Pain: A Most Curious Beast

Random chronic pain (as in, a foreign yet familiar ongoing and often unexplained kind of pain) is an interesting beast. I can’t help but wonder, what is going on with my nervous system at the cellular level to cause such strange sensations all over my body. The only word that can come close to describing this type of pain is simply, wrong. It manifests itself in many peculiar ways. In the moment (or the hours and days) that my tissues and organs light up with electricity; an invisible wasp hiding deep within, stings over and over from the inside out; nonexistent bruises throb without being touched; my legs or arms or hands become deadweight with an ache so deep its untouchable; unconsumed poison spreads throughout my body, my arteries and veins the perfect underground transport system to reach every inch of flesh inside and out; well, in this moment, I lose my breath and my mind can’t help but ask, “Is this the end? Is this Death? How can flesh and bone survive this strangeness, this wrong?

Yes, I know I am sick. Countless disease labels, procedures and surgeries have built a medical file so thick a ship was needed to carry it across the Atlantic. Yet still, undiagnosed pain often rules my life. And I am not alone.

Chronic pain gets around. It preys on the weak and the strong. It cares not about age nor race nor faith.

As I lie in my bed wondering, wondering if this is Death, and wrapped in a blanket of loneliness, I think of all those across oceans and mountains and plains who suffer too, and I weep for them and for me and for all the caregivers in our lives who must watch, incapable to cure or alleviate the wrong.

Yet, despite the wrong, I am still here. I am still hanging on. Death is only teasing, taunting, threatening. But even though Death pokes and prods, it has not taken me.

So, when pain overcomes, I will be still. And when it relaxes its grip, even just a bit, freeing my body and mind and spirit to move, give and sing, I will. I will, with a thankful heart take each moment of freedom to its maximum. I will pose for pictures with a smile on my face. I will climb in a giant bubble ball with my nieces and nephews. I will laugh. I will play and write and make love and music and art. I will carry my camera to the ends of the earth capturing every memory possible. I will talk with strangers on the street and journal their story. I will weep with those who hurt and celebrate those filled with happiness. I will use my voice to advocate for the underdog. I will blast my playlist throughout my house soaking in the beat; the melody; the lyrics while I dance. I will walk, step by step toward light.

I will live.

And as long as I have breath, I will embrace the good and exhale the bad.

It’s all I know to do.

 {Artwork: "Some Pain Along the Way" - By Dan Earle and "Earth in Pain" - By Andrea Banjac}

Christmas Nostalgia: Embracing Life

I don’t feel whole.

Today, as I sit in an aura of Christmas nostalgia, my heart is split in two.

Looking inwardly, pain and excitement, discouragement and gratefulness, frustration and privilege all claw and tear at each other for victory within me.

Pain, discouragement and frustration scream, “You are disabled, sick, and broken down,” while excitement, gratefulness and privilege shout back, “You are loved, capable and possess abundance.”

My life has become a massive collision of joy and suffering. Don and I are on the adventure of a lifetime, living overseas and experiencing life fully in new and thrilling ways. We have fallen in love with the UK, to add to our love of Canada. We have great community with friends and family both far and away. I have never lived such texture before. Fascination engulfs me daily as uneven cobblestone keeps me awake in each step; as quirks and intricacies of people come to the forefront even in the mundane; as colours break forth in each musical note of songs like All of Me by John Legend and Blank Space by Taylor Swift.

I am alert.

At the same time, sickness has gripped and shook every step of this voyage.

And why should it not?

As I look outward, I see pain and excitement, discouragement and gratefulness, frustration and privilege. Their message might differ to those they battle within, but they thrive just the same.

Christmas seems to magnify this vast range of emotion. It is a time to celebrate those we love, as well as mourn those we’ve lost. It is a time to give, although not everyone is privileged enough to receive. It is a time to celebrate all that we have, but how do we put aside painful pasts and uncertain futures?

I don’t know how to embrace the whole of living, but I know I must.

In anticipation of Christmas, I am reminded of what I want to be most important in my life. The key to acceptance of life in its totality.

Love.

And love is something that sickness or pain will not take away from me. It is mine to give, freely and fiercely, no matter the circumstance.  

I will laugh.

I will cry.

 I will love.

As you laugh, and as you cry, I pray that love is victorious, settling at the core of your being and permeating your every ounce, regardless of joy or pain.

In celebration of life in its entirety,

Merry Christmas.

