Not for me

I am amazed at how selfish I am.  I don't think of myself as selfish, and others might call me generous.  But I recently had a realization that stands out to me as more than my own thoughts.  I think this because for one, it hasn't faded.  One thing, I think it was Black Elk, said was that you can tell dreams from visions because dreams fade and visions don't.  I have found it applies to thoughts as well.

Secondly, it brought the most peace I've had since this whole process of moving to the other side of the world started.  I've prayed and sought counsel and prayed, and meditated, and read, and prayed and sought more counsel, but it has been a hugely uphill climb for me, one thing after another.  I think I'm cresting the peak, and there's another just behind it.  I still haven't hit the level ground yet, I just think I'm starting to get used to the struggle.

This revelation was simply, "this isn't about you."  Specifically, this whole process, wasn't for me.  This whole journey, adventure, call it what you will, it was not me who wanted it, and I'm the one enjoying it the least and struggling the most.  I honestly did all of this for my family.  Sure, when I was the one offered the job, I thought maybe there was something for me.  When it all kept working out, I thought it must be meant to be.  But I never knew what that reason or purpose was.  Through everything, in my deepest heart, I didn't want to do this.  Sure I hoped it would work out and I even built a few castles in the air about the whole thing, but I couldn't escape this reluctant feeling.  So sure enough, when things got difficult, I second guessed, I thought we had made the wrong choice, I looked for ways to undo it and salvage what I could of my life.

But meanwhile, my wife and kid are doing quite well.  They've had their ups and downs, some of them pretty serious.  But overall, I think they would call this positive, apart from what it's done to me.  I get that, because the first time we did this (yep, it's all happened before) I was having a great time and my wife was struggling deeply.  She just carries her burdens differently.  Our kid was too young then to have a bad experience as long as mom and dad are there, so he was fine.  This time though, they have work, friends, they even get invited places.  I'm the one that is sick all the time, with little to do, nowhere to go, only the merest acquaintances for friends, working a pointless dead end job with very little respect that ranges from polite disregard to outright disrespect (the head at one of my work locations told me last week that he liked my predecessor better, in nearly as many words as that, thought he still won't tell me why or what he expects me to do differently, and he's one of the nicer ones).

So again, I prayed and searched and kept coming up dry.  But then, I don't even remember when it occurred, the phrase passed through me mind like an electric shock.  I'm part of their story too.  We can't be separated, physically, spiritually, or in the narrative of our lives.  So this time it's their turn.  My wife even wrote that in her application essay (we both applied for work; I got in and she didn't).  So here we are, they're enjoying it and I'm not.  But that's because this isn't about me.  It's for them.

I understand that nothing is ever that simple.  I also know that such revelations are for the moment and, as George MacDonald termed it, become inedible tomorrow, like the manna in the desert.  But that doesn't negate the value.  It is sustaining me for the moment, and that is exactly what I needed.  Something to sustain me, to give me a reason to get up and keep doing this.  And it also gives me a reason to shut up a little.  I can't hide my struggles from my family.  That would be to make matters worse.  But I can also, as much as I am able, not inhibit their ability to enjoy and gain from these experiences, which appear to have a prewritten close.  We didn't know it coming in, but I had prayed not to have to make the decision to stay or return, and it appears that has been granted too, thank God. But that's a story for another time.

Right now, I'll take the consolation I can get and I'll continue to try to learn from this all...that's what I do.  And right now, I'm learning how selfish I still am.  A mentor of mine once said that self-centeredness has many manifestations.  We all know the bratty child (or adult) that has to have everything their way.  But focusing on ourselves in other ways is just as much selfishness because it's still self-centered.  We can be entirely self-deprecating and still be as selfish as the brat.  To cease being selfish, we have to cease putting ourselves at the center of our own universe.  And this is not something I can do on my own.  Nonetheless, it must happen.  So I'm going to open myself once more, and hopefully a little wider, to the saving, transforming power of the Lord of Spirits.

God you know my heart better than I do.  You know my needs and my desires.  You know my abilities and my flaws.  I am what I am and in myself that is as much as I'll ever be.  If I am to be anything more, to be better, to be greater, freer, more real, complete and alive, then you have to do it.  I can not.  You know I've tried.  And you know how I've continued to fail and strain and lie.  So here goes, one more time, hands off the rope.

