was spent in discussion.
To me, this is telling the person that their primary problem is lack of information. If only you knew all this information, you wouldn't be having this problem. It's somewhat demeaning and insulting! And who are you to tell me how I am supposed to grieve! I will admit that some information is needed, and sometimes we need to be reminded of what we already know. But I believe there's a better way to do that than preaching. It is much more effective to help a person find their own answers. Most of the time, the problem is not that we don't know the answer (devoid of information), it's that we haven't been able to think through the entire mess of our head (devoid of clarity). If we simply present information, it simply puts a band-aid over the mess. If you then want to do something about the mess, you have to pull back the band-aid, which seems like regression, so you wouldn't be inclined to do that. So we have an idea of what we think things are supposed to look like, but we still don't really know how to get there.
The other issue is that a video or preaching has to be somewhat general, as it doesn't exactly know where people are. But the problem is that grief (and life in general) is a balance. Look at anger, for example (the subject of one of the videos). On the one extreme, anger can lead to violence, murder, bitterness, and many other things. But if we deny and suppress anger all together, it simply rots, festers, and grows worse. And finding the balance of expressing anger in healthy ways can be very difficult. Especially since people express their feelings in different ways. The only way to find this balance is in a personal way. It can't be done in general preaching (whether videotaped or live). It takes time. It takes a lot of work. But divorce isn't a quick and efficient process. It's certainly easier to tell people what to do and how they should be, and then let them put it together on their own. But part of the problem is that a grieving mind is not usually thinking clearly. I've been there. I know. I needed help and simply time to make sense of everything.
As I was thinking about all this, I thought of an interesting reality. A newspaper costs 35 cents (at least some of them do), and is full of advice. The internet is full of free advice. Most people are eager to give their opinion. It is not hard to find advice. But it can be hard to find someone to listen. Many people (myself included) pay $130 to have someone listen to them for an hour. Yes a counselor does more than just listen, and insurance does pay most of that cost, but it does illustrate the value of having someone listen to you. As a chaplain, that's what I do most. Most people already know what I would tell them, and they aren't listening anyway. They won't remember what I say; but they will remember that I stopped and simply listened. And if there is something they really are wanting to know, they are much more likely to listen and absorb it if they ask than if I just decide to tell them. I guess I've vented enough about this whole issue. But it's something I feel very strongly about. Thanks for listening.
To me, this is telling the person that their primary problem is lack of information. If only you knew all this information, you wouldn't be having this problem. It's somewhat demeaning and insulting! And who are you to tell me how I am supposed to grieve! I will admit that some information is needed, and sometimes we need to be reminded of what we already know. But I believe there's a better way to do that than preaching. It is much more effective to help a person find their own answers. Most of the time, the problem is not that we don't know the answer (devoid of information), it's that we haven't been able to think through the entire mess of our head (devoid of clarity). If we simply present information, it simply puts a band-aid over the mess. If you then want to do something about the mess, you have to pull back the band-aid, which seems like regression, so you wouldn't be inclined to do that. So we have an idea of what we think things are supposed to look like, but we still don't really know how to get there.
The other issue is that a video or preaching has to be somewhat general, as it doesn't exactly know where people are. But the problem is that grief (and life in general) is a balance. Look at anger, for example (the subject of one of the videos). On the one extreme, anger can lead to violence, murder, bitterness, and many other things. But if we deny and suppress anger all together, it simply rots, festers, and grows worse. And finding the balance of expressing anger in healthy ways can be very difficult. Especially since people express their feelings in different ways. The only way to find this balance is in a personal way. It can't be done in general preaching (whether videotaped or live). It takes time. It takes a lot of work. But divorce isn't a quick and efficient process. It's certainly easier to tell people what to do and how they should be, and then let them put it together on their own. But part of the problem is that a grieving mind is not usually thinking clearly. I've been there. I know. I needed help and simply time to make sense of everything.
As I was thinking about all this, I thought of an interesting reality. A newspaper costs 35 cents (at least some of them do), and is full of advice. The internet is full of free advice. Most people are eager to give their opinion. It is not hard to find advice. But it can be hard to find someone to listen. Many people (myself included) pay $130 to have someone listen to them for an hour. Yes a counselor does more than just listen, and insurance does pay most of that cost, but it does illustrate the value of having someone listen to you. As a chaplain, that's what I do most. Most people already know what I would tell them, and they aren't listening anyway. They won't remember what I say; but they will remember that I stopped and simply listened. And if there is something they really are wanting to know, they are much more likely to listen and absorb it if they ask than if I just decide to tell them. I guess I've vented enough about this whole issue. But it's something I feel very strongly about. Thanks for listening.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Yea though I walk
I was thinking today about another comment my counselor made awhile back. We were again talking about this sense of urgency I had to get things "solved" or "fixed". He said to me, "It sounds like you want to rewrite the 23rd Psalm to say 'Yea though I run through the valley of the shadow of death.'". It really struck me, and has been a source of contemplation for me. Why shouldn't we run through the pain? What is the purpose of walking? Naturally I want to rush through the painful times to get to the point where I feel better. And yet, it seems that there is value in walking. Perhaps the experience is more important than the end result. Perhaps there is something we miss when we run.
