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Taken by Brownie Bear and uploaded on Flickr --- This window commemorates the dead of the Great War. The depiction of destruction and desolation either side of the figure in the middle makes the scrolled message 'Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory' strange to me.
“Why can’t I just catch a break?!” — “Why does all this happen to me?” — “Why does it seem that everything is harder for me than for everyone else.”
I don’t know about you, but for me statements like that have come extremely easy, they’re reflexes, kinda like gaging or puking. I’ve reached a point in my life that even the small victories and blessing that occur in my world seem so minor when held up against the context of my current, somewhat seemingly pathetic existence. At this moment things just feel desolate. It’s a struggle to write, a struggle to find meaning or purpose, and really a struggle to just make it through a day. It’s not that things are so much worse now than they used to be, in fact, very little has changed. At one point, it just seemed like there was some kind of flow, motion, or movement behind me, like a boat out at sea with the wind in it’s sails, the boat is just along for the ride. And now the wind has just disappeared, leaving the boat almost motionless in the middle of nowhere. Even the easy things aren’t as easy as they used to be, and the hard things feel darn near impossible. It feels like God, the strong force of my life that has been forever pushing me forward, has just disappeared and left me with nothing, making it feel like I’m barely moving, barely breathing, barely living; stuck, stranded, lonely, and far away from sweet relief.
My own story reminds me of St. Ignatious’ concepts of consolation and desolation. He felt that all of mankind experience times of consolation and desolation. Consolation consists of those times when we feel that mysterious force behind us like a wind in our sails, when we’re aware of God’s presence in our life and have no doubts that he’s right there, ordaining each step. Things seem to be moving and flowing, and we really get a sense that this life has a motion, a purpose, and a destination. It’s like walking in a field in the middle of the afternoon when the sun is out and everything is illuminated, we feel safe, we know where we are and where we are going because we can see for miles in any direction. We have no problem determining right and wrong because we have God acting as our own personal Jiminy Cricket, whispering in our ear. During consolation, we still have issues and problems just like any other time, but they seem manageable and maybe even a little exciting.
But then there’s this other thing called desolation. And desolation is just the opposite, it includes those times when things seem dark, the force that was once thrusting us forward at high speeds has disappeared, and we feel stuck and abandoned. We become very unsure of God’s presence and as a result become unsure of our own direction, every decision seems more difficult, even the litte ones. Estranged and foresaken are the feelings that dominate the heart, leaving us feeling paralyzed at most and extremely exhausted at the very least. It’s leads us to scream and yell, directing our attention to the dark abyss that seems to have replaced the life force that used to be behind us.
Ignatious eventually makes it clear, that these are our feelings, maybe our earthly realities, but our God is an ominpresent God. He’s there, even when we’re feeling forsaken and abandoned, as we all feel at times, He never actually leaves. Ignatious goes on to point out that the answers to true life, the road toward the abundant living we’ve all heard so much about is found amidst the times of desolation. Strength, Patience, Bravery, Loyalty, Faith and True Love are all characteristics developed into a state of completion and perfection during the desolate and dark times. It’s the man that still believes while in the dark and in the silence who has found perfect faith. Lord, help me! When I struggle, when I feel pain, when I see destruction and corruption, when I experience desolation, let me rejoice for the opportunity to have my faith perfected.
2 Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, 3for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. 4And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
- James 1:2-4
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God vs. Scrambled Eggs
Jan 30
Uploaded to Flickr on January 29, 2010 by Spork or Foon?
Ronald Rolheiser in his book, “Forgotten Among the Lillies” tells a story of a young man who came to him for confession. He had been involved in an affair with a woman and as a result she had become pregnant. Ronald described him as “being a sensitive person who needed no reminders that he had been irresponsible. He made no attempt to rationalize or offer excuses.” He goes on to explain how he understood the irrevocable brokenness or destruction that was to come as a consequence for his action. The young man’s last words really summarized the sadness and hopelessness that plagued his soul at that moment: “There is no way I’ll ever live normally again, beyond this. Even God can’t unscramble an egg.”
I read this and I couldn’t help but think about my own scrambled eggs, the mistakes I’ve encountered and the messes they’ve left behind. Whether it be the decisions of a governing system (Presidents, Congressman), the hurtful decisions of friends or family, or just my own mistakes and consistent failures, these are things I can’t go back and change, things no one can go back and change. And the cynic in me, the broken, scared, frustrated, stressed, and tired person I’ve been screams out pointing to the hopelessness, the pain, and the ugliness of everything around me. I point to the idiots that I see instead of the innovators. I point to the corrupt instead of the honorable, and It always seems I’m more willing to point to everyone’s mistakes instead of pointing toward their joys and successes.
It’s like I’m on a boat with Jesus down below and my first thought is to wake him up to point out the storm, resulting in the very same rebuke heard by the disciples: “O ye of little faith.” Cynicism is the tendency in all of us to point in the wrong direction. Doesn’t the world have enough commentators willing to point at all that’s wrong in the world, where are the ones called to point in the opposite direction, to point to hope. Where are the Christians who were called to be light to the world, to remind us there is hope amidst the pain.
I think it’s time for me to try and take my place as a true Christian, pointing to the “true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable.” and if their is nothing around to point to, I guess it’s my job to make sure there is.
So maybe it’s true, God can’t unscramble an egg, but he can provide another one, and another one, and another one. With God, it’s not about what you’ve done, but what are you going to do, now? I think that’s how we can always know God from all others, it’s always about what you’re going to do NOW!
