Glue

When I was a kid I made projects at school with good ole Elmer's Glue.  It was thick and white and I, along with practically every other kid in the class, would overestimate how much I needed and squirt on way too much. It would squish out from the edges of my project and I would attempt to wipe the edges.  It would take hours to dry and sometimes I would have transport it home still damp with my abundant use of glue.  I would think to myself, "That's going to last forever!"  My Mom kept very few of those projects from my childhood but the ones she kept are falling apart.  The construction paper is faded and the glue has dried out so much that it no longer is doing its job of keeping things together and instead is peeling off the paper in large, thin sheets of dried up glue.  It's usefulness has passed, it no longer can hold together the project I thought would last forever.

Sometimes I feel like that glue. 

A few years ago a friend told me that I was like the glue that held our little community together.  She sincerely meant it as a compliment and at first I took it as such. But then I started to realize that it meant that unless I was the one initiating group get-together's, planning the food for them, planning the parties, making the phone calls, sending the texts, composing the emails, making sure that people stayed in the know about important life stuff with each other, and basically being a Mother Hen then our little community was going to fall apart like the years old project that the glue can't hold together anymore.

Then the glue dried up.

I entered into a season of depression. My inner glue dried up and there was nothing left to squeeze out of me.  I literally couldn't be the one to initiate and hold it all together.  And the little community didn't hold together.  The vibrant colors of our little family faded and the glue I had applied to keep us together peeled off in large sheets as we went our separate ways.  It didn't mean we didn't, or don't, love each other but what it meant was if I wasn't applying the glue then it wasn't holding together. I think this would have happened eventually even if I had more to give, but the process was sped up by the depression that took over me.

I'm not really glue even though I sometimes feel like it. 

I have a proven track record of not being able to hold things together "forever."  In fact, I can't think of one person who holds that distinction.  Oh wait, there is one. But just one. God holds it all together like super glue.  And super glue never dries out and becomes useless. Never.  The glue I produce and manufacture will always dry up and dry out, it won't hold something together "forever."  And if something, like my little community, doesn't hold together then that ultimately isn't on me, that is up to God. The timing of our season together was for him to decide and hold together, not me.  It felt like me and it may have even looked like it was me but it wasn't. He formed us and it was for purposes and reasons largely unknown to us but known to him.  Did we, as a little community, serve our purpose? I believe yes we did.  I believe we held together for as long as God needed us too in order to accomplish something only I believe he knows about.

Did you ever used to take glue and spread it in a thin layer over your hand, let it dry and then slowly peel it off?  You can see every line in your hand, fingerprints are captured, it is oddly fascinating. In order to see all the lines and capture the fingerprints it has to be spread thin. Spread so thin the glue becomes almost transparent but more opaque. I can make out the lines and the fingerprints but their clarity is blurred by the consistency of the glue.

I'm spread thin, almost translucent but more opaque. 

If I look closely I can see the lines of my life and of my heart through the glue I've spread over myself to try and hold it together.  But the lines are blurred and undefined, they run together and I wonder if my life line has been cut short. That doesn't mean what it may sound like, I'm not planning on cutting my life line short but some days the line feels shortened by life itself.  I spread the glue on to try and keep things together but when you spread it too thin it no longer has adhesive properties. I don't hold things together very well anymore.

The glue I have spread on is dry, now what? 

It may feel like life is cutting my line short but there is only one who knows the actual number of my days. And no matter how spread thin I feel he still sticks with me.  He cuts through the opaque of my heart and sees all the lines of my life and heart with startlingly clarity.  And then in his grace he shows me what he sees. Usually I don't see it until he peels the glue off that I have spread on me in the attempt to hold things together. And then what he sees I too am able to see.  But I can't see it all at once or I may implode. So he peels off the glue I have spread on little by little, in manageable pieces.  And what he shows me is freeing.

I'm not glue.  I don't have to feel responsible to hold it *all* together.
Thank goodness. 

Curves and Edges

Have you heard the song by John Legend called "All of me"? There is one line that makes me really pause and consider it's deeper meaning:

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you

That line in the midst of the lines that surround it has me really thoughtful about relationships, specifically the marriage relationship.  I've got curves and edges and I'm not talking about my physical body. My moods have curves and edges, my behaviors have curves and edges, my feelings have curves and edges and my marriage is the one relationship where those curves and edges are probably the most seen and felt.  If my hub were honest (and he oftentimes is not when it comes to me which means I have to be more honest about myself than I prefer) he would say that in the past couple of years I've had more edges than curves.  I could give you a list of reasons and excuses and about 99% of them would be valid and make sense.  But that doesn't give me an excuse to live with my husband in edges and not curves. Some of the edges are my own fault, I need to own what I have contributed to.  And with the edges created by circumstances, conflicts, and misunderstandings I still don't have an excuse to be edgy with this man that I entered into covenant with so many years ago.

