Feb 27, 2012


Yesterday was Forgiveness Sunday in the Orthodox Church.  Its traditional for the entire congregation to form a receiving line, so to speak, each member asking forgiveness in case they've done anything to offend the other.  It is so beautiful, though  I've been too shy to attend one of these services for a long time.

One of the questions that keeps resurfacing for me since the beginning of the end is Whose to blame?  I'm a responsable person.  I like responsability so much, that sometimes I take it all for myself.  Whose to blame? I sit around and think about all the things I could have done differently.
The power of forgiveness, is that when we focus on it, then it doesn't matter at all whose to blame.  We are both forgiven.  I wish I could inject this message into every region of my heart and mind.  I will, eventually.  It is in my highest and best not to blame.  Not my husband, not my parents, not myself.  But to forgive my husband, my parents, myself.

The power of forgiveness is that it grants the freedom to move forward at quantum speed.  I feel weighed down by my inability to forgive myself, just in general, but I will keep my focus there until it is acheived.  Because I can see that being weighed down with blame isn't good as a parent.  I see it affecting my function as a parent.  I see it affecting my child.  And I will not lose one more member of this family. 

So, I will work to forgive as though my life, and stronger still, the lives of my children depend on it.  Because they do.

Feb 23, 2012

The Gift

In his book, The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz says a lot of crazy things.  Really wise, spiritual things, but so far out, so surreal.  As I read, at times my mind feels lost, but once, my eyes trailed on a group of words that felt like they were just for me.

       If someone is not treating you with love and respect, it is a gift if they walk away from you.  If the person doesn't walk away, you will surely endure many years of suffering with him or her.  Walking away may hurt for awhile, but eventually your heart will heal. .. But if you are truthful with yourself, you will save yourself a lot of emotional pain.

Oh, it hurt for awhile.  I think about some of the phone calls I made over the summer, and I have to laugh.  I was freaking out.  I was sobbing to new friends and old.  In public.  Sometimes it isn't pretty, but, being unashamed of how fallen apart we feel, diving into the wreck, so to speak, speeds up healing. I speak from experience.

I do believe that its all a gift.  Jimmy and I were in love, and we both put a lot of effort into the relationship.  Life threw us a few, more than a few curve balls, and things slowly crumbled.  A choice was made, it wasn't mine.  Even so, I'm grateful for what he was able to give.  I forgive, and I ask his forgiveness.  It stung unbelievably, but my heart is healing.

I went to a birthday party last month. I love the parties that Kerri throws for her girls. The pinatas are something I'll always remember. They are paper grocery bags, stapled together, with a colored print-out of the party theme taped to it. We made musical instruments out of paper towel rolls. Down home. Anyway, I was chatting with a mom whose also one of Kerri's nearest and dearest, assuming she knew about my latest crisis. We talked about having more kids, and somehow it became apparent that she didn't know. After we talked about it for awhile, she said something that I knew to be true as well. She said she could tell I was lighter. I seemed light. I feel light.

Feb 20, 2012

Taken Me a Long Time to Get Back Here

I like confession.  I love it.  It's a useful and beautiful tool we have in the Orthodox church.  There's no penance.  Just, before God, tell me what is on your heart. 

During my most recent confession, my priest told me that this, confession, was actually a requirement for someone in my position, in order to, I don't know how he worded it, but get back "in" because my marriage has ended.  Marriage, he said, is a state of grace, and you are no longer in a state of grace.

Funny, it felt to me like the opposite was true.  In fact, talking to my mom over Christmas, I used that exact phrase to explain why I was doing so well, accomodating, forgiving, forging ahead.  Mom, I'm in a state of grace, I said.

I had gone to confession in April, the day Jimmy told me our marriage was over.  I went to confession as a way of taking full responsibility for my part in the failure, to own up to all that I'd done to drive him away.  In the months that followed, I blubbered, I begged, I took the boys to give him space, time to think, time to miss us.  Nothing changed.

When he moved out in August, I was in crisis.  Overwhelmed by the feeling of rejection, triggering deep insecurities, ones that told me that there was something inherently wrong with me that rendered me unable to love and be loved.  Equally overwhelmed that I had no job, no income, and two little ones to house and feed. 

Thus the healing began.  My home is a more peaceful place, a more beautiful space, and I am thriving.

 I'm going to write about my life here, in this blog named for my daughter.  And it will bring honor to her.  Anything that is pure, from the heart, true, and shares with others so that we all feel a little less alone, honors her.  Honors us all.