What a difference a day makes

 Yesterday, my husband and I headed to the town where our loved one was being held in jail. They'd entered the home of strangers, believing the house was theirs.  They'd also stolen packages off of porches, but did not get arrested for that. Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

There was a slight chance that the arresting officer would be able to cobble together enough evidence that our loved one should be involuntarily transported to the psychiatric hospital; the officer had to believe that our loved one was 1) risk of harm to self (suicidal), 2) risk of harm to others (homicidal) or 3) unable to meet basic needs (at imminent risk of death by self neglect).  This information was not likely to come until later in the afternoon so we began a long day of waiting.  Thanks to some friends in town, some of that time was spent sipping ice water in the shade and watching them revel in their two little boys. 

Alas, the officer did not feel our loved one met the high bar for involuntary transport; the bar has effectively been raised, in my opinion, by over-zealous civil liberty rights advocates, and an over obliging judicial system, which has rendered the involuntary commitment laws toothless. 

Thanks to the prosecuting attorney, we were notified that he would be dropping the arrest charges, needed to get a judges signature, and then our loved one would be released to the street.  And so we waited some more. 

By 3:00, our loved one walked out of the jail, and spotted our car. My husband went over to talk to them, and we were not certain whether they'd come with us, or choose the path of abject homelessness.  They first agreed to get in the car so we could take them to get a pack of cigarettes. For any critics (including my inner voice) who question the choice of cigarettes, it absolutely is consistent with the concept of harm reduction.  If you can't eliminate all risk, chose the path with the least harm inflicted. Cigarettes are more harmless than homelessness.  

Our loved one and my husband stood outside the convenience store, while our loved one smoked several cigarettes. They were not making any sense. My husband likened it to a stream of consciousness dream state. People you know, mixing with celebrities, mixing with monsters, in one setting and then jumping to an entire new scene.  Mostly the monologue was happy-ish. There was talk of the president, Trump, God, our loved one's husband, the husband's new girlfriend, real childhood scenes, warped with accusations, or grandiose notions of power. My favorite was that the toilets in jail were very powerful. Our loved one got a muffin, and flushed the whole thing down the toilet to feed their goldfish. 

Finally, they agreed to return to Portland, and the stream of consciousness conversation continued for the two hour drive, plus a cigarette stop.  We stopped for take out and came home to eat on the porch, where the chatter continued. 

They crashed around 8:00, and were quiet until about 1:00am, when they got up, sung, made food, walked in and out of the house, came in to ask us what time it was, took a shower - constant motion until we finally conceded and awoke at 4:45am. They came out and asked if I'd make them a cup of coffee. The three of us went outside on a rare warm Portland morning, drinking coffee, and they continued the monologue. 

Before yesterday, we'd hoped our loved one would be hospitalized, stabilized, and we'd move our stuff and selves to Pittsburgh during that stabilizing respite. That plan is out the window.

Our loved one so dislikes Portland, that they're willing to move to Pittsburgh, if we go NOW.  So plan C (or is it D) is to pack three carry on bags, and a cat-filled cat carrier, and book flights for early next week. We had significantly downsized when we moved to Portland, so we would have needed to purchase some basic household items anyway. Now, we'll probably order over the weekend, for pick up when we arrive so we have some basics. Things like a couple mattresses, sheets, some cookware, a TV to keep our loved one entertained. My husband will return a few days later to Portland and complete the house pack-up. He'll fill and send off  the self-pack trailer, and head off in the car by himself.  

That's the plan as of 7:45am.  Could change 5 times before the end of the day. 

For now, I'm extremely grateful our loved one is back, and safe. Our move will be significantly less orderly than we'd originally imagined, but with God's grace, we'll get there. Thanks to everyone for the good thoiughts and prayers. Keep it up.  It ain't over yet.  

Jul 29 2021 Day 155 Psalms 137:1–140:13

You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.

Ah, music. Music has the power to turn words into prayers. When I lived in Eugene, I had the great honor of singing with the Greater Eugene Sacred Choir, a multi-denominational choir with great compositions, instrumentation, and fellow singers. We sang a song set to Psalm 139. I’m sure it said that in the header of the music, but I could never have told you where the lyrics were from, without the music in front of me. Today, when I read Psalm 139, I was flooded with warm memories of singing those words. Never again will I forget that Search me o Lord is from Psalm 139.

And what words they are! Search me O Lord, and know my heart. You know my coming and going, my sitting and standing. God knows all. God knows my heart. God knows my joys and sorrows, my stated, as well as my true intentions. Before words are in my mouth, God knows.

To believe this is both comforting and frightening. For God to know everything, I must believe that God knows all the dark and twisted bits. God knows those parts of me I hide from everyone, including myself. That notion of being completely seen is frightening, because we’ve all been trained to believe that love is somewhat conditional. I love you, but not if you hurt me. I love you, but not if you hurt yourself. I love you, but I love you more if you fill my image of who you are. For God to know our hearts and our words before they’re spoken means that all of our parts that are not light and love are seen by God. Horrors.

But the great comfort is that God’s love is not conditional. It is not dependent upon anything. It does not depend on our goodness or our portrayal of goodness. God loves us. Period. God, in Jesus Christ, loved the very people who were putting him to death. Forgive them, for they know not what they do. God in Jesus Christ allowed humanity to kill God in Jesus Christ, to show just how far God’s love will go.

God knows my standing up and sitting down. God is before and behind me. The darkness is not dark to God. The darkest night is like day. My darkest bits are enlightened and brightened by God’s immeasurable light and love. So to be fully known, to be fully seen by God is actually a beautiful thing, once we get past the notion that God’s love is limited or conditional.

This morning, I’m thinking about how grateful for God’s ever-present and unconditional love. That makes me much less afraid of the dark.

Jul 28 2021 Day 153 Psalms 131:1–136:26

O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.

This is one of the psalms we read as we process during the Palm Sunday procession, marking Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. The psalm remembers all of the good and wonderful things, the parting of the Red Sea, the overthrowing of the Egyptians, striking down kings and giving their inheritance to Israel. It doesn’t really focus on the not so great parts of the narrative between God and Israel.

For example, before the parting of the Red Sea, the people were enslaved and harshly treated in Egypt. Before the kings were overthrown, they mistreated the people of Israel. Joseph was sold by his brothers. Brothers killed brothers.

Is this repeated line designed to white-wash the harder bits, pretending they never happened? Or is it designed to just reiterate that regardless of what happens, God is good, and God’s love endures forever?

The accompanying reflection for this section of scripture is from Henri Nouwen, and he definitely has an opinion about giving thanks, during the good and bad times. He writes, “To be grateful for the good things that happen in our lives is easy, but to be grateful for all 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 truly grateful people when we can say thank you to all that has brought us to the 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.”

Yes! I love this. To be grateful in the midst of it all is to be truly grateful. In my world, I’ve got a few unsettled things right now, including family, job and housing. To be worried or ungrateful during the turmoil is to deny God’s ultimate providence and goodness. Sometimes It’s hard to express gratitude when it seems like things are in the toilet, but deep down, I believe God’s got this, and God’s got me. I might not understand or like how things are. Right now, I definitely don’t like how things are with my sick loved one. And I’d be hard pressed to be grateful to God for the bureaucrats who aren’t helping. But I’m not asked to be grateful for people who are seemingly hindering my desires for my loved one’s safety. I am asked to be grateful to God, for God’s goodness and love. That, I can do.