The amazing thing about my edges is that my hub chooses to love me in spite of them.  He treats edgy Beth the same way he treats curvy Beth.  Yet I remain edgy with him. I haven't allowed his curves to soften my edges.  Somehow in spite of my numerous edges and lack of curves, specifically with my hub, he is able to say that he loves my curves and all my edges. Clearly I have a lot more work to do in the true love department than he does.  

I've been pondering how to soften my edges and turn them into curves. I have a lot of work to do I think. Let me be a little more honest. I know, not think, I have a lot of work to do.  My Type A nature tends to despair when faced with work to do and I can't figure out how to get it done.  But in my 30's my Type A nature has been reined in during those moments by the truth of Philippians 1:6. I am a work in progress.  My hub married a work in progress and I married a work in progress when I said "I do" to him.  Then we had two redheads who are works in progress and none of us are complete yet.  The beautiful truth is that we are promised to not be left incomplete, the truth is that we will be finished according to the design of our Creator. Thank goodness! It's true that I can stall the work in progress when I won't allow my edges to be sanded down into curves.  But I've grown up enough to want the sanding to proceed.  I don't want to be edgy with my hub, I want to be curvy with him.  Grace is showing me the ways in which I need sanding, hope is showing me I can have more curves than edges, love is showing me that my hub's curves can soften my edges - if only I will allow it.

I don't know what John Legend's intended meaning for that line was but each time I hear it I am struck with the picture of my hub having to live with edgy Beth and not curvy Beth.  And while he loves me as is I am challenged to do the hard work of sanding so that my edges transform into curves and our marriage reflects the softer lines of covenant relationship. 

Sitting Shiva

In the past few months I've had two of my besties approach me and ask about how they can comfort someone who is grieving, what can they say, and what should they say.  It's a good question and one that deserves a thoughtful response.

Other people's grief makes us uncomfortable.  And in that insecurity we utter platitudes, quote phrases that mean nothing, we behave in ways that don't comfort the other person but instead place them in the position of having to ease us. Other people's grief certainly doesn't bring out the best in us...until we have experienced a deep enough grief ourselves. From that moment on we respond to other's grief differently.

My answer to my friends and to anyone who asks me (and people do from time to time), is simply this: Sit Shiva.  This usually brings a confused tone to the person's voice or a scratch on the head. Whatever does THAT mean? So before I talk about sitting Shiva let me give the briefest introduction to it. Shiva is a common practice among the Jewish people when someone has passed on.  It is the seven days following the person's death, including the day of the funeral. When someone sits Shiva with the person who is experiencing grief the role is simply this, sit with them in their grief and allow them to feel it and work through it. That's it.  It isn't sitting there saying things like, "Well heaven just gained another angel," or "It was his time to go," etc.  It isn't sitting there "one-upping" their grief with stories of your own. It isn't chattering non-stop about nonsense to distract them or yourself from the uncomfortable emotions of loss. It is letting them lead when they want to speak, eat, stand, sit, and sleep.  It is letting them lead when they feel the need to cry, yell, laugh and question.

And perhaps we need to also briefly define grief.  Grief is the emotion that expresses loss. Not only loss of life but loss on all levels of life.  Loss of physical life, loss of a relationship (marriage, friendship, child), loss of a dream, you get the idea. So while the Jewish people sit Shiva for loss of physical life what I am talking about is sitting Shiva for all kinds of loss that prompts grief in us. I am broadening the practice to include the varied griefs we are sure to encounter in life.

We are given an excellent example of how not to sit Shiva in the book of Job found in the Bible.  Job had lost everything but his wife and she was off in her own corner cursing God. So Job found himself sitting on top of dirt, tearing his clothes, and scraping his skin with broken pieces of pottery. People, this is grief and it isn't pretty.  I can't think of a time when grief is pretty. Job has three friends show up to sit Shiva with him. But once Shiva is officially done things go bad. Job speaks.  He didn't utter a word for seven days but then he speaks.  And once he's done his friends undo the Shiva they just sat with him.  The lesson here is to maintain the Shiva you sat and not undo it with your mouth or actions once the initial period of grief has eased.  To sit Shiva also means we continue to allow space and grace for the process of grief.  We don't take the other person's choice to open up as permission to unleash any doubts, anger, etc we might be feeling as well, especially when those things would be painful and condemning to the person grieving.  

