I just returned form a weekend with a bunch (61) of like minded friends. Youth Team Conference is a gathering of people from Unity churches around the NW region who work in their church's youth programs. It is an event filled with music and dancing and celebration, as well as comparing notes, providing insight and examples and offering suggestions.
I work with high school aged people, the Youth of Unity (YOU), so my focus meetings were with other "Sponsors" of that age group. Each year there is someone new, and their perspective and quetions help all of us rise to a higher level and look at what we do from a new perspective.
The issues are usually how to add members, dealing with teen problems, fundraising, churh family integration and getting board support and recognition.
At other times during the weekend we met with small groups based on a interest item we were asked to respond to during an opening process. I ended up in the "Effective Communication" group, with 5 others who are also trainers or teachers. We are all YOU sponsors, so had a common bond to build on. We discussed the curricula we were provided and discovered our reacctions to light an ddark. Quite frankly, the idea of being in a cavern with the lights out for any lenghth of time, which was one of the images we were given to discuss, doesn't appeal. Even with a very cogent descrition by a group mate of her perspective of the dark as a warm protective hug.
I did have some wonderful recollections though, of building forts and tunnels out of hay bales in the barn when we were kids. We spent happy hours in the dark, talking and plotting other adventures. My parents would likely have come up with some creative punishment if they'd known, but that's probably one of the reasons it was so fun.
Some of the best parts of the weekend are meal times and free time, when we can get to know people from other churches and other age group programs, and generally network and bond.
There was a very interesting, non church appropriate discussion at lunch about experiences with drugs taken in years gone by, as well as a discussion of antics of parents who drank too much and did totally bizarre things in the name of child care.
I have to shout out our musician, Mark Stanton Welch, who is not only a talented musician, but is a true spiritual leader. He privides a wonderful backdrop to the regional team and his own workshops are stimulating and fun (and exausting, but worth the effort of dancing prayers in community).
All in all, it was a great weekend. Every year they ask for comments, you know "what can we do better", and every year I ask that the conference be extended an extra day. No luck so far, but there's always hope. :-)
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Care Giving and the state of things
I have now spent almost 28 years as a care giver. I didn’t train for it, and I am likely not anywhere near the best, but in our case, I was the only so I have had to learn a whole bunch of things about caring for someone who is seriously ill.
It is one thing to train to be a nurse, aide, or even doctor, and that was one of the potential career options expected for the women in our family, or education. We had a lot of teachers, principles, professors, nurses, and some crossover nursing instructors. I never wanted to fit in there anywhere. So here I am, taking care of a sick person.
Life.
I can honestly say that we have had a learn- as- you-go experience. Not just my care giving, but the whole chronic illness thing. First, Himself came down with pneumonia that wouldn’t go away, then he was hospitalized and tested for 3 weeks and we found out there were a lot of things he didn’t have, but no definitive name for what he did have. After a series of treatments that didn’t work we left the care he was under, against their advice, and moved 1,300 miles back to the Seattle area where we had family support. (Since our oldest was not quite two at the time, I needed all the family I could get).
Several months and a couple of crisis later he was hospitalized again and went through another bunch of tests with the same results. We still didn’t have a definitive diagnosis for whatever it was that was wrong with him. At that point he seemed to resign himself to dying and spent his days drinking coffee or Pepsi and smoking Pall Malls on our porch.
A serious crisis, a collapsed lung, and a several day hospitalization led us to a doctor with conviction. He explained that the chances weren’t good, but might be increased significantly by surgery. By this time Himself was a stick figure, about 60 pounds underweight and I didn’t think he could withstand the surgery itself, but he went for it.
At that time, 1983, he smoked about a pack a day, sometimes more, and no doctor would tell him definitively to quit. He was even allowed to smoke on the gurney on his way to the operating room.
(One would think that after having ½ of one lung removed, smoking would go away, but no, he smoked for five more years.)
After surgery, tissue samples were sent all over the country for analysis and diagnosis, and once again we found a whole list of things he didn’t have. It was almost 10 years later when we finally were given a diagnosis of pulmonary fibrosis. And it wasn’t until last summer, during one of his two hospitalizations for pneumonia, that I learned form a pulmonologist that it was likely that long because the diagnosis hadn’t been developed yet. Himself, being who he is has a relatively rare version.
Over the years we have had relatively calm periods and acute stages of his illness, and of course he is more suseptable to "the thing that's going around". He was able to help by getting kids to school and fixing dinner 3 or 4 times a week, and some years when he was well enough to work a little bit.
Over the years he has developed a secondary immune system illness, caused by being ill for so long, as well as congestive heart failure five years ago, from which he recovered fully, and a quadruple by-pass a year and half ago, which they weren't going to do because of his history but he has come back so far that all of his docs are amazed, - it's not 100% yet, but he is determined to get all of his mobility and strength back.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that from all of this I have learned a couple of very important things: everyone needs an advocate when they are ill, someone to listen to the medical people and translate as necessary, and stand up and question when that is necessary also; and, will, the power of the mind, positive thoughts, whatever you want to call it, is the most important thing in some one's recovery.
