Thursday, June 20, 2013


I have been slumping of late, gradually spiraling downward, which is not to be confused with inward.

Voices from my formative years have resurfaced, “not enough, not enough, not enough, too much, too much, too much.”  Vacillating between the assumption that I am inadequate and the suspicion that I am inappropriately direct, I hunker down.  Same ole, same ole.

My most notable achievement this week will likely be my 67th birthday, or perhaps more significantly, increasing my morning walks from 2 miles to 3.  Rumor has it that exercise is an anti-depressant.

So I’m asking your indulgence while I attempt to remember what I know to be true.

1.  I need not ask God for anything; God has already given and continues to give all God is ever gong to give.  Goodness and love are already here in abundance.  Beseeching God is misdirected energy.

2.  When I catch myself beseeching God I can smile gently and remember to relax.

3.  Prayer is the willingness on my part to accept love in any situation, any circumstance.  No matter how low I allow myself to sink, I can still let love touch me. 

4.  Love heals.

5.  AlAnon has taught me that I can bear anything, just for today…

6.  My (your) value is not earned but God-given.  This is true despite any and all evidence to the contrary.

7.  The idea of “church” (faith community of any kind) is both lofty and fraught with peril.  Bringing love into church is very, very tricky.

8.  Every prayer for love to show up must begin with the admission and acknowledgment that I don’t know what that would look like and a willingness to be surprised.

9.  I am resisting the label of “Christian.”  I am embarrassed to be identified as Christian.  I opt for “person of faith.”

10.  Someone, somewhere hears me.  

1 comment:

  1. Must be something about turning 67 that brings on major depression. Wish I could offer words of help but alas, I struggle with the same problem. We've lost our mothers - the closest connection we'll ever have. I think that's part of the problem. Our mothers. Our selves. Plus, 67 is closer to 70 than 66 was. My doctor has increased my antidepressants. If exercise is the answer, may your God help me.


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