The Healing Season

I admit I was a bit reluctant to read a book that was self-published by a friend, but being self-sacrificial and all (and it had a cool cover) I decided right away to take the plunge.

This was an absolutely amazing book.

One of the difficulties about writing a memoir like this is that so many authors are afraid to tell the truth and shy away from the reasons they needed healing in the first place, or they dwell so long on those reasons that you feel it is all a bit salacious.

I read a similar-genre book recently and was gravely disappointed because the author said she had needed healing, but didn't really show us why.  It is difficult to get into the story when half the story isn't told.

Shannyn Caldwell struck a perfect balance, drawing me into the fullness of her life pre-healing and explaining the baby steps made along the way, the slip ups, the tiny victories -before the magnificent conclusion.

This is a story of Christian salvation, which also factored into my reluctance to dive into her book before it was in my hands.  Many books featuring Christianity are frankly syrupy and irritating, not sharing the stories of the difficulty every Christian faces, but talking only of the sublimity of life in Christ.  All well and good, if one is a saint- but even St Theresa once said to God, "If this is how you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!"  Following Christ is not an easy choice, and it is a choice one has to make every moment, in every decision.

Shannyn's life had cracks in it before the tornado that killed her parents ever touched down.  The tornado smashed what was left, and she deftly shows that but for the saving love of Christ, the pieces would never be healed together.

As I sat at Phoenix Sky Harbor, gate A25, tears streaming down my face, I knew that this book is rare in the realm of spirituality, and a must-read for anyone seeking healing for a life too crushed to be made whole alone.

Sugar Fast

So, Lent is here, and my niece and I decided to give up sweets and be all strong for each other and stuff.  Her immediate family, being big and having so many girls in it, always has something going on, so my sugar fast is offered up for her family, for peace and love and happiness.

While my niece was here and we were playing tourist, for the most part it really wasn't hard.  I was happy and relaxed and going with the flow.

I returned to work yesterday and within two hours I was jonesing for cookies and daydreaming about salted caramel brownies.  Stress eat much?

I powered through and am not ashamed to say I basically cancelled my plans for the evening, went straight home, cried for a bit, then ate dinner.  Then I felt better.  Then I realized I had gone 7 hours from lunch to dinner with nothing.  I cry when I get too hungry.  That's why I try to eat something right after I work out.  I feel all great and on a high, and then 15 minutes later, I'm sobbing over hitting a red light.  Almonds to the rescue!

So, 7 days into the Lenten Fast and I have to say, I really don't feel all that different.  I haven't lost any weight.  My energy isn't spiking.  I haven't had any life-impacting epiphanies except to try to eat every 3-4 hours so I don't burst into tears.

Since giving up sugar for Lent wasn't about a physical transformation, I don't mind.  It was about spiritual growth, sacrificing something that isn't inherently bad just for the intention that whatever "suffering" happens is offered up for others.

I have a friend who gave up French fries, and will not eat them until abortion is made illegal.  She wasn't addicted, she didn't over eat them and she wasn't overweight.  There is inherent grace in giving up something just to keep our intentions focused -every small sacrifice done with love makes a difference.

Of course, love is always what makes the difference.

Being Me

So, one of the very hardest things to learn to do is to be oneself.  That seems a wee bit nutty, right?  I mean, who else are we if not ourselves?

Sometimes we get so tied in knots trying to be what we think other people want us to be that we forget that it does not actually MATTER what anyone else wants us to be.  The big question really is, What is God's intention for our lives?

I spent much of my life thinking I was weird and feeling a bit out of step with pretty much everyone around me.  Because I felt weird, I assumed everyone else thought that, too, and sometimes I acted in ways that reinforced that wall between me and other people.

As a full fledged grown up (when that happened, I'm not exactly sure) I've come to realize that I was pretty much way off in others' perceptions of me. I spent too much time agonizing over my shortcomings and not nearly enough time spreading the joy blooming from my talents.

Last week, during a telephone call with a friend I haven't spoken to in YEARS, she said, "I miss your optimism.  When we worked together, you saw all the problems, and then saw past them to what could be done.  You make good things happen!"

Someone I work with now said something similar a while ago, "You make things happen for us!"

At book club this weekend, I mentioned I LOVE the idea of chucking it all and heading into the wilderness or living homeless on a beach.  "The problem is, though, is that after a while, I would start organizing all the homeless people and we'd be pooling our resources and find a place to rent. And eventually we'd all have health insurance and a community garden... I suck at drifting."

A man on the beach in San Diego once told me I sparkle.  Another person here in Flagstaff (also likely homeless, I meet a lot of people who drift a bit) told me that I am fire.

Sparkles and fire are good things, but that can be scary.  I know for a fact it irritated the hell out of the nuns I lived with (You walk into a room and there are firecrackers! Dial it down!) Fire can be warm and welcoming and beautiful, or out of control, raging, frightening.  Intensity can be exhausting for everyone.

When my powers are used for good, beautiful things happen.  When used in anger, well, let's just say I light my path by the bridges I've burned.

And of course, Love is the key.  When I am a steady fire burning with God's love, there is light and love for all.  When I am a raging wildfire of fear, the scorched earth takes a long time to heal.

So my prayer for this day, and this Lent, is a fire that radiates God's love, peace and healing forgiveness.

Happy Lent, y'all!