Many parents say that the hospital did not send their babies home with an owner's manual. I am not a parent. Yet, when my body led me from work to long-term disability, I understood those parents' words.
During the next year, I made up rules as I went along. I thought that was my new way of living.
Then, as the financial analysts say, another correction took place. My body needed more than ankle surgery, two four-footed canes, and one hemi-walker afforded me.
"I am not one of THOSE people, who needs to depend on a scooter. Certainly, I am not one of those people, who needs an ELECTRIC WHEELCHAIR to get around!" So was my retort.
I paid my body's ransom. I cushioned my pride--my paralyzing fear--with time and patience. I gave my pride time to quiet her bravado. I gave my pride her time and quiet--to listen. I gave my body patience to cry her pain. I lent my body my ear to be heard. I surrendered my paralyzing fear. My surrender came ever so slowly, and only with great patience. Surrender may not be rushed. Surrender calls for faith-filled integrity. Any less is to be a victim. I sat in pain with my fear--literally.
Only with time, patience, and surrender have I arrived at action's door. My body does not serve me, but, my mind awaits her full service to offer.
So, with the vehicles to that service rolled out before me, I took the keys and went for a test drive. Convinced a scooter was the lesser of two evils, I took my test drive. With Minnesota Nice firmly implanted in me, I felt compelled--though begrudgingly--to accept the offer to test drive an electric wheelchair--an ELECTRIC WHEELCHAIR. I fought her stick of joy. Yet, Joystick turned inward to meet my need. I well may yield toward Joystick, and shake her hand.
I thought I had no owner's manual for this new life I am being called to live. Then....the question, "How do I pay my body's ransom," was given to me. The decision to make put an owner's manual in my lap--literally.
Now I am poring over owner's manuals, praying, "Cushion my pride. Tame my fears. Guide me toward this new way of living."
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Islam's Friday
God Be Our Help. Peace Be With You.
Egypt's leader of the military uttered these eight words in his closing conveyance of the military's control.
Though this be an English translation of the Egyptian language spoken by the head of the military, these words are moving--affirming. The head of the military affirms Egypt's security blanket of control following these precarious moments following Mubarak's resignation.
The temptation we have in America is to speak of the repression under which Egyptians have during Mubarak's 30-year autocracy. We pride ourselves in nearly 245 years of democracy--in our declaration of independence. America's democracy--Egypt's repression--are truths to be honored.
Yet, America has much to learn from Egypt.
In America, we broadcast the First Amendment's blessing of freedom of religion, which is conferred upon us. Seemingly, freedom of religion is at odds--is to be sublimated--to the freedoms of speech, of the press, of assembly, and to petition the Government for redress of grievances. A political officeholder may not exercise political power guided by their life of faith. An apology for faith is requisite for the exercise of politics' power.
Yet, Egyptians--the military and the protesters alike, may teach us freedom's essence.
Today, the head of the military affirmed the military's leadership. In closing, he uttered eight instructive words to take to heart:
God Be Our Help. Peace Be With You.
Too often, the military AND deeply-rooted faith are characterized as Beasts of Oppression. Liberals are quick to embrace a repulsive smugness, "Don't you dare let your freedom of religion out of Pandora's Box."
Conservatives become strident advocates of inaction's mask of order. There is a middle ground on which to stand firm. Let us look to Egypt. Let us look to Islam. Not at the surrender of Christian faith, of Hebrew tradition, of other world beliefs--of other world philosophies.
Today--Friday--is Islam's day of prayer.
The revolution of Egypt's protesters is built upon, not framed within Islam's Friday morning of prayer. No strident dogma rules this revolution. The depth of Egypt's uprising is inspiring. Guides of Egypt's uprising signal the locus of Egypt's freedom. Only in God's time, may we know the future of today's events--of this month's movement.
Are we witnesses to seismic change? Or will we suffer from the aftershocks of long-time suppression?
Let us look to Egypt. Let us look to Islam. In this moment's history, let Egypt be our Guide.
Islam's Friday is Hebrew's Saturday.
I pray.
May Christianity's Sunday be guided by the holy spirit of Islam's Friday, and Hebrew's Saturday.
Egypt's leader of the military uttered these eight words in his closing conveyance of the military's control.
Though this be an English translation of the Egyptian language spoken by the head of the military, these words are moving--affirming. The head of the military affirms Egypt's security blanket of control following these precarious moments following Mubarak's resignation.
The temptation we have in America is to speak of the repression under which Egyptians have during Mubarak's 30-year autocracy. We pride ourselves in nearly 245 years of democracy--in our declaration of independence. America's democracy--Egypt's repression--are truths to be honored.
