Dusty, Wicked Witches and Doxa

Doxa: "Glory":

 (doxa from dokeo = to think) in simple terms means to give a proper opinion or estimate of something and thus the glory of God expresses all that He is in His Being and in His nature, character, power and acts. He is glorified when He is allowed to be seen as He really is. To be where God is will be glory. To be what God intended will be glory. To do what God purposed will be glory.

Charles Ryrie says that the glory of God...

is the manifestation of any or all of His attributes. In other words, it is the displaying of God to the world. Thus, things which glorify God are things which show the characteristics of His being to the world."

 from http://www.preceptaustin.org/romans_818-39.htm

Last Sunday our conversation at church evolved into a discussion on God's glory. We discussed how so often we make our faith about us: God's plans for us, God's promises to us, our purpose in the kingdom. Our friend who initiated the conversational drift read this scripture to us: Jeremiah 9:23 and 24:

"23  Thus says the Lord: Let not the wise andskillful person glory and boast in his wisdom and skill; let not the mighty and powerful person glory and boast in his strength andpower; let not the person who is rich [in physical gratification and earthly wealth] glory and boast in his [temporal satisfactions and earthly] riches;24  But let him who glories glory in this: that he understands and knows Me [personally and practically, directly discerning and recognizing My character], that I am the Lord, Who practices loving-kindness, judgment, and righteousness in the earth, for in these things I delight, says the Lord." (Amp version)

It was a mind-set change in a way, but I realised this weekend how it cuts both ways. As I had begun to understand it last weekend it had been about not taking God's glory for ourselves, but rather about being willing to be channels for or reflections of God's glory; about trusting Him to do things the way they are designed to be done; about not rushing the process because of our own needs for significance, recognition or desire for fulfilment of purpose.

The other side of the story is this: when we see ourselves as too important in the equation, as makers of glory, rather than reflectors or channels, our failures and mistakes become almost paralysing. We become people of fear and shame, risk-avoidant and secretive of error. God on the other hand seems to be quite comfortable with our failings. Psalm 103 is just such a beautiful expression of his attitude towards us. Verse 14 in particular speaks to me so often when I am in a place of deep shame about my inner attitudes or outer actions - "...He remembers that we are dust". Wonderful.

This week I have been struggling a little with my attitude towards the kids when they are not quite getting things right. My inner wicked witch has emerged more than once, leaving me very diasppointed in myself. How will my kids ever find the relationship with God that has so enriched my life when I (who they know relates to Him) am such a poor image of who I tell them He is? God, it appears has not as many worries about that as me. He chooses to use fallen, faulty, dusty humanity to reflect Himself to the earth. I can't begin to understand His thinking, to be honest, but I begin to realise how great God must be, if even the small flashes of glory we manage to reflect in our broken state are enough to make a difference, to bring about the alleviation of the groaning and pain and travail of the earth. (see Romans 8)

