T and Balls (clearly a nickname, and part of her last name…though we called her that “because she walked like she had some”) lived a floor below me and both of these women I was really close to. They both played on the softball team and were in different majors, but we always found a class we could take together every quarter…and while I wasn’t a big club goer even then…we went out together, or to dinner, or to meetings… It was just a really good friendship.

Balls would come up to my room early on Saturdays and ask if I’d go for a drive with her. T would call me on lazy Sundays and ask me to come down just to snuggle and watch movies. They were both really great friends to me and shared….a LOT of their hearts.

T had had what she described as the perfect childhood, but a really crappy end to it. She had a brother and an older sister…her parents were both together and they were a close-knit family. She had always excelled at sports and her dad was at every single game, every single time, yelling the loudest, really supporting her.

I guess the perfect part of her childhood ended when, one morning very early, she was woken up by her sister who had the bedroom next door to her, in the basement. Her sister had come into T’s bedroom and complained that she was really sick and could she go get their parents. T had a hard time getting up and didn’t feel well herself, but she told her sister to go back to bed and she’d go get them (in their bedroom, on the 2nd floor…from the basement.)

She got to the 1st floor, vomited and passed out. She woke up, not sure how long she’d been passed out, went up another flight of stairs, called out for her parents and passed out again. She came-to with both of her parents scrambling to get T to the hospital or to figure out what to do. When they figured out what they were going to do, her Dad went downstairs to wake up her sister, and ask that she take care of their younger brother while they went to the hospital….but he found T’s sister, dead.

Her dad had just finished the basement with two rooms and a finished living space. They’d had to re-vent the furnace and a something hadn’t been done right. T and her sister (and actually the whole family to varying degrees) had carbon monoxide poisoning…and her sister died. In actuality, her trying to save her sister…resulted in HER being saved…and the rest of her family as well…but it also resulted in her sister’s death.

T told me this story five or six times over and just sobbed and sobbed into my neck every time. I realized after about the third time she told me, that these feelings of guilt…and fear…and grief…and terrible LOSS had been building up inside her (probably since the last time we’d talked about it)…and like a pot of boiling milk with a lid on it…she was just flowing over.

Her family and her childhood splintered right then. She, of course, felt responsible for her sister’s death because she didn’t make it all the way up. Her family was grieving the loss of their daughter….and every time T saw that whole in her parents’ hearts, she felt like she was holding the cookie cutter that did it. I’m absolutely certain that they did their best … but for a heartbroken family to grieve themselves and try to wade through it and be actually be HEARD by their 16 year old daughter who thinks she killed her sister? It’s a feat damn near impossible in my mind.

T ended up not coming back the next year – I’m certain she failed out and lost that scholarship, but she said she was going to go back to the school she’d been at the year before. I moved out of that residence hall and became an RA across campus….Balls moved into a house with other members of her team. She still called me for drives, we still went out. Our lives all changed in ways and stayed the same in others…..and we all moved towards graduation and evolved into other lives.

Years later I was talking with Balls and asked about T, if she’d ever heard from her or known what happened. Balls, now a police officer in a far-away state, said that she’d heard that T moved to Chicago, gotten heavily involved in drugs, refused help from her family and (think Intervention)…they cut ties with her. I did a search on the web for her and found a picture of her receiving her a belt in some martial art. She looked as though she’d been rode hard and put up wet – she looked TERRIBLE. Her face was sullen and severe, eyes hard and that gorgeous, BRIGHT RED hair looked…broken.

She looked broken.

That was years ago and I’m not sure of what has happened since for T. I still look for her online…and while there are just…two links that are at all relevant, I’ve emailed her at an old address that I could associate with her, but not since 2006. Recently I was in touch with an family-member-in-law of T’s Dad on facebook and we’ve emailed a few times….and it seems as though there’s no glimmer of change from what last I’d heard.

A couple of months ago I was with a bunch of my closest friends and one of them said that she has a list of people she always adds to her prayers. For years she’s been praying for these people and sometimes it’s just by saying their names. It was a new idea for me, since I don’t even make grocery lists, let alone prayer lists….but what does it hurt?

So for the past couple of months I’ve just been praying for T…passing her name along to God…hoping that she’s well, praying for her health and safety…but mostly for peace with her past, wholeness in her heart. Lately a lot of my conversations with God have been about addictions and prayers for those who struggle…or who are asking for help.

