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[humblereflections]

I spend far too much time thinking about the lives of celebrities. I’m 62 for crying out loud! What is it about their lives on AND off screen that fascinates me??

The last day, of course, it’s Pee Wee - or I guess, truthfully, it’s Paul Reubens, but I really only knew him as Pee Wee. And I feel like I knew Pee Wee. I spent countless hours - maybe formative years! - watching Saturday morning Pee Wee Herman in his crazy- creative, animated and highly kinetic playhouse. Most times, at the end of an episode, I was akinetic, somewhat stunned by the brilliance of whoever thought all that stuff up (Today I learned it was Paul Reubens and Phil Hartman, or Captain Carl as I knew him in those days! By the way, I have all five seasons on cd if you haven’t seen it!)

Many years that have passed since then as well as definitions of proper and right when it comes to the news. I remember, though, that something strangely mysterious happened to Reubens in the ‘90s. I only caught bits and pieces back then but it seemed sexual and I remember hearing that it had occurred in a sexual place. In my innocence, I wondered how many others might have done something sexual in a sexual place - No one? Ever? Just Pee Wee?

Maybe I should be grateful today for the reprieve from my mentally-looped video of Cardie B throwing her microphone at the apparently malcontent fan who had just seconds before, thrown a drink at her. I don’t think that is the first time Cardie B has thrown something either. I’m not saying she is a grade-A player for the microphones team, but sister-friend was no stranger to a passion-filled windup pitch. I’m just saying. Was it warranted?

Was that Will Smith slap warranted? I know someone who thinks so much of the “comedy” performed by “comedians” today is deserving of a slap of some kind. For the record, that line of not allowing the name of his wife, Jada, in offender Chris Rock’s mouth is the whip! Oh how I wish we had such power some days.

And then there is the great prophetess Cher, who recently created her own brand of gelato. Ain’t that grand? We are going to soon be eating the same gelato that Cher eats! I can’t wait to buy it! Because, well, it’s Cher! I so clearly remember some of my earliest memories, sneaking down the stairs and sitting on the last step, straining to hear every joke and line of the televised Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour. To this day, I really don’t understand my fascination with them - I named my pet Gerbils after them, for crying out loud again! (And did my mom really let me listen to those very provocative songs about tramps and thieves? I’m telling you I missed her edginess back then! Was I blind? Note: I also have the Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour on cds.

Btw, the latest headline says Cher leads the tributes for Paul Reubens today. She knew him. She loved him. Her and I share a special grief for someone who undoubtedly made us laugh, maybe at the same characters and maybe at the same lines. Could that even be?

I think it could be, especially back then. It seems indisputable that we were more unified in the days before 62, finding levity and escape in the shared experience of Saturday’s episode of Pee Wee’s Playhouse. Today, everyone watches any number of shows, all at once, at their own pace, sometimes pounding through a whole season in one sitting. There are so many different channels, apps, and websites that we rarely even watch the same shows any more.

Add it to the reasons for our lonely lack of connection these days. Are we even laughing at the same things?

While Pee Wee nearly always made us laugh, I felt a deep sadness when I read about him passing today - I also felt a melancholy for a shared experience I may never know again. How I long for only three choices on my tv (and Channel 50 on a good day!) We use to share universally experienced moments like “Na-nu, na-nu” from a rainbow-suspendered alien or a “pork chops and apple sauce” delivery from a smart-alecky teenager to his very Brady family. The next day every single person was talking about these moments in the halls as we passed from class to class.

This week I am fascinating on Paul Reubens, grateful for the way he made me laugh as his character Pee Wee awkwardly burst out laughing and swung his body wildly during the tequila dance. Did he enjoy it too? His last post on social media makes me think so: “Please accept my apology for not going public with what I have been going through the last six years. I have always felt a huge amount of love and respect from my fans, friends and supporters. I have loved you all so much and enjoyed making art for you.”

I felt that - did you??

