On Strengths and "the-not-so-strong"

I'll never understand why people constantly encourage me to look only at the positive. I think being able to see and accept the negative side of reality puts me in a position to build on weaknesses and transform them. If I refuse to see them, how can I change or improve? Being lost and overwhelmed by problems is quite a different thing from recognizing and working to change them.

In clinical work I relied heavily on strengths-based theory. I truly believe that everyone and every situation has at least one area of strength. Finding it and building on it is very often an effective means of transforming non-functioning or poorly functioning people and systems. But my mind is boggled by the concept of denying (or, more accurately- lying about) the reality of existing weakness.

wisdom of the ages

The seminary sisters had an assignment to interview some of the sisters in the retirement residence about their lives in community. We had a nice chat at their "coffee break" about challenges they faced, how things had changed over the years and the "mystery" of vocation. As we were getting ready to wrap-up one of the seminary sisters asked the final question,
"Do you have any words of wisdom about how to acheive balance in community life?"
Sr. Charlie, who had not spoken much perked up and answered~
"walk close to the wall."

Eating is a Moral Act

I should have known something like the National Catholic Rural Life Conference existed, but until last night I had never heard of it. There is so much to consider about how we live and move through this world...here's the prayer from their website:

O, Lord Help us to remember where our bread comes from and why we yearn for living waters. Teach us your guiding principlesfor reverence of your Creation. Show us how to turn the ground into a sacred commons once again. Guide us to cover the earth with a lasting agriculture. Help us make a place at the table for everyone. Grace us when we eat with justice on our plate. Then fill us with joy. Amen.

which earth has given and human hands have made

Every day I hear these words of prayer, thanksgiving, and offering over

the bread
which earth has given and human hands have made
and wine
fruit of the vine and work of human hands

on the alter of the Mass.

Only recently have I begun to consider the significance of such statements.
While the sacrament of the Eucharist itself deserves it's own realm of contemplation, it's the journey of the bread and wine to the alter that has got me thinking.
This bread and wine which "will become our spiritual food and drink" --where did it come from?
Is it anything at all like my other meals?
Do I eat and drink food that has been the work of human hands?
And if so, whose hands?
If not, what am I eating/drinking?
Can each meal become --if not sacramental, at least, a spiritual activity?

Something, not Anything.

"What do you want to do?"
"I don't know/care, what do you want to do?"
"I'm up for anything/whatever/whatever you want to do"
etc...

I've had a few of these conversations in my life.
I'm guessing you have too.

The problem, of course, is that "anything" is too vague.
It's an endless possibility.
Until a decision is made to do something,
anything remains nothing.

I was thinking about this the other day after a particularly stressful conversation in which I was trying to figure out how to cram 6months' worth of visiting into two days. I was in town and available to do "anything" --I ended up spending most of the day alone because I did not plan a "something." Thankfully, my sister gave me the proverbial kick in the pants and got something planned-which turned out to be a very nice evening with most of the family.

But the whole experience got me thinking about these long, excruciating "seminary" days...it's a whole lot of "anything" time---preparing for anything that may come up, anywhere I may be sent, anyone I may live with, anything I'll be asked to do. Right now, the anything remains a vague and endless possibility and therefore feels a lot like nothing.

Do-Over

So, I just finished up my second official 8-day retreat.
It was good, you know, prayer, silence, cable TV...yes. Again.
And while God remains appealing...so, apparently, does Mark Ruffalo.
Maybe I just didn't get the message last year.
I tried to pay better attention this time.

Say Cheese!

I miss the sarcastic, focused, idealism of home, a place where words are cheap and the only thing that matters is action.

I miss the way I used to be able to conduct business transactions with people through windows without them so much as glancing in my direction, let alone speaking directly to me. I didn't know them, they didn't know me and neither of us pretended to care otherwise.

In the small, mid-western hell I inhabit these days, I am grilled on my health, family, and feelings about the weather in exchange for the release of my burger and fries.

I liked living in a city where how I am doing today was nobody else's business and "fine" was considered a dissertation-length response, where to make eye-contact was akin to threatening your children and would be met with the same fierce reaction.

I miss the days where I didn't even notice the existence of birds outside my window, let alone which birds were there and what their dietary preferences were.

Mostly, I miss being in a place where I was free to express my feelings in the way I spent my time, money and energy. Where the people I loved knew they were my priority because the precious commodity of "free time" was dedicated to them. I never had to say "I miss you" because I could stop by. I never had to say "I'm thinking about you" because if they needed me I was there. And I never had to say "I love you" because it was obvious.

So, although the words are cheap and hollow sounding, even to me...they are all I have:
I miss you.
I'm thinking of you.
I love you.