I don’t really have hope that T and I will be in touch, but for years T and her friendship and her story and her life today have really been pressing on my heart…and on my throat some days…I feel like at least I’d want to put out into the Universe that she’d made an imprint on me as a friend. That she was a true and honest and loving person who I really really believed in, and really loved. I pray that every time God puts her on my heart that he reaches in and touches hers, too.

So I decided to give it a try – to be mindful of what I was doing, when I was doing it. My hope was that I’d gain more TIME (because I’d be so efficiently and effectively using my time, right?) Well it didn’t turn out that way.

It turned out that I’d never turn on my computer at night and I’d resort to prayer journaling in my paper journal – in a quiet room…but definitely not in bed. (Since I’ve highlighted of course my propensity for…falling asleep.)

And then I got sick. Oh HOLY how sick I got…and how sick I still am! Two enormous doses of antibiotics later, I’m still using an inhaler and keeping sweetie up at night with my coughing. Bronchitis, while I’ve never had it and I’m still fuzzy as to what it IS….sucks….

But here I am back again. My class on prayer is over – but I’ll continue with this journal for sure. I might be multitasking though.

He’s, well, he’s always verbing when I’m verbing (doing while I’m doing)
and for the last week, when I sit down to type on the computer in the evening, he seems to think that looks like a good idea.
So he creeps up, turns on that motor of a purr he’s got goin’ on….and he sacks out on my chest.

And see, while normally I could probably love on him and put him down at my side……we don’t get to DO this very often.
So I let him stay. And I turn off the TV and I close my eyes…and we just lay and love for a while.

And then I fall asleep.
And I really haven’t been able to write in this journal in the last few days.

But interestingly I’ve been really excited to see that my prayer-life has opened up in an incredible way. I was realizing before the New Year that I was doing more “drive-by prayers” than really being intentional about the time I spent with God. I’d throw-up a quick prayer to God when I thought about it: “Please keep ____ safe.” “Heal him.” “She looks so troubled, please keep her close.”

I felt like I was a waitress and God was my short-order cook. “Eggs, over easy. Hashbrowns. Bacon & OJ!”

In the last few weeks I can see now that I’ve gone from barking favors (okay not barking)….to explaining more to him, talking….to really asking him to reveal what I should do….asking what is favorable…talking-through some of the more complex things. I’ve also grown to be a more grateful person, noticing the blessings – and being thankful.

Oh look – it’s a prayer journal.
And oh look – Frank’s back!

I….don’t think Rick Warren’s prayer was terrible. I know I know I know I’m all “new” with the whole God thing…and someone could read this and think, “Well she’s a CHRISTIAN…of COURSE she’ll side with the pastor.” But then again, if you know me, you know I wouldn’t…because I’m just as afraid of evangelical pastors…or crap…any pastor outside my own church or my family (of which I have two pastors in)…so that statement’s not really accurate.

I get that people don’t like Warren – I mean I’m certainly not his biggest fan, but I also get that the work he’s doing to end poverty, global economic development, promoting peace, educating the next generation, and furthering development of vaccinations in developing countries…well it’s more than I’ve done.

Is he anti-choice? Yes – and so are some of my friends.
Is he anti-gay? Well I can say he certainly fucked up a lot with Prop8, and much of what he says demeans and offends me as a lesbian. That can’t write off (for me) the fact that he’s also done a TON in moving the shift of the evangelical church to social action (ending poverty, fighting for better education) instead of encouraging them to hone-in on social issues like abortion and gay marriage.

I heard an interview with him and, while I still don’t LIKE him…I can respect pieces of what he’s doing. I think it’s interesting: it’s like he’s trying to turn the pack of wild Stallions from blindly running off of the cliff. They’re all yelling at the gays, the pro-choicers about their sins and carrying on while running off the cliff…. but Warren is trying to get them to turn…by saying, “Hey – there’s REAL work we can do here. We need to change our focus to social action.”

Sure, I’d love it if he could believe like I do….but he doesn’t. I’d love it if he could know my church, hear a call for reconciliation….but he doesn’t right now. I can only pray that he’ll get there and lead others as well. And I can pray just as hard that he doesn’t do more damage in the long-run.