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We must do better ... ❤️

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When words seem shallow, Empty of meaning and life I yearn for deeper... I know that it's there Beneath the mindless constructs That divert from truth. I feel more than hear, Sense more than listen to sounds Of godless prater. Sit with me my friend And stare deep into my eyes And go with me there. Where our naked souls touch, Embrace, dance, sing a language Of boundless soul love ❤️

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Like Jonathan Or maybe even David I dropped my armor with you Vowing to be every friend you ever wanted To you Vowing to you And to God To explore those outer edges Beyond confusing times Against scary walls Placed years ago To protect hearts and lives And souls With the cup of communion The bread of life We spoke in the presence of the Almighty. And I could look into your eyes Where I believed you... Because I saw me there too. Trusting those moments I closed my eyes To sleep. Safe. When I awoke You were standing Somewhere new To me. As I approached You looked away Shifted to the right And avoided me. I picked up my breastplate Not yet wanting to cover my heart. I looked at you. You did not Look back. And I wonder now... What of those vows To you To God

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It's not the golden rays that stroke and seep between the gentle lids of sleep. It's not the stirring of him - or her. It's a quickness of heart A sudden beating of awareness That I have long left my heartache For one For two For maybe many hours long Without thinking Of lost love. If I keep you alive in my heart, In my thoughts, You remain with me still. Instead of forgotten. Instead of once was. Instead of never happened. At times I awake at 3am Tossing well into 4, 4:30 and 5 Wrestling, wondering, praying... I beat the golden streams beckoning A new day Stuck in the darkness Of yesterday. Come new day. Come golden rays streaming warmth Into the chilled, lifeless memories Of what was, What is. The warmth beckons me. The faint ticking of the clock whispers now Not then. Not when. Only this moment Brand new. Breath in life. Breath out death. Death of love That stalks me.

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Be thankful for what you have; you’ll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don’t have, you will never, ever have enough.

Oprah (via lazyyogi)

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Reposted from friend: Just days after watching #Selma, I am still moved by the unification of believers, working together, supporting one another in a cause much larger than themselves. Rev. Martin Luther #King Jr. was indeed a gifted speaker, a courageous leader - but still a human being, struggling to survive in a fallen world. Selma reminds us of his own human struggles, how he considered giving up when the battle seemed too overwhelming. It reminds us of the absolute power of encouragement when a young follower reminds Martin of the day the young man believed he could change the world - based upon the fiery sermon spoken by a passionate, spirit-filled Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. And when Dr. King dropped to his knee at the front of that peaceful protest on the bridge, and then lead the people back to their homes ... In that moment, that moment ... It's hard not to at least consider our role today in this very same struggle - against flesh and blood, against those who hate us, against pride and self-righteousness. How then do we have the courage to speak truth, to represent the hearts and lives of the oppressed, to be passionate about freedom and love? How do we not rage? How do we not call upon God to destroy such evil? The easier path is to harden our hearts - to hate those who reject us. We feel justified to do so. We project the mysterious tentativeness of life, our insecurity, our own measures of our pain onto others, any others, but especially those who do look like use, believe like us or challenge the way we may think. Our hate and fear hides our own vulnerability. And so it goes. Until we drop to our knee in the heat of the battle, even when it appears that all we have prayed for opens up on that connecting bridge from oppression to freedom, even when it appears that Good finally wins. Even then - in that moment - we must listen for God... It challenges every belief I have that Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated. It challenges every belief I have that this struggle still rages today, that in the 2015th "Year of our Lord" grown men hide themselves in strange white costumes and burn crosses in front of homes - that crosses can be used to project hate, that scripture is twisted to justify exclusion, that my friend is followed in stores because she is black, that her husband is pulled over because he doesn't "belong" on that stretch of highway. It challenges every belief that I have that in the 2015th year after the death of our Lord, we are so horrible at loving one another, that we don't have more examples of leaders who show us what it means to have unconditional love for our brothers and sisters, that we pride ourselves as God-fearing yet fear not the retribution of getting all of this horribly, painfully wrong. Our words instead have become more vitriol, our injuries and scars more deep. I believe we have lost our way as believers, as followers of a Christ who came to set the captives free. I invite my friends and family to join me every day this week to take a knee on the bridge between oppression and freedom, that we might intentionally drop every fear, every urge to hate our brothers and sisters, and replace that thought with love, replace our actions with love, replace our unkindness, our judgements, with love. That we will not be held back by our own egotistical desires for more power or control, but that we will fall on the holy ground of God's Truth, compelled by the Holy Spirit within. That we will move with Him. I will be praying every single morning from 6 to 6:30 - and I invite you to join me as a gesture of unity that I believe God will honor. How awesome to consider that we are all peacefully marching on this bridge together, that in this 21st century America there are many who are committed to do even better at loving one another. Teach us, Lord, to love one another...