Dog and Lamb

God I am broken and my heart is heavy. I have lost what little joy I had. I am the lost lamb and the sheep dog at the same time.

I saw you point so I ran. I didn't know why, but I always want to go where you point so I went. Then I crested a hill and could not see anything. I could not see you. I looked around. I didn't know where to go. I yelled for you. In the distance I thought I heard your whistle. But I couldn't tell where. I yelled again and your whistle was fainter, but I thought it was the signal to go on. Maybe I would find what you sent me for.

The way has gotten rocky and cold, wet and dark. I cannot see the sun. I cannot hear you. I yell and yell.

When I can't see you, I listen for your whistle or the thumping of your staff on the ground. But I can't see anything. I can't hear anything.

I don't know where to go or what to do, so I will find a sheltered place and wait. It's too dark to see. I am cold and lost and hungry, but I will wait for you to find me, to carry me home.

Have I failed? I want to say I acted in faith, but a voice inside says, "did you?" I would not blame someone else in this case, but I want to blame myself. So I will not listen to this voice. I don't want to hear it any more. Even if I am at fault, don't I also receive forgiveness?

I hear the scratching and clawing of beasts around the crevice of rock I crawled in. It is cold but dry and the crawling things that live here do not bite. They have let me in. But the beasts can smell me. I can smell them. I have fought them before. I have been brave when you were coming, when you sent me. But I am too cold and sick. I hurt in many places and I can't see in this dark. They keep reaching for me, but they haven't found me yet. When light comes, I will try to find my way back to where I last heard you. If the beasts don't get me first. But even that seems better than this cold lonely dark.

Left and lost continued

I'm really attempting to change my thinking, and the last post seems full of a lot of focus on the negative while filtering the positive. So here is my ungainly attempt to alter my focus.

It isn't all bad. Pay is good, all three of us are working.

Medical is insanely cheap and good quality. In fact it's so cheap I feel like the rich guy who balks at prices. What they call expensive is still a quarter of what I'd pay even with insurance in the US.

People have helped us whenever we really need it, sometimes going out of their way significantly, like finding us this house. Which while very old and below standard for most US houses is crazy cheap with a very sweet and kind landlord who lives right next door.

Work is super easy.

Nature is beautiful and easily accessible here. Fences are pretty much unheard of, even for dogs.

There are lots of artisan type places with handmade goods, specialty foods, etc. Including the best real Italian pizza I've ever had.

Crime is negligible. Our door doesn't even have a lock from the inside and stores leave stock out all night. People abhor violence here for the most part and even fights are tame compared to the US.

People are super polite, even if this is one of the ruder areas of the country. Even the tough guy says thanks and excusie me if he goes ahead of you at the checkout line. Store staff are helpful and actially try to get things right.

There are a couple of bright-spot people I really am glad to know here.

We don't have to travel far for anything. A long way off is a 20 minute car ride, and an hour is  something of day trip. You never get stuck in massive inching backups which were my daily commute for so many years.

So I guess this kind of works.

Left and lost

I hear a lot about not being afraid to leave your comfort zone, about taking radical leaps of faith. Well, I tried to do that, and so far it has been entirely no picnic. I've been washed by doubts and fears, had difficulties thrown in at every turn, none of them severe enough to stop it from happening, just enough to make me sick and miserable. And I've seen no fruit from it whatsoever. I have no idea what I'm doing here, if I should have come, if or what I'm supposed to do. I receive absolutely zero consolations or guidance during prayer. And yet it's not as if there is anything really stopping us from being here, in fact that part just keep easily sailing along. The only part is I don't want to be here.

I have analyzed it up and down in so many ways, I'm not going to rehash it here. But I'm now faced with a decision to commit to not only the year I already contracted, but an additional year. So 5 months in, I have to decide about the next 20 months. The first 5 have been on a whole pretty difficult. I have even had to finally see a doctor about symptoms and get counseling for the stress. There are still so many things thst need doing to make life comfortable.

And that word comes out with a bad taste, but I invite you and the part of myself that hates the word to try this. See what it does to you to leave the life everyone says you should work for to come where you can barely communicate, hardly read, no one you work for really wants you or needs you around, though they keep requiring you to make a show of it by simply standing beside them for hours each day, saying nothing, doing nothing, but not able to do anything else more productive, and then trudge home on foot in the dark and increasing cold in a place where rain is literally the norm, to a house that has substandard everything, including literal mud walls and doors that don't seal without even the technology of a fire place to heat it. Where you keep getting sick from contact with kids and people who don't understand basic hygiene and think that keeping rooms at equal temp with the near freezing outside is healthy in some way. With a teen who really wanted to come but blames you for every instance that doesn't meet her expectations.

