Why Won't It Print?!

This morning, I was trying to print some things that I needed. Of course, the paper in the printer jammed. So, I cleared the jam in the printer, clicked the blinking button, and the job still wouldn't print. I went to check the printer queue and there it was. I decided to delete it and then went to resend the job. Nothing happened. I rechecked the queue and there was that first job just sitting there. It said it was deleting, but it wasn't. So I tried to delete it again. Nothing. Everything else just got stuck behind this job that wouldn't delete and wouldn't send. I tried shutting down the printer. Nothing - still stuck. I clicked Helped and tried two or three things from the Troubleshoot section. Nothing - still stuck. Finally, Help said, "Restart the Computer. This should clear the memory." So I did. Viola! The queue cleared and I was able to print again.

I wish I could clear my own memory this easily.

The same thing happens to me that happened to my computer and printer this morning. My memory gets stuck. Thoughts just keep spooling. The thought doesn't clear and nothing else gets through. It's very frustrating. I need a Troubleshooting feature like my computer has. Choose what your problem is: try this; didn't work, now try this; still didn't work, restart and the memory will clear. But I do have my own Troubleshooting feature if I just choose to use it.

Anne Lamont says there are really only two prayers that we need. One of them is HELP! It can be hard for me to pray this when I'm stuck. I get frustrated by the thoughts. My emotions get the best of me. However when I do click my personal Troubleshooter, I do get help. It's true. Even if the help I receive is just a pause in the spooling to let others things through, that's enough. Then I can pray the second of Anne Lamont's two prayers: THANK YOU! Eventually I know my memory queue will clear and other things won't get stuck behind it.

The "Golden" Rule

I always wonder when is the time when you look at a friendship and say, "there's absolutely nothing left that I can do." Is that ever appropriate? If you are truly friends who supposedly care about each other, should you ever reach a point when you just give up and walk away? I would hope not, but I don't think that's the case. Sometimes the things that have happened during the course of the friendship are just too hurtful for one or both parties: reconciliation is just not possible. But if that's the case, is there still some benefit to some sort of closure that is more positive? Even if it's not possible to be friends anymore, wouldn't leaving the relationship with a decent interaction be better than having the last memory being of something horrible?

I think this is where the "golden rule" really comes into play. If we truly believe we should treat others as least as good as we treat ourselves, we need to constantly evaluate our actions to this standard. Would I have wanted that done or said to me? Would I have liked to have been given the benefit of the doubt? And then of course we also have the "platinum rule" where we are challenged to treat others better than we would treat ourselves. For me, the platinum rule is even more meaningful as I don't always treat myself very well. I say things to myself that I would never allow anyone else to say. However, I can set a standard of treating others better than they expect to be treated: this is truly serving the neighbor.

During the past few months, I have wanted to ask my "offenders" the two questions that I wrote above and many more: Would you have done to yourself what you did to me? Would you have liked to have been given the benefit of the doubt? Would you have been liked to been approached with love instead of having assumptions made about you, your motives, and your feelings? But I will probably never get the chance to ask or receive answers to those questions. It takes courage to face someone that you have hurt. It takes even more courage to approach that person will an air of humility and openness. As humans, we want to protect ourselves and our defense mechanisms are extraordinarily strong. We attack the others before they attack us, sometimes without all the data we need. There are no winners when that happens. And the losses are great on both sides.

I think living losses like divorce or loss of a trusted friend are especially hard. The betrayal and abandonment are harsh. People who you thought could rely on fail you, hurt you, and even blame you. When you needed them the most, they decided that being right was more important than doing the right thing. We all make mistakes. We all do things that in hindsight, we would do differently. That's life. However, when we leave open loops with people, we risk the chance of denying the consequences of our words and actions. I've been guilty of this in my life, too. It's easier to sweep conflicts and actions under the rug and pretend they didn't happen. Or convince ourselves the other person is over reacting to the circumstances. But I wasn't being a true friend when I did that. I wasn't treating the other person like I would like to be treated. I certainly didn't treat them better than I would like to be treated.