I’m reminded of the idea I read about from the Dalai Lama. He wrote that we should be grateful for difficult people, because it’s only with them that we actually can practice our skills of kindness and grace. So maybe it’s not that I’m grateful for the unhelpful people, but rather I’m grateful to have the opportunity to be bigger than that, to not respond in-kind.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to give thanks to the Lord in the midst of this storm.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Yesterday, I was pretty excited. We'd connected with a few professionals who'd offered as much help as this hamstrung 'non-system' can provide. An attorney suggested that the jail staff could transport our loved one to the hospital. The hospital crisis worker agreed to be on the watch for the ER admittance, and it looked like we were going to be able to get our loved on into the hospital, where our legal guardianship would allow us to secure treatment. This took hours of phone calls with the public defender, prosecuting attorney, jail, behavioral health unit at the hospital, back with the prosecuting attorney, etc.

Alas, it all unravelled at the end of the day, when we learned that our loved one is being a model inmate, and there is no risk of harm to self or others, so they cannot involuntary transport. Our loved one was deemed not healthy enough to stay in jail, or to face the charges, but apparently not sick enough to infringe on their civil liberties and freedom, in order to transport to the hospital. To be clear, the hospital would most likely have admitted our loved one, but we cannot get them to the hospital.

Today, the prosecuting attorney is likely to dismiss the charges, which will result in my loved one being released to the streets.

Meanwhile, we received their state ID in the mail which some kind soul mailed to us, having found it in the street. So our loved one has no ID, no money, no lucidity. And certainly will reoffend. They will steal for food, trespass for a place to sleep, be publicly indecent to pee, and that's just covering basic human needs. Throw in the delusions of owning several homes in the neighborhood, and I expect that they'll also enter homes uninvited, and explain to the shocked homeowners that this is their house.  I pray they don't have a gun. 

Today, I cannot imagine how the non-system is designed in a way that is willing to arrest and jail my loved one with a serious brain disease, acknowledges that they are too sick to face charges, is unable to transport the hospital, because of my loved one's civil rights, but is willing to dump her on the streets.

Jul 27 2021 Day 152 Psalms 127:1–130:8

Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.

Wow. I guess I’ve never seen this connection between house and God so directly, or maybe I’m just feeling it more directly now. I believe we sold our house yesterday, and we will be officially purchasing a home in Pittsburgh tomorrow. I’m very attuned to the word ‘house’.

I definitely believe God needs to be in the equation. I’m increasingly convinced God is in this place, as long as I invite God in this place. So the new twist for me is the part about building the house. We have some significant repair and remodeling to do when we arrive. I’m wondering about how to invite God into the significant remodel projects ahead. It’s interesting that a little research rendered a lot of nothing.

I don’t want to donate to build God’s house. I don’t want advice on how to build a Christian household. I’m interested in ways to get God in the business of demolition, removing mold, picking out new fixtures and cabinets, pulling up stinky carpet. Obviously it involves prayer and intentionality. I’ve got some friends whose beautiful prayer writing makes me swoon. Maybe I get them to write me a few prayers for my hip pocket.

Maybe I assure that choices I make are furthering God’s purposes, although I’m not sure where the nexus is with stinky carpet removal. Maybe I arrange for a house blessing, or reinstall the Mezuzah I received as a gift. Maybe I carve out a little space as my dedicated prayer corner. Other thoughts?

This morning, I’m thinking about all the wonderful ways I can invite God into building or rebuilding this house I’m purchasing, and grateful about the opportunity to bring God’s presence and assistance in to that space. How do you bring God into your house projects or house space?

Jul 26 2021 Day 151 Psalms 120:1–126:6

Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers.



Peace and security, two things I think we all seek. It’s interesting that it’s peace within the walls, and security within the towers. Walls and towers indicate unrest and insecurity; otherwise, why would they have been built? But once there are walls and towers, we seek peace and security.

I wonder if it’s the walls and towers that help create the sense of peace, or whether they create the sense of unrest. In my home, I lock the doors when I head to bed, and I feel more secure. But does that mean that there’s an underlying unrest I’m trying to lock out, to secure myself from? If that’s how I see the world, as an inherently dangerous place, do towers and walls help? I’m reminded of people who live in very risky dangerous neighborhoods, with bars on their windows, locked security doors, and multiple locks and chains on their door. After having zipped themselves inside their fortress, can they feel safe?

I mention this because this phrase, “Peace be within your walls, and security within your towers”, has always resonated deeply and personally with me. I want peace and security within my soul, and every time I hear this phrase, I feel like it’s a wish for my own personal peace and security, not within the walls and towers of Jerusalem.

So the question is whether I have erected walls and towers, security doors and bars, that ultimately create a sense of constant unrest, rather than the peace sought.

For the most part, no. But in some areas, I think I have fallen prey to the notion that the more protected I make me, the safer I’ll feel. I don’t like going bowling, for the sole reason that I am absolutely unpredictably mediocre. I don’t like being mediocre, and that’s because I’d prefer to be good. And no matter how I practice, or classes I take, I could never become predictably better at bowling. Better to not bowl, to protect myself from my dumb sense of being good-enough, than to risk that sense of inferiority. While it’s pride and perfectionism that make me not want to bowl, it’s the walls I’ve built that make me not want to bowl with others. Dumb, but true.

And now that the walls are built, and I don’t bowl with others, I wonder if the wall’s presence is helping or hurting my sense of security and peace. True, I won’t shame myself by being a crappy bowler. But I’ve now got this reinforced narrative that I can’t bowl. And as my husband has tried to point out, no one cares how I bowl; he thinks it would just be fun to go out and bowl. Um, not for me. I’m safe and secure behind my I-don’t-bowl wall. But probably actually more insecure, if truth be told.

This morning, I’m thinking about where there might be other walls and towers I’ve built, and whether they’re serving me to actually bring peace and security, or if they’ve outlived their purpose and need to come down. Bowling is an easy one to spot. Some of the more internal walls and towers may take more time to find and dismantle. Meanwhile, I will glory in the peace and security I can find, however it comes.

A different kind of waiting game

 

Yesterday, my husband went to the town where we believed our loved one to be. He drove around the regular spots, and didn't see her.

He had also received a call from the crisis response team (thank you, thank you, thank you) about a possible siting in a neighboring town. He went to that neighborhood and asked around, and someone had spotted our loved one. They reported seeing them in contact with the city police.

This sent my husband to the police station, where he confirmed that our loved one had been arrested and was currently lodged in jail, with a $75 bail, which they don't have. They've spent 4 days and nights in jail, and have not tried to contact us. 

It appears that they'd again entered other people's houses (multiple), claiming that the house was theirs. Given the fact that they've told us they've purchased several homes, I suspect this is absolutely their truth. Unfortunately, the current owners of the homes don't agree. The good news is that none of the owners were trigger-happy gun owners.

There is a website where vigilante justice types take public photos from jail bookings, and repost the page, and then the comments begin. It's like a sporting event. Our loved one was in two separate strings, one about stealing a package off someone's front porch, and the other about the home invasion. The good news is that we learned more about our loved one's activity, including standing in a busy street, refusing to let a bus pass.  This information will be helpful as we try to get them the help they need. 

Unfortunately, the comments were also horribly mean and hurtful.  The comments ranged from poor crazy lady to waste of breath, to trashy POS.  It was heartbreaking to read. 