Yet, America has much to learn from Egypt.
In America, we broadcast the First Amendment's blessing of freedom of religion, which is conferred upon us. Seemingly, freedom of religion is at odds--is to be sublimated--to the freedoms of speech, of the press, of assembly, and to petition the Government for redress of grievances. A political officeholder may not exercise political power guided by their life of faith. An apology for faith is requisite for the exercise of politics' power.
Yet, Egyptians--the military and the protesters alike, may teach us freedom's essence.
Today, the head of the military affirmed the military's leadership. In closing, he uttered eight instructive words to take to heart:
God Be Our Help. Peace Be With You.
Too often, the military AND deeply-rooted faith are characterized as Beasts of Oppression. Liberals are quick to embrace a repulsive smugness, "Don't you dare let your freedom of religion out of Pandora's Box."
Conservatives become strident advocates of inaction's mask of order. There is a middle ground on which to stand firm. Let us look to Egypt. Let us look to Islam. Not at the surrender of Christian faith, of Hebrew tradition, of other world beliefs--of other world philosophies.
Today--Friday--is Islam's day of prayer.
The revolution of Egypt's protesters is built upon, not framed within Islam's Friday morning of prayer. No strident dogma rules this revolution. The depth of Egypt's uprising is inspiring. Guides of Egypt's uprising signal the locus of Egypt's freedom. Only in God's time, may we know the future of today's events--of this month's movement.
Are we witnesses to seismic change? Or will we suffer from the aftershocks of long-time suppression?
Let us look to Egypt. Let us look to Islam. In this moment's history, let Egypt be our Guide.
Islam's Friday is Hebrew's Saturday.
I pray.
May Christianity's Sunday be guided by the holy spirit of Islam's Friday, and Hebrew's Saturday.
We and the Army are One
Astonishing. Absolutely astonishing. Absolutely Amazing.
Is it possible for me--for other Americans to understand the liberation that Egyptian protesters must be feeling as they passionately protested for peaceful freedom---of speech, of assembly.
On so many levels, the decision of Hosni Mubarak to resign is astonishing. No. The allies in the movement to bring democracy to Egypt challenges every sense of the military that I have had--a 50-year-old American, who witnessed the view of US military in Vietnam. Most poignantly, America's voices for Vietnam's peace marched at Kent State University in Ohio. On May 4, 1970, some of those protesters clashed with the military. Several students lost their lives in confrontation with the National Guard.
The Egyptians protesting for Mubarak's resignation responded to his resignation today with five words:
We and the Army are One.
May the military be a voice for peace? The military gave a sign of their answer. During Friday's morning of prayer, the Egyptian protesters assembled to demand that Mubarak go. The Military, for their part in the chorus for change, turned their turrets from Peace's Protesters.
May the military be this moment's voice for Egypt.
Is it possible for me--for other Americans to understand the liberation that Egyptian protesters must be feeling as they passionately protested for peaceful freedom---of speech, of assembly.
On so many levels, the decision of Hosni Mubarak to resign is astonishing. No. The allies in the movement to bring democracy to Egypt challenges every sense of the military that I have had--a 50-year-old American, who witnessed the view of US military in Vietnam. Most poignantly, America's voices for Vietnam's peace marched at Kent State University in Ohio. On May 4, 1970, some of those protesters clashed with the military. Several students lost their lives in confrontation with the National Guard.
The Egyptians protesting for Mubarak's resignation responded to his resignation today with five words:
We and the Army are One.
May the military be a voice for peace? The military gave a sign of their answer. During Friday's morning of prayer, the Egyptian protesters assembled to demand that Mubarak go. The Military, for their part in the chorus for change, turned their turrets from Peace's Protesters.
May the military be this moment's voice for Egypt.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Spirituality of the Human Body
Today, confronting the need for a scooter, and doing so with surprising acceptance, I am taken back to the deep sense of the spirituality of the human body. Often we talk about human flesh in condescending terms, if that is the right phrase. In contrast, many people talk glowingly of the Body of Christ.
I may be mistaken in my perception. I am willing to be told so, or enlightened by a clarifying perspective.
In no way do I mean to disparage the richness of the Body of Christ. Quite to the contrary.
What I do mean is that there is a treasury missed, when we speak of human flesh as the embodiment of our foibles--that behavior and values that we should avoid. Material excesses are not the sole province of the human flesh. Nor are material excesses void of any pearls of wisdom. Not by a long shot.
