Bullet and Miss Dog

My dad has a knack for taking in dogs. When we moved to Harnett County 18 years ago, he adopted a stray dog that my mom affectionately named "Miss Dog." Miss Dog was huge--looked a bit like a wolf--and she would stand on the porch of the church where my dad worked and bark to keep people out because she didn't want anyone messing with my dad. She would also hide in the bathroom shower when thunderstorms came because she was so scared! When Miss Dog died, my dad swore he would never have another dog because he couldn't deal with the grief of losing another animal that he loved. Then came Bullet. And my dad loves Bullet and Bullet loves my dad and when I called home last week my dad was sitting on the porch praying...and talking to Bullet.

Bullet likes to sleep on the couch, preferably when my dad is home, but he'll get up there without him now. Sometimes he sleeps in really weird positions or uses his stuffed animal toy as a pillow. The other day, after tearing the stuffing out of his favorite toy, my dad gave him a new toy and he took it to couch with him when it was naptime. My mom wanted to take a picture of how cute looked for me, but Bullet's built in "Don't Take A Picture of Me" radar kicked in and he woke up. I declare the dog does not like having his picture made! After using the zoom feature of her camera, though, my mom finally got a picture of him asleep. (Today's picture is the picture of him sleeping).

Today's poem, on the other hand, was inspired by Miss Dog. I wrote this my junior year of high school.

"She Looks Up"
8/29/93

She looks up--
Such innocence in her eyes.
Maybe she's trying to hide some guilt;
Maybe not.
But those eyes, her eyes:
They seem so sincere and pure and innocent--
Wanting not to be punished, pleading not for pain
But for love--
Love, affection, and attention.

So young,
Not knowing much of the world's horrors--
Not knowing much about anything at all;
Nothing, that is, except respect and honor and devotion to those she loves.
Wanting simply to be with those for whom she cares--
Following, protecting, pushing away strangers,
Hiding from those whom she does not know.
So insecure,
Scared--not wanting to be hurt:
Just to be loved.

She looks up, her head hanging low,
But those eyes--her eyes--radiate.
They are so sincere and pure and innocent--
Not wanting to be punished!
Can't you see that her tears hide the pain?
Can't you see in those eyes--
Her eyes--
That all she wants is to be loved?
Love...that's all...
Love.

Miss Dog and Bullet were both abused by their previous owners. Their behavior indicated this much when they arrived at our house, yet my dad loved them both into loyalty and companionship. My dad loves dogs. Dogs love my dad. I have to wonder if this is how our relationship with God is sometimes--we are the stinky, broken, abused-by-life dogs and God is the dad who loves us back to being whole.

On A Lighter Note: Through Adolescent Angst and Beyond

I wrote some pretty heavy notes last week ("And This Is My Hope," "How Pornography Has Affected Me," and, "Pornography: A Brief Follow-up"), so I thought that I would share some comic relief today.

I have sitting beside me my beat up, falling apart, dramatic book of poems from elementary, middle, and high school. The outside is brown with bunches of blue flowers. The inside cover says, "This book belongs to Deana. Congradulations. 6-16-91." It was given to me by my middle school Sunday School teacher after I graduated from the 8th grade. The first page of the book reads, "Recorded in the following pages are my thoughts and feeling expressed in poetry." That sentence is written in large (for me) somewhat neat handwriting. It's been neat to watch my handwriting has gotten smaller and messier over the years.

As I've looked through the book of the poems, I've shaken my head at how dramatic I was--how friendships and loves and hurts were so urgent--how much I was searching and questioning and looking to find my own voice. I've been embarrassed by some of the words I penned, but I've, too, at how wise I was without knowing it...and how young I was when I began to develop my own faith...and how many things that I wrote then I could have written now...without the help of rhythmic schemes of course :-).

But. For the sake of comedy, I'd like to share with you a poem that I wrote for English class at the beginning of my 7th grade year. It DOES rhyme. And the angst of adolescent regret oozes through its words :-):

"Didn't Do"
I didn't climb a mountain high
or hit someone in the face with a pie.
I didn't get to travel to Spain,
or help fix the window pane.
I didn't finish writing my song,
or beat someone in a game of ping pong.
I didn't get to buy my new bike,
or get a dress that I really like.
But I did seem to bust my chin,
and still come out of the hospital with a grin.
Now it's time to put my shorts away,
and start getting out all the warm clothes that are stored away.
If only I could sleep once again,
instead of going to school and wasting all my pens.