The Natural Beauty FB Challenge: I Decline

I've been challenged. Over the past week, ladies are being nominated to post a picture of themselves with a naked face - makeup free. My understanding is this is to show that you are unashamed of the natural beauty that you are, created to be you without a mask. Only for me, this challenge stimulates a different response.
Let me explain.
I'm being brutally honest and vulnerable here by telling you this: When I don't wear makeup, people don't tell me that I'm beautiful. They ask me if I'm sick.
Every. Single. Time.
I have spent much of my life actually being sick, and I fight against that daily. The last thing I want is to look sick, especially if I'm feeling good.
I'm sure it's true that people who know me and love me see the essence of beauty in parts of my inner being (some of it though, is not so pretty), causing the outward appearance not to matter. I'm sure of this because when I see a friend without makeup, it changes nothing about the beauty I see in them. But I don't wear makeup for others. I wear it for me.
Some may think that women wear makeup to either draw attention to themselves or to hide behind a mask. Both I'm sure are true for some. But many of the people in my life, including myself, wear makeup because it enhances our features, giving us confidence and a satisfying view of our reflection in the mirror. I'm comfortable with that reason - as I know many of you are as well, since the majority of you who posted naked face pictures will also put makeup on one day soon.
It really doesn't matter to me whether you are more comfortable with or without makeup. You still are who you are. I commend you either way.
To be clear, I have no problem with all of you who posted your au-natural selves. As long as you felt no pressure, I say good for you. And if you were nominated, I'm sure it was with the best of motives, as I'm sure it was for me.
Could I have posted one? Sure. Are there pictures of me bare-faced on FB? Yes, there are. But in response to this challenge, I have declined to post one. Partially due to the fact that I was not comfortable nominating women that may not be comfortable with it and might feel public pressure, and partly because I do not want a list of comments telling me I'm a natural beauty. History has proven that is not the honest response to my naked face. Don't worry. I'm fine with that.
Just don't judge me for putting on makeup.
Why? Because I don't feel sick today.

Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin???

 

 

I feel conflicted.

This will be the most difficult blog post I have ever written in one sense. In another, it will be easy. Easy because I believe it will boil down to one word.

 

The reason it is hard to write is actually twofold: First, I have so many thoughts colliding and fighting to get out of my mind and heart that I feel almost frantic. I hope and pray the end result of this writing will be cohesive and respectful.

Second, I am selfishly scared of the backlash or rejection this post may bring from people whom I care about very deeply. With that said, I feel I must have the courage to carry on for the sake of others.

 

So,

 

I have been hearing a lot of Bill 13 – the new anti-bullying legislature that is being put in place. I promise you, this will not turn into a political debate.

I will tell you why it bothers me to hear some of the comments by Christian people about the subject of LGBTTIQ people, in the context of the bill, and just in my general life’s journey.

 

Many Christians believe the Bible to say that homosexuality is sin.

{I will interject at this point, the fact that many Christians interpreted the Bible as saying that Slavery was right and contributed to that horrific mindset quite adamantly.}

Whether it is sin or not, (I will not get into the debate over whether our sexual orientation is a choice or we are born into it, although I think the answer is not so clear cut as some may think). is really not the point. The point, I believe, is how we behave towards others regardless of our belief system.

 In my world, the two biggest arguments against homosexuality are these: that being homosexual is destroying families. (Really? Are heterosexuals not doing a fabulous job of that themselves? Including Christian heterosexuals?  Families are crumbling all around us, the children paying the highest price. I don’t think sexual orientation is the problem.) The other reason is that it is “unnatural, or not God-intended.  Children with distended bellies starving in a world with enough money and food for all, is neither “natural” nor I’m sure, “God-intended” either. It is ironic to me that many of the people taking a stand against LGBTTIQ people seemingly do nothing to help the poor. Maybe talking about feeding the poor is too clichéd of an example. If so...too bad. People are dying.

You may be thinking, Well, Susie, neither homosexuality nor children starving is natural or God-intended.  We should be doing something about both. Well if taking a stand is your goal, why is it your goal? What is your motive? Is it to build up or tear down? Because attacking one issue helps and the other hurts. As to the one that hurts...with what benefit? Your comfort? Alleviating your fear? Being right? It certainly isn’t changing anyone’s mind on their sexual orientation or making them feel valued and accepted.

 As for anti-bullying...I simply can’t disagree with the mindset to protect, regardless of a religious stance. I just can’t get behind something that could potentially allow for a teenage boy’s hidden tears behind bedroom walls due to rejection and threat, or a girl cutting her arms up with a razorblade, blood dripping like tears onto the floor in order to deflect the pain of intolerance and hatred, or the Amanda Todds and Josh Pachecos who actually kill themselves, feeling defeated, desperate and hopeless due to such devastating behavior directed at them.