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OH (time & again): My life is better Without you In it...

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Fearlessness grows When you no longer care If you should live Or die

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Hoping for something more...

"When we feel suffering, it doesn’t mean that something is wrong. What a relief. Finally somebody told the truth. Suffering is part of life, and we don’t have to feel it’s happening because we personally made the wrong move. "In reality, however, when we feel suffering, we think that something is wrong. As long as we’re addicted to hope, we feel that we can tone our experience down or liven it up or change it somehow, and we continue to suffer a lot.” I wrestle a lot with the idea of hope - or maybe it is the experience of hope. And yet, how in the world can a person wrestle with "hope?" It seems I was raised with this idea that longing for something more, or better, or some days simply hoping that this day would end and that tomorrow would bring some relief ... My faith journey has included Christian teachings that promote the sustainable hope of heaven, somewhere far better than the suffering we encounter, at times, on this earth. Hope has become an acceptable and seemingly effective way to pound through pain and disappointments. We fantasize of our rewards once we leave this place. Ahhhh yes heaven ... Where there will be no challenges or pain or suffering... Am I addicted to hope? Have I turned to hope instead of considering the larger message to be heard? Have I falsely considered, even subconsciously, that my circumstances are meant for someone, anyone else? Do I refuse to even acknowledge that "heaven" may be found in the challenge - a greater truth that will be overlooked and/or unaccepted because I think the associated pain is too much - far too much for my heart and soul to bear? Does a 21st century faith call for such retreat? I was asked yesterday of circumstances where I have become disheartened - and I fell in love the word because it so captured my literate mind. Oh yes, disheartened! And I quietly recited my list to myself, almost laughing at the sheer number of life-altering experiences of late. Umm... SO yes! Disheartened! So few of the challenges of life can be undone, I mean, right?? We don't have a rewind button that will take us back to the challenges of yesterday - that now seem like luxuries if we were to take time and compare! We reach the summit of this mountain and turn around to marvel at our path - only to see a range of mountains that needed to be scaled in order to get to this one. Why can't I enjoy this amazing view? I can see things from here I have never seen before, above the tree line, where the air seems extrordinarily thin... Instead, foolishly, I spend far too much time hoping this leg of the journey will end - that I will soon be on flat ground where I need not be concerned about my footing, or becoming lost, or falling into a deep and bottomless pit where no one will ever find me - or even know that I am gone! Every single choice I have ever made has brought me to this moment, writing this sentence, suddenly being enheartened that I have made it this far on the journey... From this peak where I have found my heart again ... How could I hope for anything more?

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A life of expression for a larger harmony...

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to “express” what is on our minds or on our hearts. Express. What does the word we use rather freely even really mean? I googled and discovered this: convey (a thought or feeling) in words or by gestures and conduct. Expression is defined as the process of making known one's thoughts or feelings.

What of those who choose to express very little? What of those that express way too much? What if we do not feel comfortable expressing anything at all?

I don’t have to be told that I express too much – though I have been told as much by others who are uncomfortable or bored with my expressions. I have been told that my more emotional expressions are off-putting, that I can be critical or angry or too syrupy or too loud or too much or too little or too forward or …

Geesh! Give me a break! Why is it such a challenge to find someone who allows me to express whatever (within reason, mind you) - whatever is on my mind or heart without attempting to challenge it, fix it or completely shut it down? Can we really be in a relationship with anyone who chooses not to express at all? Is it really a relationship when one expresses and the other remains silent?

But then I read this: “In a similar way, what we feel, think, and experience is often inaudible until it’s expressed. The life of expression that moves through us allows us to hear a larger harmony. When we ground what we feel by touching another, the interwoven nature of things is amplified and we’re brought closer to what matters.