Self, Emotion and Products

Today has been a difficult day - a wrestling with inner demons day. I suspect we all have them. We just don't often talk about them.
Things have been going well since my psychiatrist visit. I have been maintaining a pretty good sleep schedule and have a bit of a morning routine going (wake up; make tea and go out into the garden with it, my meds and an apple/orange; check up on the seedlings/ new plants and do a bit of watering if necessary; then come in and begin with the chores of the day). It has meant that I start each day with a bit of peace, which has been very good for me.
Today it didn't take too long for the peace to depart and it was something fairly simple that did it. After dropping Seth at school I called past the P.O. Boxes to collect my post. One of the items was a marked assignment from one of the courses for which I am about to write exams. I was gutted to find I had only been awarded a 50% mark. I was surprised too - at my worst I am a 70%er, and usually an "A" student. I haven't received a mark this low for anything since my earlier Veterinary Science days, and even then, I'm not sure I ever did. I tried to be stoic about it, but the inner seething soon began, and I found myself unable to resist a "post-mortem" of the assignment.
Then the seething really began, because I could not find out where I had gone wrong. It seems as if there are two possibilities. 1) whoever marked my assignment did a pretty shoddy job -  there are one or two indicators that there may be an element of this. 2) I have missed something really big, and am thus not as good a student as I thought - particularly because I don't understand how I could have done things very much differently.
Neither of these options makes me feel comfortable. The second option leaves me in doubt of my intellectual capabilities - something that I feel I can rely on in myself - an aspect of me that has always given me validity. The first places me in a position which is one I possibly dread even more than being seen to be stupid - being in a place of conflict.
All day I have battled with what seems like an over-exaggerated degree of anxiety and discomfort. I feel, if I'm honest, that I have been a victim of injustice. (I have stored that feeling in my "empathy" memory bank). At the same time there has been this worry that I may be powerless in the situation (another unpleasant sensation for that memory bank). I am not sure if the University will remark the assignment. If they don't I will just have to bite the bullet and go into my exam with a pretty pathetic year mark (this assignment counts 30% towards my final course result) - and so I have the concern that I'll have a pretty bad looking mark at the end of all this work, even if I do well in the exam. Then there's the worry about whether I will do well or not. If I could produce SUCH a bad result when I thought I understood the work, do I really uderstand the work?
But underneath these superficial emotions lies something deeper. I realise I'm taking this very personally. For me, this marker hasn't just given my work a low mark, he's given me a low mark. I feel despised. I feel rejected. I cannot seem to accept that this man didn't like my work. To me it feels as though he didn't like me. I still don't know why he rejected my work, but what I do know is that he has never met me, and so his rejection cannot possibly be of me. Even if there are some underlying issues on his side that have caused him to be harsh on my efforts due to my demographic, name, home language (or whatever), the fact remains that he does not know me, and so cannot have rejected me. But still I feel so very personally hurt.
I am reminded of something that stood out to me when reading Hettie Britz's book on children's temperament types (Growing kids With Character). In the chapter where she describes the "Lollipop Trees" (melancholic temperament type) she makes a statement that goes something like "I am my emotions and I am  my product". I remember relating so strongly to that. If you dismiss my emotions or reject my products, you're as good as rejecting me.
It may be temperamentally in my wiring, but as I see it written here, I can see how blatant a lie it is.
I am NOT my product. The idea that I am gives me no room to make mistakes, and because of this leaves me fearful of any form of risk or new venture. I am afraid to try, because failure is tantamount to destruction of myself. In the same way I am NOT my emotions. There are ways I respond that may make others uncomfortable (for various reasons). If that happens that does not invalidate me. I remain myself, even if my emotions are unrecognised, or invalidated.
There is in me a tremendously deep insecurity. I have a deep need to be liked by others, and as a result have a very thin skin. In conversation with an acquaintance last weekend (who happens to be something of an expert on the 36 Strengthsfinder Strengths) I had that point driven home again. He had been observing me interacting - we were at a childrens' party, and said to me that he felt that "Harmony" was a driving strength in my life. What he meant by that is that my need to maintain harmony, to not rock the boat, to have others like me, coloured the majority of my decisions. Harmony can be a great strength - it's wonderful when it comes to getting people to work well together and to get on (something I do well - I'm like oil in an engine). But it has this flip-side, and couple that with what my psychiatrist calls a "rejection-complex" you have a pretty "stuck" human being.
A line in my Social Work notes jumped out at me, as I reviewed them today. In a section on self-observation, when discussing aspects of oneself that one might encounter and find painful, this is listed as one of the aspects: "You may...learn that...you have unmet childhood needs for acceptance and approval that lead you to avoid confrontation or withdraw from conflict". As I read this I could feel the pure recognition stirring. That was me - completely.
And yet that is NOT me. I have a future that involves making mistakes and learning from them and doing what I need to do whether or not others like it. I HAVE to move forward. I HAVE to have the courage to step out into the "Yeses" I have said.
I may need to seek help about this, but however I achieve it I need to get to the place where I KNOW myself as God knows me, apart from my emotions, and apart form my products.

