The Swandive

putting some "good" in goodbye

Been thinking a lot about if I would post this, and if I did, how I would say what I want to say. Finally after trying to be careful and proper and witty and all the shit that I always hope I am when I write--I am just saying it like it is, putting it out there for the world--and me--to see. Here is your warning: this post is about my health, and it will have to do with the fact that I am a woman. Think about it ...(yes, stop and think)...  and stop reading if this might make you squeemish or a jerk. This post is extremely personal and revealing. You have been warned.

Quick recap: Depressed. Seeing a bunch of people to help me get through it. Following lots of advice of said people and that has led me to this next leg of the journey towards wellness. Literally, there is almost nothing I won't do to feel better, and to ensure a whole new way of being better in the future. So, upon recommendation of one of my doctors, and because it is riddled with big-ass fibroids, I am saying goodbye to my uterus at 8:30 am tomorrow, September 15, 2009. Hysterectomy, I say bring it on.

A number of years ago I read a book by Caroline Myss, Anatomy of the Spirit. It was the first time I can remember learning about the connection between physical health and emotional/spiritual health. And now, years later, I think I am finally starting to get how it is all connected for me, and with this surgery--I am letting go, both physically and emotionally to some of my scars and starting over. Here is some of what I would like to say goodbye to. Will you help me say goodbye too?

I am saying goodbye to:

• Periods. Holy shit do I hate them. I know, I can't think of one woman who loves them, but I am telling you, mine are particularly awful. Painful and well, gross. Can't wait to be done with this part of my uterus story.
• As much as I can, I want to say goodbye to my story of the 10 year history of abuse. Done. Letting the pain and hurt, the wondering if I am crazy, and the shame be removed along with my uterus.
• Turning off the tapes of being called slut, whore, easy and promiscuous. I will not allow myself to carry these words with me into the next phase of life--these words that some tried to give me long ago that never felt like mine in the first place. And these words will never be a part of my vocabulary, at all, ever.
• Living outside of my body. I am intentionally trying to tell my body that it is safe, and ok to actually feeeeeeeeeel. I know, sounds ridiculous right? But can you imagine if you lived in a body that kept getting violated and hurt, would you let yourself live in it? Me thinks not. I haven't. Weight gain, depression, high tolerance for stress--all signs and signals that have been trying to reach me for decades. I will begin to listen, and try and coax myself back into my body, my temple, my earthly dwelling place, my home.
• The miscarriage and other pregnancies. Yes--there, I said it. I have had both. I have no children. I will not ever be able to make a baby again, ever. Each pregnancy happened unwillingly. I am not ashamed, nor am I proud, of the choices I have made. But each one is a story that needs to be laid down and let go of.
• Throwing away really cute underpants every month, from the unstoppable blowouts. Cute underpants from now on.
• I will let go of the stories of being fondled as a 6 year old by my babysitter. And,
• by a stranger who locked my only hope for help in a bathroom while he raped me, in a foreign city, in an unfamiliar place, alone, on a rooftop. And
• by a friend. Instead of saying no, I pretended to be asleep. Too afraid to stop it from happening, I just let it happen. And never quite forgave myself for it.

I am allowing myself to be out here, prayed for. I am allowing G-d to do what G-d does--resurrects, heals, restores and works miracles. I believe that G-d can and will do a miraculous thing in me. I believe that in removing pain, and the place my body has remembered the pain, that this body can be healed, and yes, in Jesus name I am asking for it. In allowing myself to say this out loud, perhaps I can finally lay this stuff all down. And I will, with G-d's help. And yours.

Amen.

The Spot

Best part about summers in my office? Short days on Friday. This past week I drove down to Cleary Lake Regional Park (a place my mom loved to walk, and where we held the final memorial) and picked out the spot for my mom's memorial bench. This is it.

Time heals, yes I think I would agree with that. But most certainly in God's time, not mine.

Día de los Muertos

Day of the Dead, a beautiful celebration of remembering the dead - our loved ones and the saints. Maybe I am a freak, but these days of the thin veil lifting are among my most favorite all year long.

I love the art, I love remembering my ma, my grandma and grandpa, I love the air - cool, brisk, chilled. I love my neighborhood, Midtown, filled with Latino shops and bakeries all buzzing with activity.

