Reaching for Paschal Joy

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Yesterday was Pascha (Easter) for Orthodox Christians. The Crown Jewel of the Church year, it’s a truly joyous experience that gives the soul a foretaste of heavenly banquet. Pascha is a night full of ancient, elaborate rites followed by a decadent meal that kicks off  luxurious week of feasting.

In some ways, this year was like others have been: a challenging Lent, an introspective Holy Week, and a Pascha surrounded by friends and family.

There was one important difference.

Last night, while out celebrating, I had one of my first anxiety attacks in months.

In a matter of minutes, I went from pleasant chatter to crippling fear, hyperventilating, shaking, and uncontrollable sobs. . . in public. Luckily I was with my husband and one of my best friends, who faces similar challenges. They both talked me down, and I ended the evening with peace of mind and gratitude for my amazing support system.

But I couldn’t shake my sense of shame and embarrassment, not to mention how isolating and joy-sucking a very public anxiety attack can be. All throughout today, I had a rough battle with sadness and despondence. But then I remembered Thomas.

The first Pascha ever, Christ appeared to the disciples, but Thomas ran late. He had to have felt despondent and isolated. He had to have been frustrated beyond belief.  But a week later, he has an amazing experience.

Now Thomas, called the Twin, one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” So he said to them, “Unless I see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.”

And after eight days His disciples were again inside, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, “Peace to you!” Then He said to Thomas, “Reach your finger here, and look at My hands; and reach your hand here, and put it into My side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing.”

And Thomas answered and said to Him, “My Lord and my God!” – John 20:24-29

Below: My nephew Parker watches his Auntie Beth sing a Paschal hymn.

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No one is without struggle and weakness, especially not the Saints of the Church. The thing I take from Thomas is not that he doubts, but that he presses on. And of course, the true beauty of the story is that he got to reach out and touch Love Incarnate in the hour of his greatest need.

I’m still feeling drained, sad,  and vulnerable after last night’s episode.  It’s a constant struggle against worry and guilt when depression and anxiety are at the reins. But that’s okay. I had a really imperfect Lent, but that’s okay. Even Pascha was challenging in some ways, but that’s okay. The Apostle Thomas reminds me that Paschal joy lasts a LOT longer than one night. And no matter what, Christ can meet me where I am: His Love is always within my reach.

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My Prayers Are Enough (Sort Of)

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There is a disturbing phrase circulating in the aftermath of the most recent tragedy: (Y)our Prayers Are Not Enough. Arising from an (understandable) anger at seeing social evils and similar problems persist, it draws a false dichotomy between prayer and action, implying that you are either a person of prayer, or one of action. But the two are not now and never have been mutually exclusive. Prayer is an act of love for our fellow humans that is taken on the spiritual plane. And prayer is certainly indispensable to many people of action as they go throughout their lives. Of course I agree that it is not meant to replace interpersonal action. Christ commanded his disciples to pray AND act. Not to discard one for the other, more “real” or somehow more superior variety. Prayer is often misunderstood [only] as a means to change our circumstances, like some sort of wish-on-a-star to a Jiminy Cricket God. But it’s first and foremost meant to change us: to transform us and those we pray for with healing, peace, and strength. Is that really something we can do without?

To look at it another way: there are circumstances in my life and health in which the pain, difficulty, and frustration is ongoing. What if I blamed the  prayers of others for that? I still have cerebral palsy and some days it sucks: your prayers are not enough! My mental and emotional wellness are still a constant battle: your prayers are not enough! I am still looking for a job and have had more heartbreaking disappointments on that front than I can count: your prayers are not enough! That would be a ridiculous, smug response. And it would be false. I am able to keep going because my faith and joy and peace have not run out, and that can only be a result of my loved ones going to battle in prayer for my heart and soul. Prayer is an action. It is an act of love for our fellow humans. It is an act of faith. It is something we cannot do without in this world.

Of course, I am not saying that prayer is all we can do, or all we should do, or that only people who pray can do good and make a difference. If we feel our conscience calling us to civic action, we can meet with or write/call our local leaders. If we feel it calling from our community, there are numerous organizations for which we can volunteer that are healing and strengthening our social fabric. If we are very limited on time, we can work with our mentors and spiritual leaders to make sure we are taking action to love our family, friends, and coworkers, and live peaceably with them. There is always something we can do, and always something we should do, to love our fellow people.