When we experience loss we are open to shame, fear, insecurity, and doubt depending on the kind of loss we are walking through. To sit Shiva with someone means that we take up the battle against those things on behalf of the grieving person.  We pray against those things taking root, we pray for an empowering for that person to battle any of those.  We do this battle on their behalf silently, unless or until an occasion arises in which it becomes appropriate to include them. 

The very best comfort we can give is to sit Shiva completely available.  When we are concerned with saying something specific, questioning circumstances, talking to distract from the discomfort of grief, or any number of other ridiculous things we resort to when grief is evident then we are not available.  We might be physically present but we are emotionally absent.  To be a true comfort is to be totally available, totally set aside for the sake of the person in grief. Be available to listen and to listen without trying to "fix" the grief spiritually.  Do not try to remind them of God, plenty of other people will, with good but misguided intentions, be doing that. Be the person in their life who gives permission to feel angry, sad, doubtful of God, fearful and whatever else may rise to the surface during the grief process.  Be the person that gives them space and time to process it all.  Don't be the person who throws in the Christianese, the "textbook" scriptures (i.e. God has a plan for your life, Jeremiah 29:11).  Those things only serve to drive the pain deeper in the end. I have discovered that we often employ the Christianese and the "textbook" scriptures when the person's pain and grief makes us uncomfortable about faith and the true heart of God. But when we resort to those things for those reasons it ends up doing more damage than good.  In our culture we are trained to speak, to try and use words that heal and provide answers to any question, but in reality the greatest comfort can come, and does come, from silence and companionship and words being used thoughtfully and in the right time with the right motive. Let us not utter words that are birthed out of a discomfort toward God but out of sincerity.  This goes against what we've been taught all our lives but it is better for the grief-filled person and for the one who sits alongside of them. Yes, it is more uncomfortable because we may have our own doubts about God and what has happened and the why's but God is in the midst of all of that - he is there and you will know it as you don't try and push grief away but you embrace it and let it work its way through.  

It is a profound thing to sit Shiva with a hurting person.  A hurt person needs to be known and sitting Shiva is one of the best ways I have experienced to let someone know they are not alone and they are seen. In my own life I am trying to remember the practice of sitting Shiva with hurt people and how, when the time comes and I am hurting, I want others to respond to my pain. 

For more information on the Judaism practice of sitting Shiva click here and here.  

Monday's Child

Poor Mondays.  They get such a bad rap.  When did that start?  When did *we*decide Mondays were to blame for our reluctance to go to work, or to blame for lack of sleep which leads us to bad moods, or for a hectic workday due to our slacking off on Friday?  You get the idea.  And on top of that poor Monday gets the blame other days of the week as well! How many of us have had a hectic, unsettling, bad any-other-day-of-the-week-but-Monday and sighed, "Today is such a 'monday'!"  Poor Mondays.

I've talked a little about Mondays before, on my other blog and on Facebook. A couple of years ago I was challenged in my view on Mondays after being reminded of this, "This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it."  Another version, The Amplified Bible, says this is the day the Lord has brought about.  I read that for the zillionth time on that day a couple of years ago and my first thought was, "Even Mondays!"  Yes God brought about, created, established Mondays along with every other day of the week. So even when a day feels authored by the enemy rest assured it is not, it is authored and covered by the Creator.  

This realization radically changed my approach to Mondays, and any other day that felt hard.  When I have the perspective that my day, Monday or otherwise, was authored and set apart by God for purposes either known or unknown to me I undergo an attitude adjustment.  I can see reasons to celebrate the day, to be grateful for the challenges, to understand that some days are harder than others but God's promises for each day hold true. When the day is harder than expected, or I would have liked, I remind myself that God authored the day and then I remind myself, "It is because of the Lord’s mercy and loving-kindness that we are not consumed, because His [tender] compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great and abundant is Your stability and faithfulness. The Lord is my portion or share, says my living being (my inner self); therefore will I hope in Him and wait expectantly for Him." Each day I get a fresh helping of God's mercies and compassions.  Clean slate every day! That's enough right there to make me grateful for a Monday, or any other day. When I can't get my mind, and heart, to come around to that perspective then my day, Monday or otherwise pretty much blows.

I no longer distinguish Mondays between every other day of the week. It's just another day of the week and frankly my weekend could stink and my Monday be fantastic! It's all a matter of perspective, as a lot of things in life are.

I find that almost every Monday I remind myself of Psalm 118:24 so that when I run into people and they bemoan Monday I can remind them as well what this day is. It is the Lord's so let us rejoice and be glad in it!