But let’s say, hypothetically, that I agreed with the attitude that those who fit into the LGBTTIQ way of life are wrong, or are making a moral choice. Here’s where I get really tripped up:

                        “Love the sinner, Hate the sin.”

 That is a phrase I’ve heard time and time again when this topic comes up. My question is this: As a believer in a loving God, how do I possibly aim hate at someone’s identity? And whether you agree that sexual orientation is part of a person’s identity or not, those who feel the hate sure do.  If you were to be unaccepted, get verbally attacked, or worse, for being heterosexual, would you not feel a wound or at the very least, indignation deep within you? I just don’t think you can so clearly separate the “sin” from the person.

 And will you let fear drive you to judge others who are just living their lives in their legitimately personal way?

You may say it has nothing to do with fear. I would challenge you to really think about that. Perhaps you are not fearful that you will get some disease if you touch a homosexual (a ridiculous example, I know), but are you perhaps fearful if it becomes “acceptable”, that your child may “become” one? Might it be fear of the concept of “different”? Or maybe it is a fear born out of your faith system being challenged. Could it be that you are afraid to be wrong? I really can’t figure out that if it is just a moral issue, why you might feel the need to fight against it so strongly. If you are adamant that homosexuality is wrong, then don’t be one. (As if it were that easy.)

 

I’ll be honest.

I have both lesbian friends and trans-gendering ones.

Know what I see when I look at them?

People.

People with heart, a soul and the deserved desire to be loved.

Period.

I want what’s best for them and the only way I can contribute to that is to accept them as they are.

 

And in case you are wondering what I actually think about homosexuality and alternative lifestyles, I just told you. It really doesn't matter. If you are hung up on that, you've totally missed my point.

 

The only thing I can see that matters is how we treat others - Gay. Straight. Black. White. Small. Tall. Smart. Mentally delayed. Whole. Broken.

 

I’ll  be honest...I have more questions about God now than I ever did. But one thing I do believe with all my heart is this: God is love.

Love.

 

Not to be applied “if they change”, or withheld with a “but I’m right”.

Just love.

 

After hearing a sermon including the topic of homosexuality as being wrong, the church congregation stood and sang together,

“Spirit of the living God fall fresh again
Come search our hearts and purify our lives
We need your perfect love we need your discipline
We're lost unless you guide us with your light”

                        - Starfield -Reign In Us

 

I wept with sadness, and with emotion choking my words, I could only pray them in my heart. 

Please guide us with your Light, God. Please help us to see people as you do. Not as right or wrong, but simply with a lens of unconditional love.

Love.

It’s what it all boils down to.

 

 

 

 

 

All for a Game?

My heart is sad.

My husband took me to an NHL hockey game two nights ago. The Jets, our team, were playing the Florida Panthers. The game went into overtime tied two-two and we scored with 15 seconds left on the clock. If you love hockey, it was a pretty exciting game to be at. The crowd was roaring with their cheers, pushing the Jets to their limits. The arena was a sea of blue jerseys, almost everyone representing. Even I was wearing the t-shirt.

For us, it was a date night. We had one and only one opportunity to go to a game this short season and Mr. Man really wanted to take me. Knowing I really don't care about hockey, he wanted me by his side while he watched a game he loves. We went out for Mongolian stirfry (my favourite!) before the game and made it to our seats five  minutes before the U.S. and Canadian national anthems.

Not much to be sad about right?

Directly before the anthems were sung, it was communicated over the speakers that two men who had been dedicated to Winnipeg's NHL hockey and had served it for decades, had recently passed away. The first - a couple of months ago and the second - just last week. We were asked to join in a moment of silence to show our respect for these men and their families.

The MTS Centre holds just over 15,000 people and the game was sold out. 14, 998 people stood in silence as a tear slipped down my cheeks. Yes, here is where the sadness comes in.

I was certainly sad for the loss of life, knowing their families are presently in the early stages of grief. That always hits home for me.

What made me even more sad was that two men within the crowd were more concerned with the Winnipeg/Florida game that was about to ensue, than showing respect to a grieving community. As 14, 998 people stood in utter silence, these two men yelled out as loud as they could, "Go Jets Go!!"

I don't know if the people in my life would call me an angry person, but this, this utter disrespect made me mad. The second and third emotions that overtook were disgust and pure dispair. I felt so troubled, not only did I shed more angry tears, but also felt a little sick to my stomach.