And what am I running from? Pain seems to be the obvious answer. But can I ever escape pain? Is it not a part of life? Is it not what makes me stronger? I view pain as an enemy to be conquered. When something happens that causes me pain, I see what can be done to avoid that pain again. This results in growth. And because of that growth, I am a much better person. So in some ways, that pain that I hate so much is also my ally.
My divorce is a great example of this. It has caused me more pain than I have ever had before. It's something that I would not wish on anyone, and hope I never endure again. And yet, if given the option, I wouldn't go back to the person I was before. I have grown and changed so much because of this divorce, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
But I find myself just wanting it to be over. I am sick of the pain. I know that I am on the upward part of the valley. Sometimes I can see the light at the top so clearly that I forget I'm still in the valley. Until I trip on something and am reminded that I am not there yet. The valley is still here, and so is the pain. I suppose that means growth is still here as well, but that's only a mild encouragement. I wish I could run. I wish I could get it all over with. I want to move on. And yet this divorce will probably never be completely over. It will impact me for the rest of my life, and hit me when I least expect it. For such are the characteristics of grief. The wound may heal, but there will always be a scar. A scar to remind me of the pain so that I won't go through it again. But until that time, I will try to walk.
And what am I running from? Pain seems to be the obvious answer. But can I ever escape pain? Is it not a part of life? Is it not what makes me stronger? I view pain as an enemy to be conquered. When something happens that causes me pain, I see what can be done to avoid that pain again. This results in growth. And because of that growth, I am a much better person. So in some ways, that pain that I hate so much is also my ally.
My divorce is a great example of this. It has caused me more pain than I have ever had before. It's something that I would not wish on anyone, and hope I never endure again. And yet, if given the option, I wouldn't go back to the person I was before. I have grown and changed so much because of this divorce, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.
But I find myself just wanting it to be over. I am sick of the pain. I know that I am on the upward part of the valley. Sometimes I can see the light at the top so clearly that I forget I'm still in the valley. Until I trip on something and am reminded that I am not there yet. The valley is still here, and so is the pain. I suppose that means growth is still here as well, but that's only a mild encouragement. I wish I could run. I wish I could get it all over with. I want to move on. And yet this divorce will probably never be completely over. It will impact me for the rest of my life, and hit me when I least expect it. For such are the characteristics of grief. The wound may heal, but there will always be a scar. A scar to remind me of the pain so that I won't go through it again. But until that time, I will try to walk.
Puzzle
This is a puzzle that I have hanging in my living room. It is an expression of my life, and a reminder to me as well.
I have been meeting with a counselor to help me deal with my divorce. One day we were discussing my preoccupation of having others think I am perfect. I know that I’m not perfect, but I like to portray that picture to others. That has been one of the most difficult implications of this divorce for me, it shatters that picture. I had this drive to get everything figured out and have everything be “right”. And I wanted it done quickly, before people saw that I didn’t have it all together. He asked me, “If you are putting together a puzzle, and are missing several pieces, if you put together all the pieces you have, is the puzzle perfect?” It was something I hadn’t really thought about before. If you don’t have all the pieces, it’s impossible to have the entire thing together. I don’t have to have all the pieces in place. In fact, I never will. But that’s OK. I can be happy with having done my best with what I have been given so far. I started a puzzle to illustrate and remind me of this concept. Some of the pieces I have lost (or should I say my cat lost for me). Some places I looked and looked for the right piece, and could never find it. Some pieces I have, I just haven’t gotten them in place right now.
Like any metaphor, it’s not perfect. In retrospect, if this is an expression of my life, I should have a lot more pieces missing! But I got caught up with putting the puzzle together, and didn’t want to stop. When you’re working with a puzzle, after you’ve put a piece in place, you can be pretty sure that it’s in the right place. In life, it’s not that easy. I have often discovered pieces that I thought were in the right place were not. There are also times that pieces I had in place fall out. In life, it’s rarely a continually steady progression. But despite these differences, this puzzle has been a powerful reminder to me that I am “a work in progress”, and that’s OK. I can hang my incompleteness proudly on my wall for others to see. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
By the way, the puzzle is of Thomas Kinkade’s painting Courage.
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