*I smile*

I really did bust my chin that summer. I had a fever of 104.7 and passed out for some reason. The over-night hospital stay never did reveal why, but my chin carries a scar from the experience. And I guess my brain carries an emotional scar from not getting to go to Spain or getting a new dress the summer after my 6th grade year. Who knew that I ever even WANTED to go to Spain or get a new dress! :-)

I am thankful for this journey of life that we are on--for having a God who loves us and friends, colleagues, and family members who walk alongside us as we chart the course...through adolescent angst and beyond!

Pornography: A Brief Follow-Up

I wanted to post a brief follow-up to yesterday's note on pornography.

As I was writing my note yesterday, I projected that I might receive some negative responses. I knew that some readers might think that pornography itself wasn't the issue in any of my stories but that pornography was just a presenting symptom of something more. I also knew that some readers might think that the often conservative view of sex taught by much of Christianity might be at the root of an unhealthy sense of guilt when it comes to issues of sexuality. Sure enough, both of those concerns were raised.

Here is a compilation of the concerns that were raised:

Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but I don't think that pornorgraphy had anything to do with those stories. I'm probably generalizing, but I think the bigger issue was addictive personailites. If it wasnt porn, then they would have focused on something else. There are millions of people who watch porn without harming others. The real problem, though, is religion and the idea that sex has to do with morals. Sex is a natural part of life but it has all this unnecessary guilt assigned with it--especially for women. There is an unjust stigma that it's okay for guys to have tons of sex but that the more sex a female has, the worse she is.

Here is a compilation of my responses (and realize that these were raw responses--not highly edited and polished like yesterday's note--and not even full responses to all of the issues raised):

You are right. I did think that someone would realize that more was going on in all of the stories than solely pornography use...which is part of the awareness that I was trying to raise when writing the stories. Nothing is ever single-faceted. Everyone has a plethora of issues that we work through and deal with in life...but I think that some ways of dealing with those issues are way more healthy than others--and anything that we do that separates or pushes us farther away from our partners, or that encourages abuse, false stereotypes, and unrealistic expectations of appearance, desire, and performance is harmful.

I did put one story in there that didn't have anything to do with addiction, though--or anything to do with religion, really: The couple who learned/realized that a majority of porn is produced with victims of human trafficking. Their conscience got to them on that one--knowing that the people that they were watching might have been forced to do what they were doing rather than doing it by will. I'm learning that there is a fine line between pure entertainment/pleasure and entertainment/pleasure at the cost of another human life...and unfortunately, entertainment/pleasure at the cost of another human life seems to be becoming more normal.

So...yes...again you're right...there's more to watching porn than just the watching. And, as you said, there are probably many people who watch porn without directly harming others. BUT. What I'm learning is that if we watch porn that is being filmed by people and companies who are holding individuals captive (physically or emotionally) to film it...or if we're watching porn that is making girls look younger and younger and enticing us to try what we see (just as commercials entice us to try the products that they are promoting)...or if we're seeing sexual ideas that we want to try but that our partners are not ready to try and so we're left with sexual desire that creates a schism between the relationship and sometimes pushes us to act outside of our relationships...then we're making trafficking girls for sex more and more necessary because of demand...and demand drives everything these days...so, well, we really ARE harming people...it's just not an immediate harm or one that we necessarily see. We're being part of what drives a larger machine that's damaging and abusing millions of children, young girls, and women. We're feeding a machine that encourages men to pay to have sex with four year olds...and fourteen year olds...and seventeen year olds...which, yes, the latter two are often sexually developed but their brains and ability to truly understand the consequences of their actions are not developed until their early 20s...and that, therefore, is rape.

I don't know. Sometimes it seems like the world is spinning out of control and that there is so much hurt that it's palpable. And while I will agree that religion is part of the problem, I don't think it's all of it...because I think that religion does some good things, too...especially when it teaches love and respect and life that is life-affirming and life-giving and life-honoring not only to self but to all others around it. When I get overwhelmed with exploitation and trafficking information--or the stories of my life and friends that are full of sadness and hurt and abuse--and when I begin to wonder where God is and how a loving God could allow such hurt and pain--and when I start to wonder about the meaning of it all--I just have to sit back and breathe and try to believe in love...in journey...in "we" and "us"...in a beautiful creation that was created by a Creator who is still creating everything that is good and beautiful and right and wonderful...and if I'm wrong about this God that I believe in...well...at least I have the hope that I'm working to create good alongside the One that I really do love--deep down--in my core--even when I do not understand...which, well, is a lot these days...