After the announcer thanked us for our silence and we sang "O Canada" {insert shame}, all I could think was this: is a hockey game really more important than the loss of an honourable life?

Please tell me no. Please.

At a break, I went up to the security woman for our section and asked if she knew the men who had passed away. She did. I expressed my sympathy and she then informed me that all the men's families were at this game in their honour.

Another tear.

The hockey game was a hockey game. A game. Can you hear me?!?! A game.

To those two men who shouted out for their team... Is 15 seconds too long to remember the impact these two men had on the game you love ?!? On their friends and families lives? 15 seconds!

Don said, "Well Sus, 14, 998 people stood silently for that moment. That's pretty good."
My response? Not good enough. If 14,998 people can stand silently when they are super pumped for their team, so can two more.

To the two families of the men who died, I'm so sorry.

Love hockey, don't love hockey. I don't care.

Just know this...
I, for one, will always pick life and death over a game.

MRI-ing It With My Serious Side

I had an MRI of my neck and spine yesterday.
I'm not gonna lie, I'm scared.
I'm scared for what it might show.
I'm scared for what it might not show.

I've been contemplating what this could mean for a while now.

What if things are serious? As much as I have been able, with as much as I have been given, have I lived my life to the fullest? The fullest potential? The fullest potential to make a positive impact on the world? Will my life's footprint be remembered with fear, disgust, or maybe even worse...ambivalence? Might it be washed away by the tide?

Don't get me wrong, I have many, many people in my life who I know love me and cares for me. There's no doubt about it. And maybe that's because they enjoy my company, maybe I create a few laughs, maybe there's a bond that only living life together can bring. But my question is not, do others love me well, but rather, am I living up to my fullest capacity to love others?

This is a rhetorical question, not one to be answered by anyone other than myself and my God. One to be answered again and again, until the question can no longer be asked.

What about the physical possibilities? What if I need surgery? What if it hurts? What if it alters my body's abilities? What if I become seriously debilitated for the rest of my life?

If I am being truly honest, I don't want to die.
But I don't either want to live with some of the possibilities.

I know some of you may not want to hear that. I'm sorry.

Let me reitify...I don't want to die. I want to fully live.

I want to fully live by running toward that potential to love.
I want to fully live without feeling trapped in my own skin.

How can I be so selfless and so selfish at the same time???

Well, all I can do now is wait, and enjoy the holidays with friends and family.

I commit to deal as it comes. And I am deciding, no matter what, to aim toward that potential to love.

Please help me.

"Good Grief"

"I won't let commercialism ruin my Christmas. " - Charlie Brown



I'm so glad that I watched "A Charlie Brown Christmas" with myself this afternoon. What a profound movie.
Right where my heart is this Christmas.
Sally was making her Christmas list and said, "All I want is what I have coming to me. All I want is my fair share", as she asked for cash to buy all the toys she desired.
I've been Sally in the past. Maybe I have a little bit of Sally still in me. But as she spoke those words I realised in a new way...I'm not so sure I want "what I have coming to me". I don't think it would be pretty.
But, like Lucy suggested to Charlie, "You need to get involved in some Christmas project."
Yes. Yes I did need that.
I too would be feeling, "The Charlie Browniest", this season, if I hadn't taken some of  the focus off myself and poured it onto those who could use it.
And I really believe Christmas is about so much more than the beast of greed we've sometimes made it into be.
"Is there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?"
"And on earth, peace, and goodwill toward men."
Thanks Linus.
 I'm not sure I agree with Lucy though, when she  asks, "How can you say someone is Great if he's never had his picture on bubblegum cards?!"
I've never seen a picture of Jesus, but I have a feeling He has a lot to do with the "Magic of Christmas". I'm thinking He is pretty great.
Maybe not in the sense that some people think.
No that He came to die, but that He came to show us how to live.
Maybe the way He lived his life, is what twists people's hearts towards love, forgiveness, generosity.
I pray that I my gain, "Good Grief"  and leak it out of my soul. The kind of grief that is for others pain, and the kind that spurs me to action.
I think I may need to watch that movie again in about February. And April. And June.

"Is there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?"

Yes, I think He can.

Angels

This Christmas season, as it became evident that a particular family was in need. I put out a call to some friends and family to see if they could help bless this family and meet some of their basic needs.

As a result, I would like to tell you a story.

A teenage girl that I know in a distant town had asked her parents if they would by her a $200 ipod for Christmas. Their response was that they would pitch in half, but that the difference would have to come out of the teen's own money.

