Liminal grace

Liminality. Isn't it a beautiful sounding word? So lyrical. It comes from the Latin word limen which means threshold and denotes being in the space between two different existential planes. Think Alice down the rabbit hole.

In Week 4 of Open the Door, we were invited to explore the liminal space of the threshold that we may be standing in.

Life is a constant flow of changes and unsurprisingly, many of us are in the midst of a threshold experience, some more radical than others.

Joyce Rupp describes the liminal space between the old and new as a frequently disorienting experience,  a twilight time, "neither day nor night", and yet, it is a necessary stop to sometimes gather resources.

Most of the time, transitions are not the most comfortable spaces to be in for we don't yet know where we are going, and yet, the decisions we make will dictate the future quite significantly.

I find myself on multiple thresholds at this point in time. Some I have begun to leave, while others I am not quite ready to step over.

The hardest thing I find about moving through the liminal space is being able to let go of what does not work anymore (which in the moment I still want to cling onto only because it is familiar) and to brave the murky future with open arms and bare hands.

Control is an illusion I suffer from, that being in control, idling along in the stultifying shallows of mediocrity is better than venturing into the deep for that requires more courage and humility than I have.

Joyce Rupp recommends a heart of trust, one that is able to accept the mystery. God's mystery. Likewise, this is what Jesus encouraged Martha to cultivate when her brother Lazarus had died.

Many of us, like Martha, may believe in Christ, but how much we acknowledge Him as the resurrection and the life, especially when something bad happens, is the acid test of faith.

Paying lip service, but questioning Him at every step of the way demonstrates a faith that is still fairly nascent (just when I thought I was getting somewhere), and an inability to die to self.

As K reminded us last Friday, the only way forward is inward. In stillness. It is in nurturing our relationship with Jesus that we are given the gifts of insight, courage and perseverance amplified many times over.

His grace is always sufficient. But first, we have to seek it and to continue to trust in its mystery.

Prayer pearls

Ever feel like your life is spinning out of control and you just can't seem to get a handle on things? I constantly feel that way. More so now when I am rabidly auditing courses and preparing for an exam.

I don't seem to be able to accomplish all the things I want to in a day and I wonder is it only due to my poor time management or is it life interrupting as it will and there is nothing I can really do about it. It is probably a combination of both, I suspect.

There are days I feel that everyone wants a part of me and I cannot, and am not, willing to give it all away. And I should not. (Even if I wanted to, my body shrieks its protest much too loudly for me to ignore its warning.)

Talking to N convinced me if you expend all your energy towards giving everything to your loved ones, saving nothing for yourself, you will crash and burn, which she did last week. Physically she was not 100 per cent and emotionally she was depleted. She felt empty and achingly lonely. She, of course, plummeted into depression.

Then I spoke with J who out of loneliness is doing something which I feel is sailing too close to the wind. Worrying on many levels.

J, N and I share many things in common. We are all busy single women who strive to be available to the people around us and we all juggle too many balls consequently. Saying no to people is tough for us for we all want to help everyone we see in need of help.

Balance is not something any of us achieves with any measure of success unfortunately. This leaves us frequently drained and oftentimes wanting to be loved as we love others - wholeheartedly, unreservedly.

We are always taking care of others. It would be nice if someone took care of us, for a change; for it is hard to muster the energy to be good to our own bodies, much less pamper ourselves (and if we do something for ourselves, it is usually too self-indulgent to be considered healthy).

It is a dangerous state of being for it often leads to decisions that are dodgy and absent of true wisdom. Here is where prayer, or spending time with the man who loves me in the way I want is vital.

Jesus time is my protection against temptation, my own failings, blind spots, deep frustration, bitterness, unforgiveness and despair.

In May Gibbs' world of gumnut babies, there is a character named Little Obelia who is renowned for her wisdom. Whenever she needs clarity or insight, she retires to her thinking room and counts her pearls in solitude.