I did respond to one especially nasty comment who was asking who this trashy person was, and why their parents weren't helping. I explained that we were trying, that I didn't think they were a waste of space, and I posted a photo of us all during better times.  

Today, we will reach out to the prosecuting and defense attorneys, to see if there's any way to use their current lodging to our advantage. Meanwhile, we will sleep better, knowing they're safe.  

So now, we wait to see how the judicial system and mental health system can hopefully work together to help get our loved one the care that's so desperately needed.  

Jul 23 2021 Day 150 Psalm 119: 89-176

My eyes are awake before each watch of the night, that I may meditate on your promise.



Again today, I’m grateful for the accompanying reflection for this bit of Psalm 119. It’s from Eugene Peterson, author of The Message, and he reflects on the meaning of meditating on God’s word. He says God’s word is Torah, or divine revelation to god’s people, and we are the people to whom God’s way is revealed. It’s not words on a page to be studied, but rather Scripture is a living revelation of God’s abundance, grace, love, and mercy, and every time we read it, something new is revealed. Although sometimes it takes a little more effort on my part, I can agree whole-heartedly.

He continues that meditation isn’t just sitting cross-legged and humming. Rather it’s a visceral chewing on the words, speaking them, singing them, musing about them, talking about them. All of that can be meditation, if it’s genuine, and goes beyond the cognitive.

I think that’s why I’m enjoying and continuing to write in the mornings. Similar to preparing for a sermon, this time with Scripture allows me to meditate on the Word. I love listening or reading Morning Prayer, but that is less interactive. This, reading, chewing, and writing about God’s word, is way beyond my head, beyond an academic brain exercise. I’m quite sure if that’s all it was, I would have quit by now.

How else might I build in ways to truly meditate on God’s word, and to build it into a daily practice. I definitely fell into this practice. Maybe I’ll looking into walking meditation, or I’ve even seen a Christian yoga practice. Or given our upcoming move to Pittsburgh into a house that needs lots of love, maybe it’s figuring out how to refinish in a meditative way. Or . . . I suspect I won’t be writing every morning for the rest of my life. This morning, I’m thinking about how to begin to explore other ways of truly meditating on God’s word, in a chewy way.

Update

Very early yesterday morning, our loved one called, after being gone for 36 hours. They explained that they were at the Eugene bus station, the city where we lived 3 years ago. My husband needed to pick them up ASAP, and take them to another state. They didn't want to be in Eugene, or in Portland. 

They insisted the conversation be hushed, because the FBI had put tracking devices on them.  My husband tried to explain that if he drove the 2 hours to pick them up, they'd be returning to Portland. They were insistent they weren't going to return, and again reiterated their request to be picked up. 

We've pieced together that we think they left our home in the evening of Monday, 7/19, and spent the night somewhere in Portland. We heard them come into the house and into their bedroom very early the morning of Tuesday 7/20, but then they left immediately. 

We didn't hear anything until yesterday morning, Wednesday 7/21, when they were in Eugene, allegedly.  Presuming that was true, they'd gone to Eugene some how on Tuesday, and spent Tuesday night in Eugene, calling us early Wednesday morning.  

It turns out the Greyhound bus station moved to a neighboring city, so we spoke with the police from that city to see if their mobile crisis team could check to see if they were there. Gratefully, they did check, but didn't find her. We followed up with the crisis team from Eugene, the well regarded CAHOOTS team, and they also checked the local bus station but didn't find them. CAHOOTS called back about 10 minutes later, explaining that they'd found her at the Amtrak station, which I believe runs busses between Portland and Eugene, hence the bus station reference.  My husband and I would never have checked the train station. So grateful for the professionals who did. Our loved one was easy to identify with the pink bike helmet with spikes on the top. This was our loved one's contact with CAHOOTS in 3 months, and like the previous contact, they did not want to go with the crisis team, because there's nothing wrong with them. Besides, they explained, John was going to be picking them up shortly. 

With confirmation that they were in Eugene, we prepared to go,. I offered to tag along to offer support, although if I weren't careful, I could easily escalate things. I offered to only speak if my husband spoke to me, but otherwise, let their barbs or illogical comments go unanswered.  My husband would be immensely better at this, and I'd be there to support him, and step in if my skills were needed. 

We drove down, wondering what we'd find.  It turns out, we found nothing. Our loved one was no where to be found. We recontacted that police, who noted on the police log that yes, the crisis team had contacted her, and then they received a second call about her and sent officers to check. But they didn't find her either. 

We trolled through town until lunchtime, when we found a favorite old spot and took a break with lunch and yes, we split a beer.  Then we made one more pass through town, and found a quiet park, were we reclined in our seats and took a quick power nap. 

Our loved called us at 4:30AM from their phone, so we knew they still had their phone. If they'd wanted us to connect with them, they could have either called back, or been where they'd reported they'd be.  After multiple passes through town, to previous spots we'd found them, and to other unlikely but possible places, we returned to Portland without our loved one. 

For those following along on this journey, this feels like the crisis that never ends. But crisis seems to imply a limited duration problem.  The problem with schizophrenia is that it isn't limited. This state of 'crisis' is our new normal. Presuming we find our loved one, it will only be a matter of time before they run away again because the FBI is tracking them, because we're abusing them, because their fans want them.

Chicken Little ran around, claiming that the sky was falling. It sounded like an imminent threat, and eventually people stopped listening. That's the risk of talking about schizophrenia. The crisis may not end for another 10 years. If it's exhausting to read about, I feel you. Imagine what it's like for my loved one. 

I know of no other illness where society has allowed the ill person to be in this kind of illness-induced crisis of this severity for this long. 

I will share another update when something changes.  Until then, we wait.  

Jul 21 2021 Day 149 Psalm 119:1–88

I run the way of your commandments, for you enlarge my understanding.



How has God enlarged my understanding, and do I, in fact run the way of God’s commandments? I have discovered that whenever my world is feeling small, or my outlook diminished, scripture does push those boundaries. It reminds me that there is another way of living and looking at the world, a way that isn’t constrained by my self-imposed limitations.

Sometimes conditions outside me make me troubled. Work, family, health. I feel a little like Eeyore, Winnie the Pooh’s downtrodden friend. Almost without fail, I find in scripture either something to remind me of the goodness of God, or I am reminded about some poor soul who has many many more woes. My outlook is lifted. I once again understand that I do not need to be fearful or saddened by circumstances outside me. I have an ever-present, ever-loving God who will resolve all of my woes.

Sometimes I wonder about how this ever-present, ever loving God can allow crappy things to happen. Scripture frequently helps me understand that God will resolve crappy things, and that pesky free-will sometimes creates the crappy things. God will be present through the crap. Misery loves company.

I run towards Scripture when it affirms something I know, but have forgotten. I run towards scripture when my understanding is expanded in support of the way I see things.

As it turns out, I don’t run towards scripture when it expands my understanding in contradiction to my tidy way of seeing the world.

Sometimes I am grateful to be amidst like-minded people, who understand the value of caring for others, of striving for kindness, of doing things I think are important. Scripture nearly always reminds me that I need to be grateful for all people, like minded or not. I need to love all people, whether they care for others or not, whether they’re kind or not, and whether they’re doing things I think are valuable or not.

Scripture nearly always expands my understanding. When it’s comfortable, I’m happy about it. When that new understanding is not as comfortable, I’m not as happy and definitely don’t run. To be sure, it’s good, and I’m glad. But it’s not always easy, to have my tidy understandings bust open.