Facebook and the share button make it so easy to either convince myself I am taking action, or that my neighbor is not (whichever makes me feel best at the time). If I wanted to, I could spend hours scrolling down and fuming about how little others are doing, or just how wrong they’re getting a social issue or problem. But what action would I be taking other than that of the Pharisee: thanking God that I am not like other men, especially not that one on my feed? Instead, what if I spent my energy actually talking to a friend that needs help, or volunteering, or figuring out how to budget for more giving?

I understand and respect that we will not all have the same gifts to help the world around us; we will feel different calls to action and respond in different ways. For my part, I will continue to pray and continue to pay attention to my conscience and follow its call to action. I will strive not to shame my friends and neighbors if I can’t tell what their acts of love are, or if their callings and gifts to help are different or “smaller” than mine. If I find an action to take, I will try not to despair if my neighbor’s action seems more sweeping and grandiose. I will do my best not to look at others in contempt and judgement, with suspicion and comparison. I cannot stop my efforts to pray and act just because others make different choices or have different priorities, and I cannot let my fear and insecurity that I am not enough immobilize me when I am surrounded by hurting people who need love, friendship and prayer.

**

If you are looking for ways to take action to honor the lives of the people who were lost in San Bernadino, there are many wonderful organizations supporting people with intellectual and developmental disabilities that need volunteers, advocates, friends and allies. Here are a few, but there are many more.

The Arc (find a local chapter)

Sports 4 All Foundation

Best Buddies (look on the left sidebar to search by state)

Friends Life Community

Just Like Other Men: My Kick in the Pants from Thomas Merton

Sometimes, you need a kick in the pants.

And sometimes you get one.

Mine came a few nights ago, thanks to the writings of Thomas Merton.

In the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, the Pharisee famously says, “Lord, I thank you that I am not like other men”. He even goes so far as to single out the Tax Collector praying in the corner nearby [especially not that guy- he’s the worst].

The problem with this Pharisee isn’t that he’s super religious, or too fastidious about keeping the Mosaic Law. The problem is the focus of his relationship to God: not his own sin and repentance, but to publicize and judge the sins of others, justifying himself by comparison (to people rather than God).  He’s not the only one: politicians do it, social media opinion leaders do it. And I do it, too.

After Bible Study this week, we had a discussion about not judging or shaming others for their failings, and meeting people “where they are” in their spiritual journey. We agreed that it was important to consider someone’s progress in terms of where they started, rather than where they currently are [for example, a person who had to pay his way through school and got average grades did not necessarily “do worse” than someone who made all As, but had everything paid for]. Feeling energized by the discussion, and filled with what I perceived to be righteous indignation, I said to my priest:

I just can’t stand those Bible-thumping, judgmental, Pharisaic religious fundamentalists!

After allowing me to vent for a few more moments,  and acknowledging where my feelings were valid, he calmly replied,”The trick is, we cannot judge the Bible-thumpers either.”

My brain then connected the following dots:

Wait. You mean judging people for being judge-y is still. . .judging them?

Yes it is. While there are many social and religious problems going on in the world and it is right to be concerned about them, my broad categorization of all people who come from a more fundamentalist religious background as judgmental Bible-thumpers, is in fact something a judgmental person would do [especially in light of the fact that I grew up thumping the Bible louder and prouder than most].

I was definitely humbled. Then- at Fr’s suggestion- I read the following passages by Thomas Merton:

If a man has to be pleasing to me, comforting, reassuring, before I can love him, then I cannot truly love him. . .If a man has to be a Jew or a Christian before I can love him, then I cannot love him. If he has to be black or white before I can love him, then I cannot love him. If he has to belong to my political party or social group before I can love him, if he has to wear my kind of uniform, then my love is no longer love because it is not free: it is dictated by something outside my self. It is dominated by an appetite other than love. I love not the person but his classification, and in that event I love him not as a person, but as a thing. I love his label which confirms me in attachment to my own label. But in this case, I do not even love myself. I value myself not for what I am, but for my label, my classification. In this way I remain at the mercy of forces outside myself, and those who seem to me to be neighbors are indeed strangers for I am first of all a stranger to myself. – from Merton’s discussion of “The Good Samaritan”, emphasis added

The sin of classification is not the observing of basic differences, or in the preference of one ideology to another. The problem comes when I use someone’s classification as my reason for loving them (or not), rather than their humanity. This is convenient for me, since using their humanity as a reason to love them would mean I had to love everyone.