Names

"What's in a name?", Shakespeare asks, in Romeo and Juliet, as well he might within the context of that play. God, it seems, as one reads through the Bible, would answer "Everything". He places tremendous stock in names: He instructs parents what to name their children; He re-names some; He Himself carries many names - each reflecting an aspect of Himself, and of course He identifies Himself by the name "I am".
Names have meanings, connotations. They are an almost sacred part of our humanity. It is seen as one of the ultimate signs of abandonment, of cruelty, for a child to remain unnamed by its parent(s) - a sure sign of rejection.
In the Bible, when God met with someone - in those meetings that would alter the courses of lives - He often re-named the person with whom He met. It was one of the covenantal symbols (one which we still carry into marriage today for the most part). A change in name symbolised a change in identity, and thus a change in direction.
In 2008, when God and I reconnected in a more meaningful and deep way, God gave me a new name: "Mama". I was pretty unimpressed. I was going through (yet another) identity crisis at the time - questioning the significance, and global usefulness, of my seemingly hidden stay-at-home-mom life. The name therefore was pretty much exactly what I didn't want to hear.
And yet deep down I had to acknowledge it. It felt true.
My friends will describe me as an "earth mother". I'm not quite sure what they mean by that, but I do know that I "get" kids. I know how to talk to them, to get down with them. They invariably trust me, like me, and at the same time respect me. I don't know how I do it - it just happens.
And yet it's an aspect of me that I continually avoid. Somewhere inside me there's this great fear that surrounds the idea of spending a lot of time with kids. I suspect I fear exhaustion more than anything. Being with them can energise me so much when all goes well, but there are times when it does the opposite - drains me.
Or does it? I'm beginning to wonder if it's having kids around me, but not being engaged with them that's draining.
This is something I'm noticing with my own kids: when I'm trying to find my own space, do my own thing, having them milling around can be completely exhausting. I dread having crowds of them buzzing around the house, especially if I'm rattling around with not much purpose. But put me in the mix, let me be actively part of what they are doing, engaging with them, and it goes the other way - I come alive, and feel alive for hours afterwards.
What I don't understand is why I find it so hard to step into that engagement. Today I got down all afternoon with my kids. We played Twister together, cooked supper as a team while dancing in the kitchen to music selected by each member in turn, played a quiz game during supper, and then cosied up on the sofa to read together and then watch TV. It was magic. It was like the family life I dreamt of even before I had kids.
So why don't I do it more often? It's not that hard. It certainly wasn't today.
Maybe the bipolar has something to do with it. For so long I have been unwittingly protecting myself from anything that might lead to exhaustion, for fear of the consequences. Ironically though, avoiding the kids, instead of engaging with them, is actually more draining.
I know that the name "Mama" has wider implications than merely within my own family. I know I have a Mama role to play within the wider family of God, and I think I possibly (maybe even probably) may fulfil the role with other people's kids in school settings. These are stories yet to be lived.
I do know that God confirmed this name to me again when He told me to say "Yes to Kids" in August 2010 (sparked, incidentally, by an aching sense of longing when watching scenes of kids in a classroom setting in Rob Bell's "Shells" Nooma).
And I know that the first kids I need to say "Yes" to are my own.

Frog in Hot Water

I grew up hearing the frog in hot water illustration. You know, the one in which two frogs are put into pots of water. The first is put into hot water, and naturally leaps straight out. The second is put into cool water which is then heated slowly, and does not leap out at all (in the versions I've been told, said frog eventually boils to death, but in the interests of prevention of cruelty to animals my second frog merely leaves his hot water much later - and at a higher temperature - than my first frog). The story is told to illustrate how, when a negative situation develops slowly, we are likely to pay far less attention to it (and to tolerate far more of it) than we would if we were dumped directly into it.
It's been a bit like that for me. Certain patterns in my moods have been so slow to make themselves clear and have developed so insidiously that it has taken these 9 yeses (and a bad patch of exhaustion/depression) to alert me to patterns which (I have subsequently found out) many around me have been aware of for quite a while.
I'm used to being happy, it's my natural state. I'm also used to patches of depression. I've had five major depressive episodes of long duration - one soon after we were married, and then post-natal depression after each baby. Perhaps that's why these two to three-week lows every now and then haven't really registered. Especially since the main symptom is fatigue rather than sadness. Yes, I'm irritable and sometimes even a bit over-sensitive and tearful, but surely everyone feels that way from time to time. I have super-energetic periods when I feel invincible and on top of the world, but I've never been crazy or out of control.
The problem, though, is that I never know how I'm going to be. In the up periods I feel I can do anything (and I DO get an immense amount accomplished). The problem is that when I hit a down patch I am all but incapacitated. It's a struggle to just get through the basics - get the kids to where they need to go, do the shopping, maintain some sort of order in the house. Even packing the dishwasher can leave me wanting to lie down.
Up until now I've just rolled with the punches. My way of coping was to get as much rest as was possibly feasible during the flats and catch up, packing in as much as I could, during the highs. Because I'm a stay-at-home Mom that has been possible to a great extent, and so I suppose I'd never badly needed to take a proper look in the mirror, so to speak.
Until God asked me to say 9 yeses. I was in a good space when I said those yeses, and so to say them was easy. But then the next slump hit me and it dawned on me: I have debilitating moods swings. They are not merely a function of my personality type. They are severe enough that I actually could probably not hold down a regular 9 to 5 job any more. I realised that I needed help.Without it I was not going to be able to say yes with all the implications that those yeses carried.
And so Friday I went to see a psychiatrist, who confirmed the diagnosis my research had suggested: cyclothymia (a bipolar mood disorder). In talking to her it become evident that my mood swings are actually very strongly linked to natural rhythms - seasonal (I often joke that I "hibernate" in winter), monthly (my husband will have no hesitation confirming PMS) and daily - sleep deprivation is a strong trigger for depressive patches. And so I am now on a mood stabiliser called Lamitrogine, and will be getting some help with respect to setting up rhythms and routines to help avoid instability triggers.
I am feeling very hopeful that some of what is inside of me may now have a chance to come out, and be useful to the world.
All a rather unexpected fall-out of those yeses.