Responsible To Whom?

For two days now I have woken up praying my prayer about order with God (see earlier post for details). I keep changing the words, stopping to consider meanings and by the end feeling like it is a lot to manage. The simple prayer might be, God may I be responsible and available to you in this moment.

I was recently introduced to a concept of being responsible to others, rather then for them, about being with them rather then trying to handle situations for another. It is helpful as I watch people's houses foreclose, struggle through child custody battles, grapple with reasons to live and attempt to manage through the clutter of tasks that buzz in our ears. The list below takes me past trying to solve for this moment and builds for an enduring relationship.

• When I feel responsible for others…I fix, protect, rescue, control, carry their feelings and generally don’t listen.
• When I am responsive to others…I listen, show empathy, encourage, confront, share and am sensitive.
• When being responsible I feel…tired, anxious, fearful, and liable.
• When being responsive I feel…relaxed, free, and self-aware.
• When being responsible I care about…circumstances, solutions, answers, and being right.
• When being responsive I care about…feelings, relating one to one, and the (other) person making it on her own.
• When being responsible I expect…the (other) person to live up to my expectations.
• When being responsive I expect…the (other) person to be responsible for themselves.
• When being responsible I am…a manipulator
• When being responsive I am…a helpful guide.

(Retrieved from: http://hatch.us.com/2012/03/02/responsible-vs-responsive/)

Christ seems to be a master at this. In Mark 9, I was reading about this boy who is demon possessed and falling on the ground rolling and foaming and convusling. Jesus asks the man for a history and hears that the boy has been like this since childhood, almost dying from fire and water. How exhausting to be always afraid for his life. The man asks Jesus, saying, "If you can do anything, take pity on on us and help us!"Jesus puts it back on the man, saying, "If you can? All things are possible to him who believes." So the man gets it and cries out saying, "I do believe; help my unbelief." Then Jesus responds and sends the demon out of the boy, commanding the demon not to enter him again. 

This act of belief, trust and seeking healing with others is my work to. It isn't that I won't act, it is just that God is central and that I have to work towards belief in his power, and not my own ability to take on a task.

Change

I am working on a new way of saying no, that is not my original list of No's. Or my latest idea to say, "I'm not feeling up to it."

It is closer to things like,
- Its tough to say
- I will see if I can get to that
- I need to check
- I'm not sure
- Feel free to send me an email and I will consider

Part of me knows I just need to put time in to wait. I need to be comfortable with silence. Negotiators would argue that the person to speak first is the one that ends up not getting what they want. So if a question or task is out there, it is the first person who can't take the silence to do it. I do like doing some things, but I just can't yet differentiate which or manage to have a healthy balance. Here is a story in a few chapters that speaks to what happens when we consider change.    

• Autobiography in Five Short Chapters^[1]
  
  
  
  
  Chapter I
  I walk down the street.
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
  I fall in.
  I am lost ... I am helpless.
  It isn't my fault.
  It takes me forever to find a way out.
  
  Chapter II
  I walk down the same street.
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
  I pretend I don't see it.
  I fall in again.
  I can't believe I am in the same place.
  But it isn't my fault.
  It still takes a long time to get out.
  
  Chapter III
  I walk down the same street.
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
  I see it is there.
  I still fall in ... it's a habit.
  My eyes are open.
  I know where I am.
  It is my fault.
  I get out immediately.
  
  Chapter IV
  I walk down the same street.
  There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
  I walk around it.
  
  Chapter V
  I walk down another street.
  
  
  
  
  ----------------------
  [1] A poem and highly popular self-help and recovery text by Portia Nelson.
  
  
  
  
  
  

Ordering By Doing Nothing Urgent

I have not blogged in a while, due to my lack of ordering. I have not given myself permission to sit or read or write since before my camping trip. I haven't claimed any structured writing time, and have been constantly taking on other's stresses, their childcare needs, their moves, their hard days as if I am the only answer. My beautiful line, "I'm not feeling up to it," does not seem to compute with my bobbing head. We have been to cabins, had people here, camped, and said good-bye to the many who  transitioned to better lives outside Ann Arbor (which feels like everyone at this time of year).

I sit here between returning from a weekend trip, having family guests, leading the singing for Kids Camp and feel uncertain about what I should be doing in this moment between events. Writing seems somehow wrong, a waste as I avoid the to do's that will swallow me any minute. Beyond the set items, I keep thinking I need to be available to fifteen different people, supporting their immediate needs. The truth is I just don't trust that God has them and he is taking care of things (or maybe that they are capable of taking care of themselves?). I keep praying backwards for each of them, but the knot in my stomach doesn't loosen.

Oprah talked with Brene Brown about perfectionism as a way to avoid shame. In the article it says, "I am what I accomplish and how well I accomplish it." It's all about other people and avoiding. 

