Yesterday I experienced an unexpected and delightfully tender moment with my class of 8th grade boys. Typically, Friday afternoon with a group of boys eager to get to the weekend is like herding cats while trying to woo them into paying attention and loving history! Here’s what happened yesterday…
At the beginning of class, I asked if anyone had a Joshua Tree permission slip for our trip later this fall. That led to a brief explanation that while I’m going as a chaperone, others would be coming too because I can’t scramble on the rocks due to ongoing vision loss in my left eye. (If you’re wondering, I still have total loss of vision in my left eye from surgery on July 5th. Which really deserves an entire post of its own, so I’ll work on that)!
I said, “Yeah, you need both eyes for depth perception, so that wouldn’t be very safe.”
Suddenly one of the boys, exclaimed “Mrs. Bonilla, try to put your two index fingers together in front of you like this,” as he demonstrated.
I followed his example (which now that I think about it is basically the sobriety test motion!) and my right finger overlapped my left instead of meeting at each of the tips. The boys all kind of gasped. I said, “Did you see that? Yeah, it’s hard to gauge depth with only one eye.”
The same student who asked me to try this test, called out “Everyone! Close one eye and try to do it!” They all obeyed his command (this kid has a lot of charisma!) and each one had the same experience of one finger being further in front and overlapping as they tried to put their fingertips together.
“Whoa!” they exclaimed as they looked at me with surprise and understanding.
“Wow, guys, I feel so seen!” I replied.
We then moved on to start our class, but this moment has stuck with me ever since. I meant exactly what I said – I felt seen. I felt understood and their attempt to relate to my experience meant so much to me. Since I’ve been dealing with this challenge all school year, I talk about it seldomly because it’s a downer and honestly, I do better when I just focus on the moment while teaching in the classroom rather than thinking about my vision.
But it has been hard and at times distracting. I feel vulnerable a lot of the time, especially when I’m unable to do something I want to do like drive for a field trip or play House volleyball! Experiencing their compassion and acknowledgement that I’m dealing with a challenging circumstance meant the world to me.
There’s a quote commonly attributed to Kierkegaard that goes: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” In other words, we don’t know what the future holds and we make decisions based on the information we have at the time.
When I wrote that post about not knowing the future back in mid-July, I fully expected to be able to see out of my left eye by now. In God’s good provision, he doesn’t let us know when we have a long ordeal ahead of us. We just have to live with the current reality and hope that things will improve.
When I saw my doctor for a follow-up about six weeks after my vitrectomy, he said “I would have expected the blood to have cleared by now, but it certainly hasn’t.” He did another ultrasound on my eye to check the retina, which looks good. He then comforted me by saying, “The blood isn’t hurting anything in your eye. I mean, other than you can’t see out of it.” It’s almost funny. Almost.
I knew deep down that the only next step was going to be an injection in my eye. Sure enough, that was his recommendation. The ironic thing is I had the surgery (which included more laser treatment and an injection) so I would be sedated and not cognizant of the needle going into my eye! Since we’d had many conversations about my needle phobia, my doctor advised that I get a Valium prescription from my GP and come back in a week for the injection.
As Dennis and I sat together in the doctor’s office, I felt so motivated to get the injection in hopes of restoring my vision that I almost told the doctor I could do it. But, honestly, I don’t think he would have let me based on prior conversations. Instead, I felt this calm, peaceful feeling descend on me as I imagined having the injection and conquering this fear (with some medicinal assistance!). It occurred to me that injections may be required to preserve my vision as I continue to live with retinopathy; not unlike accepting the need for injections of insulin when I was first diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes all those years ago.
A week of prayer accompanied a deepening sense of acceptance as I let myself imagine the injection and experienced less and less anxiety. I came home from pre-planning meetings at school on Thursday, the 22nd so Dennis could drive me to the appointment, since I’m still not driving on the freeways. When I came in the door, Dennis announced that Sienna and Mateo wanted to go with us, for moral support. I was moved that they wanted to be there (even just in the waiting room) while their mom conquered a fear. They have been very compassionate and supportive during this entire recovery period, so having them come along felt comforting for me.
