finding Jesus at the doctor's office

Standing on the edge of a cliff, I hear "jump"!!  Who is saying "jump"? If I jumped I would die. But a voice says "Trust! God will save you.  Do you trust?" I consider this for a moment, because of course I want to trust God, though I admit it's quite hard, and then I step back.  If this is what it means to trust God, I'm not sure I can do this. It's WAY TOO HARD. And surely I will die if I jump.  I mean, this is hard rock, and that is FAR DOWN BELOW.

Jesus is in the wilderness for forty days, and we read that he is tempted by the devil.

5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 6 “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written:

“‘He will command his angels concerning you,

    and they will lift you up in their hands,    so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’[c]”

7 Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’[d]” (Matthew 4:1-11)

How do we know when the voice we hear is God's and when it is our mistaken belief of God's voice? Do we sometimes hear "trust" thrown at us, but it's not actually God inviting us to trust...but a twisted view of trust?  If it creates a sense of condemnation instead of freedom, then I wonder if we could assume it is not from God.  

Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.

For so many years I experienced a strong sense of condemnation.  In Romans 8 it says "Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus..."  I remember reading this one summer in my early 20s and wondering "then why do I feel so much condemnation inside?"  Where was all that condemnation coming from?  

Christians have a lot of answers that they offer when someone is struggling.  It is much easier to give answers, than just sit with someone in the tension of a hard question. Why am I suffering? What did God let this happen?

There have been times when a well-meaning believer said to me that maybe my son's eczema was because there were evil spirits still lingering with us after living in Laos.  Perhaps we needed to pray.  And do you know what effect this had on me?  I would return home and feel major anxiety.  One person suggested we find someone to pray for us.  But whom? And why couldn't she pray for me?

It was a lonely season.  And fear grew because of these suggestions... We belonged to God. Why would God allow evil spirits to live inside my son and cause him to have eczema? Was the only thing keeping us from healing finding the right person to pray for him? No one offered to pray for him or us...and when we finally asked someone to pray for us, nothing changed.

I had a nervous breakdown.  "If you have faith, he will heal you." Did I lack faith?  Yes! Of course, because I am human.  But then there is that beautiful prayer which I clung to "LORD, help me in my unbelief!!!"  This prayer sat right there in the gospels, and the one who prayed it experienced healing.  And so what does that say? Does it require a certain amount of faith to experience the benefits of Jesus? Are only the ones with strong faith healed? And those who lack faith continue to be cursed?

Did those evil spirits continue to win their battle in my son's life, and in my life, as his eczema got worse? In the end, my husband continued to say to me "Lori, he does not have evil spirits causing him to have eczema.  We belong to Jesus! I believe our son does too."  But my husband's belief was in juxtaposition to what so many well-meaning Christians were telling me.  Their statements to explain why I was suffering with major anxiety, and why my son was struggling with a skin issue left me feeling FEARFUL.  Fear was seeping in my heart, and in my every breath.  Just before my breakdown which took me to the very bottom of myself, I felt as though I was searching frantically for the one who held the answers.  Who could save us? I was looking for Jesus with the robe that I could touch (like the bleeding woman who touched his robe).

And yet, the one who held the answer for my son wore a different kind of "robe".  My husband finally took my son to the dermatologist.  A very compassionate woman who was nearing retirement looked at our son and told us "you shouldn't have let him get this bad! He needs treatment..."  She could see my resistance, and gently tried to work with my resistance to using steroids.  But after he fell victim to another bacterial infection with another round of antibiotics, she had my attention...lather him with steroid cream.  And lather him we did...

Did this require trust?  YES! It required TRUST from me in a way that I had to let go of control.  I had so much fear.  Steroid cream was evil in my eyes.  But, my husband invited me to let go of my old way of seeing things, and trust the doctor who was trying to help us.  And so I had to let go...I had to trust...and I was being invited to hope.