Healing from my own living loss, I have found some refuge in prayer. I can lift my feelings up and ask for God to carry them for awhile. I have also discovered who my true friends are. Those who care about me and allow me to be me with all my defects and faults. And in them, I have found that I still can trust others with my fears, failures, and frustrations and still be accepted and loved. In addition, I have found an inner strength in myself that I didn't know existed. They say that gold doesn't reach it's full beauty until it's been fired. That's another "golden" rule that I'm going to remember: that through fire all our impurities are washed away and what's left is beauty that shines for all to see.

The Lenses I Have

I was home today recovering from oral surgery so had a great excuse to turn on the "The View." Actually, I enjoy watching the Hot Topic portion of the show: they interrupt each other, take really opposing sides, and share some great wisdom. Plus, I particularly enjoy Whoopi Goldberg. That is a women who is not afraid to speak the unspoken and controversial, but does it a way that is so respectful. She just oozes cool!

Today, the women were discussing the presidential election, more specifically do women vote for Hilary because she is a women and black people vote for Obama because he is black. One of the comments made was that we should for the issues, not on the basis of gender or race. Whoopi made an interesting comment: it was through "white" goggles that this person was looking. As a white person, we have had political leaders who share our race; in fact the majority do. Other "groups" can't say that.

I find Whoopi's comment to be very insightful. We all do look at the world around us based on our experiences. It takes will and openness to change those goggles. The goggles or lenses we wear can provide limitation; however if we are willing to acknowledge these lenses, we can change them.

For me, I fully acknowledge that I see through my own lenses of personal experience. I try my hardest to not use my personal lenses to make snap judgments about people or situations. But like all humans, I fail at times.

I'm going to be teaching a night class next week called Managing a Diverse Workforce and at times feel unqualified to facilitate the topic. What does a middle-aged heterosexual white woman really know about diversity? Like everyone, I know about it. I know about the differences that exist in amongst of us: skin color, sexual orientation, work style, generation. All these things come into play when we deal with others. I have also been on the receiving end of discriminatory actions based on my gender, mental health status, and work style. No one likes to be treated based on a label that you are assigned. It's certainly not what Jesus preached or lived.

When I think about it, the only label that really should matter to me is "child of God." If I remember just this label, I can look at the world with this lens. All of the sudden, every person that I come into contact with is a "child of God" as well. That changes everything for me. With this lens, everyone is created good and everyone sins, just like me. It puts everyone on a level playing field. For me, I'm less likely to make snap judgments and assumptions about others and the things they do and say. I just need to be more intentional about putting on these lenses; I would be so much more loving in my words and actions if I did this. Talk about being the face of Jesus in the world. Powerful possibilities.

The Masks We Wear

My five-year old daughter appeared in my bedroom door this morning with her woodland fairy costume over her pajamas. You see, the tooth fairy has been at our house for two consecutive nights as both children have lost teeth. She was positively gleeful as she bounded into my room telling me about her costume and how she wished she could wear it to school. I have to admit that there are days I wish I could put on a tiara, a princess dress or ninja outfit just because I feel like it.
It would be fun to face the day with that kind of flair and whimsy. But as adults we do put on masks quite often.

The masks we wear aren't necessary bad. In fact, they can be a very important part of our existence in the world. Sometimes we need to act our way out of bad moods. We may have a professional mask we put on at work and have a totally different mask when we are with friends. The problem becomes when the mask gets in the way of who were really are. When we can no longer distinguish between the mask and our true selves.

I have to admit that there are times in my life where that exact thing has happened. I get so used to the mask that I lose who I am. It's easy to do. We don't want to burden people. We're afraid others may not like "the real" us. We don't know who "real us" is. So what do we do when this identity crisis happens?

Personally, I wish that I had a quick and easy answer for this. What I do know is that part of finding my "real" identity is to remember that I am made in the image of God. That I am God's precious creation. Knowing this provides me with a solid foundation and pattern for discovering and being comfortable with me. Yes, there may be some alterations that need to be made to some parts of me, but the basic pattern doesn't change. And with the foundation of being God's creation, it's like being able to put on a tiara for the day. There's joy, fulfillment and whimsy.

I think my goal will be to remind myself that with God there is not need for masks. God loves me just as I am. Being God's beloved creation is an amazing identity unto itself. The other masks and costumes that I put can be fun to try out temporarily but the real me is pretty fantastic too.