There’s always a long ramp up to any eye procedure as they take images, dilate your eye(s), and then you wait for the doctor for a while. Dennis and I chatted while we marveled at the fact that I didn’t feel nervous. I was fully alert and aware of what was going to happen, without anxiety. Valium did its job! The injection was quick, and I felt okay, until the doctor said “Okay, it’s done” at which point I started to get lightheaded like I might pass out. Thankfully, the feeling passed pretty fast, and I felt such relief that I got the injection!
It’s been over a week since the injection, and I haven’t noticed any significant improvement in my vision. There’s some change in what I’m seeing in my left eye (a bit more light coming through) so I’m grateful for some progress. But, what’s mostly changing is my level of acceptance. Instead of focusing on what I’m missing right now, I’m prayerfully, mindfully focused on the new school year beginning and soaking up these moments of growth and transition with my children and my students.
I’m also trying to intentionally slow down and be present in the moment. Not seeing in one eye means that I can’t see what’s on my left side unless I turn my body to check. Last weekend my House had a beach clean-up event in the morning at La Jolla Shores. Being the last Saturday of summer, it was packed! Just before we left, I was down by the surf talking to a parent when one of the House Leaders called my name. I turned to talk to her, took one step forward, and a man on his cell phone (looking down and distracted) smashed into my left side. I wanted to burst into tears but was able to hold off for a few minutes to make a gracious exit. I felt so vulnerable.
Now, school has started, and we just returned from the House Retreat, which was fun and memorable, especially for my House who won the House Retreat Cup! The first week of school included a lovely opening convocation, Vocatio breakfast, and bonding with my students on the first day. All the normal parts of a school year beginning, and I felt largely present and engaged. But I still can’t see well. I still feel vulnerable often. My sweet fellow teachers were mindful of supporting me on the retreat, particularly since it was my first as Housemaster, so my responsibilities were constant. As I lay down to sleep on Thursday night, I thanked God for my safety and that of all our students at the retreat.
This condition has made the concept of “taking one day at a time” quite necessary. I’ve also tried to embrace the idea of really slowing down to intentionally move through space. Gripping handrails on stairs, watching my feet as I walk on mountain trials, trying not to multitask so I won’t get distracted and collide with something! There is goodness to be found in ceasing striving to do it all.
As I’m typing this, I’m trying to keep my hood over my left eye as much as possible so I can see relatively clearly. I’m five days out from an eye surgery called a vitrectomy. Almost two years to the day after my first disruptive vessel bleed caused by diabetic retinopathy, this surgery was another step in the process of treating this complication from living with Type 1 Diabetes for over 30 years.
If you’ve read this blog on and off, (particularly back before I started teaching and my writing time took a significant nose dive!) you’ll know that I went through a personal process of emotional growth back in 2013. Learning to trust God, let go of control, feel my feelings, and be present in the moment were the lessons I needed to learn and life was infinitely more fulfilling, joyful, and connective afterwards. One of the takeaways I’ve relearned again and again is that I really don’t know what the future holds. I used to plan excessively because it helped me to feel in control, especially of my feelings of anxiety. Learning to let go of that illusion of control, trusting God to lead my steps and provide his gifts has given me a deep sense of freedom and delight.
After a busy school year, the last several weeks have given me time to slow down. I’ve been acutely aware that I don’t know what the next experience will be like, both in surprisingly good and frustrating ways.
Our adventure to the Higher Things Conference in Wisconsin was so rewarding and fun! Everything about this experience was new for me and the youth from our church. We literally didn’t know where or what we would eat on campus for the first few meals (flying from California, we arrived 24 hours before the first conference meal was served!). Fortunately, a semipro baseball team, the Lakeshore Chinooks, were playing a game right by our dorms, just after we arrived. We made the spontaneous decision to eat at the game and enjoyed a delightful Midwest summer night at the ballpark!