"When we don’t give voice to what moves through us, we become entangled with life, but not connected to life. When silent with our love and pain, we can’t distribute what we feel and so our heartaches and pains are intensified as they only bounce around within us. The way a lightning rod standing in the open attracts and grounds the lightning, the life of expression grounds the intensity of what we feel on any given day.

"To practice the life of expression enhances all the other practices, the way blood is needed for each organ to do its work."

And I am emboldened.

And while my relationships may change and I no longer feel the freedom to simply say or be or speak what is in my thoughts or on my heart, the desire is still there – and maybe still there for all of us human beings who have not shut off their own expressions due to fear or boredom - or the inability to find someone who will simply listen.

The author suggests we keep trying, we keep looking, we search for a larger harmony discovered when we can touch one another and be brought closer to what really matters.  

wrestling…

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As his zen koan set in...

"If you are given a mango. just eat it and enjoy the taste. Don't bother about the size of the tree or how many years it took to grow - otherwise you will miss the taste, the essence of mango-ness!"

While holding a glass of cool water - and then sipping it - my friend told me how much he LOVED that glass of water. He went on to describe it, noting that there are so many times in his life when a nice glass of cold water is the most refreshing drink he could have. Better than iced tea, he said, better than coffee - better than a beer! 

And I just continued to stare at him wondering what point he was attempting to make with his zen koan.  

When one is longing for a nice, tall glass of iced tea, however, that cold glass of water falls a little short. 

I spend too much time wondering why my glass of water isn't a Red Bull or Diet Coke. I can down a mango while wishing the whole entire time that I was eating a plum or a Granny Smith apple. 

Someone told me recently that she attended a conference where the speaker described relationships as a big bowl of spaghetti - with meatballs. The speaker went into detail about the nice, added extras that meatballs provide - and how meatballs are a must for the Italian dish. The meatballs complete the recipe, she told me exasperated. "It wasn't until then that I realized that I didn't have a single meatball in my spaghetti," she said dismayed.

In almost every area - or at least too many areas - I am thirsty or hungry for something more, wanting the extraordinary - the very best, the brightest, the most meaningful, the greatest love, the preeminent experience in every way. I forget that plain and simple water has its place - and in fact, water is good - IN FACT, a glass of water truly might be the best, given the situation! A good plate of spaghetti without the meatballs can be delicious - especially if one is a vegetarian! I should try to eat a Northern Spy instead of a Granny Smith!

"Stop expecting that this glass of water is going to be Guarana Antarctica (my favorite soft drink!)," my friend admonished me while taking another sip of the contents of his glass. "That person is a glass of water - nothing more. Let them be water. Enjoy the water! They CAN'T BE Guarana Antarctica!"

I sat and stared while his zen koan sunk in. 

Can I accept the provision of water when my heart desires something with a little more carbonation? Why do I consistently reach over the nectarines to gather the best purple plums? How would my life change if I simply accepted what unfolds before me - if I simply explored new tastes and textures and smells with appreciation for the provision and diversity. In this moment, when I think I NEED a Diet Coke, perhaps I can walk a shorter distance and fill my cup with icy water. 

And perhaps I can intentionally enjoy the water - appreciate the water for all that it brings instead of longing for something more.

Listening...   

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Surrendering to the Guiding Hand...

I read this morning of an AA meeting in Kinsale, Ireland, where a man named Tony said, “If I had to choose among all the diseases that afflict human beings, I would choose mine [alcoholism], because I can do something about it.” At that meeting (as at each meeting) he introduced himself as “a grateful recovering alcoholic.” When asked why, he said, “Because without the Twelve Steps of this program I never would have found God.” Likewise, in the book of Job, that ruined man of God said, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?” (Job 2:10) …

Job again!

I feel like I have bumped into him again and again in recent years. Why does it feel like this book in the bible was written for me?? Do I need any more proof that nothing ever goes away until it teaches us what we need to know?

The late Brennan Manning spoke to my heart this morning with this: "To be grateful for the good things that happen in our lives is easy, but to be grateful for all of our lives—the good as well as the bad, the moments of joy as well as the moments of sorrow, the successes as well as the failures, the rewards as well as the rejections—that requires hard spiritual work. Still, we are only grateful people when we can say thank you to all that has brought us to this present moment. As long as we keep dividing our lives between events and people we would like to remember and those we would rather forget, we cannot claim the fullness of our beings as a gift of God to be grateful for. Let’s not be afraid to look at everything that has brought us to where we are now and trust that we will soon see in it the guiding hand of a loving God."