Strangely, I love grief. OK, maybe not so strange, it was my closest friend for many years as my mom was missing, not yet known to be deceased. It seemed like every day for those 6 and some odd years was one long grieving limbo pattern. And as you know - once you get used to something, even though it seems like a horrific thing, it becomes like a friend. Like a well worn sweater. Not sure why you love it, it looks really awful to all the rest of your friends, but to you its somehow comforting.

Today I will light some candles, build an altar in my prayer space, and talk to my ma. I will tell her all about my niece and how she reminds me of her. I will tell her about all her kids, tell her that we all miss her. I'll drive down the road, with some Eric Clapton and Dr. Hook and Tractors cranked up real loud, driving just a few miles over the limit, and celebrate.

a memory

I went to a conference in February last year. It was keynoted by Parker Palmer. It was there that I met Bishop Kelsey. He was in my circle of trust for 3 days.

I do not exaggerate when I say that he was one of the most beautiful, humble, kind humans I have ever met. My heart goes out to his friends, family and the Diocese of Northern Michigan.

Almighty God, we remember before you today your faithful servant James Kelsey; and we pray that, having opened to him the gates of larger life, you will receive him more and more into your joyful service, that, with all who have faithfully served you in the past, he may share in the eternal victory of Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
St. Barnabas Parish
Montgomery, OH
The Episcopal Diocese of Southern Ohio

Holy God, death is such a mystery, never know when its just around the corner. When lights, bright shining beautiful amazing humble servant hearts, get snuffed out, we grieve. Today is a sad day indeed. Help us to remember the faithful ministry of our brother James. Let his love for you permeate our hearts, so that his memory never die. Be with those who love him so, his beloved wife, his children, and his friends, and the members of the diocese where he served. Another mystery, another question goes unanswered, so many whys. Help us to live in the mystery, and be our peace. In Jesus name. Amen.

From ENS

By Mary Frances Schjonberg, June 04, 2007

[Episcopal News Service] A memorial eucharist and celebration of the life of Episcopal Diocese of Northern Michigan Bishop James Kelsey will be held June 8 in Marquette, Michigan.

Visitation will be at 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, 201 East Ridge St. The memorial eucharist will be at 4 p.m. at St. Michael Roman Catholic Church, on the corner of College Street and Presque Isle Avenue.

Kelsey, 54, was killed in a road accident June 3, while returning to Marquette from a parish visitation. The accident, which remains under investigation by the Michigan State Police, occurred along what is known as the Seney Stretch in Alger County, about two miles east of Shingleton, Michigan on Highway M-28.

Michael Charles Wiita, 58, of Lake Linden, Michigan, the driver of a pick-up truck with which Kelsey's sports utility vehicle apparently collided, was also killed in the accident. A passenger in Wiita's truck, Jessica Amber Slavik, 27, of Hubbell, Michigan, was injured. Kelsey was traveling alone.

The driver of a third vehicle involved in the accident was not injured, according to an article in the Marquette Mining Journal newspaper.

Episcopal Diocese of Wyoming Bishop Bruce Caldwell, a longtime friend and Kelsey's colleague in Mutual Ministry practiced in both dioceses, will be the presider. Other participants in the service are still being chosen, according to Rise Thew Forrester, editor of the diocesan newspaper.

The Diocesan Standing Committee and what is known as the diocese's "core team" met with members of the Kelsey family on the morning of June 4 to begin planning the memorial Eucharist.

The family issued a statement later in the day. It reads in full:

"The world became a darker place with the passing of James Arthur Kelsey. James gained love and respect from everyone he met in his professional and personal life. James spent his life giving. Giving of his time, his heart, and his soul to help anyone and everyone in need. His levels of compassion and kindness were unparalleled. A courageous man, willing to stand up for his beliefs, James Kelsey was the benchmark to which great men are judged. Not only a great man, but a great husband, and father. There was no better model for how to be a truly wonderful human being than the one he provided for his sons and daughter.

"If the world were full of more men like James Arthur Kelsey, it would be a wonderful place. Sadly, today we find ourselves with one less."

After learning of Kelsey's death the evening of June 3, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori said: "The Episcopal Church has today lost one of its bright lights. We will be less without the easy grace of Bishop James Kelsey -- Jim to most of us -- and we shall miss his humor, insight, and passion for the ministry of all. He gave us much. We pray for the repose of his soul, and for his family. We pray also for the Diocese of Northern Michigan. All of us have lost a friend. May he rest in peace and rise in glory."