So do I choose to love everyone- regardless of how I or the society I live in (or ideology I agree with, or Church I go to) classifies them? Or do I only love people I like?

Okay, okay. I get it, Brother Tom. Kick administered to pants. But Merton wasn’t done dishing out the humble pie. The second thing I read that night was part of the account of his Louisville Vision, an epiphany he had about mankind while walking down a busy street in Louisville, Kentucky:

In Louisville, at the corner of fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation, in a special world of renunciation and supposed holiness. The whole illusion of a separate and holy existence is a dream. Thank God, thank God that I am like other men, that I am only a man among others. (Merton, March 18, 1956, emphasis added)

What if- instead of the Pharisee’s approach-I took this one. What if this prayer- thank you God that I am just like other men- was in my heart, and realized in my life? What would that prayer look and sound like? And better yet, how might God dare to answer it?

 

The Chief of Sinners: Sin, Judgement, and Responsibility

“And I thank Christ Jesus our Lord who has enabled me, because He counted me faithful, putting me into the ministry, although I was formerly a blasphemer, a persecutor, and an insolent man; but I obtained mercy because I did it ignorantly in unbelief. And the grace of our Lord was exceedingly abundant, with faith and love which are in Christ Jesus. This is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief. However, for this reason I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show all long-suffering, as a pattern to those who are going to believe on Him for everlasting life.” 1 Timothy 1:12-16, NKJV (emphasis added)

“I believe, O Lord, and I confess that Thou art truly the Christ, the Son of the Living God, who didst come into the world to save sinners, of whom I am chief.”- Orthodox Christian prayer, recited before receiving Holy Communion (emphasis added) 

***

Who’s to blame?

Many assume when reading the oft-quoted verse from 1 Timothy (1:15) that the Apostle Paul was making a unique assertion that he is the chief of sinners, since he says so after describing his former life as a blasphemer, murderer and persecutor of Christians. Oh, look how humble he is. Isn’t it amazing? However, a closer look reveals it was already a trustworthy saying, likely being used in the liturgical life of the Church in light of our unworthiness to receive communion (as it still is now).

So in light of the prayers of the early church and the teachings of the saints who established and nurtured it, each Christian is the “chief of sinners”. He was not holding himself up as an exception, but an example of the outlook he expected his entire flock to have. If I am claiming to be a Christian, my apostolic instructions are to fully accept the truth of this in my life. Of course, this is not to suggest that it is godly or otherwise healthy to self-loathe [in the same passage, he also refers to God’s “exceedingly abundant” grace and mercy multiple times, and we should remember that same love and mercy is given to us].

To be the chief of sinners merely means that the only comparison I should be making to determine sinfulness is one: between myself and Christ. And finding the worst sinner between me and Jesus is kind of a no-brainer.

One of my recent posts was about influence vs. concern. The circle of influence is my own life and the things I can change, while the circle of concern is everything outside of what I can influence. To think of sin in those terms, the only thing I can really change is my own sin, so that is my primary responsibility. And its effects in my life are worse, more prominent, and more damaging than the sins of others.

But look what he’s doing- and we go to Church together!

Of course, if I am already comparing myself to Jesus, it will inform the way I see the sins of other Christians.  Jesus says in the Gospels that my focus should be on removing the plank from my own eye before helping my brother with the speck in his (Matt 7:1-5). Is he saying others in the Church don’t sin, or that I shouldn’t help my fellow Christians who are struggling? Of course not. But I should be making active efforts to repent and be healed of my own sins first. I shouldn’t proclaim disgust with sin only when I see it in someone else. If I do help someone I have to make sure I am mature enough to help, be careful of my motives and be willing to share in the burden of responsibility on my part (Gal 6:1-4). Long story short, no one is immune from the tendency to judge.

Okay. But really, whose fault is it? Theirs, right?