From the divine services to the breakaway sessions, so many wonderful, gospel messages were shared during the retreat. The girls bonded and stayed up way too late each night talking, the boys got a chance to exercise their independence and navigate the campus on their own, and I took many long walks along Lake Michigan soaking in the stillness and beauty of God’s creation. I also marveled at how quickly people adapt to their new surroundings. From the dorm accommodations to the labyrinth like campus tunnels, to the rhythm of meals and activities; what felt unfamiliar became routine and comfortable in just a few short days. My feelings ebbed and flowed all throughout the trip to Wisconsin and trusting God made it possible for me to accept and appreciate the transformation.
My eye surgery was scheduled for exactly one week after we returned from Higher Things. Going into the procedure, I was mostly praying for peace and calm nerves. I have a history of fainting when getting an IV placed, so that was foremost in my mind. My doctor and I had agreed on general anesthesia (which I’ve had before), so I felt okay about that part. Dennis drove me to the Shiley Eye Center at UCSD and waited there with me before the surgery. I had a wonderful prep nurse named Ana who gently asked “So, you don’t have any trouble with needles, right?” as she prepared the IV. I’m sure she assumed that after 30+ years of diabetes, I was immune to needles. “Actually, I’ve had a phobia of needles for years and have a history of fainting,” I replied.
She proceeded to prep my right hand for the IV. This process always takes awhile because I have extremely small, rolling, and seemingly invisible veins. It took her awhile to identify a vein, but she didn’t make a big deal of it and I just chatted with Dennis about random memories from childbirth (hospitals always bring those memories flooding back!). She got the IV on the first stick while I breathed deeply and DID NOT faint! First hurdle passed!
Then, the anesthesiologist came in to talk with me. I totally didn’t catch his name. He explained that they weren’t going to put me totally under (read: not getting general anesthesia) due to the nature of the surgery, noting that if they could sedate me without having to put me on a ventilator, that was obviously preferable. He then explained that they’d inject a “block” by my eye and that’s “the only place you’ll feel pain…” At which point tears started to flow. “Wait, I thought I was having general anesthesia,” I said quietly. He then clarified, “Oh, you’re going to experience exactly the same thing as if you were fully under.” Okay. At this point, I tried to calm down and pray. I really had no choice but to trust God and the doctors. It’s not so much the pain I feared but being conscious of what was happening and then fainting. As it turns out, I was completely unconscious about one minute after he injected the sedation medication into my IV! They wheeled me out the double doors to the OR and that’s the last thing I remembered before they woke me up in recovery.
It’s been an enlightening process of acceptance dealing with my vision post-op. I don’t know what I was expecting but it’s definitely more challenging than I anticipated. When they said my vision would be blurry for a week or two, I didn’t realize that meant that I wouldn’t be able to see at all out of my left eye. True, with one functioning eye, my overall vision is blurry, but it’s quite distracting and hard to focus with that degree of blurriness. Basically, there’s an air bubble in my left eye where the vitreous was removed, which I can see slowly moving down in my vision. I can’t see anything else though. One benefit of dealing with persistent, intermittent floaters in my left eye for the past two years, is that I learned that covering that eye completely eliminates the issue. So, after they removed the patch at the post-op appointment the day after surgery, and I realized how disabling my vision was, I had to figured out a way to cope. Fortunately I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. The solution really took care of itself! So, for the past few days, I’ve been able to watch a lot of Wimbledon matches, read for both school and pleasure, and watch Christmas Hallmark movies for our annual “Christmas in July” tradition, all my covering my left eye with a hood.
I’ve certainly had my moments of frustration over the past week. I already miss running and I don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m cleared to resume running or my usual level of activity. But, acceptance that I don’t know the future is helping me stay in the moment. I didn’t know the joy that awaited us in Wisconsin. I didn’t know precisely the challenges that surgery and the post-op experience would bring. I don’t know how quickly my vision will improve. But, I’m okay. My family is taking good care of me and I’m extremely grateful for a family culture that allows for a lot of sitting around, reading, talking, being creative, watching sports, and just vegging.