It took time.  In fact, we had to go on lathering him with steroid cream like butter on a piece of bread for two months!  He would go to bed looking like a mummy as we wet-wrapped him with gauze, and then put his pjs on top.  But in the morning his skin would look so much happier.  And my son was beginning to live life again.  He could get into the ocean and swim with his brother!  This was healing, was it not!  This was restoration, was it not?

But it wasn't what I had been expecting.  I had been looking for a magic pill, the right person to pray and bring healing.  And yet healing came through a doctor in a dermatologist office. She was the one who touched my son and my family.  She was the one Jesus invited me to trust and let go of my ideas that were leading me towards fear. She was the one who answered the phone after hours to assure me this wouldn't be forever, that I just needed to persist and keep putting the steroid cream on, and hope that it would eventually break the cycle...  She was the one who showed us care and love.

What does it mean to trust? Sometimes it feels like what we are being asked to do is jump off the side of the cliff to our death.  But is this really what trust means? Jesus could know that what the Devil was asking him to do was not in alignment with trusting his Father.  He knew that he needed to listen to the still small voice.  The voice inviting him towards love, not doing something out of fear. (The devil even used Scripture to make his invitation sound more convincing.)

When are there times that to "trust" actually invites fear and condemnation?  Shouldn't trust lead us to a place of rest? 

I have learned that to trust often (always?) means a surrendering and letting go of control and my knowing.  Trust invites us to believe that God really does love us.  To see that God is FOR ME not against me.  And this is what God has shown me through the experience of my son's healing, and through the journey of healing in my own life following a breakdown.

How is God inviting you to trust by standing on the side of the cliff and stepping back--letting God do what you cannot do? How is God inviting you to trust by turning towards others and admitting you don't have the answers, and you need help?

Truth sets us free...

My friend, may we continue to walk towards greater love and freedom in our lives.  May we experience a God who LOVES us and who is FOR US!! 

seeing hope on the horizon

(image is of Kahlil Gibran's mom)