How Pornography Has Affected Me

I had a moment of clarity during a staff planning retreat yesterday. While discussing South Carolina WMU’s upcoming Human Exploitation Symposium on October 27th, I became visibly upset when we got to the topic of pornography. After a few minutes of discussion, I felt my throat tightening and my heart racing. Before I knew it I was attempting to speak through falling tears. Without realizing what I was saying, I was muttering the words, “…so yeh, pornography is an issue that is very close to my heart. We cannot speak of it as if it is us against them—as if it is not affecting our lives—because it is.”

After the staff left yesterday, I sat in the silence of my apartment for over four hours, listening to the wind blow and the birds and wind-chimes sing, watching the lake ripple peacefully, observing a beautiful sunset, and hearing a small voice nudging me to tell the stories of how pornography has affected me through the shared pain of those I love…

I once knew a couple who was very happy together. The husband’s love for his wife was unwavering, and his patience through many rounds of numerous health problems with his wife was inspiring. I remember the story of how the wife got sick shortly before the couple was married. Because of the sickness and complications from a resulting surgery, the couple was not able to consummate their marriage until months after their wedding night. The husband thought nothing of it and was willing to wait for his wife. I thought this story was a true testament to the couple’s love. Years later, I found out that the couple had divorced because of major struggles with the husband’s pornography addiction. After three residential treatment programs, counseling, endless prayer, and tens of thousands of dollars, the husband could not break the addiction that began in second grade when a friend invited him to his house and exposed him to his father’s stash of pornography. By the time the couple was married, the husband’s addiction had escalated into regular attendance at adult entertainment bars, massage parlors, and strip clubs, but no one—not even his wife—knew. As a youth minister, the husband would make trips to the Christian bookstore in a nearby town or go to visit church members in the hospital, but on his way he would feed his addiction. When the addiction became so strong that the husband hired escorts to come to his house and credit card bills started coming with unexplained charges, everything became clear, and I watched the wife live with the guilt of divorce and the shame and hurt of loving someone who had never fully loved HER in return…

I once knew a girl whose boyfriend, who had been a long time friend before they started dating, forced her to watch pornography with him and try the different sex positions that they saw. During his sexual experiments, he would cut on the television and watch South Park while he used his girlfriend to help him achieve sexual climax; he treated her as a sexual object. She told him she didn’t want to have sex, but after a few times of him not listening to her, demeaning her, and verbally cutting her down so she felt like nothing she said mattered, she stopped fighting him and let him have his way. While she found enough courage to break up with him while serving as a summer missionary at a Christian camp, she still struggles with how her innocence was stripped away…

I once knew a couple whose marriage was strained. The husband, and father, was distant, verbally abusive, and addicted to pornography. While the couple was willing to admit their struggles to the church, neither the husband nor the wife felt that doing so would be safe. They felt that they would be judged and condemned, especially for the husband’s addiction. Eventually, the couple divorced; pornography was cited as playing a large roll. Many years later, the wife’s hurt remains real, especially as she grieves “what could have been” for her son…
I once knew a girl who was curious about sex, so she visited a free porn website in the 6th grade. From that point forward, whenever she was feeling stressed or needed to get away from the realities of this world, she would escape into online pornography. As she watched the images over the years, they formed, in her mind, opinions of what sex should be and how she should look to be sexually appealing. As a leader in her youth group, she carried around a deep sense of guilt and shame for her thoughts and her “escape,” and she struggled with the reality that sexual images consumed her mind and pushed her focus toward sex even though she vowed never to have sex before marriage and wore a True Love Waits ring for many years. She took her ring off in college after she had sex for the first time. The thoughts and images around her had convinced her that she was ready. She was not. She had no idea that sex was not only physical but also emotional. She wasn’t prepared for what would happen after the sex ended and she was left alone to deal with her emotions. She entered counseling to help work through her guilt, shame, remorse, regret, and ideas of sex and love. Just as the individuals she had viewed online, she had enjoyed having sex, but she didn’t at all enjoy everything that followed…

I once knew a guy who started viewing pornography in high school. What he thought was a harmless, natural part of growing up turned into an issue of control that caused him sexual dysfunction by the age of 25. Having been raised in a Christian home of parental civility but lack of deep love, his view of sex came from locker-room discussions and what he saw as he watched men perform as unrealistic sexual machines during scripted pornography shoots. He didn’t see the trust and vulnerability involved in sex and he wasn’t prepared for the intimacy that being in love would bring. In counseling, he learned that being a man isn’t solely about raw sexual conquest but that it is about honor and respect and so much more…