My Cracks In the Sidewalk
Jan 24
“I encounter people when I walk on the street now who give me sort of a sad look. I have had more fortune than anybody I know. And if our next gig is doing a show in a 7-Eleven Parking lot we will find a way to make it fine. We really will. I have no problems. And, I don’t want to do it on a 7-Eleven parking lot. (Audience laughs) But whatever, uh… And all I ask is one thing…and this is…I’m asking this particularly of young people that watch…please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. For the record, it’s my least favorite quality. It doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you. Amazing things will happen.”
- Conan O’Brien (from his goodbye speech on the Tonight Show)
I feel for Conan. Although I am extremely impressed with Conan’s words and thoughts, there is no doubt in my mind how hard this must be for him: to have reached his dream only to have it ripped from him so rapidly. How different the world must look. The color, fascination, and excitement that comes with living a dream quickly transforms into dull tones of grey. No matter how easy it must be to say cynicism is the enemy, it’s never quite so easy the next day. I’m sure Conan will never be labeled a cynic but no doubt the next couple weeks cynicism will feel much like a best friend to ‘ole CoCo. All of that being said Conan’s goodbye has me thinking more about my own goodbyes, about my own tendencies toward cynicism, my own inability to walk away from my dreams.
I’m reminded of my cousin’s kid, Ethan, on his birthday this last year. He immediately became infatuated with one of his gifts, a toy vaccum cleaner. He really went at it, he vacuumed every inch of that room, probably 3 or 4 times and still there was no sign that he was ever going to quit. The time had come to show him and his twin sister their big playhouse, that no doubt took hours for my cousin to put together and here Ethan is still vacuuming the living room. So here comes Mom, she picks up little Ethan who almost instantly begins violently kicking and screaming, it was obvious he did not want to be pulled away from that vacuum cleaner. He didn’t care where he was going or what was going to come next, he wanted to cry and scream, to grieve and lament that former moment in the living room with the vacuum cleaner.
I can’t help but question where, on a scale between Conan’s reaction and Ethan’s, my reactions fall. Maybe if I were more of a seasoned writer, like Conan I would have said the right thing and let the dream go, like a mature adult should but if I’m going to be honest here Id’ have to admit I relate much more to Ethan and his story and reaction. I, too, like Conan, have become to hate cynicism but sometimes I wonder if its not as inevitable as cracks in a sidewalk. Life hurts, time often takes away more than it gives. I’m only 26 years old, I have many more goodbye ahead of me in this life maybe someday I’ll be able to handle it as graciously as Conan, with what C.S Lewis called “excellent absurdity“.
“But to thank God for the “excellent absurdity” which enables us to play great parts without pride and little ones without dejection, rejecting nothing through false modesty which is only another form of pride, and never when we occupy for a moment the centre of the stage, forgetting that the play would have gone off just as well without us…” - C.S. Lewis
Saying Goodbye
Jan 18
Saying Goodbye has never really been one of my strengths. I’m extraordinarily awful at just simply uttering the words goodbye and letting that be enough. Goodbyes for me happen in multiple stages, like 4 or 5 very lengthy stages. Basically, what I mean by that is that I have found a way to drag out my goodbyes to where they last for long, long periods of time. For example: When I moved to Florida a couple of years ago leaving my little brother was very difficult for me because we had become attached at the hip. And because of that when it came to saying Goodbye I stretched the whole tedious process out for a whole two months before it was actually time for me to go. Anytime that the conversation lulled or after a moment of extreme excitement or hilarity my mind would always settle right back into the unsettling thoughts that these moments wouldn’t be so accessible anymore. Holding on to a realization like that is almost impossible for me, it’s a reflex like puking, so naturally I would have to say something like: “Man, it sucks that we won’t be able to do this anymore once I’m gone.” What at first would bring an emotional tear eventually would become so predictable that it would be met with a simple roll of the eyes.
So last week when I found myself saying goodbye to a job that quickly became the best gig I’ve ever had, needless to say I felt the need to begin my wearisome and lengthy parade of goodbyes. Once again by the time it was actually time for me to say goodbye, I had created a certain amount of indifference in regards to my actual departure.
And the truth is I understand why my actions have this effect, I can only imagine the thoughts that would run through my head were someone to do this to me: “If I have to say goodbye to that egotistical maniac one more time I think I’ll poke him in the eye and make a run for it.”
It’s all very much like Turk and J.D. in the last episode of Scrubs where Turk begins his Goodbye to early in the day and they realize the emotion and momentum is gone by the end of the day. It’s like I’m so afraid my departure won’t mean anything that I actually cause it to mean very little. Anyone else experience this? It seems to ingrained in me, you know like it’s a part of me, to just stop.
I very much value all the people and places that have contributed to the person I am today and they are still a big part of who I am no matter how the goodbye played out.
I’M GOING TO GO BACK THERE SOMEDAY
(Lyrics & Music Paul Williams/Ken Ascher)
This looks familiar
Vaguely familiar
Almost unreal yet
It’s too soon to feel yet
Close to my soul and yet so far away
I’m going to go back there some day.
Sunrises, nightfalls
Sometimes the sky calls
Is that a song there?
Then do I belong there?
I’ve never been there but I know the way
I’m going to go back there some day.
There’s not a word yet for old friends
Who’ve just met
Part heaven, part space
Or have I found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay.
I’m going to go back there some day
Favorite Fifteen (8-15-09)
Aug 15
Why I Am Such A Pack Rat.
Aug 14
***I understand that this really isn’t poetry of any kind, but this is the way it came out of my head. Take it as it is. This is why I am such a pack rat:
One may come to wonder
if my brain is held together
by bandaids and duct tape
with all my memories
seeping out,
or like a firefly in a jar
with the lid in my hand.
So many of my memories
would have left me for good
if it wasn’t for bandaids
duct tape and tupperware jars.