Pushing Rocks Uphill

A friend and I recently reconnected and it has been wonderful. It turns out that we are on similar life paths . Both she and I have been very committed to taking very devastating experiences and turning them into opportunities for personal growth. There's great comfort in knowing that someone else is walking a similar journey.

My friend shared with me that it feels like all she's done in the past 2 1/2 years is work on herself: dealing with hurtful stuff, setting new goals, and making decisions that will help her make these goals a reality. And she's accomplished so many of them through courage and perseverance. But all the successes doesn't mean the journey is easy. She admitted to me that it times it feels both exhausting and futile. Boy, do I relate to that.

This reminds of the story from Greek Mythology about Sisyphus (oh by the way, I had to look the name up on Wikipedia). Sisyphus was this guy whose entire life consisted of pushing a huge rock up a hill only to have it roll back down again. Push the rock up, watch it roll back down. Over and over again. Never accomplishing the task. Exhausting and futile. It would be easy to say that my journey is just like this, but I can't. Even though I feel as though I've been pushing the rock up the hill over and over again, the fact of the matter is that it's not rolling back down. I'm still pushing it up the hill. I'm tired, I've had to rest at times, but I'm still pushing it up the hill.

Jesus tells us that as disciples, we need to be willing to pick up our crosses and follow him. At first glance, this too seems exhausting and futile. Are we really expected to spend our whole lives carrying heavy crosses on our back? However, the cross not only represents burden but life after death. Think about it: Jesus died a horrible death on the cross, but came back to life. With our various crosses, we too die sometimes very painful "deaths" but new life results. Exhausting yes, but not futile. It takes courage to pick up our crosses and "die." It takes perseverance to wait for the new life. But it is glorious once it happens. We can do the impossible if we focus on the new life, the top of the hill. We can rest. Where? In the arms of one who understands because he too has endured hard journeys. Jesus is there pushing the rock right with us, helping us get to the top of the hill. We just need to let him help. We'll make it to the top!

Numb. Detached. Blah. That's how I would describe my mood today. I guess it matches the weather. Once again, we are covered in clouds. For the past month, it seems as though we've had more clouds than sun. Winter seemed to last forever this year. Cold. A dead earth. Brown grass. Skeletal trees. No color. Blah.

Something was different this morning, though, as I looked out the window. Green. Overnight, the grass in the yard greened up. Was it because of the warm weather the last couple of days? Was it the one day of sun we had this weekend? Was it the treatment the lawn company put on yesterday? Or did the new grass finally just say, "It's time to grow. It doesn't matter if it's cold and cloudy. We've waited too long and it's our time."

Recently, I was told that feeling detached during times of stress or grief is really our brain offering us grace. If we felt all the emotions associated with our grief immediately, they would overwhelm us. This provides me with great comfort. There are days I yearn to feel something, anything other than blah. But God is protecting me. Ultimately, God knows what I can handle. The numbness is a gift. It allows me time to strengthen my roots because strong roots make for a strong, vibrant plant that flourishes in many circumstances.

My spring is later this year, just like the Earth's. If I really look though, I'm starting to green up. I'm coming alive too. It won't be overnight like the grass outside my window, but it will happen. Trust, patience, and faith in God's ultimate love for me as God's beloved creation is the key. Even though the sky's are gray, there is a streak of color in my life. For that, I am thankful.

The Sun Will Come Out

I was watching the movie Enchanted with my daughter last night when I had an epiphany about what it must be like to live like the lilies in the field. When the main character, Giselle, comes to New York, she is an example of pure joy. It doesn't bother her what other people do or say to her. She basks in the knowledge that true love conquers all. People think she's crazy, but in reality she just hasn't been corrupted by the doom and gloom thinking that dominates our world.

Jesus talks about how we needn't worry about anything but should be like the lilies in the field. They just exist in their beauty until it's their time to die. When storms come, the lilies are fed and become stronger. If the wind blows, they bend. When the sun shines, they grow.