On a totally different day, one of my family members happened to informed this teen's mother of the family in need, and this friend wanted to contribute, but needed to discuss it with her spouse before committing.
The mother was reading my plea for help to her husband in their car, with the kids in the backseat.
When they got home, the teen quietly went down to her room and came back up with $100 and said this, "I don't want the ipod for Christmas. I want to help this family instead." The parents then added to that money a very generous amount and sent it with my family member to give to me to pass on.

As my sister recited this story to me, tears ran down my cheeks.

What teenager, who wants an ipod, gives up her Christmas present and gives of her own money on top of that?!?

That girl's heart bleeds love. The kind of love that I wish my heart to bleed.

There are angels in this world.
Apparently they come in the form of a humble, teenage girl.

Thank you.

More

I had the honour of meeting a sweet, sweet woman recently who is in the hospital due to her spouse shattering her skull. She is originally from another country and speaks little English, has children and at this point has no place to go when she gets out of the hospital. Her children are in "care" living in a hotel while she cries herself to sleep each night from fear and worry and pain. She is in agony. In every sense possible.

As Christmas approaches, I always look forward to...
 spending time with friends and family,
     {she has no other family here and her only visitors are her children and their support worker}

the delectable food treats that will be sampled over the next few weeks,
     {She will be eating hospital food, if she is up to eating at all. Chewing pains her head}

the gifts that will be passed around and delight on my nieces and nephews faces as they open them,
     {I have been told her family will be given the token hamper, since they are now in "care"}

staring at my lit up Christmas tree with it's angel tree topper and pure white lights glowing in the dark,
     {I don't imagine the hotel, which lies in the core area, is in the habit of putting up Christmas trees for families such as this}

the stocking that will be filled to the brim with wonderful surprises from my husband,    
     {As violence his only gift, I pray this family's husband and father will be found and put in jail.}

Christmas.
What is the true meaning of Christmas?
I've known for years it is not about the shopping, eating and getting. Right?
I've known for years that it is supposed to be about the birth of a baby named Jesus.
But is that it?
Is it just a celebration of this birth?
Why?
What does that really mean?
That we give those we love stuff out of joy and thankfulness? Sure. Maybe.
But is it not more than that?

Someone whom I respect very much said this recently, "The world will be influenced because you are in it. How will you use that influence?"

My heart is twisted in a knot this season. I hope in that process it wrings out an outpouring of love.

To those of you who so generously are helping me help this sweet, sweet woman and her family this Christmas, I thank you. From the bottom of my messy bleeding heart. It is obvious your heart is squeezing out love in this and your influence will make a difference.

I don't plan to give out an answer as to what this celebration of Christmas is all about. I trust you to dig deep and figure out what it could mean in your life. It will be different for everyone.

I just know this:
It must mean...
More.

Sexual Abuse/Assault: A Community Crime

I originally posted this a year ago and after being reminded tonight of all the sexual exploitation and abuse that can from within families, strangers, as well as through organized crime in the business of human trafficking, felt it appropriate to repost.

Spending the afternoon over coffee with a friend the other day, a statement was made that broke and overwhelmed my heart.
The statement my friend made was this: "Of all the people in my life, I know of only three, and maybe you, that have not been sexually abused or sexually assaulted."
These few words brought an immense sadness that I can't shake. Why? Because I have no doubt it is true.
What has come of the human race that multitudes of innocent people are deemed disposable in such a horrific and violent manner? In perhaps even as few as five minutes, a life can be altered in such a profoundly negative way that some never recover. What would their days look like if those events never took place?
The topic of justice came up shortly after that and there is no denying, too many perpetrators are living without consequence. ( I do wonder what led them to a place of such crime and hatred.)
 Conversation then turned to a specific event where a young woman my friend knows was under obvious distress, bloody, clothes torn, shaking, after having just been raped. In broad daylight this woman used public transportation and also travelled on foot through residential streets.
No one, let me repeat, no one, offered to help her. No one asked questions. No one was willing to get their hands or heart dirty.
Now I ask...was only one crime committed that day?
Some people, perhaps you, would say something to the effect of, "I've never been in a position to help someone like that. I would step in for sure."
Really?
First off, why haven't so many of us ever helped in a situation such as this? Is it because we don't dare use public transportation or go into those areas of town out of disgust? Is it because we would rather turn a blind eye and live in denial? Is it because we think someone else will take care of it?
Apparently they won't.
Okay, so maybe you haven't encountered a rape victim, but have you ever been suspicious of ongoing child abuse? Did you step in? Did I?
If so many people in this world are hurting from abuse or attack, and I believe they are, why aren't we noticing? Caring? Feeling? Enough to do something.
Thank you to my friend for reminding me to open my eyes and my heart to the hurting, even though I'm sure you had no idea that's exactly what you were doing in that conversation.
We can't be ignorant. It is wrong.
I realize this is certainly not a "feel good" topic, nor do I want it to be. In fact, my wish is that anyone who reads this feels pain and heartbreak even if for just a moment, just long enough to vow to look around your world, truly love, and care enough to help.