Read more: http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Life-Lessons-We-All-Need-to-Learn-Brene-Brown/2#ixzz2X9sV3Wv2

I am struck for the hundred and fourth time about how God is gifting me and that success or enjoyment in any of what I have, is a good goal. Just writing a sentence is a good choice. Believing I can sing and remember the words and I can be enough for my kids even when I am not there for a day, is a good choice. I don't need to feel guilty for not being enough, apologize for not doing more, try to squirm away from eyes, wait for a person to come and tell me a better way. I simply need to claim my own capabilities, and fight for living in the joy of imperfection, of chords strums or frog notes, sitting with my coffee and bottled water and listening to the buzz of a near-by air machines trying to fight back the heat.

Being Loved

I spent three coveted days with myself, as I sat in the presence of my closest friend. She listened, asked questions, and looked for deeper truths, what meanings lay beyond the obvious emotion or habitual response.

As we sat around the fire she made a comment that she was confused when we used to spend pleasant days together in Chicago, and when talking with others, I would retell bits as traumatic. As she spoke, I froze and my mind fought to find the shut down button.  I breathed hard and accepted the words. I tend to turn life into a dramatic debacle, even on the trip creating a list of what went wrong, no poles, rain, cold temps, etc. I began to ponder what telling the ugly version of my life might be about.

I change my stories to fit my audience. I also lie to everyone in the process. The stress of being exposed for my shifting perspectives hit hard as her words settled inside. My scripts spin like a kaleidoscope that doen't know when to stop. Thankfully, Melissa has spent a long time learning how to stop, and she helps me to do the same. We are able to sit in the pondering, in what Aquinas says in an end good, that of knowing. I want to know and share my stories consistently.

I sometimes wonder what to talk about, especially if everything is great. Do people fall asleep at a story of a wobbling liquid surface, soft sand and little boys trying to dig themselves under it. I gravitate attention towards stories of bee stings, falling off bikes and scraped up faces.

But God knows the truth (and so do close friends). I am hoping to just notice what is happening today. Hoping to see what my mind settles on, outside of organizing itself around someone else's life. I want to hear my voice, hear God's. To place everything else in my pockets to be sifted later. I want to let go of my defensive strategies, and capture the energy in Melissa's voice as she photographs a 38 foot sailing boat that might become her new home. Our conversations gravitate towards grasping aliveness and considering the threat posed by carbon dioxide. I go to sleep with my neighborhood looking dark, my boys breathing heavily, my unmade calls and chores in a pocket and rest knowing Melissa loves me both as I am today and for who she sees me becoming as she dreams up bigger living. Thank you God for showing up to reveal your love through her!

Prayer for Me

I recently went to the Christ the King (Catholic Church) Adoration room, a place where people adore Christ 24 hours a day. The idea is that God is more present there and so they have someone there at all times to worship God. On a poster are the words of Jesus to Peter, "So you could not stay awake with Me for even an hour."

The line makes me think of what I understand to be Catholic guilt. The sense that I am behind and my priorities no matter what they might be are off. So I am excited about the notion of committing to an order. I am working to create an internal space where I can hear God (cultivating this relationship).

It is harder to put first, but has started with prayer (which I adjust each time I pray it).

God, You are God of time, space, living, Me.
May I see you in your glory and praise You!

You imagined me, coded my cells, built my guts, knit fingers, colored eyes and breathed air into my belly. Your fingerprints marked my understanding towards you.

You know My days, my history, cast me in and pulled me out of fires for my good, out of a greater love, a greater desire I might feel your palm on my shoulder, know you knowing me intimately.

You continue to direct my ideas and plans. You want me to thrive, to hope big and to live anticipating and resting in your Promises fulfilled.

Help me order my mind to see your working in me. Open my ears to your wispers of truth and speak up, when I am deaf. May I find quiet, claim sanctuary at your table as your daughter, where you pray for my days, you support my knowing your good gifts and you dream for my tomorrow.

May I know the fullness of your love and cling to you as you guide my ordering. Examine my thoughts for truth and celebrate transformation. Protect my heart as you shift the voices within me to hear a wholeness of vision.

Speak through me, experiencing your Spirit work with boldness.

With your hands, may I attend to my self, laugh, weep openly, show up as yours, expressing myself in appearance, trusting and expecting your foot steps leading me forward.

May I live your calling - seeing my gifts, strengths, and passions towards
- loving you, me and everyone else
- sharing who you are within me
- Building relationships towards mutual freedom
- Blessing Children
- Drawing, Writing, Singing God as I turn towards your face and it glow on my own
- Owning doubt/limits as sidelines to experiencing being knowing and loved, soas to move towards you, awesome God.