I once knew a couple who watched pornography together and used it to enhance their sex lives. One night as they watched TV, they learned that the majority of pornography is produced not by willing "sex workers” but by young girls, boys, and women who have been sexually trafficked and held against their will. They stopped watching pornography that night, but they still carry a sense of guilt that they had likely perpetuated human trafficking…

I once knew a girl who went to a party and hooked up with a guy that she thought was pretty cool. They went outside to talk but ended up kissing instead. When she realized what was happening, she told him that they should go inside. Instead, he forced her to the ground and raped her. He left scratches and bruises between her legs and took her underwear as a trophy. She told him no. But he did not believe her. She had kissed him and turned him on, so having sex with her, in his opinion and in the opinion of all of his friends, was his natural right. After all, pornography had told them that girls saying no were really just girls playing sexual games…

I once knew a couple that truly loved one another but rarely had sex. When the wife asked the husband why, he said that his lack of sexual desire came from fatigue and stress. Over time, the wife found a man who could fill not only her sexual desires but also her emotional needs. Meanwhile, the couple’s home computer kept unexpectedly crashing from viruses. When the wife’s affair was exposed, so was the fact that the husband had been meeting his sexual needs by viewing online pornography. The couple first went to their pastor and then to a therapist for counseling and chose to remain together. Even so, both of them were left with deep emotional scars from that period of their lives…

I once knew a girl whose boyfriend was physically, verbally, mentally, and emotionally abusive. Even though she asked her boyfriend not to watch pornography, he did. He would then compare her to the girls watched and tell her how fat, ugly, and awful she was, and how she could never compare to any of them. Though she ended the relationship as soon as she could, his words and comparisons stayed with her and fed into her belief that she wasn’t good enough for anyone to love. For a long time, she even felt that she wasn’t good enough for God to love…

I once knew a pastor who spent many, many hours at the church and was often alone. One afternoon, I stopped by the church to ask a question, knocked on the pastor’s door, and watched him quickly minimize the screen that he had had open just moments before. By now, I think we can all guess what it was.

So…yeh…human exploitation in the form of pornography is not just “out there,” my friends. It is right here. In our churches. In us. In those whom we love. In those we struggle to love. It is real. It is personal. It is hurtful. It is heartbreaking…

May we vow, now, not to live in suspicion or stand in judgment of those struggling with or affected by pornography but in solidarity with the Truth and Openness that makes way for healing and growth. For though we may feel hard pressed on every side, we are not crushed. And though we may feel perplexed, we are not to live in utter despair. And though we may feel persecuted, we are not abandoned. And though we may feel struck down, we are not destroyed. Christ’s love is big enough; Holy Spirit’s breath is gently powerful enough; God’s grace is wide enough…somehow…to mend and redeem us…to catch our every tear…and to set us free.

Amen.

And amen.

And This Is My Hope

And this is my hope:
that the mom who struggles to juggle all of her hats...
that the single young woman who struggles with pornography and sex...
that the grandparent who struggles with how his grandchildren are raised...
that the single young female who has just been raped...
that the child who struggles to multiply and read...
that the teenager who struggles with identity...
that the pastor who struggles to understand life...
that the husband who is beaten by his demanding wife...
that the couple who struggles to have their own child...
that the kid whose drug-addiction is driving him wild...
Would be able to come to the Church--
The community of God,
The Body of Christ--
And speak the truth of their lives
Without
Fear (or)
Reality of
Judgment,
Condemnation, (or)
Passive dismissal that everything will be okay.

Oh God of Love,
whom I fully desire but daily struggle to understand,
Fill us with this hope (and)
let it rush over lives (and)
consume time and space
like the trembling sea waters that have covered Japan.

Fill us with this hope (and)
turn it into listening action that
is life-giving, life-affirming, life-altering (and)
full of redemption, courage, and patient grace.

May we live as one as You are one (and)
May we daily take steps toward Truth.

Amen.

3.21.11

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An excerpt from my second session of counseling, 3.2.07

Maybe part of the breakthrough is going to be releasing the pain that has become a numbness toward having to live separate lives. Living separate lives is very difficult, having to hide and put on a face for most of my life that doesn’t portray what I really feel on the inside, really who I am—it’s very, very painful and it’s very difficult—yet I’ve become kind of numb and resigned to the fact that that’s just how it is and maybe part of what I need to do is feel that pain again and then work through it.