After writing my blog "Counting the Costs" a few days ago, I felt a bit vulnerable.  Will people read this and think I'm depressed?  Will they wonder why I'm overseas and roll their eyes at my inability to keep moving from one side of the globe to the other and finding contentment and gratitude?  Will people read it and feel like I'm wallowing in self-pity?
Yes, I feel quite vulnerable when I post my writing, but especially when I share the darker places.  When I let you into a window view of my bad days when I am struggling.  It is SO much easier to say "yesterday I had a bad day, but I'm ok today" because others feel more at ease to hear that you're ok right now.  It's much harder to sit with someone in those moments, days, or hours when they are not ok...and to not start giving answers.  We want to fix it or tell the person--"get over it! you have so much to be thankful for. start counting your blessings..."
We have all sat with someone who is grieving or struggling, and we have felt the tension of wanting to give them answers, to have something encouraging to say...but can we just hold the space? Allow the person to have space to grieve, lament, express those harder emotions which take courage to say out loud? Can we allow people to not be ok for a time, but still believe they are OK in the bigger realm?  It takes a lot of inner self work to be able to offer other's space and not freak out when those around us are struggling.  To be able to see that--yes, they are struggling, but it's not my job to fix them or give them answers.  My job is simply to listen and offer my presence, so they can know they are not alone in this dark, scary, uncomfortable place.  And my job is to hold onto hope for them.  When she finds it too hard to hope for herself, I can still go on hoping for her. And that is where the compassionate response allows us to "suffer with" (the meaning of compassion) someone else and not feel threatened by their suffering.  To allow Jesus to hang on the cross and not take him down... (God didn't fix or alleviate the disciples' confusion and suffering, he allowed them to suffer with and be mystified at what in the world God is doing.  Has he forsaken us?). And Jesus allowed Mary and Martha to grieve the death of their brother.  He DIED.  And slowly but surely Jesus made his way to Mary and Martha.  After they had grieved and seen their brother Lazarus die, THEN Jesus shows up.  Too late Jesus!  But it is not too late.  His story is not our story.  He is one who can allow the time to pass, and not be threatened by what seems like "THE END OF THE STORY".  He sees beyond what we see.  His horizons are not our horizons.
Can we sit with others in the midst of a time where they are truly grieving or lamenting a loss--maybe a death of a person, but it could also be a death of a dream, or a loss of something that feels devastating for them.  It could be depression, it could be a feeling of death to a future imagined.  Choices could have been made that brought them to a place that feels really dark and full of unknowing.  There could be clouds looming all around.  Is it my job to change their picture? Or is it my job to give them space to share their picture of what they feel right now, meanwhile, holding onto hope that the SUN continues to shine behind those clouds even though right now I just have to hold onto that hope on their behalf? And even go as far as letting them tell me about the clouds. Sitting together acknowledging and feeling the weight of another's clouds...that takes courage, and hope.
The Israelites read the Psalms in unison when they gathered together.  Why is that significant?  Well, if I'm reading a passage like Psalm 46 in unison with friends on a bad day and I hear "God is my refuge and strength, an ever present help in times of trouble" and I hear my sisters and brothers and friends saying this OUT LOUD (hearing truth spoken out loud by others can be powerful!)...it will minister to me in my times of struggling to believe.  There is something about holding grief in community when no one is trying to fix it, but others can continue to hold onto hope on behalf of those who are sitting in darkness.  We don't have to be afraid of the darkness when we hold it together in community...fear is what makes us want to quickly sweep it away and put on the happy faces.
Friends, I share my hard "dark" days because I know I am not alone in experiencing these times.  And if I only tell you about my good days, then it would be easy for you to believe "Lori has it all together.  She doesn't understand what it's like to struggle...so of course she can say she believes in God. Of course she can praise God...everything is working out for her!!"  And that is the story we believe when we see people thriving that have not helped us see the struggle along the way.  At least I find myself feeling alone on my bad days when facebook reminds me of everyone else's good days.
So...it takes courage to publish my bad days.  Maybe some will think "there she goes again, complaining.  Man, she needs meds! I wonder if she's seeing a counselor for help?" etc.
But friends, I share because I am coming to believe that I don't have to let shame have the last voice in my life.  I don't have to listen to the voice of fear.  I have had others sit with me with compassion and love, and help me see that if they can believe there's still hope...I can believe there's still hope.  And so while I have days when I may feel I'm NOT feeling so ok right now, I can know that I.am.still.ok.
I still belong to this human race.
I still belong.
 I am loved!
And I want to speak this into others' places of darkness
...even when you do not feel ok, you are OK.
You are going to be ok.
Today is not the end of your story.
It doesn't stop here.
You are loved...and I am going to sit with you on this bench called compassion continuing to hope with you and for you...hoping even when you can't hope for yourself.
This is what love looks like.
So we don't have to be afraid of the bad days.
Let's let love in so we can hold the tension of joy and sorrow, good and bad days.
You are ok.
I am ok.
God's got us.


Here's a poem which has spoken to me about how joy becomes fuller in those places where suffering (sorrow) has carved into us with its knife.  Our places of suffering become deep reservoirs to hold deep joy.  This is good news!!

On Joy and Sorrow

 Kahlil Gibran

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. 

Some of you say, "Joy is greater thar sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed. 

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

emerge

emerge
what is emerging beneath the surface
until now unseen
unnoticed
but beginning to awaken
stir
move
preparing to sprout
come out
make itself known
and seen
what is emerging within me
waiting to unfold
inviting me to step out
about to arise from the darkness
into the light
growing out of its space
stretching out into existence
noticed
seen
so long lying dormant
in the winter's soil
like a forgotten seed
but now sensing the imminent spring
a slow warming
what has remained hidden
out of sight
shall soon be unveiled
in its time
it will
emerge

counting the costs

Since our move back to Thailand, life has changed once again for us.  Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised by how hard transition is, but despite all of our moves we still feel the shock of a move in immeasurable ways.
Today I find myself counting the costs of this move.  Was it worth it to move ourselves across the ocean AGAIN? What have we gained in this move? It's much easier to notice what has been lost.  My boys still grieve their beach life (did we forever ruin them by living near the beach?!!).  It's not uncommon to hear one of them remind us on a weekly basis that they would move back to Florida in a heartbeat if given a chance...