So what am I doing here? Am I in the wilderness on the way to the promised land? Am I drowning in the waves I tried to walk on? Did I just misinderstand everything? Am I Jonah in the whale right now, running from my purpose to find what I thought was better? I have prayed and prayed that I won't have to make these decisions any more. And yet here I am faced with another one. Anxiety attacks are becoming my norm as one after another challenge presents with no sign of abating. And tomorrow I am meeting someone who wants to try to convince me to stay. Which, if it were to work out, I estimate would cost me several thousand dollars more to accomplish.

If there's some thing I'm supposed to learn here, someone please tell me. If there's some direction I can't see, what is it? Because right now I can't stop counting the days until I can return to the place I have roots, which I also hate for other reasons, and pick up the pieces of a life, all the while doubting if some breakthrough isn't just around the bend.

I can't make this decision.

God in the toilet

So I live in a part of the world where some toilets don't have seats...we refer to them as squatters, which tells you what you need to know.  So I went into the only toilet in my workplace and thought, "oh crap!" Literally, someone had missed.  Not terribly, but enough to be very apparent.  I was wracked about what to do.  This is the only toilet for men.  If someone comes in and sees me leave, they'll assume I did it because I'm foreign and people assume we can't do this stuff right.

Maybe I could slip out quickly before anyone noticed, but if they came in and waited, I'd be screwed.  If that happens, I'd have to point it out and say it wasn't me, which would look the more suspicious, so I'd be forced into an uncomfortable examination of the evidence to prove it wasn't me..."it isn't fresh, see".  But then it might be worse if they just saw me leave because then I'd not be able to explain at all and they'd just assume, and there would be this background buzz that I could never be certain wasn't because they thought I was foul or incompetent...or incontinent, as the case may be.  Even if it was just in my own head, I'd continually be wondering if that wasn't what they were thinking.  And the culprit would certainly not downplay the assumption that it was the foreigner, if he didn't actively promote it, should it come up...or down as it were.

Maybe I could climb out the window and slip back in another way...but no, the office windows looked out on the same courtyard right beside that window along with other windows all around the court, and the foreigner climbing out the window would definitely be noticed.  So that was out.

Cleaning products were in the closet right beside me, but again, what if someone came in and saw me digging through that closet...I'd be forced to explain, and there we go back into scenario 1.

All of this of course happened in milliseconds.  That was when I looked around and noticed there was a toilet brush in the stall...why?...who cares!  It was there!  God bless it and God bless me, I was saved by a common $1.00 toilet brush!  I fired up the flush and scrub that thing like my life depended on it...well at least my reputation...which was already in doubt after a medicine reaction made me nearly pass out for a moment a few weeks ago. It passed quickly, but nonetheless, I was forced to be carried through the facility on a stretcher despite my constant pleas that I was quite capable of walking.

But merciful God, thank you for that toilet brush.  This is a silly story, though every word of it is true.  And honestly, it reveals a vanity in me, which though common, is no less a vanity.  But I am thankful for the small mercy.

One thing is certain: toilet brushes have now become a symbol of God's grace and provision.  I'll never look at them the same way again.

New World

I have not posted in a while because I moved around the world. Yes literally, I'm now in a timezone 13 hours from my previous. This move has not been easy and I was reluctant to do it. But here we are. Now it's about survivng, adapting, thriving. Which is doubtful right now. These kind of challenges are highly emotional and bring out underlying issues.

So why did I do it? Simply, I wanted to get out of the boat. I wanted to walk on the waves. Secondly, I wanted to change the story of the rich young ruler. I didn't want to look back on my life and know that when told what I needed to be perfect, I went away sad. No I literally gave most everything away and gave up my life for this purpose.