Grief is the ongoing pain—umm—the whole process of letting go of something and moving on and—umm—mourning is an outward, public expression of that grief and mourning, and being able to outwardly express something is part of the process of grief and if you can’t publicly mourn something then grief tends to linger longer.

Are there steps that I can take to be closer to being truthful—like, umm, not necessarily disclosing full details about how I’m doing but just actually saying to somebody, “I’m in a bad place,” or that “I’ve had a really bad night; I’m feeling really kind of sad, I don’t want to talk about, but just know that, that things are really hard right now.” Are there steps that I can take, moving closer to being truthful so that I don’t have hide everything?

The Latest Bout of Thinking

I said it the other day but I'll say it again here: Sometimes I think I think too much.

Yesterday, a friend asked me what I was thinking at a given moment. Here was my response:

Breath. And breathing. And how I want people who have hurt me to suffer sometimes and how I do not like that fact but how I'm trying not to judge myself but to sit with my ugly humanity as common life experience.

And I'm thinking about other religions. And God. And how fear of death is a powerful motivator.

And how the thought of people burning in hell can easily motivate one to share a story with a different outcome to those they love so that they do not live with guilt for what might happen to people after death. It is much more calming and reassuring to live with the thought that death is not the end. And that all those we love will be together again one day. It is a hope for something more and better when this life is not so kind. It is a message that sells and is a bit easier than just living and working through the mess. Especially for those individuals and people groups that are dealt one blow right after another.

And I'm also thinking how real and powerful scripture is to some people who have never heard but how we in America get caught up on translation. And I'm thinking about spiritual warfare and missionaries and how things seem to be so much different overseas than in America. We're caught up in church politics and arguments on who can and can't be pastors when there are people literally being disowned from their families for believing in Jesus and a God who LOVES them.

When asked what she was thinking, she said something simple like, "Going home and seeing my dog this weekend." :-)

And not only was I thinking about those things, but I was also thinking about this passage from "The Last Battle." It doesn't speak of traditional Christian belief, yet it was written by CS Lewis--one of the greatest, most profound Christian writers of all times--and it brought tears of joy and beauty to my eyes:

Emeth the Calormene: "So I went over much grass and many flowers and among all kinds of wholesome and delectable trees till lo! in a narrow place between two rocks there came to meet me a great Lion. The speed of him was like the ostrich, and his size was an elephant's; his hair was like pure gold and the brightness of his eyes, like gold that is liquid in the furnace. He was more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour, and in beauty he surpassed all that is in the world, even as the rose in bloom surpasses the dust of the desert. Then I fell at his feet and thought, Surely this is the hour of death, for the Lion (who is worthy of all honour) will know that I have served Tash all my days and not him. Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him. But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, Son, thou art welcome. But I said, Alas, Lord, I am no son of Thine but the servant of Tash. He answered, Child, all the service thou has done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reason of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites. I take to me the services which thou hast done to him, for I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if a man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted."

So now I'm thinking...what are YOU thinking after reading this post?

Dee, How Do You Love Yourself

Do you ever struggle to love yourself? If so, this post is for you. It stemmed from a text that I received last night...

---------

Dee, how do you love yourself?

Well, that's a good question. A lot times I don't. But then I hear the words of my counselor, my closest friends, and my nephews and niece and family and do my best to hold to those words and the idea that God loves me and created me and called me good. What's going on, friend?

I'm just in a rut and not loving myself right now. Sensitive to what I don't achieve and looking through fog other times.

Okay. Tell me what not loving yourself looks like.

I give myself a hard time for little things and I'm not happy with the direction of my life. More than anything, I beat myself up.

Physically, emotionally, or mentally?

Emotionally and I guess mentally, too. Like I talk down to myself or tell myself I'm being ridiculous or something; I could do better, etc.

What is your primary love language?

Touch, I think.

Okay. Did not know if it was words. It is words for me. Regardless, words are powerful. And when they start telling you all those bad things about yourself, the best thing you can do, I think, is to find other words to say and read. Like. I keep positive, encouraging texts and e-mails. And I look through them regularly...

Yeah. I tried to do that with my happy journal but I seem to forget about it until I need it and then find it empty. Not sure if that's ironic or not.

Or when things get really rough in this head and heart of mine, I sometimes just breathe really deeply. In and out. And just try to let it pass.

That's a good practice. Just shake out all the bad thoughts when they come to mind.

Well, yes. When that's possible :-). One time, when I was being really awful to myself, a good friend of mine said, "Hey. That's my friend you're talking about." And that's helped me a lot--to think of myself as someone who is valued by and a dear friend to someone else.

