understanding (n.)

Is not something I’ve observed before. This is a multiple layered story with multiple parts. We have to take a few rabbit trails, but I promise to pull this posting back around to Lent by the end. I promise.

As part of a faith community, I’ve observed spiritual fasts before – primarily abstaining from certain foods – in order to follow after the heart of God. But I’ve never had a reason to observe Lent. I love my brothers and sisters that do – please be clear on that. Maybe if you put all of us together, with all of our strengths and expressions, you’d get a more complete picture of the heart of God.

This year, however, can I be honest? This year I’ve struggled. Hugely. A war raging in my heart with my faith – the one thing that’s been so solid all these years.

The faith that I’ve had for years isn’t waning, but it is digging down and growing some roots. That’s painful, folks. And what God has been asking my heart lately is, “What are you doing to take care of my people?” As in, “What are you doing, practically, to take care of my people?” Can I take the focus off of my “relationship with God” and “what God has for me in this season” and put it where He’s asking me to? As in, James 1:27 – “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble …”

Or how about this? Matthew 19:21 – “Jesus said to him, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor …”

Or this – Acts 2:44, 45 – “Now all who believed were together, and had all things in common, and sold their possessions and goods, and divided them among all, as anyone had need.”

We have great luxury, dear hearts. The fact that I’m on my laptop, getting frustrated about this, and in a minute am going to go to a Starbuck’s to get coffee to continue my schoolwork means I have great privilege. I may be transitionally poor, counting my pennies and wondering why, financially, I decided to return to school, but I had the luxury to return to school. Seriously. To get a Master’s, for Heaven’s sake.

How many homeless people do I pass every day downtown (ironically on my way to social work classes), as well as hungry people and people without health insurance and people who need drug and alcohol treatment? It makes my head spin and, quite literally, creates this terrible, ripping, stabbing hurt in the middle of my chest. No exaggeration there – I see the need and it physically hurts.

And then I look toward the church, my place of worship, my once place of extra support, and the emphasis I hear is on our personal relationship with God. Please don’t get me wrong. That’s important. But no more important than taking care of other people. And I’m talking about all people. People who think the same as we do, and people who don’t. People who respect our faith, and people who don’t.

So here’s the part where I get a little personal with you.

In Oregon, not so long ago, there were some Measures to be voted on. Some pretty controversial measures that would have created additional taxes for some in the State and would have increased revenues to public schools and public programs. Technically, I’m still registered to vote in Washington, so I didn’t fill out a ballot. But I’m sure you can guess which way I would have voted. The negativity raised around those measures, however, and the emphasis on not giving up personal resources nearly ripped me apart. And hand in hand, enter name calling and disrespect. Even if one did disagree, I’m still wondering what the purpose of creating such a divisive split among voters was. As in, why, in the church, did we feel it was ok to feel we had the market on complete truth around voting processes and opinions? Didn’t God create us all individually? And if I felt deeply convicted to vote for these measures, and others did not, did that truly mean I missed the heart of God? Really? And where did the source of this negativity spring from (besides individual people)? Facebook.

Enter the period of observing Lent and fasting from Facebook. I need to figure out why I’m so different than people in the church and be less concerned about logging on and being grieved in my spirit every time. I need to figure out if I belong in a different denomination. I need to get closer to the heart of God and a little farther away from sources of negativity. I need to listen for myself what God is saying about all of the millions of Americans that go without. Everyday, in some way or another, millions of Americans go without. God didn’t have us prove ourselves to Him to receive His grace. I don’t believe that we need to make people prove that they’re worthy to receive resources. Subjectively, in my own personal opinion, I don’t think that’s how God would have us treat each other.

In trying to think of a way to end this posting, I find myself struggling. I wonder if there are like-minded people out there. I can name six faithful followers off the top of my head. Six. If I think of people who don’t prescribe to a particular faith belief but are passionate about the needs of people, I can think of … well. Let’s not play a numbers game, I guess. It’s significantly more. I don’t pretend to have the market on all things right or virtuous. I just know the concerns that exist in my spirit and can name six other believers with the same concerns. Do I keep looking for like minded people or do I just continue on? Do I continue in a “denomination” I struggle with or do I search for something new?

Don’t know. Guess I’ll just keep doing what I think I’m supposed to.

clearness or lucidity as to perception or understanding;

freedom from indistinctness or ambiguity.

(What I'm seeking right now).

Right now? Right now school is hard and things are busy. Papers and projects are due, small groups must be met with (and I'm meeting small groups with mixed success, coincidentally. Turns out, graduate school was not an immediate guarantee that we all wanted to be there and we are all taking it seriously. As one of my group members says (con.stant.ly), "I hate this stuff. I'm here because my work is paying for it. I know what I need to know."

Really? Because I don't know hardly anything - even after 10 years in the field. Especially after 10 years in the field.

O, but we won't really get into that.

So I'm working on finishing up this term, battling a terrible cold, and I started a new job right before Christmas, working as an administrative assistant in a Very Large Hospital in Shared Resources. I'm not sure what all that means yet, but I do know that I can bill significantly more for mouse intestines than I can for the entire mouse. And cryopreservation?

Fugheddabodit.

That'll run you $1500 a pop.

All of these billings, invoices, grant applications ... wow. Never thought I'd be doing this. And to tell you the truth, the jury's still out. I miss working with people. I miss working with kids, especially.

Is it a drug? Am I addicted? Or do I just not like the mandatory learning curve that's taking place because for the first time in years I haven't been able to hit the ground running?

Also something I'm seeking clarity about.