If you are willing to show support of those who have or will be abused, will you please hit the "like" button at the bottom of this page to help spread the word? I thank you in advance. 

Living Dead Girl

While scrolling through radio stations in search of a satisfying song, I came across "Living Dead Girl" by Rob Zombie.
Not exactly my style, my hand rested on the knob just long enough for a spark to fire in my brain.
Having no idea what the song was meant to be, the phrase began twisting and churning in my brain.

How many people are wandering about their days - step, step, step - feeling the absence of life in their numb yet functioning bones?

How many women have lost their heart's breath at the hands of insult and abuse?
How many boys have lost their power in the absence of a gentle father?
How many men have lost their will to a suffocating spouse?
How many girls are both alive and dead, stuck in a self-loathing image?

How many people?

Society is, if not dead,  broken with multitudes of "living dead girls".

How do I, a stranger and a friend, help infuse life back into the lifeless, before metaphor becomes literal?

A tear slips down.

My only hope is for Hope itself.

Amen.

Protective Layer of Cope

I grew up knowing Jane Fonda to be a fitness tape guru and not much else. The desire to apologize for that ignorance is strong, strong indeed.

As I was flipping channels the other day, I caught her telling some of her story. Recollections of childhood gave my heart a familial ambience as she divulged both raw and dull emotion and dynamics from her past.

Magnetically, she lured me into her narrative and fascinated, I sat perfectly still, listening. As my decaf coffee sat untouched, growing colder phrase by painful phrase, she came to make a profound statement that has revolved and evolved in my mind ever since. It was this:

“We develop coping mechanisms to survive but we keep them longer than their shelf life and they become impediments.”

What once was a cloak wrapped around the heart to protect from the cold bite of pain, now becomes a lasting lacquer leaving no possibility for breath, in or out. Its impenetrable nature chokes life and love both from the host, and those in their midst.

Coping mechanisms are a necessary evil, in fact originating innocently and helpfully. Sometimes we must protect from harm. If we don’t, we might be obliterated in the process of relationship.

But the need to remove the cloak before it solidifies is urgent. If not destroy, at minimum we must keep it pliable, to be used only when necessary.

How do we accomplish this?

I wish I knew. For I fear this progression has already completed its task deep in my heart.

Can the barrier be fractured? I pray it may, letting the air of freedom and love seep in.

 

Amen.

Love God. How?

Loving God.

Without total certainty due to ignorance on my part, but with a fair guess, I would think most people with a sense of spirituality would aim to achieve this at some level - regardless of who or what they see God as being. Although we will not all realize agreement on that subject, today’s concept disregards our differences and can only truly unite, if put into practice.

I have grown up with the idea that worship of God is the ultimate act of love towards Him. Worship was defined as singing songs of praise to Him, thanking Him for what we have, praying words of adoration to Him.

I have since come to disagree with this idea.

I struggle to view God as the supreme essence of megalomania.

I do not deny the benefit of worship as I’ve been taught, to be a helpful reminder of how we view God or of how we endeavour to be, but I now embrace doubt that those actions profit Him.

This leads me straight into the quest for the answer of how truly to love God.

I can only come to one conclusion: The act of loving others is the crucial, essential and implicitly singular method of actually loving Him.

 

I think God, as we do, recognizes the old adage that “talk is cheap”. I don’t think He wants our words aimed back at Himself, but rather His love directed straight at others through what we do. Exponential measures of changed lives can be achieved through pure love shared by those who truly love Him.

We could:

Sing “I love you Lord”

Or

 We could freely babysit for an overworked single mother and rock her babies to sleep with tenderness.

We could:

Say “I am thankful for many blessings”

Or

We could give our warmest leather gloves right off our hands as we come to a street corner with a man sitting freezing in the cold, begging for change.

We could:

Lift our hands as we sing “Your love is amazing”

Or

We could embrace a homosexual and love them just as they are, as we would any cherished heterosexual daughter.

We could:

Bow our heads as we sit in the pews and pray for our sick neighbour

Or

We could hold their hand, cry with them and pray for peace as they lose the battle to cancer.