As the holiday season came to a close and the quietness of winter (such as it is in sunny San Diego) settled around me, I opened my current read, Commonwealth by Ann Patchett, to chapter two. It was the night of December 30th and Dennis was asleep beside me. Our later schedule over Christmas break had me reading late at night.
The second chapter opened to a scene decades in the future from where chapter one left off. Suddenly the father was in his 80s and fighting cancer. I read a line where the nurse asked him, “You’re drinking your Boost?” and burst into tears. As I lay in bed, crying for all that my mom endured over 2023, the year that was rapidly coming to an end, it occurred to me that maybe I hadn’t processed all my emotions brought on by my mom’s long, arduous, and ultimately successful fight against cancer.
Trying to get a cancer patient to take in calories, such as those specially formulated in Boost, is a major part of caretaking and nursing someone through the aftershocks of chemotherapy. I knew that now, intimately. I didn’t know that a year ago. I could relate to that simple hope, “You’re drinking your Boost?” in a way I never imagined I would.
Since that night, I’ve been slowly peeling back the layers of protection I’d built around myself since last summer. I’m ridiculously good at repressing my feelings and this past summer my overwhelm pushed me to adopt new coping strategies to add to my repertoire of being “in my head” and keeping busy. As the holiday season unfolded, I generally felt joyful as we celebrated the birth of Christ, but I also felt disconnected from the moment. My feelings were hard to access and likewise my connection to my loved ones didn’t feel as deep and meaningful.
Through prayer and the self-reflection that New Years brings, I recognized that strategies like zoning out on social media, keeping extremely busy, and ending the day with a relaxing glass or wine (or two) had all contributed to a general numbing and distancing from my feelings. No wonder the thought of a Boost triggered all that unresolved emotion!
Around our kitchen table on New Year’s Eve, I asked my family what they felt marked our year. After a brief moment, Dennis replied, “Your mom’s cancer.” It brought tears to my eyes that he recognized and affirmed what we’d all experienced that year.
Just a couple weeks before we’d taken my mom out for her belated 70th birthday dinner and she shared her gratitude for our sacrifice as a family during her cancer treatment. In that moment, sitting at Larrupin in Trinidad (IYKYK), my emotions felt hard to access, like that season involved too much pain to bring into this joyful moment of birthday celebration.
Reflecting on that feeling of not feeling deeply, I came into January seeking to let go of control, stop using numbing strategies, and allow myself to feel my emotions again. If you’ve read this blog over the past 9 years, you’ll notice a recurring theme! This cycle of acceptance and letting go was also accompanied by some nights of insomnia, which is my special barometer for when repression and control has gone too far.
So, I may have more to blog about now that I’m allowing myself to feel my feelings again… I hope your New Year is also full of growth, grace, and goodness.
This year, I intentionally did not set any goals or resolutions. I’ve learned that striving to achieve measurable outcomes leads me down a path toward self-reliance. It’s hard to rest in God and be present in the moment when I am focused on all the tasks I need to accomplish.
Heading into the office for the first time in a couple weeks, I naturally felt a bit down. We had such a delightfully cozy Christmas, fun New Year, and joyous celebration of the kids’ birthdays (Teo’s will continue this evening!) that coming into work couldn’t match the feeling of celebration and enthusiasm. Nor should it. The highs in life feel special because they are different from everyday life. We can’t have the highs without the lows (or the everydayness).
Preparing for the New Year, I’ve been praying a lot about acceptance and not trying to control my emotions. The image in this post is a great example of what acceptance looks like! It’s really just letting thoughts and feelings come and go without trying to fix or change them.
Today I realized, when I don’t strive to be in control of my emotions and feel “happy” through thinking only “positive” thoughts, it can lead to a sense of hopelessness and discontent. But, there is a more pure joy and hopefulness that comes from resting in God and trusting his promises. When my focus is on Christ and the freedom he has won for us, my heart is open and able to delight in whatever is happening in the given moment.
