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Books That Changed My Life #3

Oct9

         Eucharisteo. Thankfulness. Live Eucharisteo.

Philippians 4:11-12 (RSV)

11 Not that I complain of want; for I have learned, in whatever state I am, to be content. (Thankful) 12 I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound; in any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and want.

one thousand gifts

I never ever thought to be thankful. I was too busy guarding myself from the pain of what I didn’t have.

Through her book, Ann taught me that it is indeed “Holy work” to list what we are thankful for.

Name those things. When you name them, the things you think you lack, cannot haunt you anymore.

Some of the things you may lists, seem inconsequential. Too small to even note. Note them anyway. One to One Thousand. Some will seem larger and more important than others, list them all, you will see, they will add up. The more they add up, the freer you become!

Begin with a pen, or a crayon, or a marker. Use your voice. Use the shutter on your camera. Every word of thanks is a sacred act.

I consider myself a woman of prayer, but Ann showed me that the only way to really BE that, is to be a woman of thanks. I had no chip for that, so it took a while. One gratitude at a time.

And now, I am most grateful for every day. Every breath. Every thing that goes well, and even for every aggravation. Why? Because it gives opportunity to practice EVEN MORE thankfulness.

What are you thankful for? Coffee in your cup? Nuzzling soft baby hair against your cheek? A quiet sunrise? Shoes on your feet? The ability to take a breath or the very fact the you even woke up this morning? ………………………………………

I could go on and on, but it’s your turn. Care to share?

 

 

 

Books That Changed My Life #2

Oct5

Part of Mary’s description on the back cover of her book says this; “Thin places are snatches of holy ground, tucked into a corner of our world, where we might just catch a glimpse of eternity. They are aha moments of beautiful realizations.”

Thin Places
For me, the book began stirring my heart on the very first page. I recognize this little one as a kindred spirit. A little girl in love with her Daddy. With his death at an early age, her life is changed forever. My heart is stirred.

The abuse begins early. She is threatened into silence. She is under the control of the choices of others. I understand, all too well. My heart is stirred. She learned to protect herself. Silence to the world, walls building on the inside, turning her pain into numbness. I know how to do that. My heart is stirred. 

The protection she gave herself, became a thin place for her, a place where she could “be somewhere else”. A place of knowing that people fail people, and that people take what they want at any cost. So she learned to hide. And I am stirred. But truly not gently stirred, but (violently) shaken.

In her book, Mary speaks of the longings we have as children. The ones that are very strong. The ones we cannot understand. The ones that make us doubt out worth. Longing for things that symbolize something we lack. Envying what others have, and thinking what they have will satisfy. I understand her very well. I don’t want to, but I do.

Throughout her memoir, Mary speaks of all the hidden emotions, locked inside. With searing accuracy she speaks of recognizing each one, as a Thin Place, and the healing that comes from that recognition.

I can only wonder, how many others like me there are out there. Like Mary. Those are the ones I long to be with, helping them to find and explore those Thin Places.

For me, This book was a Thin Place. Another place to see all that was hidden, and to make sense of it. A place to begin to heal.

Please feel free to comment, or message me.

 

 

Where a Poem Belongs

Oct3

“Where a poem belongs is here, in the warmth of the chest;
out in the world it dies of cold.” by Rumi

This was the introduction to a writing prompt today

The prompt itself was; What poem does your chest/breast/heart long for you to write. Give it voice now.

I am often surprised by the out come. 5 minutes. Who knew it would be enough to open up a heart?

I don’t know if it’s a poem just yet. It’s more a sense of belonging. Of safety. Of being right, even when you’re doing it wrong. YOU are right. The thing you did was not. You are free to express yourself without fear of someone’s critical retort.  As Rumi said, it belongs in your heart. In your breast. To stay warm. Not to feel the stabbing cold of … disappointment? No. Judgement. From ones who don’t understand. My poem will be of this. A safe place, where there is freedom to say what is real.

I am grateful I have found my hiding place. Peace now fills my heart.