We could:

Pray for humility

Or

We could volunteer to clean the overused toilets at a teen drop-in centre.

We could:

Pray for forgiveness

Or

In an attitude of repentance, humbly ask for the help we need to take steps to change our negativity.

I have a confession to make.

I have recently wept over my own failures in some of these very areas.

Inadequacy chokes as I type who I desire to be, but know I can never totally become. That is – a complete lover of God.

Love of self stands in the pathway.

I must hope in the redemption of error. (That is, in spite of my faults good can still result, often on the part of others.)

At the same time I must attempt to express my love towards God by rather aiming it towards others.

That is my heart today.
 

Amen.

My Christmas Wish

May those of you feeling pain or sorrow, are down and out, are hungry, lonely or restless, today, of all days, feel a quilt patched with peace and love wrapped around you.

You are loved.

Merry Christmas.

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

Cloak of Confusion

I am messed up.

I don’t know how to pray.

In fact I am not convinced I even grasp the definition of prayer.

Is it an action? A thought? An attitude? Perhaps all of the above?

The concept of prayer is a force so powerful, I tremble at just the thought of entering the question.

Conclusion eludes me, but after stepping into the quicksand only to cowardly grasp a tree branch of complacency and tiredly hover above, I have glimpsed my previous error of not.

I am sufficiently sure it is not the act of compiling a wish list of consumeristic wants to a Santa-Jesus.

I am sufficiently sure it is not a self-focused attitude of desire. (Unless that desire is to change the selfishness.)

I am sufficiently sure it is not about requesting convenience.

I am convinced that not all pain will disappear even with the most earnest appeal to God. A cloak of confusion surrounds me even as I type those words, bringing me back to the futile question of why?

But while temporarily immersing my feet in the dirt, I have also glimpsed possibility.

The possibility that prayer is all about the heart, about character and about love.

Still feeling at a deficit when it comes to understanding, all I can do is free my soul to cry out, “Please change me.”

For now, that is the best I can do, as I (pray) for courage to let go of the branch and re-enter the consuming question.

 “Prayer is not asking. Prayer is putting oneself in the hands of God, at His disposition, and listening to His voice in the depth of our hearts.”
― Mother Teresa

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

A Question of Pain

Life equals pain.

And joy and love and hate and thrill and boredom and fear and excitement and story.

Story definitely includes pain.

It seems everywhere I turn, people are hurting.

Explanation as to the reasons for suffering have been thrown carelessly around, often adding yet another thorn or two, digging into the already raw wound life has produced.

I don’t understand.

I don’t understand why pain is so prevalent, but even more so, I don’t understand why people find the need to use inadequate word in effort to explicate the question of why, when simply reaching out a loving hand would impart an immeasurable extent of help.

When we must endure hardship, the question of why is a valid one. As long as we accept the reality that it will probably go unanswered.

But when others must bear a heavy load, action speaks louder than reason.  Perhaps we should concern ourselves more with when rather than get stuck in the why.

Everyone is involved in a story - a gritty, rubber-hits-the-road kind of story. Do we wish to enter into the story of our neighbour (who perhaps hides the scars of abuse from the hand of their spouse), the harried mother waiting in line at the grocery store (who perhaps secretly struggles with addiction), the stranger standing on a street corner begging for change (who perhaps gave up when his son was killed by a drunk driver)? Will we listen as we step onto the page and offer to walk alongside in the messy mire of mud? Or will we become an unintelligible and ineffective “hero”, devastatingly altering the story with the added baggage of explanation and opinion?   

I’m here to say this: Let’s join together in the story - in the joy and love and yes, in the pain. And rather than trying to explain it away, let’s love it away, because as strong as pain can be, absolute pure love will always trump it.

It is up to us to make that happen.

Us.

You and me.

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

Paradox

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

– Mother Teresa

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

"Don't Give Undeserved Grace"

While listening to a podcast in my car recently, a comment was made by the interviewee that caused my heart to leak tears into my soul, turning it crimson. In reference to parenting, the man stated, “Sometimes parents shouldn’t give undeserved grace.”

It is of no importance to me if these words were thrown into the air in regards to parenting, or any other facet of relationship. I just can’t be of same mind.

As far as I am concerned, the very definition of grace defies the possibility of it being “deserved”. I suppose there are people who are kind, forgiving, giving and have a large capacity to love, but those are the easy ones to mirror those qualities back to. To be gracious in its truest form, offering it to the “unlovables”, is to generously extend the proverbial olive branch to its fullest value - even if the cost is great.

With the risk of sounding contradictory, to decide who deserves grace is easy.