This morning, I’m thinking about when my comfortable understandings are enlarged, and paying close attention to my attitude about that enlargement. I always want to be enlarged, even if I don’t want to be.

And so we wait. 

Yesterday, our loved one received a copy of their new official State ID. They legally changed their first name and last name to something that us neuro-normative people wouldn't understand and wouldn't spell correctly. They also had their passport, which was under their previous name, but was the only official ID we had. We wanted to swap the passport for the state ID, so we had at least one official ID in case it got lost. 

They did not like that, and said they were going to call the police, because we were withholding their documents. They were angry, angry, angry. 

They left before dinner, with a full armful of papers, including their civil suit against us, as well as paperwork for restraining orders, stalking orders, and divorce proceedings. They had their pink helmet on, which they wear because they're afraid we're going to hit them in the head. 

After dinner, they called and asked if we could leave their bus pass on the dining room table. They explained they were going to go fill out paperwork.. at 8:00 at night?  So we left the pass, and heard them come in, and leave again. 

They were out overnight, and have not returned. Their phone is turned off, and they have no money, and didn't take any clothes. 

We've called the crisis workers and the non-emergency police, just so folks are aware of the circumstances in case they encounter her. 

It is likely our loved one will continue to decompensate and become increasingly symptomatic.  It is likely they will end up in the custody of either the crisis workers or police, and it is likely they will be transported to an emergency department, or directly to a psychiatric hospital. 

And so we wait. 

We will wait to see if they return. We will wait to see if the police or crisis workers contact us. We will wait to see if the hospitals contact us. While we have legal guardianship, I'm certain our loved one will not share that information, and since they're coming in with a different name and ID, I'm not sure whether the hospitals would connect us to them.  

We are scheduled to have an open house for our home this weekend. This could be interesting, depending on who shows up when. 

Jul 20 2021 Day 148 Psalms 113:1–118:29

NOT to us, O LORD, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness.

Glory. That’s a word we don’t use much. We talk about things that are glorious, but for the most part, we don’t describe things in our realm as having glory, and we don’t give glory to things earthly. According to the psalmist, that’s a good thing because glory belongs to God, not humanity. According to Oxford, glory is high regard or honor won by notable achievements.

On further thought, it seems like we do seek glory, although we don’t talk about it so much. Glory is something we seek, although few would admit it; it sounds so vain. So instead we seek glory in secret, or at least without admitting publicly we’re seeking it.

The psalmist suggests that glory belongs to God. Given the fact that our skills, talents and notable achievements are God-given, it seems fair that God deserves the glory, not us. If we do something notable, it’s just because 1) God gave us the ability and opportunity to and 2) we lived in to what God wanted for us all along. So yes, I guess glory belongs to God, not us.

So what about all those times I secretly want glory for something I’ve done well? Bernard of Clairvaux, a 12th century abbot writes that we should seek peace and not glory. If we seek peace, we may achieve notable things, but our motivation should be harmony and peace, rather than personal accolades. If I think about others who seek glory, it’s obvious that’s their primary motive, right? If I can spot that less-than-altruistic motive in others, I must assume that people can spot it in me, when it creeps in to my motivation. I never want to be that person.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to check my intentions when I do something, to see if I’m doing it for peace or some more self-serving purpose. And I want to be more intentional about turning any glory towards God. Let’s keep it real.

Jul 19 2021 Day 147 Psalms 108:1–112:10

My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast



While this sounds like a resounding truth on first blush, this morning I’m hearing it as an affirmation – a statement made out of hope that it will be true. There are definitely times when I don’t feel like my heart is steadfast. It’s not doubt in God’s goodness and the ultimate rightness of all things. Rather, it’s a lack of certitude, which seems like a big difference.

Most times, I absolutely know all will be well, that I am loved and so is everyone around me. I don’t ever really doubt this. But sometimes, I just think it’s true, rather than knowing. It’s from that lack of certitude that doubt creeps in. One moment I know, the next I think, and if I’m not careful, the next moment I wish. That’s also when despair creeps in. It also takes a lot more energy to have anything other than a steadfast heart; when I’m wondering or hoping or thinking, there’s more brain power thrown at whatever it is. When I’m steadfast, it’s an easy yes/no. End of discussion. No more wasted energy wondering.

To have a steadfast heart means I cannot be dissuaded. I have a confidence that is unshakeable. So that’s when the affirmations come in. My heart is steadfast. My heart is steadfast. My heart is steadfast. It’s sort of the verbal version of “build it, and they will come”.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to strengthen my steadfast heart, beyond repeating that affirmation as the psalmist did. Perhaps part of the strengthening is like exercise; practice recognizing the truths of God’s all-present love, mercy and goodness, and it bolsters my certitude. I need to recognize when God’s love has been steadfast, which in turn makes it easier for my heart to follow suit.

Update

In the past few weeks, my loved one's behavior has become increasingly erratic, and unfortunately we're in the place of just waiting for something bigger and badder to happen. 

Thursday, they filed a civil lawsuit against my husband and me, for having stolen their money they've made because they're a star. The amount of damages? One million dollars. My husband, bless his accepting heart, drove them down to the court, and was around to answer questions and provide support if needed. The lawsuit was officially filed. Never thought I'd be sued for $1,000,000. I believe the next step is that we will be interviewed by case investigators.  

Our loved one also has contacted an attorney to file a restraining order against us. They see no conflict between asking for a restraining order while living in our home, and while we transport them.  In their mind, the order would protect them by preventing us from abusing them, or talking to them when they are threatened.  

Unfortunately for them,  they learned they cannot file a restraining order on someone who serves as legal guardian. So they requested that we relinquish guardianship. We graciously declined, but did offer that if they had someone else they wanted to serve as guardian we'd be happy to transfer.  

They are sensing some urgency for all of this court action, because once they receive the money due them, they'll be able to move to California, when we move to Pittsburgh. We are trying to encourage a two-step approach, so that if the money doesn't materialize, they could move with us to Pittsburgh, and then continue their legal action against us. 

Meanwhile, the yelling and fear continue. Two nights ago, they woke us up to complain that we were in their room abusing them and laughing at them.  Again, it didn't matter that we were sound asleep and they needed to wake us up to level these charges. Apparently, we can be in two places at one time, according to them. We have returned to sleeping in our locked bedroom. 

And so the waiting game continues. While we have legal authority to do so, we have no ability to logistically get them into a car or into the hospital. Given previous physical altercations with them, we can't.  And given the effective standard of "imminently suicidal",  "imminently homicidal", or at "imminent risk of serious harm due to inability to care for oneself", our loved one does not meet the standard for being picked up and taken to the hospital against their will. 

As time continues to pass however, the chances increase that they will be deemed imminently homicidal or at imminent risk of serious harm to self.  Meanwhile, we will try to keep ourselves safe, our loved one safe, and our community safe. And if this is hard for us, imagine how hard it is for our loved one.  

Jul 17 2021 Day 146 Psalms 105:1–107:43

Then they were glad because they had quiet, and he brought them to their desired haven.

Psalms 105-107 are all about a recounting of the people’s relatively consistent bad behavior, crying out to God, and God’s consistent love and mercy. There are parts of this I appreciate and understand, and parts I don’t.