Some days are just harder than others, I guess. We'll all get through it, though.

Yes. Some days are worse than others and we will get through. That is very important to remember. And by the way...I think you are wonderful. And I am proud of the hard work you have done recently. You are a beautiful person. Strong and open. And I am so glad that our paths crossed and that we made the effort to keep journeying together.

(insert a night's sleep)

Hey, Dee. Sorry I didn't respond back--I fell asleep. But that was the perfect thing to wake up to! Thanks so much. I so appreciate your wisdom and advice and always look forward to hearing from you. You're very dear to me and I don't know where I'd be without you!

I literally just picked up my phone to write you. Weird! I'm glad you fell asleep. That's something else I do sometimes. When I cannot get the negative system to stop being negative, sometimes it is best just to reboot! I hope your rest last night did that for you! Let's both find some things to laugh about today, okay? And one more thing. The text you just sent me with encouraging, sweet words? I will either save it to my phone or type it out in a file so that when I'm having an I hate Deanna spell, I can read the words and allow them to fill me with a different script--with a script that I think is from the heart of God's love.

:-). I'll look for some good church signs today. They always make us laugh!

Keep On Loving

Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier for me to simply lock myself in a closet and only come out when necessity calls. Then I would never get hurt because I would never give my heart away--I would never place it in someone else’s hands--hands that could very easily break it. Sometimes I truly think that that would be the easiest thing to do...no vulnerability...no heartache.

...Since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.
No one has ever seen God;
but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us...
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear,
because fear has to do with punishment.
The one who fears is not made perfect in love...
If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar...
1 John 4: 7-21

But then I’m reminded that that is not what I am called to do. If Jesus hadn’t opened himself up to hurt, then I wouldn’t know the peace that comes only through His spirit. If God hadn’t endured extreme heartache because of love, then I wouldn’t have the promise of a life always connected to God. We are not called to lock ourselves in our closets. We are called to serve...to love one another...even when it hurts...which it often does.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap is carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries avoid all entanglements, lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell...If man is not uncalculating towards the earthly beloved whom he has seen, he is none the more likely to be so towards God whom he has not. We shall draw nearer to God, not by trying to avoid the sufferings inherent in all loves, but by accepting them and offering them to Him; throwing away all defensive armor. If our hearts need to be broken, and if He chooses this as the way in which they should break, so be it.” (**CS Lewis. Readings for Meditation and Reflection. Harper Collins Publishing. 1992.)

So keep on loving. Even when everything around you tells you stop. Yes, keep on loving. Even when that love requires silence and space and prayer more than words and presence and advice.

We might be struck down, but we will not be destroyed. So follow the heart of the Christ who loves us all...even when we slam the door in his face time and time again.

Cut off my ear, throw it away.
Then
Stab me in the heart and rip out its broken pieces.
Regret your words, eat them, drink them
Hate that you opened the door so
Slam it in my face.
Cut, throw, stab, rip, regret, hate, slam
The door
in my face.
It’s brown, wood.
I’m looking at it while waiting
wounded
For you to open it back up and do it again.
Cut off my other ear...

--dd

You Must Ask For God's Help

Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Incline you ear to me; answer me readily when I call. Psalm 102:2

You must ask for God’s help. However, even when you have do so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us toward is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again. For however important chastity (or courage, or truthfulness, or any other virtue) may be, this process trains us in habits of the soul which are more important still. It cures our illusions about ourselves and teaches us to depend on God. We learn, on the one hand, that we cannot trust ourselves even in our best moments, and on the other, that we need not despair even in our worst, for our failures are forgiven. The only fatal thing is to sit down content with anything less than perfection.**

**writing by CS Lewis

Do not hide your face from me in the day of my distress. Incline you ear to me; answer me readily when I call. Psalm 102:2



You must ask for God’s help. However, even when you have do so, it may seem to you for a long time that no help, or less help than you need, is being given. Never mind. After each failure, ask forgiveness, pick yourself up, and try again. Very often what God first helps us toward is not the virtue itself but just this power of always trying again. For however important chastity (or courage, or truthfulness, or any other virtue) may be, this process trains us in habits of the soul which are more important still. It cures our illusions about ourselves and teaches us to depend on God. We learn, on the one hand, that we cannot trust ourselves even in our best moments, and on the other, that we need not despair even in our worst, for our failures are forgiven. The only fatal thing is to sit down content with anything less than perfection.**



**writing by CS Lewis

Noah And The Bunnies

Three little bunnies, about 6 days old, were attacked by a dog and orphaned. Two out of the litter of five did not survive, and three were found not doing very well.