As a Christian, I am guided to create a life that embodies the values of Christ--I am invited to be a part of the Body of Christ. But, does that mean my physical body is to be left behind in the dust? Is my body just an inanimate, hollow part of my being that is nothing more than a shell to protect something that is more precious? I don't think so.
Again and again, my body knocks me on my head, and asks, "Are you listening to me? How much pain must I inflict upon you, before you open your mind to my voice? Is it possible that I may be your teacher? May I be your guide? Do you get mad at me for not living up to your mind's expectations of what I am supposed to do--what I am supposed to be for you? Am I here to serve your immediate needs? Or do I contain any pearls of wisdom that might deepen your understanding and appreciation of the aspects of your life beyond of your human flesh?"
I am no saint in this regard. Believe me. I resist my body's campaign to compromise what I consider to my God-given right of normalcy. Can we surrender our resistance. For me, I know that the harder I resist, the more my body pushes back, and challenges me to redefine my expectations of normalcy. Can we surrender our resistance?
I never imagined that I might be one of THOSE people, who move through their lives on wheels. It seemed counter to everything I had been raised to do--everything to which I should aspire. Slowly--ever slowly--I am moving to what seemed counterintuitive. In some way, I have been guided to be honest about my fears, gentle with my expectations. It is essential to redefining what this new way of living is to be.
Moving toward a different way of living calls me to return to my human body AND to the Body of Christ. To do one without the other will stop a different way of living dead in her tracks.
I have not figured out the words that aptly describe what this new life will be. In the terms of my peers, I am retired. I no longer work in the 9-to-5, 40-hour work week world. In legal terms, I am on long-term disability. My human body called the shots there. She gave me those words. She challenged--she challenges--me to redefine those labels, or find more fitting words.
Yet, neither term describes me satisfactorily. Among my highest values are words--carefully chosen words. So, I listen. I listen to my human body--the body I have given to live. I listen to the Body of Christ. I ask to be moved toward a new way of living. Remind me I am a vessel--every ounce of me--and not a carcass to be abused.
I set out to express myself. I am never quite sure where I will be taken, or what words might come through my fingers' movements. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
I may be mistaken in my perception. I am willing to be told so, or enlightened by a clarifying perspective.
In no way do I mean to disparage the richness of the Body of Christ. Quite to the contrary.
What I do mean is that there is a treasury missed, when we speak of human flesh as the embodiment of our foibles--that behavior and values that we should avoid. Material excesses are not the sole province of the human flesh. Nor are material excesses void of any pearls of wisdom. Not by a long shot.
As a Christian, I am guided to create a life that embodies the values of Christ--I am invited to be a part of the Body of Christ. But, does that mean my physical body is to be left behind in the dust? Is my body just an inanimate, hollow part of my being that is nothing more than a shell to protect something that is more precious? I don't think so.
Again and again, my body knocks me on my head, and asks, "Are you listening to me? How much pain must I inflict upon you, before you open your mind to my voice? Is it possible that I may be your teacher? May I be your guide? Do you get mad at me for not living up to your mind's expectations of what I am supposed to do--what I am supposed to be for you? Am I here to serve your immediate needs? Or do I contain any pearls of wisdom that might deepen your understanding and appreciation of the aspects of your life beyond of your human flesh?"
I am no saint in this regard. Believe me. I resist my body's campaign to compromise what I consider to my God-given right of normalcy. Can we surrender our resistance. For me, I know that the harder I resist, the more my body pushes back, and challenges me to redefine my expectations of normalcy. Can we surrender our resistance?
I never imagined that I might be one of THOSE people, who move through their lives on wheels. It seemed counter to everything I had been raised to do--everything to which I should aspire. Slowly--ever slowly--I am moving to what seemed counterintuitive. In some way, I have been guided to be honest about my fears, gentle with my expectations. It is essential to redefining what this new way of living is to be.
Moving toward a different way of living calls me to return to my human body AND to the Body of Christ. To do one without the other will stop a different way of living dead in her tracks.
I have not figured out the words that aptly describe what this new life will be. In the terms of my peers, I am retired. I no longer work in the 9-to-5, 40-hour work week world. In legal terms, I am on long-term disability. My human body called the shots there. She gave me those words. She challenged--she challenges--me to redefine those labels, or find more fitting words.
Yet, neither term describes me satisfactorily. Among my highest values are words--carefully chosen words. So, I listen. I listen to my human body--the body I have given to live. I listen to the Body of Christ. I ask to be moved toward a new way of living. Remind me I am a vessel--every ounce of me--and not a carcass to be abused.
I set out to express myself. I am never quite sure where I will be taken, or what words might come through my fingers' movements. Amazing. Absolutely amazing.
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