And it's kicking my butt. Work is pointless. I get paid well to do basically nothing and am treated politley as if I'm in the way most of the time or given zilly llittle things just so I don't totally do nothing. Sounds good? Yeah, try it awhile. Nowhere to hang your hat. Nothing to get up for in the morning. Then there's family. We are much more in each others' space here and I am so far the only one with a schedule to force me out. So when I get home there's two bored people starving for attention I don't have to give. Problems to solve, fears to assuage. My teen is the worst. Needier than when an infant, fully capable of stepping out more, but too scared to do it. And when I push him out of the nest she flies into a rage at me.

Then there's the worst part, our apartment, provided by my employer in an old wooden structure with upstairs neighbors that are extremely loud on the floor, like hours of pounding, dropping, falling. I don't even really know if they are that loud in terms of decibels. Objective evidence is hard to get, but in any case, I find myself getting more and more agitated as it goes on. Some noises send me over the edge and I break something or scream, or collapse into full panic attack. I shake, sweat, heart pounds. I thought I might have some latent PTSD. But the  I read about misophonia, which is a neurological condition that causes these same reactions. Just perfect. Another rare and unheard of illness to confirm, cope with, and explain for the rest of my life. But it matches my history. I have always been very sensitive to overhead house noises and bass through walls. Like, if a neighbor has a stereo on, I have paced the floor for hours fighting the urge to go beat their door in and destroy the infernal machine. Now I'm trapped inside the machine and I can't take it.

I have started counseling and the therapist is recommending a psychiatrist...good luck way out here on the edge of the world. I talked to my employer and for cultural reasons I completely don't understand we can't get the people to be quiet. Though they may not physically be Bable to be quiet enough if I really do have a condition. So their idea to move us to a free standing quiet house is probably best. God, I'm hoping.

I even asked them if it would be easier just to let me go and I'd go home. But they didn't want to do that. We have a lead on a house, so please soon!

I don't know what I'm doing. I can't analyze or fix myself and I need lots of help to live here. I can completely understand why Peter feared and began to sink. I'm going down fast and can only say, "Lord, help me". You see there's no solid ground out here. It isn't all bad. There are points of grace and light, even some angels that don't know it. But this is hard to do.

Mindscape

Today my son asked me a thought provoking question. As any reader of this blog knows, I am a naturally dark and therefore often angry person. But he is just getting to the age to see that. So as I mentioned some of my negative perceptions of things, he observed that I frequently see things like that and asked what the world must look like from inside my head.

While many may find this disheartening, I am so aware of this fact about myself that I did not run from it, but replied, "It's pretty dark in here."  The question stuck with me though; how do I express it to people? What does the world look like to me? Some may paint in pictures, but I am much more capable in words, so I will try.

Like anyone, my internal landscape is varied and changes in its own seasons and weathers.  And while I am in any one of those, it necessarily colors what the others look like. So the best I can give is the current conditions and climate with your understanding that it is not always so and may be themed quite differently at another juncture.

The skies here are often grey. Clouds roll thick and mists are common, ranging to dense fogs. The terrain is rugged with crags and sharp edged stones all around. Near peaks obscure large areas of vision. Air ranges in the hot humid arena but frequently dips into chilling cold.

Never far away is the barren windswept tableland of the tough-minded where no hint of green softness breaks the flat desolation until the sky meets it. Here are the hermits and ascetics, ever trying to rid themselves of the stains and distractions of the world while ever becoming harsher and more stone-like in their bearing for all their intention toward good.

Near there is the dense Mirkwood frought with demons and every kind of rending, demoralizing creature that feasts on the despair and self-loathing of its victims. They often range outside their haunts seeking to trick, trap or drag me into their lairs. But their favorite tactic is to build paths that innocenty wend through pleasanter lands until they unexpectedly end in the terrible mirk such that the unwary traveler will suddenly find himself in their clutches.

But it isn't all that bad. Sun does shine from time to time and I encounter delicate grottos of lush moss trickling with water and speckled with shimmering flowers and dappled light. I have seen vast deep oceans as slick as glass and raging like titans. Rain is often refreshing and mercifully frequent. And there are springs in the most unlikely places; some the tiniest bubbling, others strong enough to feed streams that water green vales under clear gentle skies. Here is where I most often have four legs and a cold nose. Here is where the Shepherd lives. Though he is always about in the harsher lands where I am on two feet and never far when I try to find him, or he needs to find me.

So this is the briefest sketch of my internal continent that shapes me, colors my actions and responses, and governs my decisions and opinions. I hope it sheds some light into who I am and why I am the way I am.