But that’s not the point of my post I guess. The point is – I read over his prayer yesterday, and I have to admit that it touched me to see its gentleness, and its depth of inclusiveness.

YES INCLUSIVENESS!

I hear that people were offended, or were put-off because it was laced with Christianity (even though I beg of people to remember that it was a prayer…from a Christian pastor…for a Christian President…so why would it not be Christian)….. but what I wonder is if people GET that it utilized statements from many religions?

Judaism: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One” (this is from the Shema)
Islam: “O God who is merciful and compassionate…”
He spoke of Jesus pluralistically…and broadly. And yes, from the shoes of a Christian as well.

I guess of all of the things that he prayed for:

• Giving Obama wisdom to lead with humility, courage to lead with integrity, and compassion to lead with generosity
• Asking protection for him, his family, Biden, the Cabinet and other elected leaders
• Helping us to remember that we’re ALL Americans
• Forgiving us for fighting each other, focusing on our individual gains, presuming our own greatness, and not treating others well
• Praying for clarity in our aims, responsibility in our actions, humility and civility
• Help in seeking common good
• For everyone to come together to work for a more just, healthy and prosperous nation and peaceful planet

…..well I can’t see that anyone, no matter WHAT they believe, would be offended if ANYONE’s version God made-good on those prayers.

Am I wrong?

Do I think those who were disgusted with Warren’s prayer are unjustified or wrong? No – we all come from a different place, I get that. I also get that…if a waiter has served you a plate of crap time and time again….then you can only expect to taste crap the next time he serves it up again. I respect that our experiences shape how we’ll see it.

And I remember when I was NOT a believer…and Christians would say they’d pray for me, or they thanked God for me….at first I was pretty harsh and hateful….and then I realized. if someone’s going to take time out of their day, to talk to someone they believe in, and ask them to do something good for me, or watch over me, or thank them for me? Well at the end of the day, that doesn’t hurt me a one bit….

I get that not everyone speaks the Lord’s prayer, or believes in God, or Yeshua or Issa for that matter. But I do think, though, that if you look at the meal, a la carte, it’s certainly not the worst prayer ever. In fact, it was kind of hopeful…and kind…and gentle. For what it is – a prayer for a leader who is, hisownself, a Christian…..I thought it was pretty good.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, thou who has brought us thus far along the way, thou who has by thy might led us into the light, keep us forever in the path, we pray, lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met thee, lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee. Shadowed beneath thy hand may we forever stand — true to thee, O God, and true to our native land.

We truly give thanks for the glorious experience we’ve shared this day. We pray now, O Lord, for your blessing upon thy servant, Barack Obama, the 44th president of these United States, his family and his administration. He has come to this high office at a low moment in the national and, indeed, the global fiscal climate. But because we know you got the whole world in your hand, we pray for not only our nation, but for the community of nations. Our faith does not shrink, though pressed by the flood of mortal ills.

For we know that, Lord, you’re able and you’re willing to work through faithful leadership to restore stability, mend our brokenness, heal our wounds and deliver us from the exploitation of the poor or the least of these and from favoritism toward the rich, the elite of these.

We thank you for the empowering of thy servant, our 44th president, to inspire our nation to believe that, yes, we can work together to achieve a more perfect union. And while we have sown the seeds of greed — the wind of greed and corruption, and even as we reap the whirlwind of social and economic disruption, we seek forgiveness and we come in a spirit of unity and solidarity to commit our support to our president by our willingness to make sacrifices, to respect your creation, to turn to each other and not on each other.

And now, Lord, in the complex arena of human relations, help us to make choices on the side of love, not hate; on the side of inclusion, not exclusion; tolerance, not intolerance.

And as we leave this mountaintop, help us to hold on to the spirit of fellowship and the oneness of our family. Let us take that power back to our homes, our workplaces, our churches, our temples, our mosques, or wherever we seek your will.

Bless President Barack, First Lady Michelle. Look over our little, angelic Sasha and Malia.

We go now to walk together, children, pledging that we won’t get weary in the difficult days ahead. We know you will not leave us alone, with your hands of power and your heart of love.

Help us then, now, Lord, to work for that day when nation shall not lift up sword against nation, when tanks will be beaten into tractors, when every man and every woman shall sit under his or her own vine and fig tree, and none shall be afraid; when justice will roll down like waters and righteousness as a mighty stream.

Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get back, when brown can stick around — (laughter) — when yellow will be mellow — (laughter) — when the red man can get ahead, man — (laughter) — and when white will embrace what is right.

Let all those who do justice and love mercy say amen.

AUDIENCE: Amen!
REV. LOWERY: Say amen –
AUDIENCE: Amen!
REV. LOWERY: — and amen.
AUDIENCE: Amen! (Cheers, applause.)

~~~~~~~~~

Whirling, (as in the “Whirling Dervishes”), represents a mystical journey.

In this journey the seeker symbolically turns towards the truth,
grows through love,
abandons the ego,
finds the truth,
and arrives at a state of perfection.

The seeker then returns from this spiritual journey with greater maturity, so as to love and to be of service to the whole of creation without discrimination.

~~~~~~~~~

I watched a special on the Whirling Dervishes today, an awesome portrait in part also about Rumi. I need some more time to flush a lot of this out – but I’ll say that it brought me to tears in seeing the connections between my spiritual life and and my love life.

As I’m growing in this love for God….I’m also growing in a very continuous way and in a very BIG way in love with Steph. Over this last year and more…how I’ve grown, how we’ve grown, together and individually.

I’ll be writing more about this for certain.

In all of my time in my clinicals, she was my longest-standing appointment, and the one I looked forward to the most. For about…14 reasons (at least that I ever worked with directly.)

Where I was, in that part of the country……..people were…God fearing. Some moreso than others. MANY moreso than them. ALL moreso than me at that time, that’s for sure.

Lila – well in all of the differences between alters, the one thing that a good deal of them had in common, was their faith. And they mirrored what I found around me: some moreso than others…many moreso than them…and all moreso than me. Different accents, backgrounds, names, ages, heck, even facial structures…but the same religion (to varying degrees.)

And one of the coolest things? Is that they all prayed for each other. Sometimes during sessions we’d go through who needed praying for what and that’s how I’d find out what was going on.

What a cool way to take care of each other. I thought about that tonight. Pretty neat.

Anyway, I had no problem getting to know people, so I was fine to go along.   Except these kids were, in my opinion, INCREDIBLY socially awkward…and it was really pretty weird from  “hi.”

While she was visiting, I figured I was older, so I asked what they’d like to do.  They didn’t have any good ideas.  “Well what do you like to do for fun?”

They liked to have Scripture Challenges.

UhmSorryExcuseMe?

Turns out, they really wanted to have this  unchurched girl, randomly call out books, chapters and verses and see who could recite it from the top of their heads fastest.  For two and a half hours.

I wasn’t impressed so much as I was freaked out – the five year old, I’m fairly certain, won.  I would have been bored if I wasn’t…creeped out.  But it was  creepy to me. Actually, it still is.

I thought of these guys last week in class when Linda suggested it was a good thing to have some prayers memorized for quick recall – sometimes for comfort, or maybe because someone else has said it better on occasion that you really can’t put words together.  I thought of them when I realized I didn’t think I knew a single prayer besides that Johnny Appleseed song from 3rd grade (that I can’t get out of my head for the life of me.)

Thinking of them, I was actually sortof glad I didn’t know a single prayer from the top of my head.

But then last night I remembered that I did.  In fact, I learned it about 10 years ago, when I was a non-believer….but I thought it so perfectly encapsulated my passion for social justice, the work I wanted to do, the impact I wanted to have.

I remember finding the Prayer of St. Francis and letting it seep into my marrow, absolutely in love with it.  At the time, I was willing to gloss-over the “divine master” part…and the “eternal” stuff.  Even today I realize it’s been an old friend, quickly recalled.

I can’t tell you what the 60-somethingth Psalm says, or the 4th chapter of Luke, verses 2-6…and while I’m sure those guys still could…I can tell you that this prayer helped God seep into the littlest pieces of me and warm me from the inside out…

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.

Oh Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be loved,  as to love;
for it’s in giving that we receive,
and it’s in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it’s in dying that we are born into eternal life.  Amen.”

I mean I’m the one who went to college so green that I honestly thought in the evenings, after classes, we’d meet in the common space of our residence hall floor and share what we’d studied, talked about, and learned during the day. I saw college as a big sharing of ideas and efforts, a time to infuse yourself with the excitement and broader experiences of others. Push your boundaries! Be a part of the solution!