I received faith themed planner stickers as a Christmas gift. I’ve avoided planner stickers as they started to become popular because I don’t use a traditional planner. But, these stickers are so fun and exactly my style! They work wonderfully in my bullet journal and added some whimsy to my otherwise boring list of “to dos”. Looking at them now, they simply state some of the many Biblical promises we can rely upon in daily life:
“He has plans for me”
“Ask and it will be given to you”
“Seek and you will find”
“Knock at the door will be opened to you”
“Hope anchors the soul”
“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for…”
“I can do all things through Him that strengthens me”
“The Lord bless you and keep you”
In 2021, my prayer is that God helps me stay rooted in Him and living more from my heart than from my head. I want to feel more deeply, which means that I’ll experience both the highs and lows. Acceptance feels most safe when I remember that God is utterly trustworthy and loves me beyond comprehension.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. (Proverbs 3: 5-6)
Our church planned an event recently, where ladies would gather to sew dresses in support of Lutheran Border Concerns Ministry. Sienna and I wanted to go, but it conflicted with a hike we’d organized for the Cambridge sixth graders and then, due to Covid-19 restrictions, the event was cancelled anyway. Instead, the coordinator Pamela put together little fabric, elastic and bias tape kits for the women who planned to participate.
When Pamela showed Sienna and me the kit, we asked when the dress needed to be done by and were relieved to learn we had until December 1st to complete it! Since we planned to visit family in Humboldt for Thanksgiving, I figure my mom (and sewing extraordinaire!) could help us make the dress. I haven’t sewed much in my life and we only have Sienna’s little starter sewing machine at home, so we definitely needed the help!
As luck would have it, we decided not to go up north for Thanksgiving after all. We really needed a restful week at home and didn’t feel up to the 30 hours of driving! But, that meant we lost our sewing instructor! I decided not to pressure ourselves to complete the dress over this restful week. If we had time and got it done, great! If not, we’d apologize and contribute warm clothes for the donation drive instead.
All week I’d been truly living in the moment and not striving to control my feelings. Oh, the freedom of surrendering and trusting God feels amazing! Friday afternoon ended up being completely open and I decided to try sewing the dress. I said a few little prayers in anticipation of starting on the project: “Lord, please give me patience and peace so I can overcome the challenges I know will come. I want to be able to contribute this dress to the ministry. If it’s your will, please help me. Amen.”
Getting the sewing machine set up involved internet searches to remember how to load the bobbin and thread the machine! I read the detailed instructions in the kit and felt like it was in a foreign language! YouTube videos were incredibly helpful as I watched tutorials on how to thread our particular machine and how to sew a French seam. I also didn’t realize the straps (included in the kit) were made from bias tape until I searched for “bias tape” online!
About three and a half hours later, I was done! There were several moments of frustration as I struggled to get the elastic casing closed. I about lost it when the needle on the machine broke off as I tried to backstitch over a pin! Rookie moves. Fortunately, with a quick call to my mom, I discovered one extra needle in the side tray of the machine. Felt like an answer to a prayer!
I kept making frustrated noises and at one point Dennis asked me, “Wouldn’t it be easier to just buy a dress to donate?” I sighed and said, “That’s not the point!” But, it was pretty funny because of course it’s true: it would be easier but not nearly as satisfying as investing the time to create something.
As I started this project, I thought of how great it would feel to actually finish the dress. Boy, it was exhilarating! Not because the dress turned out perfectly (don’t look too carefully at the seams!) but because I pushed through the uncertainty and relied on God to overcome my frustration and sit in the discomfort of not knowing what I was doing.
Sewing a dress had become symbolic for me of something I avoided doing when perfectionism reigned in my heart and mind. A couple years ago, I couldn’t fathom sewing four dresses with Sienna for her play, because I didn’t know how to do it well. This little dress meant so much to me because I didn’t let fear of failure keep me from trying something new. I accepted the feelings of frustration and ignorance but kept going.
That evening at bedtime, I was still marveling at the completed dress as Teo and I read and prayed. He said, “I didn’t think you were going to do it,” with childlike honesty. What a teachable moment! Teo also struggles with perfectionism and doesn’t like trying things he doesn’t know how to do. I replied: “Right?! It was hard and I was frustrated. But, it was like the growth mindset we talk about. I didn’t know how to sew the dress, but I could keep trying and learn something new. Also, I prayed for strength and peace, a lot.” He nodded and patted my arm.