It is one thing to train to be a nurse, aide, or even doctor, and that was one of the potential career options expected for the women in our family, or education. We had a lot of teachers, principles, professors, nurses, and some crossover nursing instructors. I never wanted to fit in there anywhere. So here I am, taking care of a sick person.
Life.
I can honestly say that we have had a learn- as- you-go experience. Not just my care giving, but the whole chronic illness thing. First, Himself came down with pneumonia that wouldn’t go away, then he was hospitalized and tested for 3 weeks and we found out there were a lot of things he didn’t have, but no definitive name for what he did have. After a series of treatments that didn’t work we left the care he was under, against their advice, and moved 1,300 miles back to the Seattle area where we had family support. (Since our oldest was not quite two at the time, I needed all the family I could get).
Several months and a couple of crisis later he was hospitalized again and went through another bunch of tests with the same results. We still didn’t have a definitive diagnosis for whatever it was that was wrong with him. At that point he seemed to resign himself to dying and spent his days drinking coffee or Pepsi and smoking Pall Malls on our porch.
A serious crisis, a collapsed lung, and a several day hospitalization led us to a doctor with conviction. He explained that the chances weren’t good, but might be increased significantly by surgery. By this time Himself was a stick figure, about 60 pounds underweight and I didn’t think he could withstand the surgery itself, but he went for it.
At that time, 1983, he smoked about a pack a day, sometimes more, and no doctor would tell him definitively to quit. He was even allowed to smoke on the gurney on his way to the operating room.
(One would think that after having ½ of one lung removed, smoking would go away, but no, he smoked for five more years.)
After surgery, tissue samples were sent all over the country for analysis and diagnosis, and once again we found a whole list of things he didn’t have. It was almost 10 years later when we finally were given a diagnosis of pulmonary fibrosis. And it wasn’t until last summer, during one of his two hospitalizations for pneumonia, that I learned form a pulmonologist that it was likely that long because the diagnosis hadn’t been developed yet. Himself, being who he is has a relatively rare version.
Over the years we have had relatively calm periods and acute stages of his illness, and of course he is more suseptable to "the thing that's going around". He was able to help by getting kids to school and fixing dinner 3 or 4 times a week, and some years when he was well enough to work a little bit.
Over the years he has developed a secondary immune system illness, caused by being ill for so long, as well as congestive heart failure five years ago, from which he recovered fully, and a quadruple by-pass a year and half ago, which they weren't going to do because of his history but he has come back so far that all of his docs are amazed, - it's not 100% yet, but he is determined to get all of his mobility and strength back.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that from all of this I have learned a couple of very important things: everyone needs an advocate when they are ill, someone to listen to the medical people and translate as necessary, and stand up and question when that is necessary also; and, will, the power of the mind, positive thoughts, whatever you want to call it, is the most important thing in some one's recovery.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Teaching Old Dogs, or somesuch
I started a class today. My voice coach is offering a music theory class for adults, so I decided that I would try it out. After a lifetime of music I don't believe I have ever had a formal theory class. To be sure, I have had a lot of theory incorporated into various lessons, but nothing like what I'm undertaking now.
One of the great things was realizing that I have a lot of the basics, and the terminology. I am still intimidated by the assignments and the staff paper. The thought of putting marks on that pristine page and not doing it neatly and legibly is terrifying, and I didn't even have nuns for bad memories like Chrissie did.
And the thought of actually trying anything on the piano! Phhhtt!
But how silly is that, right? what is the piano for if not to try stuff out and be able to hear the things that are described on paper.
I am sure this will provide lots of opportunity for insight, griping and feeling I can't possibly get "it" for the next few weeks. then, based on previous efforts, I'm hopeful that the light will go on and I will know jsut exactly what the lesson is and how it applies.
One of the great things was realizing that I have a lot of the basics, and the terminology. I am still intimidated by the assignments and the staff paper. The thought of putting marks on that pristine page and not doing it neatly and legibly is terrifying, and I didn't even have nuns for bad memories like Chrissie did.
And the thought of actually trying anything on the piano! Phhhtt!
But how silly is that, right? what is the piano for if not to try stuff out and be able to hear the things that are described on paper.
I am sure this will provide lots of opportunity for insight, griping and feeling I can't possibly get "it" for the next few weeks. then, based on previous efforts, I'm hopeful that the light will go on and I will know jsut exactly what the lesson is and how it applies.
Friday, January 8, 2010
I am joy in expression
Joy
I am joy in expression
There is no need to ever wait for joy. My joy does not depend on reaching or achieving certain goals. I don't have to graduate from college to feel joy, nor do I need to be married to feel joy. I needn't postpone my joy until I've retired or reached a certain level of success. Joy is a state of mind, arising from realization and gratitude, accessible to me at all times.
I focus on the joy that underlies my life each day. When I awake, I feel joy. Throughout my day, I give thanks for the people who share my journey. At the end of the day, I am grateful for each experience. I reflect on the blessings in my life and feel joy welling up within me. I never wait for joy. I choose joy in this very moment.
