Tag Archives: Soul Care

Surprised Eyes

18 Monday Jan 2010

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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“Miracles are nothing other than God’s ordinary truth seen with surprised eyes.” — Gerald May, Addiction and Grace

I read a few ‘teaching’ books related to my coursework in spiritual direction.  Once I’ve finished with a book, I try to sum up the gifts received.  But Addiction and Grace did not really lend itself to this particular exercise.  Instead I was left with a few questions, like, what has this book made of me?  Am I an addict?

It’s not easy to think of  myself as “addict”, though I do acknowledge that I once suffered from a work addiction, a very long time ago.  Over lunch yesterday — when I was telling my family about what I was learning in this book — my husband surprised me by saying that I still have a work addiction — that the only thing that has changed is the work itself.  I’m still trying to make sense of his words, wondering if I’m blind to the truth that my husband so apparently sees.

What I do know is that I didn’t share my thoughts about the book at this evening’s group discussion;  instead, I listened or sometimes nodded my head when someone said something that felt true to my experience.  Had I shared, I would likely have confessed that the book has left me sad and edgy — that it made me recall — more than one —  that favorite T.S. Eliot quote of mine:   “humankind cannot bear very much reality.”

I have returned to all those underlined words that ‘hit home’ as I read them.  Quotes that assert that we all suffer from addiction and that we are never totally free of our addictions.  May asserts that if we become free of one — and by free, May talks about the addiction as if it is in remission rather than cured — another swings into the open parking spot to take its place.  Addiction is defined broadly:

“The same processes that are responsible for addiction to alcohol and narcotics are also responsible for addiction to ideas, work, relationships, power, moods, fantasies, and an endless variety of other things.”

Of course, as I’m reading these words, and many more like them, part of my mind is engaged in coming up with a list of my own ‘addictions’.   That chocolate pudding I was craving last week, perhaps?  The books that I must buy and not check-out from the library?  God forbid — this  blog?

It’s ironic that my reasons for purchasing and reading this book have turned out to be only ancillary after it’s all said and read.   It was not to primarily help others that I read this book, though I believe the lessons learned will allow me to do so, in a very indirect supportive way.  Rather, this book invites me to name my own addictions so that, with God’s help, I can become “free” of their power  in my life.  And who but God knows what miracles of ordinary truth this may mean to my surprised eyes.


Open for Business

14 Thursday Jan 2010

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care, The Great Outdoors

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Already, that first bluish light on the eastern sky is lifting the darkness that covers Mesta Park.

I like to watch the day open for business.  One solitary car drives on nearby Walker Avenue.  There are no birds yet.  No squirrels.  No dogs running up and down the fence.  All of this will come later.

My day began at four-thirty this morning  with my husband getting ready for his Houston day trip.  We both have full days, so an early start helps keep the day more spacious.

Tonight I’m bringing supper for my contemplative prayer group.  Nothing difficult — just a little potato soup and chicken salad, that I will serve on those lovely French Saigon baguettes from the grocery store near my home.  I have the night off from leading; it will be easier to prepare the physical food than serving in my normal role of writing and facilitating the evening’s prayer meditation.

The break creates space for my spiritual direction coursework.  I’m contemplating my final project — a paper that I will present to my small group of fellow students and instructors.  The topic, rather open, will allow me to pursue my own interests as they apply to the work of spiritual direction.

I shake my head in wonder that this three-year journey is almost over.  The prayer practices, the Ignatius retreat and even this spiritual direction practicum year have all helped to open up my life, much like the day opens up before me.  What business will  arrive  after the course work is over and my certificate is in hand?

For now, it is enough to rejoice in knowing that light has washed away some of my former darkness.  I will end my three-year journey better acquainted with myself and an Everyday God — such knowledge allows me to be more accepting of faults and brokenness — by own and others.   I notice that I also exercise greater patience, and though I still keep busy days, I no longer try to stuff 10 pounds of life into a five-pound day — now I’m down to six pounds.  Maybe in time, it will be only four.

I am better at waiting in the dark unknown for the light and answers to come.  Even now, I look out my window and the day is here.  Walker Avenue is busy with cars.  And the wind is shaking the leaves of that old Magnolia tree  to wake it up for business.  The birds are out, for I hear their sweet chirps.  And somewhere out there, hidden behind the Magnolia leaves, is a squirrel or two beginning their day.

It’s time to wake up three sleepy-head dogs.

Epiphany from a Wise Guy

06 Wednesday Jan 2010

Posted by in Life at Home, Soul Care

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With many others today, I celebrate the Christ child made known to a traveling band of Magi.  It had been a long journey.  They came out of the east guided only by a star, their questions and faith.   The wise men must have felt both joy and relief, for surely they arrived in Bethlehem tired and sore from their travels.

Today I am more tired than sore thanks to the wonders of pain relief medication.  But I too received  gifts from  completing my long-awaited appointment with the dentist’s chair.  No frankincense, myrrh or gold are in hand, but my gifts were precious all the same, since they lightened the heaviness of  a day that I’ve fretted over since this time a year ago.

My dentist would be surprised to find himself the bearer of gifts in my eyes; his quietly spoken quips are just his ordinary dose of levity to keep patient’s distracted from the task at hand.  He may not have thought I’d remember the words to tell the story.  I was, after all, under the effects of nitrous oxide for the better part of an hour.

In my experience, the gas called laughing gas normally tends to make life calm and serene, even when someone is putting all kinds of scary torture devices into my mouth.  But today it actually lived up to its name.  In that happy place, far removed from the fear of leading edge dentistry by one of the city’s best and brightest, I wonder at my daring to call one of my  gifts  epiphany, defined as,

“a sudden, intuitive perception of …or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.”

In no particular order, I share all my little treasures with you — the  “Quips from my dentist” alongside  (my unspoken thoughts in parenthesis)…

  • “Boy, I’d forgotten how tiny your mouth is.  But I bet YOUR friends don’t find it so small.  (Really, now, how does he expect me to reply to that, especially with a needle in my mouth.)
  • After many, many one-line quips, to which I was in no position to respond with a half-dead tongue, I thought:  (Being a dentist is a great proving ground toward becoming a stand-up comedian)
  • At the critical point where it was  time to install the implant, my dentist thoughtfully said to my tiny mouth, “Now, how am I going to do this?”  (Do I want to hear these words coming out of your mouth right now..?)

Having shared these, I realize none of my gifts may actually be viewed as an epiphany outside that far away land of nitrous oxide.  But today, it’s all I  have — these few moments of levity that brought light into a dark scary place — which made my dentist no ordinary wise guy.