This little dress brought such fulfillment, peace and hope into my week. Thank you, Lord!
Some weeks creep up on you with their intensity of
activities or emotions. Others, you can
see coming from miles away. I’ve known
for several weeks that the past few days were going to be challenging.
On Tuesday my team and I dealt with a huge work deadline that required a 16 hour workday and a lot of stress as we made the filing cutoff with seconds to spare. Yesterday, I said goodbye to a dear friend (and beloved running partner!) on our last run before she moved across the country. Another challenging work situation ended my day before I gratefully collapsed at home. Then today, I had dental fillings between my teeth. After recently having a very painful experience at the dentist, I really wanted to cancel but opted to follow through.
Throughout this time and leading up to it, I kept praying
that God would help me stay present and feel my feelings without letting them overwhelm
me. I prayed that my tiredness wouldn’t
cause disproportionate emotional reactions as I managed my work responsibilities. On the other hand, I didn’t want to repress
my feelings by controlling my thoughts, so I could properly take in my time
running with Leslie. I’m so grateful
that I was able to remain present, feel the full spectrum of emotions, and accomplish
the tasks set before me. These past few
days taught me several things:
I can do hard things.
I can let myself feel the discomfort of doing hard things, without
needing to struggle with my feelings. Anticipating
hard things with prayer and surrender is much more helpful than denying or
ignoring my feelings. By being fully present, I wasn’t anticipating the next
moment or situation, therefore draining my energy to handle the current
moment.
When my thoughts wandered into unhelpful territory, like
focusing on all the things other people did that caused extra work for my team
on the deadline, I gently defused the judgments. However, I also prayed for help seeing
reality and where I should advocate for better processes and outcomes. Pulling apart helpful analysis from unhelpful
blaming is a skill I’m trying to cultivate.
Life is full of gray.
I’ve tended to see situations, people, events as either good or bad, but
in truth everything and everyone (except Jesus!) is a blend of the two. Allowing myself to hold the tension between
positive and negative or right and wrong allows for a more true and authentic
experience. Getting through a rough
deadline is stressful, but also an opportunity for our team to bond and develop
deep trust with one another. Saying
goodbye to a friend is sad, but I’m excited for her next adventure and get to
cherish the sweetness of a reunion in the future.
Reflecting on these days reminds me of Paul’s description of praying for God to remove the thorn in his flesh:
Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2Corinthians 12: 8-11.
On Sunday at the communion rail, one of our elders spoke the
words, “Kelsey, the blood of Christ” with a loving tenderness that brought
tears to my eyes. Our Pastor had just
preached about how we’re all beggars coming before God seeking grace and forgiveness. I felt my weakness acutely. I felt my neediness for God’s grace and
comfort. To others, it may look like I
came through these challenging few days with self-assurance. But I know that
God provided all the strength when I was weak and begging.
Through all of these years of personal growth and letting go of control, I continually fall into an illusion that I can somehow perfect life by always doing the right thing. Time and again, I’ve had to realize the trap I’d fallen into and slowly, intentionally return to a place of surrender and rest in God. Part of acceptance is learning not to shame myself for this pattern. Instead, I try to be gentle with myself and return to the mindfulness techniques of prayerfully letting go of my thoughts and allowing my feelings to come and go.