Were we crazy to move here?

This morning my boys went back to school after an unexpected five day weekend.  Wednesday through Friday school was closed because the AQI (air quality index) was pushing into extremely hazardous numbers...and being outside was deemed unsafe.  So we stayed inside our house, not because of snow or a hurricane...but because of a brown haze threatening to choke us if we ventured outside.  I'm not sure if the hazard to our health was worse than the emotional toil it weighed on many of us enduring this fog.  I found myself feeling a layer of sediment wanting to gather in my soul...something a face mask was not enough to guard against.
But today the AQI has lowered enough that children can "safely" return to school...while I am left with the voices in my head that ask "was it worth it to leave our salty beachside air?"

Were we crazy to move here?

The tension between our two lives is real, and sometimes we feel it in ways that can bring tears to the eyes.  We look at pictures from less than a year ago, my boys looked like beach boys.  Since moving to Thailand we have grown pasty white, and our hair has lost the sun-kissed look.  Perhaps our skin will thank us for getting out of the sun...
But our hearts miss the sounds of the crashing waves.
There's no comparing less than one year in Thailand to four years in Florida.  But compare we do...

Were we crazy to move here?

Today I am aware of other costs as well.  While it's cheaper to live in Thailand (considerably so) there are costs that can't be measured by monetary means.

A cost of time
A cost of friendships
A cost of a sense of stability
A cost of a sense of belonging

I can't even begin to say whether these costs equal what we have come here for...it's still too early, too soon to say.
But how do I let myself take a deep breath and embrace what is? How do I not give into a sense of looming haze that wants to creep into my mind and soul? What enables me to stay here, to choose this place as home for this time?
It's not something I can put my finger on. On a good day, I am able to catch a glimpse...a moment of yes, this is right!  But on a less than ideal day, or in a moment when my son sheds tears once again, I catch myself longing for what we left behind. I hear its lure, and wonder "were we crazy to move here?"
I can't answer my own question fairly, because sometimes dreams make us do crazy things.  We leave behind the known for the unknown. We say good-bye to dear friends to begin all over again. And because the costs are immeasurable, so are the benefits.  Is it only the rare few who can measure the rewards that come when they have run after a dream?
Will the haze clear helping us to see that yes, the costs were worth what we have come to Thailand for?
Meanwhile, my sight is limited by the haze...I can only see so far.
Today is where I can sit and wait.
I will wait here in today, setting aside once again those thoughts that make me crazy...
because today is what is real.
Today is what I have.

ennea-what?

scones in the oven, I'm baking because I really should be focusing on the last preparations for teaching a workshop on the Enneagram next week.  But...scones first.  Hmmm, does this have anything to do with my Enneagram number?
It's funny how everything becomes about your number...how did I live before I knew my number? seriously?

But actually, I did...and so what's all the to do about the enneagram? Why has it become so popular in these last few years when it's really nothing new...I mean Riso published a book on the Enneagram in 1987.  Why didn't it make it big then? What is it about this ancient personality tool that is helping writers become names we now know and thus selling some (lots) books?  (Geez, I wish I had known about the Enneagram 5 years ago so I could've written a book and gotten in on the money! :-). 

And will it survive 5 more years? Or will it become a passing fad...we all know our numbers, moving on...

I'm not really sure.  But I do know that right now there's a B.N. (before I knew my number) and an A.N. (after I discovered my number). and even more--there's a right now as I get to decide what to do with knowing my number.

Sometimes it would be nice to be blind again (B.N.).  Blind to my weaknesses, blind to what I know now and can't deny.  It would be nice if my husband didn't know my number so that he couldn't remind me now and then (yes, gently, because he's a 9!) of how I'm falling into my disintegration paths....of course, as a 9, he does have anger issues that he's unaware of...but I digress (or is that my path of disintegration...?)