Imagine my surprise when, on my first day after classes, as I sat in the common space, waiting for everyone to get done watching Oprah, a floormate asked who wanted to go with her to get her first tattoo.

After my Masters and a couple of years of working in Academia post-my own education, I decided to get back into the learning part for myself. What did I do with my shiny-new-found-Doctoral-student-priority-scheduling-status? I signed up for Yoga, of course!

And what did I already have about Yoga? (Everybody now!) A romanticized vision of it!

I was no spring chicken of course, I knew that Yoga wasn’t ONLY about centering yourself and deep, relaxing breaths. I’d seen Yoga with Wanda (on “Fit Over Fifty” on the local PBS station) – I knew in Yoga you did a lot of stretching your arms! Above your head! You did some leaning! To the left…and the right! I hadn’t seen a LOT of TV but I knew from some shows that you got a lot of really juicy gossip from your friends. And of course no one ever sweat.

So then, on the first day of classes, I picked a spot close to the back (so as to not bother the instructor with the gossip, even though I had no friends in the class as of yet…though everyone IS a possible friend) and became surrounded by football players. Keeping an open mind, we started with something very basic. We sat with our legs crossed in front of us and worked on our posture, being still with discomfort (acknowledge it and breathe through it), and centering our breath. .

Good LORD. My butt hurt. My knees hurt. My chest hurt because the pain of keeping my stomach pulled in started creeping up and began infusing other areas of my body. My mind was racing. My breath turned into short gasps to waylay the anxiety that I’d now signed up to spend 2 hours for 2 days a week simply struggling to SIT UP STRAIGHT. And we weren’t even DOING anything! Centering myself? Hardly. More like ancient self-terrorism.

My favorite part of class, I learned, was the end of it. But only because we ended every class with 15 minutes of Shavasana which was nothing but laying on your back in “corpse pose” (accurate as by this point I was nearly dead anyway) and spent that time relaxing and rejuvenating.    Of course, given my propensity for falling asleep…anywhere…in mere minutes…it was great nap time.

Eventually we actually started learning actual “moves” or “poses” and you can read that as “actual work.” There was no relaxation here, unless you consider yourself….one with pain. In downward dog? Are you kidding me, all of my weight on my ARMS? (I have Grover arms! They can barely hold a small child without nearly dropping them!) And my wrists? Aren’t they made of porcelain? What do you mean LUNGE and hold? Where is the ZEN? Where is the RELAXATION?! Serenity NOW?! Screw that, I am sweating BUCKETS here!!

And let’s not forget about how things MOVE in Yoga…you’re working out energy…and energy can be in muscles…but it also has a tendency to move things in the…erm…digestive tract. And can we not forget that bit of foreshadowing I did above….in revealing that I’d picked a part of the class that soon became surrounded by football players. Man – those kids can FART!!

~~~~~~

So clearly, I have a tendency to romanticize things. And it occurred to me, during a quiet moment in Prayer Class tonight….that the one thing I DON’T romanticize…is my relationship with God. (I’d never had one before, so I don’t have much to compare it to…or any ideas about what it’s supposed to be like.) And instead of being filled with dread as to what it COULD be, or what it could mean…or what it could turn into….I’m filled with hope and looking forward to the twists and the turns.

I’m thankful for my God-Centered time I’m spending. No it’s not in great conversation….not in dialogue or even a monologue. Heck, sometimes there aren’t even words, but ideas, pictures, tears. It’s not spent with me knowing just the right words, feeling filled with God’s love, and coming out of it better prepared to shower others with kindness and sparkles.

And still sometimes I think this journey will be something a little like Yoga. There will be uncomfortableness…and testing of my strength. There will be times when things hurt and I feel terribly out of shape. I might even sleep through some things. There will be relaxation and rejuvenation and awakening. And while I don’t think this walk with God will ever really end…I do know that I can rest assured that I’ll come out on the other side of it better for having done it.

But I DO wonder where the football players are…’cause I’d like to steer clear of that whole farting part again.

Some days, however, are easier than others.   Today, just for the sake of sanity, I changed my breath prayer.   Today it is:  “Father – help me to be kind.”  It’s more than just asking God to shut me up…which I’ll probably always need, let’s be honest. It’s about asking him to help me practice kindness. 

That’s all I can say about that today I think. Without getting….ranty….and unkind.