I recently finished Thomas Merton’s No Man Is an Island, which I marked up extensively! Reading it, I a similar feeling that I had when reading Ronald Roleheiser’s Forgotten Among the Lilies: Learning to Love Beyond Our Fears. Merton expresses such simple but profound truths about the human condition and our relationship to God. One quote that I highlighted with an “Awesome!” comment in the margin was: “If we are too anxious to find absolute perfection in created things we cease to look for perfection where alone it can be found: in God,” (p. 128). This reminds me of when Rolheiser said “Our world teaches us that we are significant and precious, but then deprives us of the one thing that can make us so, God. This sets off an incurable ache,” (Forgotten Among the Lilies, p. 20)
These simple statements ring with such truth in my experience! The further I stray from God and being mindful of His will and ways, the more I focus on myself and strive to perfect the world around me (as if it was within my power to perfect anything!). Merton also says:
In order to find God in ourselves, we must stop looking at ourselves, stop checking and verifying ourselves in the mirror of our own futility, and be content to be in Him and to do whatever He wills, according to our limitations, judging our acts not in the light of our own illusions, but in the light of His reality which is all around us in the things and people we live with.
No Man is an island, 120.
God is so mighty and righteous that our feeble minds scarcely can conceive of His greatness. There is a deep peace that only comes from recognizing God’s perfection and our relative weakness. Our society generally sends a message of self-actualization that, while attempting to empower us, actually intensifies our anxiety and sense of powerlessness. We cannot do it all, have it all, or be it all in this lifetime. Recognizing our limitations and resting in God’s provision for us brings such peace.
Merton describes this concept of Christian humility as “first of all a matter of supernatural common sense.” He goes on to explain that “it teaches us to take ourselves as we are, instead of pretending (as pride would have us imagine) that we are something better than we are.” I love this! I find such irony in the fact that embracing my limitations, weakness and sinfulness provides the peace and security that the world fails to impart through self-esteem and self-empowerment. Merton concludes, “If we really know ourselves we quietly take our proper place in the order designed by God.” Amen.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how we discern God’s will in our lives. He calls us to act and fulfill vocations within His kingdom, so we clearly have to do more than simply rest! Being present and really seeing the people around me is the best way I know to love and serve them. Prayerfully maintaining this supernatural common sense that reminds me of my neediness for God, also allows me to extend grace and love to others.
Self awareness and growth are two aspects of life that I value very much. But, they are not always easy and often come with some discomfort. The last couple weeks have been full of personal epiphanies and a fair amount of tears.
When I realized that I’m a Perfectionist, or an Enneagram Type 1, it helped clarify a lot of aspects of how I process thoughts and feelings. I definitely related to the desire to control and the harsh inner critic that is constantly telling me what I should do or what could be done better. I related less intensely to the passion of this type which is resentment or repressed anger. Also, I didn’t focus on the desire to “be good” and take responsibility for everything.
Through a recent situation at work, I recognized that I’d spun quite a story in order to preserve my belief that I was good and right. As I unpacked what happened and how I’d responded, it was very apparent that being “good” was the motivation behind my behavior. I’ve also come to see how often I take responsibility for the outcome of situations that are really not under my control. This isn’t the best quality as a manager, since one of my primary jobs is to hold others accountable for their work performance!
As I’ve been processes these experiences, I’ve spent a lot of time praying. I’ve been feeling unsettled and realized that I’ve strayed from many of my mindfulness practices that help me stay in the moment. Instead, I’ve been fused with my thoughts, aka “stuck in my head”. This is the pattern of my life. Surrendering and letting go usually takes a few days of prayer, defusing my thoughts, and accepting my feelings.
This morning, bright and early, I sat outside and read the Bible and a few pages of Thomas Merton’s No Man Is An Island. Merton describes “pure intention” as the desire for God’s will and “impure intention” as the desire for your own will. This passage struck me powerfully:
Only a pure intention can be clear-sighed and prudent. The man of impure intention is hesitant and blind. Since he is always caught between two conflicting wills, he cannot make simple and clear-cut decisions. He has twice as much to think about as the man who seeks only the will of God, since he has to worry about his own will and God’s will at the same time. He cannot be really happy, because happiness is impossible without interior freedom, and we do not have interior freedom to do what we please without anxiety, unless we take pleasure in nothing but the will of God.
thomas merton
Wow. When Dennis and the kids came out to the backyard a few minutes later, I read them this passage and asked Dennis, “Can you read me this every morning?” He replied, “Let’s post it up all over the house!” He knows me well.