 None of us.

 All of us.

None of us.

To quote the great Philosopher Jesus, “Let him without sin throw the first stone.” And one by one they turned and walked away.  

Life is not without consequence. And neither should it be.

But even consequence can be delivered with an attitude of grace.

I beg you, please join me in this awkward manoeuvring of thought, reshuffling our biases and predispositions to help us all experience a peaceful existence within humanity.

Amen.     

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

Secrets

Have you hear about Post Secret? A man named Frank Warren contrived a genius idea years ago. He had come to realise that so many people are carrying around secrets and have no avenue to set them free. He opened a post office box where people could anonymously send in their personally designed postcards with their secret written on them. They could tell someone, even if no one knew it was them doing the telling. A safe place. He then compiled them, publishing them in book form and on line.
Some of the postcards were as simple and humorous as "I peed in the pool" and some as profound as "I'm scared to tell you that I'm scared. Are you scared too?" or "I'm afraid that deep down I am truly unworthy of another person's love" or "I love one of my children". Themes of sexual abuse, feeling unloved or unaccepted, doubt and violent acts fill the pages.
I see overwhelming pain.
But there are postcards with themes of hope and freedom and humour sprinkled through the heart-wrenching designs of suffering. Some people do break free. Even with the simple act of sending their card. One person wrote this:
"Dear Frank, After I created my postcard, I didn't want to be the person with the secret any longer. I ripped up my postcard and I decided to start making some changes in my life." I call that progress. I call that hope.
This summer I had the opportunity to allow a group of teenagers and young adults (some who I knew personally and some I didn't)  to design postcards and anonymously put them in a box. I am the only one who has ever seen them.
Except for one.
It simply said this: "You believed in me before I even believed in myself. Thank you."
That one I framed and have displayed in my kitchen. Every time I go to the fridge I see it sitting there on its shelf and it inspires me.
 I didn't know who wrote it but it didn't matter. A young life now believes in themselves because someone, just someone like me, believed in them first.
Wow. I didn't realise the impact that I, a flawed and selfish being could have on a young life. As honoured as I am, that thought scares me to death. (And to life!) It begs me to ask myself, how do I want to live my life? Since we influence others continually, knowingly or not - positively or negatively, what impact will I choose to make? Will I believe in others, even if they are hard to love? Or are making poor choices? Are living their life to a different standard than I have chosen for myself? Have  a different belief system that I do?  Can I learn from them, even if they are fumbling through life as I stumble on?
That young life who wrote this most inspiring sentence which pierced my heart, spreading fear and joy into my veins like a poisonous love potion that will never leave, gave me a huge honour by revealing their identity to me in recent weeks.
Now, whenever I see that beautiful young woman, I am inspired not only by what she designed on that little 4" x 6" card, but by her heart, her voice, her life and her smile. I am reminded that people are what matters. People are what matters.
So my wish for this day is twofold: First, that you would have the courage to be free. Free from you secrets. Send a postcard to www.postsecret.com, throw the words into the air as you shout it out loud into the sky on top of a hill with your arms spread wide, or tell a trusted loved one who will accept you unconditionally. Snap its chains.
Second, I wish you will be inspired to change lives. To be examples of what humanity can be, if we choose love, forgiveness, grace and hope.

Amen.

To privately contact me send message to susiewithans@gmail.com

Life is Like a Window...

“Life is like a window. When on the inside looking out, all you see is possibility. Those with fear latch it shut and continue to stare but even if it is stuck, those with courage break through the glass willing to get scraped up and bleed a little, to gain all that is on the outside.”

The beginning of this quote started out as a joke amongst some friends and I. The assignment was to find a quote that would define their life. My husband and I thought it helpful to throw in our two cents. I threw the words “Life is like a window...” into the air and left them hanging as if profoundly wise. My friend settled on a finished quote as the basis for her assignment but my thoughts were already in motion.

My mind fixated on the challenge of filling in the blank as if my heart would threaten to stop pumping if not given the answer. Blind spots blocked the words, taunting me every time my mind’s eye searched for resolution and focus. Finally, the concept unfolded, giving me rest.

That is, until, I realized I fiercely protect myself from the shards of glass which will provide the possibility for a healthy bleed. A healthy bleed you ask? Yes, a healthy bleed.

This loss will give way to gain, causing my heart to beat faster, harder, irony twisting to make me more alive.

My heart demands I break the window as my mind hesitates, trapping me temporarily within.

I pray my heart conquers letting me be, rather than just see.

Amen.

To privately contact me please send messages to susiewithans@gmail.com