The accompanying reflection for this section of psalms is from Dietrich Bonhoeffer and focuses on sin and sin’s desire to stay isolated and in the dark. Bonhoeffer says that the more lonely people become, the more power sin has over them. This, he argues is why corporate confession is so valuable. Confessing our sins in the midst of a community daylights the sin, and gives it nowhere to hid. This removes its power over the lonely and isolated. For the psalmist to talk about the sinful history of the people helps to remove the shame and isolation and power of that history. This makes sense to me.

After the collective remembering of sin, the psalmist recounts how the people cried out to God, again and again. And again and again, God showed mercy and saved them from their trials. For this, the people were grateful, until they again fell into sin and the whole cycle started over. This I understand too. We try to live right, only to fail in big and little ways. Every time, we commit to do better, and are grateful for God’s mercy.

Psalm 107 gives a recount of how and where people travelled, how their lives became separated from God, and how God had mercy. Some wandered in desert wastes and could not find any food or water. I’m guessing that this is figurative for people who wandered to places where they couldn’t find spiritual sustenance. Perhaps they should have stayed on the right path. Others sat in darkness and gloom, rebelling against God. These people didn’t necessarily get lost by wandering, but rather in the midst of God’s love and presence, they turned their backs on God, actively resisting God. They cried out, and God answered them. Others became sick because of their evil ways, and eventually returned to God and God saved them.

The group I’m unsure about is the people who went to the boats, and did business on the mighty sea. God showed God’s power through mighty waves, and stormy winds. The people’s courage disappeared, as some of them went down to the depths. They were ‘at their wit’s end’. Um, yes. I don’t get the sense that God conjures up storms and winds, just for fun, or to show people God’s power. Perhaps this group of people didn’t head off with ill-intent as the other groups. Rather, these folks were faced with crises, and their faith faltered. Of course, if I was in a boat with massive storms, and some of my boatmates were mounted up to heaven and others sent to the depths, I suspect my courage would melt away too.

I suspect that I am bristling at this section because it seems like they didn’t set off to do anything untoward. Rather, they came up against God’s power and might and were frightened. Of all the human foibles outlined in this psalm, this is the one I’m most likely to commit. Life hands us all challenges. Responding with courage and faith is what I’m challenged to do, regardless of the size of the waves or whether my boatmates have sunk to the depths. I would take issue that God puts those challenges before us just to demonstrate God’s power. And regardless why the challenges arise, I want to respond without blaming God or losing hope.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to respond to the raging storms in a way that strengthens my faith and resolve, rather than eroding it. I think this has to do with being grateful even for the waves, and acknowledging that God’s present and merciful at all times.

Jul 16 2021 Day 145 Psalms 102:1–104:35

Bless the Lord, O my soul. And all that is within me, bless his holy name.



This sentence has always felt like a calming balm for me. I think it’s because there is an implicit distinction between head and heart, between body and soul. This acknowledges a deep truth for me, or at least a understanding that I’ve lived with for decades. I understand that I have one body, and that it includes head, heart, soul, sinews, spirit. And I know people who live as if it’s all the same, all the time. When they speak, it seems to come from a soft place of the soul. But that is not how I’ve navigated this world.

The vast majority of the time, I work from my head. I absolutely believe it’s informed and sometimes integrated with my soul, but sometimes it’s definitely not. So for me to hear the sentence, “Bless the Lord, O my soul”, is a very familiar sentiment. It’s my thoughts and head asking my soul to engage. Of course, I think my soul knows this, and doesn’t really need my thoughts to be quite so directive. But this sentence validates my experience that my head and soul are sometimes not on the same page.

This is a sentence that lets my head do what it does…. It thinks, and perhaps over-thinks. This sentence also engages my deeper, genuine soul. All that is within me, bless his holy name. I get a warm feeling reciting this phrase. It’s as if my mind invokes my soul, and then they both melt in to one grateful, God-blessing being.

This morning, I’m thinking about how I might spend more time in that integrated mind/soul state. I can’t do this by simply realigning my understanding that it’s all one and all connected. That denies my lived experience. Rather, I need to acknowledge that these two aspects of my self are strong, valid and useful. And then invite them into more of a collaborative dance.

Jul 15 2021 Day 144 Psalms 96:1–101:8 

Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy



Everything on heaven and on earth, all plants and beasts, hills and people will be joyful in the presence of the Lord. That’s basically the gist of this bit of psalms. I’ve seen people be joyful, I’ve even seen beasts be joyful. But I’ve never imagined or thought about plants, hills or floods being joyful. Perhaps that’s a lack of imagination on my part, or an attitude of superlativeness. But today, I want to think about it more.

Obviously floods don’t have hands, and hills don’t sing, literally. That’s my first challenge, because I imagine waters having little tiny human hands that actually clap. And despite that being my image, I’m pretty sure that’s not what was intended. It’s a ridiculous image, that makes me pass over things like this and much poetry, because I cannot get past my literal absurd image. Neither can the hills join in song. That’s dumb.

But instead of thinking the writing is dumb, perhaps, just perhaps, it’s my knee-jerk literal imagery that’s getting in the way. It’s not the imagery that’s the problem, it’s my interpretation. I’m getting it wrong and shutting down the possibilities before they even begin.

Hmm. I bet this is not an isolated instance – me inferring a meaning and acting based on what I think something means, and being wrong from the start. I bet this happens with most imagery and poetry. It probably also happens with more subtle communication and body language. Note to self, if you think something is really ridiculous, like seas with little human hands, or my loved one’s intentions, slow down and figure out whether it’s just my ridiculous interpretation.

So getting beyond the seas having little hands coming out of them, I suppose I can imagine waves being like clapping. They slap together in a pretty rhythmic way, and I can imagine joy in those waves. Likewise, the hills and the noises they make could sound like singing, particularly with a breeze, tall grass, or birds singing. Perhaps this is a blinding flash of obvious for everyone else, so thanks for your patience as I catch up.

I’ve never been a fan of poetry, and all of its literary devices like allegories. Working my way through psalms is a slog, because I am bombarded with images of seas with little hands, and mountains literally melting like wax. I’m grateful for the mostly daily practice of working my way through the whole bible, which forces me to slow down and read though bits I’d like skim over, like these poetic psalms.

This morning I’m thinking about the discipline of reading through scripture from Genesis to Revelation, and all the poetic or boring bits in between. I’m intrigued with how I’m reacting to the parts that are newer to me, or that I approach with some resistance, and even the parts I think I know. Every day I learn something about scripture and my faith. But more important, I am learning a lot about me, and how I approach both of these things. The schedule is forcing interactions that I’d otherwise avoid, and I cherish the insights its offering me.

Jul 13 2021 Day 143 Psalms 90:1–95:11



So teach us to number our days that we may gain a wise heart.



In the past few months, I’ve reflected on age. A lot. My husband recently turned 60, and I guess I never thought I’d be old enough to be married to a 60 year old man. I’m pretty sure he never thought he’d be a 60 year old man either. Of course, that’s just a chronological number, as evidenced by his glee at daily jaunts on his electric skateboard, slaloming through the Portland streets. Regardless of the inside age though, the calendar does not lie, and age creeps up on us.

When I worked in a Seattle suburb as assistant city manager, the mayor at the time was 72. He relayed a story that he frequently looked in the mirror and wondered who that old man was looking back at him. Yes! I see myself and I feel in my bones just like I did 20, 30, even 40 years ago. Sometimes, I’m a little creakier, but not enough to feel old. It genuinely feels like time has zipped by. Just yesterday I was heading off to college, getting married, raising a family, sending the kids off. Looking back, time goes so fast.

