Self-centred universe?

In her upcoming book, Mary Jo Leddy, (Romero House Founder), writes on the empire of self that as Americans (she sees Canada as a colony of the US) have grown up knowing as reality. We believe that the world revolves around our country, our media, and by extension, our God, our perception and knowings of God, and even our personal lives. Everyone here lives in a self-centered world. She even points to Christian self-help devotionals that say before we can help anyone or do external works, we must know ourselves, as examples of the self-centered world. Her solution to this problem is to encounter the stranger, and welcome the stranger. When she helps people currently seen as refugees, she is pulled outside herself to serve, and then (hopefully) be transformed in the encounter.

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All of which, I would generally agree with, even before I read her second chapter this afternoon.

I fullheartedly agree with the radical proposition of Isaiah 58:6-8, that if we work for justice, our own wounds will heal. our own redemption will come.

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And yet, I am currently bound in my room with books and a computer. In my whole theory of giving up independence for Lent, I still remain in the centre of my newly constructed world. Where is the Lenten transformation in that? In the paradigm I've been working from (pre broken ankle), in order to extend beyond myself, I would need to do something. I would be the one "not hiding from relatives that need my help" and "sharing my food with the hungry". In that version of the paradigm, I am unable to perform those acts, and thus am unable to receive the salvation that comes with the dawn. I am living in a self-centred world. I am the centre of my space. People only come here to be with me. I will not encounter strangers here, I don't think.

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The solution I think, is to be open to seeing old people in strange ways, to welcoming the new dependent relationships. I need to be open to the possibility that the intern with whom I most often butt heads might be the one who visits me most consistently, who calls to check in daily. The culture that informs the interesting communication among our team is also dictating care and concern for me.

I need to be open to receiving the care and concern that my housemates offer. In redefining our roles to one another, my self should be open to be altered.

I need to be open to the possibility that I can accept gracefully whatever is given to me. I must trust that the godliness and salvation offered by Isaiah in the interchange are given communally, and that grace has many guises (most of which are quite humbling).

I do not earn love or favor, redemption or righteousness. I ought to exist beloved. Nouwen says I am God's Beloved.

On Observing Lent for the first time...

So what is LENT?

At Jesus' baptism the sky split open, the Spirit of God, which looked like a dove, descended and landed on Jesus, and a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, My Beloved, with whom I am pleased." Afterward, as told in Matthew 4:1-11, Jesus was sent into the wilderness by the Spirit. Where he fasted and prayed for 40 days. During his time there he was tempted by Satan and found clarity and strength to resist temptation. Afterwards, he was ready to begin his ministry.

(Speculation)

Maybe Jesus needed some time with God to sort through the major changes happening in his life. Maybe needed to get away from family, friends and the familiar routine in order to see God (and himself) more clearly. Perhaps he wanted some intentional time with God as he searched for direction and answers like you. Like Jesus, we may need to take some serious time to pray and listen for God.

(http://www.upperroom.org/methodx/thelife/articles/lent101.asp)

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Lent is coinciding with my mandatory bed rest. I'm taking it as an opportunity to think about things. I haven't decided exactly what merits so much thought, but its quite possible that my leg will be in a cast for at least the 40 days from Lent, so I guess that its a good opportunity to give up independence for Lent. Instead of all the things that keep me busy, keep me happy, keep me connected, I'll be dependent on new people, on new things. I'm trying to be positive here and frame it as a spiritual practice to keep me from going stir-crazy.

One would think that independence would naturally be curtailed by living in community. To a certain extent, it is. My life is definitely defined by living on $150 a month, by living with the people I work with/for, by not being able to afford a cell phone. However, I would say that prior to this year, I wasn't dependent on money, my friends, or my cell phone. Being here has perhaps grown that independence, but it was definitely already present. When I was in my terrible twos, my favorite thing to say was "NO! Neeny do it self!". I didn't like people helping me when I was perfectly capable of doing something (or figuring out how to do something) on my own. I don't like being dependent on money, on people, on technology. I like standing alone on a street corner and walking to wherever I want to go. Sitting in a park. Being in a coffee shop thinking my own thoughts until I'm ready to go to the next place. I like planning events, and telling other people what to do, organizing community so that everyone is included.

But now, I've gone off and broken my fibula. I'm stuck in bed until the swelling goes down significantly, and then I'll still be in a cast after that. A cast that can't get wet, that can't rest on hard surfaces. Like it or not, there are a lot of things that I am physically not capable of doing on my own. I might be able to figure out a creative way to make things happen, but I'm currently feeling the effects of trying too hard the three days before I got my cast. So for now at least, I'm being uncreative, and I'm lying helpless in bed. For the next week.

I am dependent for meals, I am dependent for interaction with real people, I am dependent for help going anywhere other than the bathroom and the kitchen next door. I have one leg that I can hop on.

And yet, it is good to be dependent on my community. I know that they will probably get tired of me, and I know that everyone else has such busy lives. For now though, I am incredibly thankful for the three phone calls a day I get from one intern. I am thankful for the friend who visited for an hour this afternoon. I am thankful for my six year old neighbor who came and brought me a little creme cake think (ala Twinkie but flat), and her two favorite dolls to keep my company while she is in school tomorrow. I am thankful for my mama and my daddy. and I am SO thankful for facebook connections and best friend messages.