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy.--James 1:2
This is the blessing that I got from the electronic version of Daily Word today. It is a little inspiration that shows up in my mail box every day. I usually don't see it until evening, but I always get a little boost from it.
Also, since Daily Word has been around for about 120 years, it is really interesting, and perhaps a little comforting, to see the continuity. I think of all the folks over the years who got the little monthly magazine full of thoughts for the day, each with an affirmation and a scripture quote (some more relevant than others, but hey...), often a story of success from someone who has learned to activate affirmative prayer in their life, and in recent years, a couple of letters from people who have asked for prayer support. All those people saying the same affirmation each day, what an incredible force for good!
I mentioned the people who ask for prayer support, and it is also a reassurance to me that for all that time, there has been a group of people praying in shifts for whomever asks. They take requests by letter, phone or email, and are always willing to help turn problems over to Spirit.
Several of my friends have great stories from their student days, when they volunteered to take shifts in the prayer room. (And isn't it another amazing thing that there are always enough volunteers available?) It seems one of the most common themes in the stories is that you often get calls or letters to answer that contain the thing you most need to work on in your own life. So, if you are having relationship issues, you are likely to be the one who gets the calls from folks who are also experienceing problems with their relationships and looking for assitance.
I have always thought it would be very difficult to pray with people in person or on the phone, out loud. My friend Richard tells a story about that - it seems that the prayer room has a "helps" book for each volunteer, with a card on each subject with prayer prompts to get past rough spots. He got a call one night, a real serious, scary thing going on in someone's life right then, and there was no card for that particular crisis! He claims that in his panic to get the right words and "save the day", he went completly blank, a real brain freeze. The next thing he knew was hearing someone praying with the caller, perfectly saying all of the right words, then he realized that it was him. Somehow his brain freeze allowed his essential self to be there, even when he wasn't concious of it, or perhaps, because he wasn't concious of it.
Which then leads me to ... letting go and letting God (or Spirit or Goddess or whomever entity designation fits) means being willing to be in/act on the unconcious?
This is very difficult for me, all intellect, planning, orderly processes go out the window and the intuitive becomes the governor. Scary stuff for a recovering Anglican. What could happen if we were essentially and honestly the divine selves that we carry within us? What if we were truely expressions of Joy?
The possibility boggles my mind.
I am joy in expression
There is no need to ever wait for joy. My joy does not depend on reaching or achieving certain goals. I don't have to graduate from college to feel joy, nor do I need to be married to feel joy. I needn't postpone my joy until I've retired or reached a certain level of success. Joy is a state of mind, arising from realization and gratitude, accessible to me at all times.
I focus on the joy that underlies my life each day. When I awake, I feel joy. Throughout my day, I give thanks for the people who share my journey. At the end of the day, I am grateful for each experience. I reflect on the blessings in my life and feel joy welling up within me. I never wait for joy. I choose joy in this very moment.
My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy.--James 1:2
This is the blessing that I got from the electronic version of Daily Word today. It is a little inspiration that shows up in my mail box every day. I usually don't see it until evening, but I always get a little boost from it.
Also, since Daily Word has been around for about 120 years, it is really interesting, and perhaps a little comforting, to see the continuity. I think of all the folks over the years who got the little monthly magazine full of thoughts for the day, each with an affirmation and a scripture quote (some more relevant than others, but hey...), often a story of success from someone who has learned to activate affirmative prayer in their life, and in recent years, a couple of letters from people who have asked for prayer support. All those people saying the same affirmation each day, what an incredible force for good!
I mentioned the people who ask for prayer support, and it is also a reassurance to me that for all that time, there has been a group of people praying in shifts for whomever asks. They take requests by letter, phone or email, and are always willing to help turn problems over to Spirit.
Several of my friends have great stories from their student days, when they volunteered to take shifts in the prayer room. (And isn't it another amazing thing that there are always enough volunteers available?) It seems one of the most common themes in the stories is that you often get calls or letters to answer that contain the thing you most need to work on in your own life. So, if you are having relationship issues, you are likely to be the one who gets the calls from folks who are also experienceing problems with their relationships and looking for assitance.
I have always thought it would be very difficult to pray with people in person or on the phone, out loud. My friend Richard tells a story about that - it seems that the prayer room has a "helps" book for each volunteer, with a card on each subject with prayer prompts to get past rough spots. He got a call one night, a real serious, scary thing going on in someone's life right then, and there was no card for that particular crisis! He claims that in his panic to get the right words and "save the day", he went completly blank, a real brain freeze. The next thing he knew was hearing someone praying with the caller, perfectly saying all of the right words, then he realized that it was him. Somehow his brain freeze allowed his essential self to be there, even when he wasn't concious of it, or perhaps, because he wasn't concious of it.
Which then leads me to ... letting go and letting God (or Spirit or Goddess or whomever entity designation fits) means being willing to be in/act on the unconcious?
This is very difficult for me, all intellect, planning, orderly processes go out the window and the intuitive becomes the governor. Scary stuff for a recovering Anglican. What could happen if we were essentially and honestly the divine selves that we carry within us? What if we were truely expressions of Joy?
The possibility boggles my mind.
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