Looking forward though, it doesn’t seem like it will come quickly, and that’s nice. In another 2 months, I expect I’ll be living in Pittsburgh, having sold a house, and moved. I’ve no idea how it will all sort out, but luckily, it doesn’t feel like the time is barreling down. Clearly it’s marching forward, but I’m not anxious about all that needs resolution in that time. Looking out the windshield, time doesn’t move as quickly as it does looking in the rearview mirror.

And that’s a good thing, mostly. It’s helping me not feel anxious or nervous about what’s ahead. But on the flip side, we tend to take our todays and tomorrows for granted, much more than we cherish our yesterdays. I don’t know what the next ten years will hold, but it’s really startling to think that my mother died when she was about 10 years older than I am now. Few of us know when we’re going to die, but thinking about my mom, I absolutely want to learn to number my days.

Looking in the rearview mirror, there are some major mile markers I’ve passed, but they don’t measure days or months or even years. They measure seasons. For example, I don’t know what November 1995 looked like, what I was doing, or how I was feeling. I could cobble together a likely story, given addresses, jobs and kids’ ages. But moving forward, I want to be able to measure and cherish November 2021, and November 2022, and all other months and years.

I suppose I could do this by daily journals to record my todays. But I’m not as concerned about where I was or what I was doing, as much as I am concerned to know that I am living in each today as it comes. Rather than journaling, perhaps that’s more about daily gratitude and contentment, regardless of what I’m doing or where I am. That way, I can look back and know that I spent my days as presently as I could.

This morning, I’m thinking about a way to number my days without freaking out about how many are left!

Jul 13 2021 Day 142 Psalms 85:1–89:52

[R]ighteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Oh, I like it when Scripture puts two things together. It always gives me pause, because often, they’re things that are intended to surprise. Another great example is Paul’s greeting to the church – Grace and Peace to you…. Grace was something that Hellenistic gentiles said in greeting. Peace, or Shalom was a traditional Hebrew greeting. We’ve grown accustomed to that greeting, but at the time, it was a startling combination of the greetings from two clashing cultures.

In this psalm, righteousness and peace will kiss each other. On first hearing, this could be a normal thing, like grace and peace. Thinking about it, though, they don’t always go hand in hand. To be righteous often means there is some conflict, as righteous can only exist with the presence of unrighteous. It’s a relative term, and when it’s used by those who consider themselves righteous, it’s a way to differentiate and make better than those considered unrighteous.

Similarly, peace is something we should all seek, but sometimes when I say I want peace, what I want is for the dissent to go away. I’m remembering when my kids were small and bickering. All I wanted was peace. It didn’t matter who started it; I just wanted the noise to stop. Sometimes, peace comes at the cost of caring who was right, or even finding out who was right. Righteousness doesn’t matter, when all you want is peace.

For righteousness and peace to kiss, we need to see these two qualities in relationship to each other. It’s both/and, not either/or. We need to know that in our pursuit of righteousness, we can be disturbing the peace. And to strive for peace, sometimes we gloss over the when there really is a righteousness issue. There probably is a middle balancing place, or a fulcrum with these two qualities. For those of us who err on the side of righteousness, we need to invite more peace. For those who seek peace, some attention to righteousness may be in order. In my home, my husband and I each gravitate to one side of this tension, and we see things more balanced when we work together.

This morning, I’m thinking about what I need to do to have righteousness and peace kiss in my life. I probably need to aim for more peace over being more right.

Day 141 Psalms 79:1–84:12

Give justice to the weak and the orphan; maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.

These psalms speak passionately and consistently about justice, and asks God to grant justice. Before this morning, I would have equally passionately agreed with this sentiment – asking God to be just, or acknowledging that justice commands God’s presence, action or intervention. The accompanying reflection has thrown a monkey wrench into my thinking.

A. W. Tozer refutes the idea that there are situations where God’s presence is commanded to provide justice. He points out that if that were the case, there would be a condition of justice that is separate from God. Hmm. He also notes that if God’s presence is requested, then there is something greater than God doing the requesting. Hmm. Hmm.

He writes, “The truth is that there is not and can never be anything outside of the nature of God which can move Him in the least degree.” God is uncreated, before all things, and above all things.

The question is then, what is the relationship between an unjust situation, God, me, and the others in the situation? I would suspect that we are the cause of the unjust situation, not God, and not a power greater than God. If that’s the case, then we are the key to the resolution of the justice. So where’s God in that equation? I certainly need God in my heart and awareness to take actions against injustice, and I can imagine others do too.

I assume that God is present and ready to act in and through all of us at any time. If that’s the case, it’s up to me to allow God to act, and for me to be aware. I have a part in consenting to God’s work in and through me. Each of us do. I don’t need to ask for God to show up, but rather for the hearts of the others involved to know and sense God’s presence and desire for goodness, light and love. God has already shown up. God’s waiting to help us fix whatever mess we created.

And the only way I’ve discovered to get other people to change their minds or outlooks is through love. We cannot shame or legislate our way to justice. Being coerced or shamed does not change hearts or minds. It’s through us showing and being God’s love to others in the world that we can change them. This is especially important and equally hard to do when we need to show love to those who’ve created or perpetuated the injustice.

Today, I’m thinking about how to love my way into the hearts of the oppressors, to get them to the point where they say, “Hey, I want what she’s having.”

Jul 9 2021 Day 140 Psalms 76:1–78:72

And I say, “It is my grief that the right hand of the Most High has changed.”

When we go through this life, there are several things that change constantly, namely our circumstances and our outlook. Accidents happen, illnesses surface, jobs and relationships come and go. Things change. And all the while, our constitution changes too. On any given day, I might hop out of bed ready to tackle whatever comes my way. The same situation, the same set of external things, and I might wake up on the wrong side of the bed, testy or pitiful. I’m coming to realize that my external circumstances have much less to do with my outlook than my internal world.

What doesn’t change in all of this is God. God loves us and is always with us. When external things happen – good and bad – God is with us. When our mood or outlook is great or crappy, God is with us. Not only is god with us, but as the psalmist says, God can change our internal outlook, regardless of external conditions.

This sounds hypothetical or theoretical, but this morning it is relevant in my world. We’ve just concluded a wonderful visit from my sister- and brother-in-law, from their home overseas. It was great to see them, and we rented bicycles and rode all over Portland, picnicking and eating out and catching up. Meanwhile, our loved one is increasingly symptomatic, and their only appearance to their aunt and uncle included yelling and slamming doors and accusations of abuse. Needless to say, we didn’t spend much time at our home, with all that volatility.

Last night, we returned from dinner and brought something for our loved one. To our delight, they thanked us, asked us how the evening was, and graciously invited us to eat the homemade mac & cheese they’d made in our absence. They’ve always been a spectacular cook and baker. We went to bed grateful for a lot. Over night, the yelling accusations of rape resulted in us closing and locking our bedroom door, again.

Meanwhile, I’m navigating several work-related events that I’d initiated and include the community I care deeply about. The events will occur, under someone else’s stewardship, and I’m feeling a little forlorn. I want to go and support my tribe. And yet I don’t want the events to be about whether Carter’s there or not, and honestly they’re not really my tribe in the same way anymore.

This morning, I’m thinking about the notion that external circumstances cause my internal outlook, and I’m thinking that’s bunk. I’ve had plenty of harder external circumstances and hopped out of bed, ready to tackle the day. I’ve had significantly easier days where I couldn’t muster joy. God didn’t cause the external circumstances, but God can change my grief, just like the psalmist says.