House of Deputies President Bonnie Anderson, who lives in downstate Michigan and was a friend of Kelsey and his wife, Mary, said June 4 that Kelsey was beloved.

"He embraced all the baptized and helped us discover our gifts and fully use them in the name of Jesus Christ. He was a friend in the truest sense," she said. "We have been blessed to have him in our lives."

Born in 1952 in Baltimore, Maryland, Kelsey graduated from Ithaca College in 1974, and from General Theological Seminary in New York City in 1977. In 1985, Kelsey moved with his family to Oklahoma, where he served for four years as canon missioner for Cluster Ministries. In 1989, he was called to the Diocese of Northern Michigan, where he served for 10 years as ministry development coordinator before being elected bishop in 1999.

Kelsey will be remembered as a welcoming and open person who always endeavored to include others, Jane Cisluycis, diocesan operations coordinator, said June 3. "It is hard to imagine the hole he will leave behind," she said.

Episcopal Divinity School (EDS) in Cambridge, Massachusetts, awarded Kelsey an honorary Doctor of Divinity degree during its commencement exercises May 17. In the citation accompanying the degree, EDS professor Fredrica Harris Thompsett said that Kelsey was committed to "communal leadership and appreciation of all the baptized."

"Some ministry folk who are truly skilled in collaborative, shared ministry are educated over time into this path," Thompsett wrote. "Some are deeply shaped in mutual ministry by those with whom they serve. Some are called out to witness biblically and prophetically, following the Apostle Paul's missionary methods and appreciation of diverse gifts within each and every community. And some frankly are just born with a taste for companionship. Jim Kelsey, you are a bit of all of these paths to baptismal ministry, and much more."

Kelsey is survived by his wife, Mary, and three grown children.

Does it get easier?

As I eluded to in the previous post - yesterday was the 2 year anniversary of my mom being found, deceased, after being a missing person for almost 7 years. Sunday is Mothers Day in the US. Typically - it is my least favorite of "holidays." I guess you would say for obvious reasons, I don't have one, nor am I a mother myself.

The inbox is getting littered with "Mothers Day" reminders, offers, and ways to do something in honor of this day. (barf - sorry moms and daughters in which this day hold immense joy) This year - I'll be with my sweetie, on a little mini-holiday in Chicago. With any luck - the day will pass without any fanfare, and I'll have a lot of fun in a city I have never been to.

Yesterday - to honor my mom - I worked out in the yard. I sweat. I pulled weeds. I listened to my little iPod shuffle, and danced. Yes - danced. Like full on night club discotheque action right there, in front of the fireplace in the backyard, with earbuds in, I twirled in the night air. I took the dead sticks from all over the yard, bundled them up, and burned them, and grooved my bad-ass self. I am sure the neighbors thought I was nuts. I felt a little crazy actually. But - oh how it felt so wonderful.

I really miss her. Call me crazy, call me a victim, call me what you will. Today, it hurts. Today - I miss her.

Happy birthday Ma

Ma,

It is the first day of spring, which always means it is also your birthday. I love this day, or at least I used to, maybe I still do, but it sure is harder without you here.

So much has happened since you have been gone, so much. I bring you along with me everywhere I go, but now there are so many new people in my life, people you never got to meet, that its hard. Most people don't know anymore, what happened. Don't know about me, the motherless daughter of Anne, Super-Mom. Anne - missing person. Anne - my best friend. Sure, I have learned how to push through those days, remember, when I used to call you, sobbing, about this life change or that boyfriend/girlfriend problem. I have found friends who can listen to me, and Cassie, wow. She is like a mini-you. I know that whenever my bottom is falling out - I know I can call her. Sometimes, you know she even sounds like you. Its strange really, DNA and genetic makeup of a person, of family.

I am growing my hair out, remember when you paid me a hundred bucks not to cut my hair for a year, I did it, you gave me the hundred bucks, and I blew it on a haircut?! Wow - sometimes I was a real ass of a kid. Will you ever be able to forgive me? Please forgive me.

Anyway, I miss you. I think about you all the time, although its getting harder to remember you, and that hurts, a lot. I know you were never one for big birthday celebrations. But, when I was going through alot of your things when you were first gone, I saw you always saved our cards. So here is my card for you this year. Filled with all of the love and tears and all the hope that spring brings. I love you, Ma. Happy Birthday. 

forgiveness

ephesians 4:32

and be kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you.