It only takes about 5 seconds logged into Facebook or in front of the TV to see the evil in the world. Every story seems to be worse than the last. It’s easy to blame the world for the condition it’s in; we chalk up the state of things to their violence, their hatred, their evil, their moral bankruptcy. If there is backlash for their choices it serves them right. If they are treated with lenience then there is no justice.

How I feel about the moral failings of others [and how I respond when sin is put on display for public comment] says a lot about the condition of my own heart and soul.

“The real test is this. Suppose one reads a story of filthy atrocities in the paper. Then suppose that something turns up suggesting that the story might not be quite true, or not quite so bad as it was made out. Is one’s first feeling, “Thank God, even they aren’t quite so bad as that,” or is it a feeling of disappointment, and even a determination to cling to the first story for the sheer pleasure of thinking your enemies are as bad as possible? If it is the second then it is, I am afraid, the first step in a process which, if followed to the end, will make us into devils. You see, one is beginning to wish that black was a little blacker. If we give that wish its head, later on we shall wish to see grey as black, and then to see white itself as black. Finally we shall insist on seeing everything — God and our friends and ourselves included — as bad, and not be able to stop doing it: we shall be fixed for ever in a universe of pure hatred.”- CS Lewis, Mere Christianity

Does every article about the despicable dealings of the world make me happier not to be a participant? Am I eager to share the terrible story without bothering to fact-check it? If it turns out to be false, am I grateful, or angry?

If I am self-satisfied when I see the failings of someone whose values are opposed to mine, there is something wrong with my values. If I am first in line to shame their behavior, I cannot love them. Do I get a sick sense of pleasure from how right I am or how wrong they are? If so, I am just as devilish.

In the same way I am able to make the right choices, it is very easy for me to sin. And while I may sin in different ways from someone else, it is no less bad when I do it. Furthermore, although I can help others to change, I cannot truly judge them. Not because I can’t tell the difference between right and wrong, but because I cannot be sure that my judgement would be the same one Jesus would make. Thus as his follower who is meant to reflect him to the world, my goal should be love, prayer and repentance on behalf of all. Only when I have drawn others to him through love and prayer is it possible for change and healing to take place. Without focusing on my own sin first and foremost, I cannot love. And without love, I am nothing.

One Thing is Needed: Thoughts on Mary & Martha

Now it happened as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house.  And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus’s feet and heard His word. But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, “Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me.”

And Jesus answered and said to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her.”- Luke 10:38-41

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Sometimes, if we only glance at it, Jesus seems to be picking on Martha in this Gospel reading. So it is good to remember that, along with their brother Lazarus, Mary and Martha are both saints. Each was a servant to Christ and remained devoted to him throughout their lives. No doubt, he loved everyone in their family dearly and equally. Like any sisters, Mary and Martha probably had a little bit of a rivalry. But the variety in their personalities meant that each brought different strengths to the way they related to and interacted with the Lord.

Notice that Martha welcomed Jesus into their home, and was dedicated to serving him and making everything the best it could be for him as their friend and guest, as their Lord and teacher. In addition to her gift for showing hospitality, she is clearly a woman of action. Action and diligence are certainly keys to a faithful life. With all these things considered, there is much to imitate in Martha’s example.

Martha was right to want to use her talents to prepare for Jesus and his visit. Her issue was never her service. It was that she became distracted and troubled with the many things on her plate. It was that she fell into the trap of comparison. And in the midst of the blessing she had been anticipating so greatly, she had not paused to enjoy and be thankful for the present moment. And who can’t relate to Martha? I compare myself to others constantly, often miss out on the [very apparent] gifts in my life, and can hardly be awake without being anxious and troubled about many things.

So Jesus was not so much making an example of Martha as helping her gain perspective. One thing is needed. I have often puzzled over this. Mary was doing several things. She was present with Jesus. She was focused. She was listening to his words. What is the one necessary thing she was doing?

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Rather than falling into the traps of distraction, comparison, and worry, Mary had chosen friendship with Jesus. Martha certainly loved him, and no doubt she was motivated by at least in great part by her love to make the house ready for his visit. But somewhere along the way, she seemed to forget the material point: he was already there, in their midst, waiting to spend time with her and her family.