Of course, this is easier said than done. Other people and situations hurt us, sending torrential rainstorms and winds that whip us around. We have a choice in how we react to these storms. We can allow ourselves to drown and die, or we look at them as a way to be fed and become stronger. And no matter if there is actual sunshine, we always have the Light of Christ to warm us and help us grow more brilliant and beautiful than we ever imagined. Today as I move through my day, I'm going to think of Giselle and the focus she had on love. I'm going to let the love of Christ nourish my body through the Spirit. Jesus is the light of the world and overcomes all darkness.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Like most people, I have a love-hate relationship with mirrors. There are times when I look in the mirror and really like what I see, especially on a good hair day. Other times, I don't . In my reflection I see only flaws: big hips, cellulite, and wrinkles. So the question becomes can you really trust what you see in the mirror? Is it really your true image you see or a reflection of your own insecurities?

Sometimes I get a second opinion from someone else. Like if I'm trying on clothes and say that I think the pants make my back end look large, whomever I'm shopping with may disagree and tell me they see something totally different. It can be a nice reality check to have someone's viewpoint, especially if it's more favorable than yours. On the flipside, sometimes the person I'm with will agree with me and say, "yep, makes your back end look twice as large as it is." Again, nice reality check. At times, we need the cold harsh truth to prevent us from making a mistake.

Ultimately though, we need to decide what to believe - our perception of the image or someone's else's. And that can be a problem. Especially if others keep telling you they see something that you just can't or don't see. Who do you believe? Can their interpretation of our reflection be influenced by their own insecurities or feelings?

Lately, I've experienced people telling me what I should see when I look in the mirror because they see it more clearly than I do. After all, my perceptions are clouded by my feelings, my insecurities, and my limitations. It really doesn't take much for me to see what they are pointing out. All the flaws and all the imperfections are right there and bigger and more visible than I had ever thought. And I thought I had done such a good job camouflaging and concealing them. However, if I glance away and then look back, I don't see what they see. Sure, the imperfections are there, but not as big or even the same as they were described to me.

Martin Luther in many of his writings talks about the Devil and how he works against God's creative work. As humans, we are caught in-between God and the Devil in this eternal tug of war for our minds and souls. Now, I don't believe the Devil to be this separate entity the lurks in all the dark corners of the world. I do believe the Devil is within all of us: it's our free will working against us. It's our own insecurities and fears getting the best of us. This happens to me when I stop listening to the voice of God. At times like this, I need to remind myself of the story of Elijah on Mt. Carmel.

Let's face it, Elijah's not having a good time. He's a marked man. He's being chased by men who have been sent to kill him. In desperation, he's sent all of his servants away and just wants to die. God sends an angel to feed him and send him to Mt. Camel. There Elijah will receive a message from God. When Elijah gets to the mountain, he finds a cave; he hears earthquakes, thunder, and wind. But where is God? In the small, still quietness. When we can quiet our minds from the loudness of our internal voices and the voices of others, we too can hear the voice of God. And it is during the quiet times when we can discern whether the image we see or that others say they see in the mirror is truly the image that God sees. Isn't this the only opinion that really matters anyway? God's opinion is the one who matters. So next time I look in the mirror and question what I see, I need to quiet myself to hear the One whose image I am created in. The One who loves me no matter what the reflection. The One whose opinion I can trust without question. The still small quiet voice shouts to me, "you are my Beloved child with whom I am well pleased."

You've Got Something on Your Face

Today my thoughts are on judging other people. Specifically, I am reminded of Jesus' words regarding pointing out a speck in your neighbor's eye when you've got a log in yours. A very dramatic visual and so true. How often do we look at other people and pass judgment on their actions or lifestyle when we are just as guilty? It's so easy to do and I believe part of our own quest for self-preservation. Let's face it, if we can focus on other people's problems, we don't have to face our own. We don't have to admit our weaknesses and our failures. We can elevate ourselves above others and look down on them with smugness. We make ourselves feel better by standing on top someone else, forcing them into a position that we have no right to put them in.

Recently, I have been in both of these positions: standing on others and being stood on. Neither one feels right. Let's face it, making myself feel good at the expense of someone else results in my feeling even worse. Furthermore, it's not loving my neighbor. I place myself in the position that truly belongs to God. Judging others while blinded by our own logs doesn't allow us to fully see the situation. Without clear vision, we make up the parts that we can't see and that's the danger. That's where assumptions come into play and we all know what happens when we assume.