A story hit the AP today that has jarred me. It’s about Lynn Bauman, the brother of Ward Bauman, the Director at House of Prayer in Collegeville, MN. He is also an author and leader in the subject of Anglican Prayer Beads. He wrote a little book that has shaped and transformed me. Some of you many know, I make prayer beads, and use them as a part of my prayer life and practice. And Lynn, is a registered sex offender.

The article, which I think is very well written, and balanced, is basically about this group, Survivors Network of Those Abused by Priests (SNAP), wanting to “bringing awareness” to his coming to Minnesota, to lead a retreat. And Lynn, trying to work and get on with his life.

I am a survivor of sexual abuse. It happened for a long time, from when I was 6 until 16. It is the part of me and my past that I think has shaped me the most, not for the most obvious reasons.

I went to church camp as a kid. We used to sing the Ephesians 4:32 song. I went to church camp in the years I was still being abused. The idea of forgiveness was one of the first things that I remembered learning as a Christian. So, when my abuser, years and thousands of dollars, and after two court cases and a few months of jail time (yes – a few months), told me he was sorry. And I forgave him. I still forgive him. I have to keep forgiving him.

One day, we found ourselves alone, after some pretty crappy shit with my mom had gone down. He knocked on my door, and asked if he could talk with me. It was then that he apologized, made amends with me, told me that he hoped that he did not “screw up” my life. He told me that I was a smart, strong, capable, amazing young woman who he hurt, and he was sorry for what he had done. He admitted to me (after denying to everyone) what he had done. Still brings tears to my eyes. Some days I am mad that he is forgiven, by me and by God. I get where the SNAP people are coming from, for sure. But ahhhhh, the healing power of forgiveness.

I have written and re-written this post now a bunch of times. Adding and deleting. Maybe I need to do some thinking, prayer and further reflections. Later.

Lord, thank you for the gift of forgiveness. For it truly is in giving that we receive. Be with all of your children who have suffered abuse, from priests and others, give them peace that only you can give. Be also with the offenders, the ones who are working on their illnesses, and the ones who aren’t. Grant them wisdom, courage and strength to turn theirs hearts to love, to what is right and good, to healing, to You, Healer and Redeemer of us all. Amen.

longing

The days just get shorter and shorter, and my energy plummets along with it. My sweetie has a bum leg, and try as I might, I cannot stop worrying about it.
Energy. *poof*
So - I went surfing around a bit today on break to see if there was a shot in the arm, sort of a bright spot to look at and find comfort in. This is it. It kinda goes along with this post too.

Today - low energy. Tonight, rest, relax, watch Studio 60 on the web, write a few thank you cards maybe and get to bed for a new day tomorrow.

Thank you God, for my beloved. Give sight and wisdom to her physicians that they might find out what the heck is happening in her leg and knee, and fill us in. Thank you for answered prayers for M. Don't give up on her - and I won't either. Thank you for the abundance of joy and friends sprinkled into the calendar this month. Help me to know, really know, what this time of year is all about. I ask this in the name of the ittty bitty baby whos birth we will celebrate later in this month, Jesus. Amen.

For Jon

If you have read me for a while, you may remember a post a while back about Jon. Jon is a missing person, son of David and Linda. The seasons are beginning to turn, and that brings a whole new set of hurt for anyone who is looking for a missing person. It is a heartbreaking time.

When Jon went missing, I sent a note along to the Francis family, letting them know I was with them in prayer and spirit. I have exchanged a few emails back and forth with Linda. Here is the exchange today. Please keep them in your prayers.

Dear Rachel, I know everyone is busy getting ready for convention but if you have time to email back that would be great.  The searchers were out looking for Jon again this past weekend.  They found nothing.  Now we have to face a very, very long winter and spring. Would you share with me some of the information about your mother?  How do we get through the months ahead?  This is so hard.  Peace, Linda Francis

Dear Linda,
Oh how my heart is breaking with you.

I remember those searches like they were yesterday. Long, cold, and hoping beyond all hope. My mom used to have a sign up in her classroom that said “la esperanza muere por ultimo” or hope dies last. These words became for me a double edged sword. I never wanted to give up hope, and don’t think I ever really did, but I had to also find a way to live again. People kept expecting me to be ok – they wanted me to stop grieving or to at least be happy around them.

Grief does not work that way.  