Ok. Take 415 (415,000!). Action!

Let's try this scene again. Relying on the Spirit of God more than my mind or sheer grit to get through the times we may not understand. I am too often assigning value to my circumstances. This is "good." That is "bad." "Bad" we too often push away and refuse to even acknowledge sometimes. We just want it to go away - or end.

But I am just beginning to grasp that everything - and everyone - is a teacher, revealing areas within ourselves that need some redemption. Even those teachers who make us scream with frustration reveal our own shortcomings on the journey to becoming whole, to becoming more fully aware of His very presence in our lives. IF He is with us, we need not be so consumed with the externals.

I want to be more like my brother Job, like the late Brennan Manning - like the "grateful recovering alcoholic in Ireland" - more fully consumed by Love rather than consumed by all that makes me uncomfortable, resisting my circumstances that are merely challenges to my ego rather than gateways to a greater awareness of my soul.

May my outer world become a sacred threshold to my inner journey.

He has brought me to this present moment...

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Movement in my paralysis

Maybe it is all about starting all over, starting anew, with a clean slate of sorts. I have been resisting - and resisting - what feels like a wholesale shattering of many aspects of my life. But in truth, it has been the shattering of illusions, false images propped up by hopes, desires - fears. We keep "living" in too many situations because we don't like change, we fear that what comes next will be worse than the current churning. We smile fake smiles while secretly hoping that one day the circumstances will change - that somehow God will move a mountain and our hearts will no longer feel discouraged or confused. My spiritual advisor just stared at my emotional dismay recently. In between my demands for answers as to why ALL the shattering at once, he looked puzzled. He reminded me that on my spiritual journey I have been earnestly seeking truth and clarity. Why now was I resisting the truth - and clarity? Was it easier to live with the illusions?? Um, YES!! He continued to stare at me. And I have been sitting in this strange, formless place of spiritual suspension - totally uncomfortable with moving forward - because what else is to be shattered? I fear my heart could not take a shaking involving my children, me having to walk them up the hill to be placed on a makeshift altar of sticks and fallen leaves. This too, Lord? Them too? And so I have sat. Suspended. A spiritual paralysis hoping the dark cloud would soon pass, that the curse would be lifted, that any satanic spirit would eventually tire of taunting me and leave. I have considered whether there be anything evil residing within my home - I should search for it so I can crush it or set fire to it in my backyard. I have run the gamut trying to blame SOMETHING for all this shattering! And still my spiritual advisor just stares at me. Because I have longed for Truth. I have sought Clarity. And though ALL THIS is not exactly what I had in mind, it does seem more real than the illusions I have been propping up - for all kinds of reasons. There is something far more solid about this reality. And if it is true that I have 20-30 more years of life, if I am lucky, perhaps all this shattering simply lays the foundation for all that I want my life to truly be. Perhaps it is a second chance to get things right, to begin again living a life as it was meant to be, to start anew with Truth and Clarity as my guides rather than the empty illusions that only promise an equally empty life. Who do I want to be? What do I want my life to say? In the death of all these aspects that I believed would bring me life, is Life being truly born? In this moment of death and letting go, can I find Life and have the courage to receive? Lord, help my faith on this spiritual journey be far more than a hobby. Help me to live according to my faith and values - and to live fearlessly regardless of the fiery trials and the shattering of every illusion. Help me to not be dismayed by death but encouraged by the new Life being born in every moment of transformation and change. Here and now. In this moment. I think I see some sunlight...

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Defining "community" in the wake of pushing for it...