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Lent is the perfect season of the year for solitude and self-reflection. As we spiritually journey into the desert, Lent is a time to reexamine our boundary lines and get realigned, set in right relationship with God and the world around us.

http://www.upperroom.org/methodx/thelife/articles/lentsimplicity.asp

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I apparently will spend a bit of time in solitude and self-reflection. I think it might be healthy for me to get realigned with the adult me, figure out where I stand (lay? recline? hobble?) with God and the world. (sidenote: I think the Catholic influence here has gotten me into the Christ-above-culture paradigm in terms of how I think of God. i kinda like it.)

I ought not be afraid of time alone. I ought not be too busy Doing Things to take a step back and think about Being someone, and Thinking Things (that can't be real, at least not at this point in time). I think that I need to engage in the abstract world, as something real too. Because at least for now, I can't really engage fully in the physical world here as much as I could with two working legs.

Or maybe its a time to engage with this community in different ways. Encouraging people? Asking for a Spanish tutor? Appreciating the giftedness, love, and steadiness of all the residents who care for me.

I don't want to shy away from theology either. Although I feel quite nervous looking it straight in the face and pronouncing opinions. I am a bit shy post-Whitworth, but RH conversations keep the thoughts flowing. Maybe its time to put some out on "paper". ...its just that I prefer living my convictions so much more than entering into any kind of silly debate... anyways. If I'm to take Lent seriously, and dig for some deeper profound meaning in my bed-rest time, I think it ought to include God. somehow. and I think I ought not be shy about trying to extrapolate what it is that I've actually learned, and how (if at all) I'm actively changing, and growing.

I think I still am the luckiest girl in the world. This could be the best place to be stuck in a cast that I've been to yet. I think that it will all be okay in the end. :)

On Being Blessed by a Broken Fibula

I've known for a while that I live in the best house at Romero House. The past few days have solidified the proof. On Saturday evening on my way to grab some food at Wanda, I put on flip-flops because it was raining, and I love walking in flipflops in the rain... If only I had gotten that far...

Somehow I slipped on the steps going down my front porch, and caught one foots flipflop with my other foot, and stretched and spun my right ankle in all sorts of painful directions. After a brief string of expletives, I threw my books and movie (that I had been carrying) onto the porch, and slowly crawled up the stairs. I hobbled to the door and rang it until one of my neighbor-friend-ladies answered it, and helped me in. The two friends from the first floor ran around, found me ice, tylenol, and entertained me with stories of their sprained ankles and backs for a couple hours.

Intern Thomas came a while later and looked at my injury. We decided together that it was probably just a sprain, and it wasn't worth the wait at the ER.

My ankle swelled bigger and bigger, and we watched cheesy W-channel movies. That night, Thomas and I hobbled up the stairs. He held my leg up in the air, and I clung to the banister with one hand and his back with my other, and I hopped. boy did I hop. I hopped up two flights of stairs into my bed, and slept soundly until the morning. The next day I read in bed, ate delicious cereal, and then was brought breakfast in bed: potato pancake, and toast/ham/egg sandwich.

Basically, I've spent my time with my leg elevated on pillows, reading good books, and eating good food that all these different people have brought me. My leg doesn't really hurt, unless I try to put weight on it, and I hop real good now.

I'm so blessed by all these wonderful people in my community. What more could I want?

I went to the ER this morning, driven by my roommate, and hung out there a couple hours waiting for xrays to be ordered/taken. Then, I took my crutches and made my way sweating to the other wing of the hospital, up the elevator, to meet my newest housemate: CAROLINA!!! she was born while I was sitting in the "fast-track" waiting room, at 11:24am today, weighing 2,8 kilograms, around 6 lbs.

I went back downstairs, talked to my lovely med school student who told me, yes, indeed, I had a broken fibula, and she took me over to the "fracture clinic" where I waited 45 minutes, and then asked how much longer, and was told 3-4 hours, to which I said "dang.", then the nice lady offered me a 7am appointment the next morning, telling me to come at 6:30, and then I'll be seen right away.

So, now I'm chilling at home, eating the delicious salami sandwich, amazing chicken/hominy Mexican soup, and hearty beef/noodle Slovakian soup, and chamomile tea made by someone else, and my director just called to see if she could bring anything over for me.

life is good.

in mj's words: what more can my jesus do for me today? lol

The world of Romero is quite all-encompassing. Since deciding to go home to Fresno, I've been off and on elated, but more than anything I've felt at peace. I know that its not for forever, but more than that, I know that I can trust my gut to know where I ought to go next with my life. I don't feel trapped by any form of long-term commitment, other than to promise to myself to continue to get my ass out of the boat when I feel a call to do something crazy.

A baby is being born tomorrow at my house; she will be born to a compassionate family overflowing in grace and calm. They have spent today together. Our house has thin walls, ceilings, floors, and a beautiful staircase that echoes everything said on any floor. Today my friends have laughed a lot, their daughter has sung, their son almost died from laughing in an intense tickling/wrestling match. I was supposed to be there tomorrow, in the OR for my friends caesarian. her husband is afraid that something will go wrong, and they won't remember how to speak English. I want to be there.

I am instead, planning to be getting my ankle x-rayed, because i appear to have badly sprained it, or possibly broken it. If I wake up in the morning, and I can get myself down the stairs, I think I'm just going to go to the ER. The weekend has been spent with various untrained coworkers looking at my ankle and deciding it doesn't look like it merits hours on end in an ER. I have been wavering on the subject, and have a pretty high pain tolerance, so I haven't insisted on anything. The other option is waiting until the walk-in clinic is open at 10:30 (or later? we don't know) and missing the whole thing at the hospital!