There were days, and sometimes there still are, when I just could not muster the strength to be out in the world among people. The story of your missing loved one becomes ancient history to everyone but you, or so it was for me. There was never a day that my prayer was not something like “God, please, let me just know where she is!” For 6 and a half years this was my prayer. For six and a half years this was the thing that clung to me like the air that I breathed. The thought of my mom was only moments away. We held 3 vigils, had countless searches, and I prayed for her every day.

I am not sure how I got through those times, except to say that I had to let people (the ones who were not out to fix me or did not expect me to be something I wasn’t) take care of me, and I had to be gentle with myself. No matter how much time had passed, I still had to call in to work from time to time and say that I was sick or needed a mental health day. What was even more challenging was that by the time my mom was found, my life, my friends, my job, everything seemed to have changed for me. Very few people were still there for me as they were in the beginning. As time passed, new people came and went in and out of my life, but my hurt never changed.

I am sure this is not the email you were hoping for. I have finally come to peace with the darkness that is and was what happened. I am forever changed, forever the family member of a missing person. Yes, my mom was found. She was found in what I call “God’s time, not mine.” And believe it or not – I consider it to be a blessing. God is so much bigger and can see so much farther than you or I can. I am not sure how the story will continue to unfold, yours and mine both. What I do know is the God loves you so radically, so abundantly, that miracles will cross your path, now and later. I think what happened for me was that the pain was so present – that I became so sensitive to my own feelings, my own inner voice, that the space between me and God became like a thin veil. In becoming sensitive to the pain, I also became aware of the blessings.

Your skin and heart is raw right now. Be there. Be in that place fully. Do not let anyone tell you how you need to grieve. No one but you understands fully the landscape of hurt, so take it in. Pray. Yell. Cry. Be.

God of miracles and mercy, thank you for not holding all those years of swearing and yelling and crying out in anger at you, against me. Thank you for being with the Francis family - for really walking this journey with them. God, give them peace and patience, and a loving community to walk these next few months or however long it will take. In your name, in your time. Amen.

The prince of darkness

Step right up - Ladies and gentlemen - friends and children of all ages! The king of darkness is alive and well, kicking some ass you might even say. What is that?? You don't believe in evil? You don't think the devil is real? Well step right up and listen in, because what I am about to show you is a broken heart and a snapshot of the prince of darkness.

Once upon a time, long ago, in a suburb far far away there lived a man. He was handsome, smart, faithful and loving. He was a hero to so many, a mentor and friend. A true visionary and leader. His messages to crowds are still quoted, years after the message has been delivered. When he came to town, the community which he was to lead was broken, in need of some serious healing. They had a leader leave them, because the former leader had been unfaithful to his marital vows. And this community, this act would be considered one which merited dismissal. So, when the new man rolled into town, there was much work to do.

The man has such a heart for Jesus. To be in the man's presence is to feel the love of Christ right before you. The words are as if they come straight from the mouth of the Lord.

So then what happened some years later? Well, power my friends. Power that comes from somewhere else. Power that gets into your head. Power that makes you think you are invincible. And stress! Oh the stress of running a community that began with a few hundred and now is more than 4 thousand. No time, for continuing education, for spiritual growth, for just sitting and being and having time with the Big G upstairs. Days crammed with meetings and planners and people who need so much. It's bound to make anyone crack.

Well lo and behold, that is what happened. The man, cracked. The man who I love and revere so much, has fallen to the pressure. I speculate why. But don't really know. I wonder, but have no idea. My heart aches, because a good man, a loving man, was attacked. The darkness infiltrated his personal life, and has made the sins of the past, of infidelity, rear their ugly head again.

Today I am sad, really really heartbroken. For my friend who now leaves his community in a shroud of darkness. For my friend because I have not spoken to him in a very long time. I am sad because I don't understand. I am sad for the community who has to endure this happening to them again. I am just plain grief stricken. And it's not even my community anymore.

I would love to be able to tidy up this post in a pretty little bow, and make the story a fun and exciting as it began, but my air is gone and my heart doesn't have much left for this post.

Gracious Life-Giver, Source of all that is good and right, send your angels of light to the hurting and broken people. For the man, forgiveness and restoration. For the man's family, comfort and grace. For the community, healing. We beseech thee O God, for your light to shine it's way into the dark. Amen.

brilliant

A wonderful post by sacred art of living today. And another great one by LutheranChik's "L" Word diary from last Thursday.
Two totally different posts.
Both wonderfully written.
Happy Monday reading.