I've probably spent more time lately being the one stood on. Not a great place either. I find myself wondering if I deserved it or maybe I am there because I willingly allowed the other person or persons to use me this way. It's easy to stay down there. Easy to allow myself to be stepped on because it takes a lot of work to throw the others off and stand back up again. It takes time for these wounds heal and those wounds are not always visible. I hurt, I'm stiff, and I'm weak. Rushing the healing process can mean the wounds don't heal properly. They can be reopened very easily and be even harder to recover from the next time.

Seeing the log in our own eyes takes a lot of courage. However, having a log or two does not mean that we are bad or damaged. It just means that we have to endure the pain of taking them out and healing. God helps us both with the extraction and the recovery, loving us the whole time. Part of that healing is having the strength to admit to both God and to the ones that we hurt that we were not seeing clearly. Our vision was obstructed and because of that, we said and did things without seeing the full picture. Even if the others can't forgive right away, we can begin the process of forgiving ourselves and allowing God's love to work it's amazing magic. In all of our actions, we can always be assured that God loves us - specks, logs, and everything else.

To Forgive or Not To Forgive

I read recently in Gary Chapman's Five Languages of Apology that forgiveness is a decision; trust is an emotion. That is such a great distinction because, like many people, I have always believed that forgiveness is an emotion that will immediately lift the weight and pain associated with the offense. But it doesn't work like that. Even though I can say the words "I forgive you," the release that I always believed accompanied these words does not come. Without this release, I have always believed that I was unable to truly forgive, but continued to hold onto the pain. This is freeing to think that forgiveness is a decision, not a feeling or emotion. Talk about a release.

The other thing that Gary Chapman writes is that forgiveness does not erase the memory or the pain of the offense. Again, this is very comforting to me. Forgive and forget seems to be an expectation of our culture. We are taught, especially as Christians, that we are bound to forgive. Think about how many verses talk about forgiveness. In Matthew, Jesus says that we should forgive 70 times 7 times. In both Matthew and Luke, Jesus says that we should not come to the altar bearing grudges against our brothers. Jesus, on the cross, even asks God to forgive those who tortured and crucified him for "they know not what they do." Man, if Jesus can do that while enduring a horrendous death, it should be no problem for me to forgive for the tiny offenses done to me.

Separating forgiveness and trust helps me with this. Trust needs to be rebuilt and is not automatically granted with forgiveness. Forgiveness is for me. Forgiveness is to release me from my bondage to the situation. Bestowing trust is my choice. And I don't have to do that. The Bible does not say, "forgive and trust again." It does say forgive again. I can choose, however, if I want to place myself in the situation to allow the same offense to happen again. It's like the old saying, "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

Separating forgiveness and trust also helps me differentiate between forgiveness and reconciliation. Again, reconciliation does not need to happen immediately after I forgive - or even at all. The power is with me. Again, society seems to imply that forgiveness means that we should allow the offender back into our lives on the same terms as before the offense occurred. No way. Reconciliation cannot occur without trust. Since forgiveness is not a guarantee to restoration of trust, nor should reconciliation be the automatic expectation after forgiveness.

Now knowing this and living this are two different animals. I constantly battle with what I deems my inability to forgive both others and myself. In this constant battle, I remind myself that life is a journey. Any movement forward is progress. For me, the fact that I don't want God to strike others who have hurt me with various plagues is progress. Allowing compassion to enter my heart when thinking of offenders is progress. Although the progress is slow, it is still progress. In our instant gratification society, it's not fast enough for me or for others in my life. However, our journeys also teach us patience and humbleness. It is through these journeys that we learn of our inner strength and learn to rely even more on God's Greatness and Wisdom. And maybe that's the real lesson: to surrender our will to God and let God lift the way. We just need to have the courage to walk the path, no matter how painful and scary.

My path to offering forgiveness to my offenders is long, painful, and unbelievably scary. I fear that if I let go of my pain that there will be nothing left to replace it. But I also know that this wall of unforgiveness prevents me from truly accepting the love of others and most importantly, the love of God. It blocks me from the path that I need to take to ultimate freedom as God's beloved creation. So I continue to journey forward with baby steps and begin to slowly scale this wall. I know that I will eventually come to the other side and the Light will encompass me. I am never alone on this journey. The Spirit is my constant companion; strengthening me, protecting me, and helping me hold my head high.