Noah is a non-releasable, one-legged homing pigeon that was living at the rehabilitation center where the bunnies were taken to recover. Noah kept going over to the bunny cage and looking in...even sleeping in front of the door to the cage.

After two days, a worker at the rehabilitation facility only counted 2 bunnies in the cage, so he hurriedly picked Noah up from the front of the cage so he could look inside. And to his surprise...there was the tiny bunny...under Noah's wing...sound asleep! The bunny had crawled through the cage....preferring a featherbed, no doubt.

After that, all of the animals lived together for a few weeks. When the bunnies scooted underneath Noah's feathers, he extended his wings to surround them..and they snuggled. When one of them moved and they started sticking out here and there, Noah gently pushed them back under him with his beak. Noah continued to do this until the bunnies were fully healed and ready to be released back into the wild.

What a beautiful, story, eh? A true story. And a beautiful picture of God.

As the Stavesacre song, "Gold and Silver" says: Under wings of gold and silver, sometimes we have to hide. For shelter from this bitter winter at least tonight.

At least tonight, God...hold us under the protection of your love. Amen.

Sing Peace, Oh Breath of God

My mind is scattered in so many different directions that I can't rein in my thoughts enough to write. I'm blank. Yet not really. It's like having so many thoughts at once that they cancel each other out. Like black. Or is it white? The one that's all the colors together.

Regardless, the best I can do right now is post song lyrics that I've been singing over and over again today. Anyone resonate with these words?

In this crazy world we live
Nothing seems to go right
Every day is a fight
To see the light
We search for the good
As we sort through the bad
Asking how can I can get away
From here

To a place where there is no hurt
A place where there are no tears
A place where this is no suffering...

To a place where there are no fears
A place where there are no doubts
A place where love is the only way...

Heaven is not so far from here
And we can get there if we will just believe
In Jesus, who lived to set us free
Yes we can get to heaven
And finally live in peace

And one addition...that just came out...an ending to a poem I began over the weekend while on retreat at the place where I feel God most in this world:

Breathe life into these bones,
Oh Spirit Breath of God.
Sing peace through glorious splendor on this day.
In stillness, rest my soul,
Engulfed by Love Divine:
Sing peace, yes peace!
Sing peace, yes peace!
Breathe life and love and peace
Oh Breath of God.

--dd, 3/3/11

It Is Only Love Which Sets Us Free

Some of you might remember my "Touched By An Angel" hyper-focus shortly after I moved to Columbia. For about a month, I faithfully watched three episodes of "Touched By An Angel" each night and recorded the theological truths at the end of each program.

As my schedule became increasingly busy, however, my ability to watch "Touched By An Angel" became increasingly less. In fact, I hadn't seen another episode of "Touched By An Angel" until last Thursday night while I sat in my apartment tending to Swankle The Hypercolor Ankle Deaton.

Maya Angelou made a guest appearance on Thursday night's third show. At the end of the show, after stress, conflict, mourning, and soul searching, Angelou's character read a poem that immediately moved near the top of my all-time favorite poems list.

The poem is about love. And I want to share it with you now in the hope that it will resonate with you like it resonated with me.

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

--Maya Angelou

Poor Ankle Deaton

I got distracted walking to my car last Thursday morning and missed a step. The next thing I knew, I wasn't looking at the lake or my landlord's car but at the food and drink on my clothes and myself sitting on the landing between flights of steps, wondering what had just happened.

At first I couldn't move my ankle and I thought to myself, "Uh oh. What do I do?" Then I realized that I had my phone in my hand so I'd be able to call or write for help if needed. Then I remembered the time when I was in 1st grade and my mom fell down the steps of our house in Tabor City and I remembered how I felt like her fall was my fault because she had gone upstairs to get my monogrammed turtle neck. I remembered how she'd broken her ankle and passed out and how the ambulance came to get her and how my clothes hadn't matched that day because I'd had to pick them out alone. Then I realized that I wasn't feeling great myself--that the pain must have shocked my system and made me feel nauseous. Then I remembered that I hadn't taken my medicine this morning and that I'd forgotten my lunch so it was probably a good thing that I'd need to go back upstairs to regroup and change clothes. Then I realized that I could move my ankle a bit and that it likely wasn't broken. Then I just sat there for a few minutes until I made myself get up, walk back upstairs, change clothes, and do everything I'd forgotten to do before the whole fiasco began.