For the last four weeks – or so – I have sat in church services focusing on community; the need for community, the role of community, what community is supposed to look like, what the leadership wants it to look like. Every service, every week. We all leave the services nodding our heads affirmatively, hoping in our hearts that this would be true – but knowing deeper down in our hearts that it is not. For the last five years, I have been a regular “member” of what I consider to be a bit like the “community” the leadership keeps espousing, coming together with a group of somewhat likeminded people and talking about various aspects of life. It’s all good when we can agree. It’s great when we can write prayer requests on the board and someone prays for the request in class. We all leave feeling somewhat lifted, maybe even heard. But what happens when someone shares real life stories that include pain and despair? How do members of the “community” respond once the doors of the church are closed until the following week when even more desperate needs for support creep in? My experience hasn’t been all that stellar, I gotta say – and I think I am going to scream if one more person talks about the importance of community – while ignoring the deep personal needs of the one sitting next to them every service, every week, for five years. Not that I am whining. I am just being honest. I keep thinking of this repeated empty push for “true community” that of course sounds good, but in practice … well, I am not sure we YET truly understand what it means – or maybe I don’t. Our discomfort with mess is never more telling than when someone shares a truth we would rather not hear, for all kinds of reasons. We are drawn to easy, comfortable, convenient shoes, clothes, food – and relationships. We love finding things in common with other people, laughing together, shared values, mutual admiration. But our lives don’t go the way of comfort for too long. Eventually, we begin to notice differences – and more differences, interspersed with the things we initially had in common. Suddenly it seems like work just being together. We’d rather believe the romanticized version of loving our neighbor as we love ourselves. Lots of times, as we all know, relationships end over the differences rather than grow on the strengths of the in-common. We dump those people whose challenges are too great, too time consuming, too painful to be shouldered through the dark valleys. My truth, after all, is scary. Your truth is scary. When we start to meet another human being in truth, it can be freakin scary as it triggers something deeper in each one of us. I read recently, “Truth has bad breath at times. Truth is boring. Truth burns the food. Truth is all this stuff. Truth has anger. Truth has all of it." The quote went on to say, "And you stay in it. You keep working with it, you keep opening to it, and keep deepening it." But we aren't taught that. Instead, we trade up spouses, friends, churches, neighborhoods, political parties - even countries! We dump people who become more challenging - sometimes in their darkest hours. And we keep asking, When am I going to find the place, the person, the experience where this doesn’t occur? When will I find a person, a community, that will not dump me when it goes from fun to scary, from challenge-free to challeng-ing? From a loose group of individuals who all desire the same thing at our core and truly fulfills the true essence of community? What kind of environments are we creating, am I creating? Am I accepting of the challenges that are guaranteed to rise in friends, family, the person who sits in front of me every single week at church, school or at my job? Do I feel accepted with mine? Do I even care what they are going through? Do they even care about me? Is that acceptance and caring what it is meant by community? Instead of leaving people when the going gets tough, do we simply need to learn how to better support them, especially in their darkness, during their suffering that makes us feel uncomfortable? After four weeks of hearing about community, the question remains: What IS our obligation to being a member of a particular community - to our fellow humans whose physical presence already indicates a shared journey? Are we obliged to help take care of one another? What happens when we end up feeling burned or burned out by the impurities of the community in which we reside? I am less interested than ever in communities that look more like country clubs, friendships that embrace only my strengths. With that comes a deeper understanding that I, too, will be called upon at inconvenient times to enter into people's personal pain as readily as I enter into those times when they make me feel good about life. If I am uncertain how to respond, or afraid to respond, or don't have the time or the skills to respond, I want to respond regardless. I must reach out to others if I want them to reach out to me ... especially when I see they may be suffering. Anything less in a community of so much need is unconsciously - or maybe even consciously dismissively ignoring the existence of a fellow human being. ... You stay in it. You keep working with it, you keep opening to it, and keep deepening it. But I have my doubts it will ever change... Ugh!

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When the giver stops giving and asks for help...

For the life of me

  I cannot understand

  why somebody who so skillfully made others laugh

  for so many years,

  so consistently,

  could die

  of a broken heart,

  alone

  in his room

  by his own hand.

  I use to laugh – belly laugh – with Patrick, too. He was the funniest real-life person I have ever known. He was kind, generous, thoughtful – and ridiculously funny. I truly enjoyed simply being in his presence. His stream of consciousness was light and airy and blissful delight. I was so drawn to how he made me feel. Whatever mood I was in, dissolved into his many, ongoing amusements.

  I never one time considered him sad – or saw any signs of depression.