And then there's the FaceBook fast ... I gave up Facebook for Lent (and despite previous spiritual fasts, this is the first time I've formally observed Lent), and I'm seeking clarity there too. But that is a story in and of itself, so I'll save that posting for next time.

Now, onto my final End of Life and Palliative Care project, to be followed up with more research on my final Micro-theory paper.

Make that, the treadmill and his various and sundry cousins, the elliptical, step aerobics, yoga ... what else have I done in the past year ... BOSU (that ball's a dictator) ...

It's been I love to hate it, but still go.

Or, I hate to love it, and go.

After the separation from my former husband, when I saw that almost everything I knew to be true was not, and almost my entire worldview had shifted, I started looking at a lot of things differently. One of those minor things was my body.

It was a little neglected, in the way that 6 months of not eating and nearly constant, stress induced vomiting will do to you. It was time to watch what I put in my mouth (and make sure something was being eaten) and work on developing some muscle tone.

I started to watch "Biggest Loser" for nutrient filled diet tips, because I'm pretty sure my diet of Starbuck's in the morning and maybe an afternoon Taco Bell Soft Taco wasn't going to sustain me. (Yeah, I don't know how I didn't gain weight on that diet either, but I'm starting to learn a little about what your body does chemically when it's really stressed).

And, this is such a minor, delicious part of this story, I bought an I Pod. It was the first little purchase I made all for myself, and I sat in my tiny, tiny, Lilliputian basement apartment, with a borrowed bed, a borrowed tv, borrowed lots of stuff (except for the kitchen appliances and the couch, which I refused to forfeit), playing with this marvelous little toy.

You know what? I find the elliptical incredibly, horribly, boring. Bored to tears boring. And Apple's little miracle helped curb that.

If I could build it a shrine, I think I would. Only, that violates one of the Big 10. So I probably won't. But. Ever since it's introduction into my life, I have been on the quest for the perfect cardio playlist. It's taken hours of my life. Fiddling. Browsing. Timing good warm up songs to good stride songs to good cool down songs.

What can I say. Newly single, childless ladies sometimes have a lot of time on their hands.

My problem now is that I don't have hours to give it anymore. And I don't spend hours at the gym, either, because two-years-post-divorce life is very different than 6-months-post-separation life.

Thank God. That's the subject of a different post, however.

But it needs some attention. The I Pod. Badly. Last night, out of desperation, oh goodness, I can't believe I'm admitting this, I downloaded the first season of Glee and worked out today to that.

So, in the spirit of honesty and honoring my true self, I must admit that I need help.

Help!

Any ideas, songs, albums, podcasts that keep you motivated to keep going, please, PLEASE let me know. I have to turn this thing around ...

is everything.

Three truths before my story:

1. I understand that it's not a big deal (except, of course, that it is).
2. I get the irony of the concern vs. the concerns of my clients I'm supposed to be addressing.
3. It's always been this way. And. It will always be this way.

I chose to go to grad school and pay out of state tuition.
I chose to leave my decent job with the county and my cushy (hmph!) supervisory position for the life of a student.
Choices, choices.
Choices I take very seriously.
And I'm a school dork.
Which has translated into an obsessive need to do all of my grad school work with the utmost care and attention to detail.
It's served me well.

I've had a 100% so far in the program. Right. That's not just a solid 'A' average, 4.0 gpa. That really is a 100%.

Until now.
Oh, how I knew it would hurt, the day I would lose my first point.
It was only one.
But such a vicious one.
I'm wounded.

And receiving no sympathy. Shoes said, "Yeah, well. Happens to all of us. That 99% must really hurt. Obviously, you're not so smart."

My dear girlfriend said, "Yeah. I'm not discussing that with you. You're just going to have to get over it."

So I get it. I get all of it. Especially the part where this is seriously bothering me, but I'm learning how to work with clients with serious, serious life issues that delve so much more deeply than a missing point.

I understand.

Truly.

But still. That's a hard point to let go.

I. Randy

"Please excuse me," the elderly gentleman in the gray bowler hat said. We were standing at the top of the stairs leading to the basement of the student union. He had almost stepped into me. He was not using a cane, but he was gripping the handrail with both hands.

"No worries," I replied, smiling. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, fine. Just fine. Graduate from here in 1973 with a degree in political science. Now I just like to come back, walk about. Check my mail down at University Station. Say. What do you make of this?" he wheezes as he pulls a letter out of his bag. "I'm a lifelong member of the NRA and now there's a House Bill threatening to take away our gun rights. What do you say? Taking away our gun rights. What does this paragraph mean right here? Don't mean to keep you long, but I just think it's terrible that they're going to give the school security guards guns -"

{editor's note - they're not really}

"I mean, the psychological things you have to go through to shoot somebody. Don't want anybody getting shot here on campus. Hey, what do you make out of this paragraph here? I have guns at home, all right. Had 'em all my life."

Randy let me help him down the stairs as he told me about the NRA.

I have absolutely no idea what he was talking about. I know nothing about guns. I do know that the elderly should not try to navigate the stairs down to the student union.


II. Francisco Tarrega

I read about the needs of the dying, about the necessity of dignity and compassion and to include them in conversations about their own death while the young man at the table across from me softly, softly practices the classical guitar in the crowded student union.

It occurs to me that perhaps I would like him to play at my own death. Would that make passing easier? Of course, I do not bring that up. I let him play.


III. Evidenced Based Practice

Holding therapy did not work, says my graduate research professor, not because there was evidenced that disproved it, but because people were just dying from it. "We will learn a good bunch in this class," he says. He is not from Peru, he tells us, and as a social worker I do not think I am supposed to admit this, but his non-Peruvian lilting accent is superb.