Here were the thoughts of my infirmity:

1) I cannot imagine everything that goes through the head of an elderly person who slips and falls and doesn't have the secure knowledge that help can be reached. I feel as if I should go on a personal quest to provide life-alert bracelets for every senior citizen in this world!

2) I am grateful for truth and grace and for the light they shed and the freedom they provide from the guilt of the past. I really did think that my mom's broken ankle was my fault and I therefore carried around a lot of guilt for that accident in her life. Though I can't remember why she went upstairs that morning, it wasn't solely for my monogrammed turtle neck and even it had been my mom never thought to blame me for the fall.

3) Being fully mobile is truly a blessing, and sometimes I take it for granted. So for (normally) functioning arms and legs and sight and senses and ears and voice and thoughts...Thanks, God. May I not take the simplest pleasures and conveniences of life for granted, and may I always find a way to honor you and your creation with my life.

2 From 2005

Some things change. Some things stay the same. I am thankful for words to chronicle it all. And to speak for me now.

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To Do It Right
1/27/05

To do it (and)
to do it right
through the screaming
fits that are ruthless
demands selfless
giving over and over and over
again and again and against
the grain of time
is ticking and just won't stop
to rest my child
please rest: lay down sleep tight
muscles ache from the intensity
of life that desires
To do it (and)
to do it right
here and now
forevermore
learning
to try
to grow
to give
a heart of full of love
never dies
the selfishness of me
cannot exist when trying
To do it (and)
to do it right.

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I Keep Thinking
4/25/05

If
I can
just get things
together if I can
just get caught up this
once then I will be okay
yet the ink keeps bleeding onto the
page and numbers keep climbing onto the screen
and the light at the end of the tunnel
remains but a dim hope and organization hangs in the rafters

It's Not That Easy Being Green

I've decided that if I'm going to educate about human exploitation, then I need to do my part in living a life that does not promote exploitation in any way. While the task is daunting and I'm not sure how I can ever fully insure that I'm living a life completely void of any type of exploitation, I am taking steps as I'm able...though I must admit it's not always easy.

Take yesterday for instance. I wanted a cup of coffee. As I usually do, I took my coffee flavoring and iced coffee cup to the break room with me.

When I got to the break room, however, I realized that I didn't have my mug in which to brew my coffee. The break room has styrofoam cups for brewing coffee, and I could have easily used one, but I thought, "No. Don't produce trash for no reason."

So I walked back to my office to look for my mug. I couldn't find it. I walked back to the break room again. I found my mug in the dishwasher. Evidently, I'd left it in the breakroom the day before.

Once I washed my mug, I opened my coffee flavoring so that I could spoon it in. I quickly realized that I'd left my spoon in the office. The break room has plastic spoons and stirrers for stirring coffee, and I could have easily used one, but I thought, "No. Don't produce trash for no reason."

So I walked back to my office and retrieved my spoon and then walked back to the break room for the last time.

Finally, I had everything I needed to make a simple cup of coffee. So I made it. And when I came back to the office with my mug of coffee, my assistant and her mom laughed at me because my coffee making ordeal had been so complicated. BUT: I made no unnecessary trash! Hooray!

It was difficult to pass up all of the Hershey's chocolate at Valentine's day. But I did. I'm not cutting on the TV for pointless noise as much as I once was. [Honestly, sometimes, the silence in my apartment screams at me.] I think twice about the amount of electricity I'm using and make sure to cut off lights whenever I can. I apologize to God and the universe whenever I go into Walmart and buy an item that is likely made with trafficked labor; I also apologize when I buy Starbucks coffee that is not fair trade or get a meal from a fast food place that produces a lot of trash. I'm attempting to figure out how to use less paper towels when I'm at home, and I'm taking items to recycling centers that roadside recycling will not pick up. I'm thinking more carefully about what I watch on TV and online, and I'm much more mindful and aware about the news and stories around me.

I suppose that my coffee making experience and other actions seem small and insignificant in life. And maybe they are. But I can't help but think that if everyone took the time and made the effort to think through the long-term consequences of our actions, then maybe the compound effect would be huge...even though, honestly, it's not that easy being green.

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WRITER'S NOTE: I only recently began work on Project Help, WMU's social justice emphasis. Our emphasis for the next four years is Human Exploitation, and we are going to be focusing on sex trafficking, labor trafficking, pornography, bullying, natural resource exploitation, and media exploitation. These topics are huge and the work of educating the church and society is heavy, tiring, and vast. I am already exhausted and overwhelmed from even my small part in this task.