Oh, I forgot to mention to you that I'm a 4.  (We're quite original and unique you know...or actually my growth path is discovering I'm ordinary and special just like everyone else...ugh).  But if you're still pre-enneagram (and even bothering to read this post) then you might be wondering what does it mean to be a 4? Are you square? And 9? how many numbers are there anyway in this ennea--thingy.  (Well, there's 9...because duh...Ennea means 9! Ummm, well, I actually didn't know that either until recently...).  So well, you, are something between a 1 and a 9.  Because that's how it is.  No zeros.  No tens.  Though you might think you're a 10.  

But you know, as I sit with the enneagram, I am continuing to find new aha moments with it! I think that's what draws you in (at least for those of us who have been drawn in)...I knew my Myers Briggs letters in college...but I didn't really know what to do with those letters.  I mean I knew that being an "I" meant introvert.  But then sometimes I don't like the assumptions made about an introvert.  I mean being an introvert doesn't mean being antisocial!!  So sometimes we find things out about ourselves, and then feel labeled and boxed in...

But the enneagram is a circle.  And it moves.  You may be a number, but then you have these arrows pointing towards growth (and also towards stress and disintegration!)

There's potential! There's hope! You are not merely a number.  You're actually a complex variety of numbers.  Because, did I mention, you have wings?!!! No, these wings don't mean you fly, but if you look at your number and put your arms out to your sides (like a chicken) then you'll discover that those 2 numbers sitting on each side of you are rubbing off on your number.  You probably lean more towards one than the other, but you are not 100% your number.  You are a complex mixture of your number, and one (or both) of your wings.  (And just so you know I happen to be a 4 wing 5). And we haven't even gotten to subtypes yet...

Are you feeling lost? Don't worry...the enneagram points you towards home.  Yes! It's a tool of discovering how you're lost! isn't that exciting! I bet you didn't even know you were lost until the Enneagram told you that finding your number helps you know how you are lost, and gives you a handy map to find your way back home...home to where? Not Kansas...though Dorothy could have been talking about the Enneagram (Chris Heuertz in Sacred Enneagram talks a lot about Dorothy's enneagram journey towards finding her way home to her true self...which happened to be in Kansas...sort of).

So now that I've thoroughly confused you--or helped you discover you're lost--especially if you have never heard of the enneagram...then may I suggest that you take a test? Yes, you can take a test online to see what number you are...because I'm sure you're dying to know if you're a 1, 2, or a 5.  And what is your spouse? And what is your boss? Your co-workers....

BUT WAIT A MINUTE!!!!
CAUTION:  Because you actually aren't supposed to learn your number so that you go around saying "Hi, I'm a 5 what are you?" (because that's being a wise guy!)  AND beware of someone saying to you, "OH, you are such an 8!" And you are left wondering "well, isn't that great?"

So...approach the Enneagram with caution.  It's sacred you know (because you and I are sacred!). You might love what you find, and you might hate it.  At first it might feel like you're meeting yourself, and then you might think "I really didn't want to know this part of me."  And you might really find yourself thinking "I was ok being lost..." and leave your number in the bin...or on the shelf in the book.

It's funny how ancient tools that carry wisdom get discovered and the dust blown off...and we run to it thirsty for what it has to offer.  I know the writers who have managed to get their books published appreciate our discovery.  Really, they sincerely want you to know yourself and find your way home.

But I'm sure they don't mind the fact that it's enabling them to have a nicer home...

But they might be an unhealthy 3 if that's the case (oh yeah, there's heathy and there's unhealthy...but no, you don't need a doctor, just an enneagram coach...)

BUT before my 3 friends out there remind me that I'm labeling them, I am just stressing the need for authenticity...  Ummm, ok...actually 4s really need their 3 friends, and their 7 friends, and all the numbers actually.  Because we need each other!!