Sienna asked me what that passage meant. As I described it, I explained, “Sometimes I really like to feel in control, but it pits my will against God’s, which causes me a lot of unnecessary frustration and anxiety.” She looked at me with her big brown eyes (I swear that child looks straight into my soul) and simply said, “You’re good.” Those words touched something inside me as I’d recently come to know how deeply I desire to be good. Tears sprang to my eyes as I gave her a hug.
These tender moments of connection truly give life meaning. These are the moments that I miss when I’m “in my head” being all efficient and under control. While a desire to “be good” is a helpful trait, it can quickly become all consuming. Always being good is impossible and leads me away from dependence on Christ’s righteousness and grace. God is good and His will is perfect.
All my seeking and striving finally rest when I rest in God.
While on a prayerful run Saturday morning, I let my thoughts ebb and flow. I’d returned from a three-night work trip where I had several epiphanies about my identity as a leader and how I choose to spend my time. Suddenly, a phrase popped into my head: “Intention without action.” Hmm, interesting. For the past couple years, I’d been thinking about living intentionally. Just that week, I’d heard myself tell my Team that I had intended to do something that I’d neglected to do. A lot of good intentions do! In order to be a strong manager and leader, I need to take action. Intentions are very similar to plans, they are a good starting point, but meaningless if not put into action.
Years ago, I had a similar realization that life happens in the here-and-now. Instead of getting all caught up in my thoughts, plans (and intentions!), the fullness of life occurs when I focus my attention and awareness on doing something, or taking action. This is especially true when it comes to building relationships. All the good thoughts within my mind about a person or how our relationship could improve never make an impact on the other person! They only know my heart by the things I do.
After my run, Sienna and I had a mother/daughter date, starting at the hairdresser. As we were getting ready to leave and outlining out day, she said, “And then, we can come home and rearrange the pictures on my walls, right?” I agreed we would. After a fun and full day, I’d started to settle into an evening of reading outside when Sienna reminded me about her bedroom project. So, I mustered up the energy to put my book down and go into her room. As she started to explain her vision, I could feel a little resentment simmering inside. I wanted to read and retreat into my own little world.
Thankfully, a small little voice (the Holy Spirit most likely!) suddenly reminded me of my morning lesson: What you really want is to spend time with Sienna. That intention doesn’t build a relationship, these actions do. Be here now. We proceeded to spend over an hour rearranging the art on her walls and matting several of her drawings onto card stock so they’d look more uniform and artistic as a group. She was delighted and the finished room is beautiful!
Just as we were finishing up in Sienna’s room, Mateo burst into tears. That morning he and Dennis had seen The Art of Racing in the Rain and several of the images were “scary” to him. It’s a really emotional film and he was having a hard time processing all the real life drama. I sat with Teo for quite awhile, just letting him cry and reminding him to breathe! Sienna started trying to cheer him up. We moved outside to the fire pit, where Sienna retold him stories from the Ramona Quimby books. Teo started giggling through his tears. Then they got blankets out and read together. I hated to have to break-up this sweet, bonding moment when it was way past their (already late!) summer bedtime.
“That was nice of Sienna to cheer you up,” I said to Teo as he was getting into bed.
“Yeah, it really helped,” he’d simply replied with the sweetest smile.
The next morning at church, I whispered into Sienna’s ear: “You were such a kind big sister to Teo last night.” She smiled.
Witnessing this interaction, I was reminded again that relationships are built on action. If Sienna had just intended to be a loving sister or thought loving words about her brother while he was sad, it would not have much impact on Mateo or his perception of their relationship. Instead, by putting her love into action through storytelling and reading for him, she conveyed love and care much more than words or intentions ever could.
Over the past six years, mantras have been very helpful for me as I practice letting go of control and being present. “Intention without action” didn’t have quite the right ring to it. As I prayed about this simple phrase, it transformed into an affirmative statement: “Intention WITH action”. Much better! I’m going to post this reminder in various spots so I’ll remember to put my intentions into action by doing the things that will build relationships, both at home and at work.
Happy Monday everyone! May today be full of meaningful actions for you.