I was once  lamenting my difficult grasping a teaching of the Church related to Mary, the mother of Jesus- and I was going round and round with my priest about the hows and whys and what-ifs when he looked at me and said in his typical, matter of fact way, “She is a person, not a theological concept. Get to know her as you would a person.”

The same, of course, is true for Jesus. It’s very easy to throw around the phrase “relationship with God” or “relationship with Jesus” without actually cultivating one. Like Martha, I become so focused on my checklist, on getting to a place where I am “good enough” or “ready enough” to pray or go to Church that I forget it is possible to pray at any moment. I treat Jesus like a theological concept for me to understand the ins and outs of, without contemplating what he is like, what makes him happy, what hurts him, or the unique gifts with which he fills my life on a daily basis.

We have the friends we do not because of fear, obligation, or because we have reasoned our way to an understanding that the friendship is the correct choice. We are friends because of the bond we share with them. The love that we experience with our friends is what keeps us coming back to one another. We want to get to know them, we ask them questions, we tell them thank you, we give them the gifts of our time and attention. We are not quick to doubt them, and we are certainly not afraid that at any moment they will leave or abandon us. We trust them. And when we are having trouble with that trust, we talk through it. We don’t walk away at the first misunderstanding. And the more loyal and loving a friendship is, the more we are willing to do to grow and nurture it.

Mary had the one thing that was needed, a desire to be friends with Jesus that she put into action. Her contribution was a small one, but Jesus recognized the beauty in it. And he held it out to Martha, not to chide her, but as a gentle reminder that her company was wanted and valuable.

DOMA: One Christian Speaks

With the DOMA decision hot off the presses this week, my Facebook news feed has been fascinating. I just sit and watch the screen refresh with anticipation; waiting for the gloves to come off.

One minute: OMGRAINBOWTEARSOFJOY.

The next: OMGWORLDCRASHINGDOWN.

And about every half hour: Something about Jesus, churches or the Bible, and how they feel about “The Gays” getting married.

As an Orthodox Christian, I view marriage [which my Church defines as being a physical and spiritual union between a man and a woman] as a Sacrament. Something spiritual and supernatural happens during a wedding for an Orthodox Christian: Christ is the Celebrant, He joins the couple together. And in a Mystery, they become one person. Because of this, sex is meant for marriage because it is a participation in that oneness. It is meant to be experienced within the context. So, taken together: having a wedding, being married, and having sex are beautiful, holy, and sacred.

Marriage is also known as the White Martyrdom within the Orthodox Church: you are giving your life for your spouse before God; this is represented by the “crowning” part of the marriage ceremony [Yep, those are Martyrs’ Crowns. Intense, right?!].

I cherish this view of marriage and sex as a healthy, full one. I look forward to experiencing it; I believe it is truth, and I believe this because I trust my Faith. It’s not an easy thing to believe, wait for, or live by, believe me. [White Martyrdom does not exactly come up as a topic of conversation at most parties these days.]  But I know it’s worth it.

However, I don’t expect every single person in the United States of America to have the same beliefs I do about marriage any more than I expect them all to show up at my Church on Sunday morning.

To follow the teachings of Jesus or the Church is now, and always has been, a choice, not a legislation or ruling. Jesus has never been shy; He has never been a shrinking violet, but He has never been a politician, either. He loves, He teaches and lives from Love; we choose how to respond.

Jesus never ran for President, and America is not now, nor has it ever been, an exclusively Christian nation. The Founding Fathers did not all go to the same Church together. They did not pen the Constitution at a Small Group at Bible Camp, and they never intended for a particular brand of religion to be legislated from Capitol Hill. In fact, the need for Freedom of Religion [any, not just mine] is what brought those rowdy ex-Brits here in the first place. That’s why it’s [still] in our constitution [right now, actually]. So, because the Constitution is what guides our law/political process, DOMA shouldn’t be discussed in terms of religion, because Church and State are separate here. And that’s where it gets tricksy, my little hobbitses.

See, within the American political sphere, marriage can’t be viewed as religious, because there is a legal component to it [and Church and State are separate]. So, the real question behind whether or not the Supreme Court should’ve upheld DOMA is not “Is it Christian for people who are in same-sex relationships to get married?” it’s “Should they have the Constitutional right to do so, based on what the rest of our law and Constitution says?” When marriage is being debated in politics, it’s a civil issue, not a theological one.