And I love my 3 friends.  They are really really good for me as a melancholy 4.

But sadly my 3 friends don't really understand me and probably never will--sadly! but they're good at making me feel like I'm pretty cool when I sit with them for coffee.

If you want to have some enneagram fun

Never Fear! (especially if you're a 6!)-- It's available ennea-time that you are ready to explore
(did I just see you roll your eyes at me?)

And you can come join me around the circle

As we learn to live in community with one another

because let's not stick in our stubborn chairs with backs to one another

Let's see the beauty of how the enneagram is a circle

Arrows pointing here and there

Teaching us compassion

humility

and giving us a map to find our way home

to our true self
but for now I'm in my kitchen
waiting for some scones
yum.

middle school and the enneagram

immersed in the enneagram

finding my number

figuring yours out

I see numbers in my head

paths to finding our way home

and wonder where I got lost

where did my son lose his freedom

to be wild and carefree

sometimes I see a 4 in him

other times I see a 1

or is he a 3?

but only he will know with time

what number is his

to help him find his way back home

to the true essence of himself

middle school is not the time

to know who you are

so lost in the sea of insecurity

not realizing all are lost

no one knows the way to swim

but each looking to the right and left

comparing and being robbed

of who they really are

it grieves my heart to watch

as my son seems to get more and more lost

I want to rescue him from the edge

but really even I get lost too

and this journey is not straight

nor clear

it takes time to discover who we are

to find that we are lost

and then to be courageous enough to find help

a path to make our way home

so that we can be who we really are

and stop hiding behind our mask

because really for so long

we don't even realize the mask is not who we are

it seems so closely tied to ourselves

that it gets mistaken for our true identity

we nurture it for so long

it tells us who we are

and we listen

to wake up one day

and discover it's not true

but a distortion of our true self

can be harsh

to slumber may seem easier

and yet more energy output to tend

to a masked self

oh to be free

our deepest longing

and yet veiled from our sight

until one day we dare to look

and find that who we are

was always waiting to be discovered

beautiful in our messiness

Listening to the podcast The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman is stirring in me my own desire to be writing more.  

I love to write, so why do I only get one blog post out each month? Because so much of my struggle is fear...

what if I come across as too melancholy or depressed or too vulnerable?  

What if I am too messy in how I am occurring?

Not put together enough? 

Or my writing sucks (sorry for the language, it just seems appropriate).  

Often my perfectionism tendencies get in the way of my creative inner world.  

Often?  

Ok, maybe like 99% of the time.

SO, in listening to the Next Right thing podcast I am reminded to stop figuring out what people will think, and free myself to do just the next thing before me.  

And maybe writing is something I keep putting off.  I keep doing lots of mindless activities.  Sitting on facebook for way too many minutes (hours?!!!) and wasting myself away.  Reading other people's writing, thinking lots of thoughts that never get shared or put out there.

Then the restless spirit in me causes me to do some unhealthy things when I don't let myself do the healthy things like writing, creating...this creative spirit in me will eventually turn in on me.  I will find myself depressed, anxious, and eating.  Yes, eating.  Wow, I could be writing, or painting or ???  But instead I eat.  

Because my soul is hungry, and I take it to my physical body...

So what is the solution?

Well, I can gain some weight and eat

Or I can start to release the perfectionism and not allow it to have so much power over me

and start to write

What do you think?

How do you find yourself giving into perfectionism and not allowing yourself to give the world your true self? How does your inner critic keep you from offering us your beauty...mess and all?

As the title of my blog suggests...(This Beautiful Mess) we are beautiful even in our messiness.

So friends, let's try to not let perfectionism have the last word in our lives

Let's try to listen deeper within

and for me that means starting to write 

It's ok.to.show.up

mess and all

and discover that I am beautiful 

and you are beautiful

we have so much to offer this world

with courage we can listen to the deeper truer voice within

Let love shine the light within,

perfect love will cast out the fear 

of needing to be perfect!!

Say yes to your beautiful mess!