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Like Little Obelia, prayer time is my time to count my pearls. To see where it was in the day that God's Spirit was present and to give thanks for those sacred moments.

And if there is something that caused me distress or of which I cannot make sense of, then, somehow, prayer alters my perception so that I can view it with more objectivity, kindness and patience. My outlook is transformed. As William Blake wrote, my cleansed doors of perception allow me to see infinity. Thus, I am not so sour, jaded or POed.

It is at times like this, when I am deadly tired and given to grouchiness and dark thoughts that counting my pearls is as necessary as breathing.

I become centred. I am given night vision. My heart is eased. All because I allow Him to show me how much He loves me.

He is my prayer pearl of great price. 

Desert leanings

The season of Lent can be likened to a desert experience for we are called to make prayer, fasting and alms-giving the focus of our lives during these 40 days before Easter.

It is a call to give up the indulgences of "soft living" and pay attention to the poor, sick and needy among us. To reflect on how love can be self-sacrificing to the point of death and to wonder if we ourselves are capable of such depths of love. 

I haven't been as attentive as I would like in allowing the stillness of prayer to permeate my being, and I should, for it is an opportunity to be refreshed, nourished and strengthened, as Father Adrian reminded me last week, when I choose the better part, which is to sit at the feet of our Lord quietly. 

However, when I do allow myself to be mindful of the Lord's presence in my life, I have been rewarded with the ability to be grateful for small mercies and to be awed by how He can use me to make a significant difference in someone's life.  

For me, Lent is a time to say yes in an even bigger way to finding out who I am and what I am made of - to test my own limits and to challenge myself to go beyond my comfort zone. 

At the heart of Lent is the call to be more human. To find my place in this world and to claim it with courage, fortitude, discipline and zest even though I may be scared, alone, thirsty and tired.  

  

As I face a daunting week ahead of me, I know that my best choice this week is to enter the desert frequently and allow the silence to be transformed into the living water that sustains me.  

Gratitude and forgiveness revisited

Today I was paid an indirect compliment by my Third Aunt which is a rare occurrence for affirmation is not common practice among old school Asian families.

I have been spending time with her lately, helping her recuperate from a tumble down the stairs she took a month ago that has left her with two fractured vertebrae and a couple of cracked ribs.

Apart from the fact I genuinely want to see her get better, I am also motivated by something else, that through my visits to my aunt, I can still actively love and honour my father who always placed his family above his own comfort.

Every time I visit his sister, he continues to be alive and well in my heart for I know visiting Third Aunt would have made him happy, if he were still here. This, for me, is a great consolation.

Although we did not have the most equable father-daughter relationship, I am grateful for all he has done for me, something that only now in his absence do I truly appreciate, and therefore try to honour.

Martin Seligman, a proponent of positive psychology, believes people can learn how to increase their happiness quotient. In his book Authentic Happiness, he identifies in chapter five two ways of bringing "feelings of the past" into the "region of contentment and satisfaction".

"Gratitude amplifies the savoring and appreciation of the good events gone by, and rewriting history by forgiveness loosens the power of the bad events to embitter (and actually can transform bad memories into good one)."

My father was wonderful in many ways, but was, at the same time, an ogre to live with frequently. Making the conscious choice to forgive him when I was in my late twenties was possibly one of the best decisions I made in life for it enabled me to empathize with him and thereby judge him through different and kinder eyes.

Forgiveness allowed me to have a better relationship with Dad until his death: I was thankful for the good days as and when they presented themselves, and I was able to draw out lessons from the bad ones once I let go of my anger and bitterness.

As Seligman proposed, forgiveness and gratitude do point the way toward happiness. For Christians, the concepts of forgiveness and gratitude are far from revolutionary. Jesus espoused both in His time and encouraged us to do likewise. Not just because it is the better choice that will lead us to heaven, but rather it was part of His plan to give us life to the full. So that we may experience contentment, peace and happiness.

Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.