There may be storms outside me. But the only time they cause storms inside is when I let them. And it is with God’s grace that I can navigate through without being subsumed by the storms. I know this to be true, especially when my outlook is rosy. On other days, I’m glad there are psalms to remind me that God’s got this.

Day 139 Psalms 73:1–75:10

Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire other than you.



This series of psalms express a deep longing for God. The accompanying reflection is from CS Lewis and talks further about having an appetite for God. Do I have an appetite or deep desire for God? If so, how does it manifest?

I admit that I don’t tend to pine or long for God. I’ve been graced, I suppose, with a sense of God’s presence at all times. While I love him deeply, I don’t tend to pine or long for my dear husband of over 30 years; familiarity breeds complacency. So it is with my relationship with God. I don’t have a longing or desire for God. Rather, I get the sense that God is present, and I take that presence for granted.

If I didn’t sense God, I wonder if I would want God, or hunger for God, or desire God more than anything on earth. Maybe I’d fall prey to the easier desires of earthly things; if I didn’t sense God, perhaps I’d put my trust in myself, or in my husband, or my family, or my job. If I didn’t have a sense of God’s presence, I don’t know that I’d turn to an invisible and seemingly absent God.

It is said that some of the most faithful people have some of the most painful periods of God’s perceived absence. In the book, Come be my Light, I learned that Mother Teresa experienced this crippling sense of God’s absence for 50 years. 50 years she spent in what she described as darkness. She forced herself to smile toward God, while at the same time she felt unloved and unwanted by God. She smiled and prayed, even when she was in deep gloom, and thought her prayers were fruitless. She felt that her duty was to love and pray, even when – perhaps especially when – she didn’t sense God, and even felt unloved by God.

I didn’t know what the book was about when I started it, and was disturbed at the idea that she spent 50 years in a sense of darkness and distance from God. How could that be for Mother Teresa? Over time, I’ve come to appreciate the notion that faith is something we hold on to, and continue to do God’s good work regardless of whether we get the warm-fuzzies. We do God’s work in the world – loving God and loving our neighbor because that’s what’s right, not because it feels good.

So in general I don’t have a deep hunger and desire for God. I pray that when I enter my dark night of the soul, I can hold on to that certitude of God’s presence and goodness, even if I can’t sense it at all. At that time, perhaps I’ll reread that book by Mother Teresa. If she can hold on and do all the good she did, I should try too.

Jul 7 2021 Day 138 Psalms 69:1–72:20

You who have made me see many troubles and calamities will revive me again

The psalmist is talking about being persecuted and having enemies, and this litany is interspersed with hope-filled praise, worship and petitions. The accompanying reflection is from Gerald May from the book, The Dark Night of the Soul. He argues that God’s role in our suffering is to stand with us. This I absolutely believe.

He goes on to provide a very interesting premise. He says that God provides guidance to us, during the good and the bad. For things of the world, it is good to have light to help us to see. But he argues that for spiritual matters, sometimes that light gives us a false sense of direction; seeing a little bit allows us to take off in precisely the wrong direction. He continues that God sometimes provides the darkness to protect us from stumbling. He says, “When we cannot chart our own course, we become vulnerable to God’s protection”. In a witty play on words, he argues that God helps us frequently by providing not a guiding light, but a guiding night. Ooh. I like that.

There is definitely something to the notion that we stick closer to secure things in the dark. I hold on tighter to my husband’s hand in a dark night walk. And I stick closer to my faith practices, when I’m feeling in the dark. That sense of not being able to see or not knowing where I’m going isn’t pleasant; it is very vulnerable, and all sorts of bad things could happen. That’s why we should move slowly, and put our trust in the truly solid things that can guide us through.

I admit to be struggling a bit at home. My loved one is increasingly anxious and as a result, angry. Two days ago, they threw beer on me out of anger. I went out to our 4th of July dinner with friends a little soggy. This morning, they awoke early (or never went to bed), and met us as we awoke to explain their anger about us stealing their money since they were 6 (I think it’s in reference to social security we received for their care), for raping them and stealing their money. They yelled, and want to talk to an attorney. I hadn’t even had my coffee!

Today, we have family coming in from out of town for two days. I’m quite certain there will be some display of symptomatic behavior; company is stressful for everyone, including our sick loved one. It’s always interesting to have outsiders observe our interactions. We become acclimated to the persistent stress and conflict, but see it through the eyes of outsiders. Hopefully, nothing will happen that is too startling, and we can have a nice visit. Fingers crossed.

I am absolutely in the dark about how to navigate with this. We’ll try to provide support and help as they desperately want to talk to professionals about their mistreatment. I don’t want my loved one to be disappointed by the reaction or help they get (or don’t), but neither do I want to be seen as a further barrier to their wishes. We’ll try to do our best to help them get to the resources they think they want, and then try again if that fails. I will continue to rely on God’s guidance to do the right thing, to forgive 7x70, to turn the other cheek, to give them your coat, to love my neighbor. I’m going to stick close for now.

Jul 5 2021 Day 137 Psalms 64:1–68:35

Rain in abundance, O God, you showered abroad; you restored your heritage when it languished.

I am frequently amazed at how literal I can be, even reading the poetry of psalms. I read something, imagine it as concrete thing, and wonder. Allusions and imagery have evaded me, perhaps due to a lack of imagination, or because of an entrenched sense of the concrete. Here is a perfect example.

I read this sentence, that God showered rain in abundance, and imagined a deluge of rain, or like the Pacific Northwest, a constant drizzle. The rain restored God’s heritage, like watering a wilted garden. Everything perks up when it gets that water. I get it. Rain. Dryness. Water. Perky.

The accompanying reflection is from Bernard of Clairvaux, made a saint in the 12th century and leader of the Benedictine monastery movement. He talks about how sometimes crappy things happen (my words, obviously.) Referencing this section of Psalms, he discusses how God sends a generous rain, but God also makes it perfect. Again, literal Carter would have read that translation and thought it was all about rain, dryness, water, and nourished plants. Bernard continues that this is talking about excessive rain, or bad things, that create a wretched state in us.

Ah, rain isn’t really rain. It’s bad things. Bernard continues that when bad things happen, we can become humiliated. Being in a humiliated state doesn’t lead to anything good – except the fact that with God’s mercy, our humiliation can turn in to humility. I like this. I see a pathway from the resulting wretchedness humanity endures, and God’s mercy.

It’s when I feel humiliated that it’s easier to acknowledge my incompleteness, or my inability to fix everything. Things happen beyond my power that leave me feeling humiliated or wretched. We hope that God’s mercy will turn that sense that I cannot live up to society or my expectations into a sense of understanding that I am incomplete and need God. Humiliation turns into humility.

God then can turn that rain into something perfect, or restore the heritage where it languished. This section of psalms isn’t about rain, it’s about understanding the relationship between bad things happening, humility, and God’s restoration.

It would sure be nice to get to the restoration without the humiliation or wretchedness, but perhaps our stubborn and fiercely independent selves wouldn’t be able to do that. I guess I should let it rain.