  I thought of Patrick as I read about Robin Williams sending “care packages of laughter” to his friends who were struggling, of him dressing up as a wacky doctor and sneaking into the hospital rooms of friends recovering from surgery.

  I cried when I read about Robin Williams. 

I felt like I was reading about my friend…

  And it makes me think about how well we really know one another.

And it makes me think about how much we like being around those who make us laugh, 

who make us forget about our troubles, 

who make the room light and airy and blissful delight

  – even if for a moment…

  And it makes me think about how all that shifts when that someone becomes troubled and changes the dynamic of the relationship, from giving to needing 

– I mean, really needing. 

And how bothered we can be with needy people. 

And how the room can be filled with laughter one moment, loving the one who takes them away from their pain, 

but the room suddenly changes 

almost instantaneously 

when  the giver

stops giving

and asks for help

if they even have the courage to ask

because most don’t.

They suffer in silence

  On Sunday, Aug. 10, the world wondered what happened to Robin Williams?

Where did he go?

How come we haven’t seen him around

As much?

  We miss him.

Today, we miss him.

  We will miss him.

  And I wish I had known that Patrick was suffering

That Robin Williams was suffering

Because I would have done more

I should have done more

  We need to do more

To do better

In helping one another

In good times

And in bad.

  And I am haunted today

This moment

By these words of both friends - perhaps:

  “I use to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone.

It’s not.

The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.”

  Please help me change the world…

[humblereflections]

I choose love...

I often write about human dilemmas - choices and outcomes that leave me puzzled. Human nature often leads us to a quandary, awkward moments and sudden uncomfortableness that cause our hearts and minds to race. As of late, I feel as though I am a student of juxtaposition. It seems most of my illusions and perceptions about life have been challenged by slamming deeper truths - from friendships, to family, to jobs - and my marriage. What I have long believed about so many facets of my day-to-day have been challenged if not shattered by a truth I seem powerless to stop or change. Life rolls on. Today while talking with a friend before the start of a church service, another person interrupted our conversation to ask my friend to join a gathering tonight on behalf of their mutual friend. Truth be told, their friend in need is experiencing much of the same challenges as my own. And while my heart breaks for her pain, I also was struck that the Inviter was totally unconcerned about my circumstances despite being of the same nature and degree. And I wondered why. And I wondered why God would have me experience that moment, exposing the rawness of my own heart in an awkward moment where I ended up feeling embarrassed and shame -- shame that I felt jealous of a group of people who thought that much about this woman to take time from their busy schedules to buoy her during these challenging days. In my heart and head, I knew no such effort would ever be made on my behalf - for so many reasons. It's the grand juxtaposition once again. In truth, God has provided all that I need as I enter my eighth week of separation from my husband of 20 years. The days have been dark - and light. I have mourned - and I have rejoiced. I have had days of despair - and days full of a deeper kind of love than I have ever known before. I have learned much. And unlearned perhaps even more. I have cried many tears - and I have experienced a different kind of joy. This seems a very personal journey to me as I learn to walk differently. As I think of the gathering tonight on behalf of their friend, I can't help but think of the friends who have come alongside me and have buoyed my heart and soul at different times - suddenly when I needed it most, and surprisingly with some I have not talked with in many months. I am looking at the models of friendship differently these days - shoot, I am looking at every model differently. At 53, I am poignantly being shown that most theories I have had about life didn't hold up under the fierce testing that comes with age and experience. Going from books to application has blown most of my ideas away... Truth is, the overriding emotion I have for person they are gathering for tonight is compassion. And while I was not invited to join them, I prayed for her anyway - and will continue to do so as she journeys through upcoming weeks that may be her most challenging days ever. She will need sudden friends, surprising friends - and a fortitude that comes from becoming her own friend when there seems to be no one else around. No two journeys are a like as much as we think them to be. Sometimes we need the juxtaposition to remind us, to poke us, to show us those too human parts of ourselves that should spur us on to deeper introspection of our motives, our reactions, the path we choose to live out our faith in a world overflowing with opportunities to build more barriers to protect our hearts from offense and pain. I choose love. In the human dilemmas, the many awkward moments in the midst of racing hearts and minds, may I always choose love...