Changing My One Little Word

It's funny how God works, never like I think. This is Easter Sunday evening and it hasn't been our typical Easter. Looking back over the  years, Easter has been marked by sunrise services, in younger years home to see the kids hunt for their baskets and get ready for morning service. If you asked me to tell you my favorite Easter sermon I can't. As a matter of fact, the one Easter that sticks in my memory I didn't go to church at all. That was a day that God taught me about forgiveness and the true meaning of Easter. 

Today was another non-typical Easter. We didn't attend church, although I had planned to do so, Instead I fixed a nice noon meal of salmon and salad while Hubby welded a trailer that had to be repaired unexpectedly. Then we went to the theater to see the movie, "Heaven is for Real." I read the book, but the movie touched me deeply. 

Spoiler Alert: I am about to give away a line at the end that nearly caused me to sob. 

"He (God) crushed my pride and opened my heart."

I know what that feels like.

That brings me to share my decision to change my "one little word" for 2014. I had chosen the word "Here" for this year and it has helped to keep me grounded and centered, but its never felt quite right. When I read the preface for Brene Brown's book, "The Gifts of Imperfecion", there was one word that kept calling to me. I read those seven pages three times over and every time I felt the same pull. Now I know what it means to have my word choose me. I've said this before about books I have read- I choose some and then their are those that choose me. 

Wholehearted chose me. I have been praying a prayer every day for a few weeks prior to picking up Brene's book. 

"Lord, give me an undivided heart."

One day while praying this prayer, I realized that this would mean being wholehearted.

Even though we are four months into the year 2014, I know this is right for me.

I am not certain all that it will look like to be wholehearted, but I know that it will mean being open, real, and brave enough to trust myself.

"The universe is not short on wake-up calls. We're just quick to hit the snooze button." Brene' Brown

I wrote in the margin: "I've been hitting mine for years."

What will it take for me to live this life of wholeheartedness? I am not sure but I intend to find out.

Sometimes I Just Can't

I was reading Henri Nouwen's book today "Turning My Mourning into Dancing." He gives a definition for compassion from the original words meaning "to stay in the suffering." He goes on to explain that this is not giving words or directives to people but simply to suffer with them.

I find this is not always easy and sometimes impossible. I turned away from a friend this week. Not because I wanted to, but grace I needed to stay in the suffering with her ran out. I'm not proud of that, but I am acknowledging my limits. 

I, too, have suffered thus I want to be a woman of compassion.  I sense my whole being longing for joy, for relief for the ones I love. I pray for divine reversals, turnarounds, miracles. I celebrate slivers of silver linings, anything that holds forth hope

I don't know about you, but all around me, family and friends are suffering. I'm not talking about little things but big things. Cancer, difficult marriage, a child dying, fear, and hurt and rejection. There are no shortcuts through these things. They have to be walked out, often while broken. My heart guides me, each woman whose arm I slip through mine by holding her up in prayer whether by phone or in person, touched in some small way.

I pray for the limitless God to be seen through my limited life. I feel weights lift as I acknowledge that I cannot stay in the suffering with my friend, but I know the One who will. He says to me, "It's okay."

It is better to admit this than to try to rescue her with my advice, to move her before she is ready. Too late this time for such wisdom but I am learning.

I pick up Brene Brown's book, The Art of Imperfection. She is writing of compassion, too. 

"Compassionate people are boundaried people." 

After witnessing so much hurt this past year, I wanted to always be a healer, always reaching out, never turning from a need. I am finding that this is not possible. I am imperfect. I am weary. I am in need of healing and grace myself. Even Jesus rested and got alone and I am far from being Him.

Just as I type these words, a text comes through from a close friend at the end of her rope. I simply say that I love her and will utter a prayer.

I lift my eyes from the keyboard to my window where the sun is shining in and I remember to be grateful for all that I am blessed with in this moment. I must count gifts to survive. I smile and there is hope.