Gratitude Eventually

Here we are again, God. Crying out for help. 

Loving, loyal, affirming, and compassionate God:
Sometimes the heartbreak is overwhelming. It feels devastating. It feels like we are incapacitated—stuck in a quagmire of sadness, loneliness, fears, and despair. Stuck and sinking deeper. It has been too long in the darkness and we long to move beyond these dark and sad days of yearning and weeping and groaning within. 

Sometimes the heartbreak is related to the sad events in the world—bombings in Beirut, terror in Paris, the horror of violence perpetuated by “others” and, at the end of the day, a realization that “others” are not the only ones who make war instead of peace. There are so many things over which we have no control but yet we want to do something, anything. Sometimes the heartbreak is personal, close to home, deep within our own hearts. Sometimes the heartache is a grieving of significant and very real losses. Sometimes we choose self-pity, choose to shun reality, and choose to foster fantastic and unrealistic dreams of ways we might make everything perfect…

Perfectionism is a harsh, cruel master. In the end we blame ourselves or blame others or discover that we’re living with a deep sense of shame because “we’re not up to the task of fixing the world”—not even our own little corner of it. 

So, there you go. How do we pray for a healing of this pain in our guts if we really don’t want to be healed? How do we let go? How do find our authentic selves—a task that belongs to ourselves alone—while at the same time comprehending and accepting that we cannot walk the journey alone?

Even in the midst of pain, there is gratitude. And gratitude helps us from losing our bearings in the heartache. Gratitude moves us towards faith; and faith calls us to compassion; and compassion calls us to listen to the stories of others and to be open and accepting and patient and kind. 

It all begins with gratitude. 

Personally, I am deeply grateful… For rest and renewal; for a warm home and a comfortable bed; for breakfast and coffee and my 16-year-old who enjoys sharing both with me; for colleagues in ministry and conversations and shared insights and wisdom and discernment; for delicious food and great conversations and generous hearts, for a delightful dinner with friends—old and new; for good health and the Spirit’s healing power and the joy of feeling my muscles being stretched; for spiritual guides and mentors; for music, for art, for rain and the smell of the earth and the leaves and the moisture, for seasons, for laughter, for my children and family, for the grace to care for others and the grace to be open to others who care about me, and for the gifts of faith, hope, and love. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Amen.

Chrysocolla Prayer

Preparing to pray... Many people light a candle... A friend of mine would prepare an altar with a colorful fabric, a small standing cross, and fresh flowers... Some people hold a cross during their prayers.... Others use a rosary--both Catholics and some Episcopalians do this. Some people hold their Bible... Others might spend time contemplating an icon... Lately I've been holding a crystal--specifically--Chrysocolla. Not for everyone--I understand that. Neither is praying on your knees by your bed for everyone. Nothing magical about any posture or prayer book or other "helps" for prayer. Anyway, this blog post is a prayer--one of the many prayers I've written and prayed related to the metaphysical healing properties of Chrysocolla, which indeed, is part of God's good creation. 

For you shall go out in joy,

    and be led back in peace;
the mountains and the hills before you
    shall burst into song,
    and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. (Isaiah 55:12)

“I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.” (Jesus, in Luke 19:40)

Solar Plexis Chakra

Prayer while holding the Chrysocolla against the upper abdomen

O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,

    or discipline me in your wrath.

For your arrows have sunk into me,

    and your hand has come down on me….

I am utterly bowed down and prostrate;

    all day long I go around mourning.

~Psalm 38:1-2, 5

Loving God,

you are gracious and compassionate,

patient, and overflowing with loyal love.

Compassionate Father, Welcome me home to my truest self just like father—so patient and generous—welcomed his younger son home after he had squandered his gifts and your love in a faraway place; welcome me home into accepting and trusting once again that I am your dearly-loved child and that I truly belong.

Oh, God, I really do need to feel a sense of belonging.  

  

Healing Christ, my true elder brother, Hold me close and reassure me. Open my eyes to comprehend and truly see how shame leads to an unhealthy and unrealistic perfectionism, to defensiveness and self-centeredness and a frantic striving to earn my worthiness. Open my heart again to the way of unconditional love. Open my soul to authenticity. 

Oh, yes, I really do need to be reassured. I need to know that I am loved, to feel it and believe it. And only then can I be real. Like the Velveteen Rabbit—battered and tattered and worn… But real. 

Spirit of Power, Open my heart to self-compassion and love—freely given and received; open my mind to wisdom and clear thinking, open my soul to gratitude and joy. Help me to be resilient. Re-energize my creativity. Renew my faith. Inspire me in times of meaningful work, and times of joyous, child-like play, and times healing rest, and in solitude—in hours of calm and stillness. Set me free to laugh and sing and dance again.