Update

Our loved one is again becoming increasingly symptomatic. They have declined the offer for supportive housing, because the rules were too oppressive. In particular, the rules about living without alcohol and marijuana and them managing medicines. So instead our loved one is beginning the descent into another crisis. They vacillate between angry outbursts, and withdrawn isolation. Two nights ago, we heard them yelling down the street, apparently at a mother and her kids. We have no idea what the instigating factor was, but a colorful spray of foul language came out of our loved one’s mouth. I felt bad for the recipients. Then our loved one returned to our home to drink straight out of a bottle of wine sitting on the front porch, yelling and making noise to the point that twice we got up from bed to ask for quiet. It was one of the few instances where my husband got angry and raised his voice.


At this point in the cycle, it is unlikely to end in anything other than hospitalization, prompted by a police or crisis worker intervention. Our loved one is not taking medicine other than self-medicating with alcohol and marijuana (both legal here). Their reasoning is gone. Their ability to self-regulate is gone. Our ability to intervene is gone. Our best hope is to keep them safe, and love and support them as they cycle through this yet again.

As our loved one’s symptoms and resulting behavior gets worse, it’s both harder and easier to deal with. On one hand, the outbursts and angry comments are difficult. The slamming doors and drinking on the porch are like fingernails on a chalk board. On the other hand, our loved one is so very sick, and heading for the hospital it’s easier to have sympathy – as long as I’ve gotten a wee respite and some sleep.

I’m thinking about all of the people with schizophrenia without a home or a support system. They go through this on our streets, or in jail. We see them yelling, paranoid, drunk, delusional, and blame them. It’s hard not to, when their behavior is so anti-social. But it is the disease. These lovely children of God are someone’s mother, sister, daughter, friend. We need to see them as people, and see past this disease.

Jul 3 2021 Day 136 Psalms 60:1–63:11

O God, you are my God, I seek you, my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.


This morning, it’s a balmy 62 degrees, a normal Portland July morning temperature. This past week, the Pacific Northwest experienced a record breaking heat wave. For three days, temperatures neared 115. We are not equipped for that kind of heat; air conditioning systems here were designed to cool homes about 15 degrees, which would comfortably cover normal heat waves of 90 degrees. At 115 degrees, our house was ‘cooled’ to an uncomfortable 95 degrees plus. The second floor of our home was unbearable for everything except one session of ‘hot yoga’ I sweat through.

Over 45 people died during this three day heat wave in Portland alone, all from hyperthermia. People without any place to be cool – those in hot homes or no homes. It was actually frightening.

I was unbearably thirsty during the heat and for the rest of the week. I craved water more than I ever have. We’d be out running an errand and I felt like I had to stop for water. I’d down the 16 oz bottle in one long draw. Aah. I have never experienced thirst like that, constant and all-consuming.

As a result of this week’s heat and my thirst, I have a better appreciation of this sentiment – O God, my soul thirsts for you, as in a dry land where there is no water. I can understand that analogy, as I had that kind of thirst this week. To be honest, I have never had that same urging or drive for God

I once described my relationship to God as something like an old married couple – rock solid, content but lacking the fireworks of young romance. Maybe my lack of thirst is because I’m old and content. Another option is that I have a sense of God’s abundant presence, so I don’t thirst for it. Continuing with the weather analogies, we in the Northwest don’t dream about water during our long wet 8 months. It’s actually hard for me to drink enough water, when we’re surrounded by rain and dampness. I definitely don’t thirst.

I do know what that sense of deep thirst is, but only relating to actual water. If I did lose that sense of God’s presence I can imagine I’d thirst for God. For now, I’m grateful I live in the rainy northwest with an abundance of water, and an equal abundance of God-given God-awareness.

Jul 2 2021 Day 135 Psalms 57:1–59:17

For the sin of their mouths, the words of their lips, let them be trapped in their pride.

Maybe I’m cherry picking, but I like the parts where God’s retribution isn’t so much about death and destruction, but rather giving us what we’ve asked for. This is a perfect example. Pride is such an insidious sin, and probably one of my more frequent sins.

The risks that come with pride are several fold. First, we take pride or deep joy from some condition that is fleeting. I’m proud of my beautiful community. Until COVID and protests made Portland look more like a dump. I’m proud of my great job. Until I don’t have it. I’m proud of my plans. Until they’re dashed. I have a friend who suggested that regardless of our feelings or expressions, we should add the words “for now” at the end. I’m so excited about my job, for now. I’m proud of my kids, for now. Alternatively, I’m so worried about my loved one for now. For now is a great way of remembering that the good – as well as the bad – are temporary.

The other problem with pride is that we take credit for something that isn’t ours. I’m proud of my kids. Perhaps I can take credit for not screwing them up more than I did, but their successes and accomplishments are probably more attributable to God and them. I’m proud of my faith. But that comes from God. I’m proud when my days turn out like I intended. But what about when my days don’t turn out like that?

I’m reminded of Jesus explaining that when people pray loudly so people can hear them, they’ve gotten their reward – whoo hoo! People heard them praying loudly.

Pride is something that I absolutely can see as a trap. When we assume a prideful attitude about ourselves, or our loved ones, or our accomplishments, or our possessions, perhaps we’re setting our sights too low. If I get trapped in the things I’m proud about today, what if God has a better plan for tomorrow, but I’m too busy holding tight to today’s pride? Let it go.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to shed pride, and instead replace it with contentment, and how to relish my ‘for now’ moments.

Day 134 Psalms 54:1–56:13

And I say, “O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest

This section of psalms is full of treachery and betrayal, and the psalmist is going between petitioning God for protection, to asking God to take care of his enemies. It’s unclear to me whether a prayer to smite someone else is an effective use of prayer time, as I’m thinking God loves even those I’d like to smite. Since I believe that to my core, I’m hesitant to pray about anyone else’s evil deeds. God loves that other person too, so I’m pretty sure smiting is out of the question. That’s what I mean by not being an effective prayer.

But it is a true sentiment, and God wants to hear those, even if they aren’t necessarily congruous with God’s vision of that other person, or of the situation. And so we pray, and grouse, and lament, and ask for smiting, because God wants to hear, and we need to express those human attitudes.

In the midst of the grousing, the psalmist expresses an equally human desire to flee. O, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. This absolutely resonates with me today. Even without the busyness of a day-job, I still feel like I need more rest. I suspect that we all need rest from the life we live. We work hard and many hours, we tend our loved ones and our homes, we try to relax, and then we finally fall into bed. I suspect that our rest is insufficient in both quality and quantity. If we all had the opportunity to not work for an extended time, or to fly away and be genuinely at rest, we’d realize that we were tired, more tired than we knew and more than we acknowledged.

Since I don’t have wings, and I can’t really fly away to be at rest, how can I find that rest? How can I hold on to this sense of rest I’ve found from my unanticipated free time, once my days are filled again? How can we all find rest, in the midst of our busy, scheduled, structured, frenetic days?

I think some of that rest can come from more forced down time. It could be a hard sabbath we practice, with no work, no electronics, no duties. It could be weekends that are structured to have less structure. Maybe add blocks of time to go for a walk with no destination, or no step count. Or a bike ride to nowhere in particular. Or silence. Or maybe it’s a vacation where we really recreate. Maybe it’s a weekend in bed, dreaming, or thinking, or drawing. My challenge is that sometimes resting looks like wasting time. Mindlessly scrolling online. I’m not busy doing something else, but neither do I feel rested when I’m done. When I’m doing it, it feels like I’m resting, because I’m not ‘working’. But it’s not restful in the least. Note to self, try to skip mindless scrolling and see I feel more rested.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to find that sense of rest in my day.