As much as I love my Church and my Faith [a lot, you guys, it’s changed my life in the most beautiful ways possible], I cannot find within it anything that says I should impose or enforce my own moral code on someone who is not choosing to be a part of my Faith. And  as an American citizen, I can’t find a place in the Constitution where it says I  have the legal right or civil obligation to do that, either.

So, yes, I am a straight, heterosexual Orthodox Christian. That means a someday I will marry a man in my Church: we’ll put on Martyrs’ Crowns and kiss dramatically in front of all our relatives [awkward!], and then we’ll dance the night away. And you’re all invited. Because it will be a beautiful, real experience, with a great party to follow.

My devotion to my Faith and its teachings about marriage does not mean I have the right to make anyone else’s faith or marriage illegal. And it doesn’t mean I should be unkind, rude, or unloving toward anyone, whether my theology agrees with their lifestyle choices or not.

I pray I have spoken the Truth in love, and that I can live it the same way. And I hope for your patience and respect as I spend my life figuring out the best way to do so.

Get Thee To a What-ery?!

One of the creepiest-and most entertaining-things about the Internet is that it seems to “get you”. Pandora always seems to know what song you want to hear next. StumbleUpon is a veritable rabbit hole of brilliance. Pintrest, Tumblr and Twitter seem to anticipate your every whim.

It’s all fun and games. Until it gets super weird.

Today I was whiling away my life on Facebook as usual, when I noticed one of my sidebar Ads. Underneath this-and-that artist who sounds like Bon Iver begging me to visit their Bandcamp, I saw something peculiar. “Be a Nun!” it declared.

Wait. What?

What do you mean, “Be a nun!”?

I know. I am very-super single. And I do say a lot about Church.

But that does not mean I am sitting in a tiny, windowless room singing “Climb Every Mountain” all day long.

Don’t worry, says Internet, if being a Nun isn’t for you, I bet I know what is: Christian Dating. Artist Dating. Dating for Almost Vegans. Date a Millionaire.

Happiness is a click away, it seems to whisper, try it now for free.

To me, “Be a Nun!” and “Find Your Soulmate NOW!” are two extremes on the same continuum. All of it rubs me the wrong way. Just because I’m single now doesn’t mean I want to be celibate forever. And just because I’m not dating Mister Dot Com, doesn’t mean that my life won’t be complete until I do so.

from Sister Act 2

“oh, no she didn’t!”

Don’t get me wrong. Being a nun and dating, respectively, are both about having healthy, strong relationships, learning how to give, and being a part of something greater than oneself. I dig that.

But what if I want to be single right now? What if I choose to enjoy the life I have in this moment? What can the world sell me to make things better if I am happy with the way things are?

That’s the goal for me these days. I have to ask myself: where am I, and how can I be content, wherever that is?  My recent piece on The Huffington Post, on faith healing and why I would opt out, has caused quite a stir. As I re-read it the other day, I got to thinking. What if I applied this same thinking [and faith, as it happens], to other areas of my life?

Instead of focusing on upward or lateral mobility at work, what if I just focused on doing the best I can with the job that I have right now? Instead of wistfully imagining Ryan Gosling waiting for me at home with dinner on the table [okay, that will always happen], what if I made the most of my time alone by using it to take better care of myself with exercise, sleep, or eating right?

But how?! HOW DO I GET THERE?

“The Lord is my Shepherd,” says the Psalmist, “I shall not want.”

This thought hit me right out of the blue today, like a Frisbee to the face.

For me, faith is an integral part of the process. Because I believe I have been given what I need to get through whatever day it is. “Grace is sufficient for me,” the Apostle Paul writes in his letter, “For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Of course, I am not leaping out of bed and skipping through every day with glee. And that’s not what I’m committing to. I’m committing to acceptance of where I am and what I’m doing, the same way I advocate for a faith healer to accept what I look like and how I move.

For my peers in the Faith, God is faithful. For those who are not, you’ve made it this far! All of you are doing fine. It gets rough, but you’re growing from where you are. Otherwise you’d be dead. Don’t stretch and strain and hurt yourself. Just accept it, be thankful to have another day, find beauty where you can. 

And yeah, it’s easier said than done. But you’re in good company. Right where you are. Right who you are.