It’s hard to extend forgiveness if you don’t accept it

My entire faith tradition is wrapped around forgiveness and the desire for a relationship. God could’ve stayed in heaven, whatever that is. Instead, he chose to come be with us–not in a modern air-conditioned palace with servants and rich food. He came at a time when life was difficult and uncomfortable, to a place that’s not forgiving.

And he forgave us for what we did to him and what we do to each other.

Godly kindness is countercultural in this world. While the Bible may say the meek inherit the earth, our view is more like the villain from The Magnificent Seven, who said, “If God didn’t want them sheared, He wouldn’t have made them sheep.”

Though we all pine for forgiveness, for we’ve all screwed up, its a concept that’s hard to believe in. I struggle to believe in forgiveness for myself. I know what I’ve done through life. I know what I deserve. And I struggle to believe that anyone would want to untie me from that judgement.

Yet, as a Christian, that’s what I’m supposed to believe. If I don’t believe in forgiveness, it’s hard to truly forgive others for the their wrongs, both real and imagined. For me, it’s not an angry force field that repels any trespasser. To borrow a phrase from Simon and Garfunkel, I build walls, a fortress deep and mighty, that none may penetrate.

It’s a bleak, lonely way to live.

It would be better if only I believed in forgiveness. You can’t really extend what you can’t bring yourself to believe in.

I want to forgive. I want to tear down the walls of separation. I want to believe in that miracle. Because if I believe in it, I can extend it to others–and maybe help them have the courage to chip away at their walls.

Maybe it’s an answered prayer

In the Bible, Paul talks about the thorn in his flesh, the “messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.” Paul says he begged God three times to take it away. Each time, God said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.”

Thursday and Friday were difficult days for me. Saturday kicked my ass. I blew off family plans and stayed home. It was the third day in a downward trend. Fortunately, yesterday was better. Today’s a mix bag. I woke up with pain and went for a run. So far, I’m not paying for that decision. We’ll see how the day goes.

God has either allowed or sanctioned the pain in my body. It will most likely be with me to one degree or another for the rest of my life. It’s a cruel master, whose lessons are taught with physical pain, fatigue, brain fog, and self-doubt.

But the lessons are valid.

As a person, I’m still far to willing to judge others from afar. This one’s stupid. That one’s lazy. That one over there, he’s incompetent. I can wear all those labels and more when the Fibro hits me. Some days, I just survive, doing enough to keep the lights on, but little else, because I’m tired and my body pulses with pain. Saturday, I barely left the house. I’ve been on work phone calls when I’ve had to ask what was just said because my train of thought derailed in the middle of a sentence.

My affliction has helped me better see those character flaws in myself. It’s made me more likely to see the strengths in others. Until recently, I’ve never understood the true weight of being a caregiver. I’ve never understood the guts required for someone with a chronic illness or condition to just get by day to day.

I’ll never celebrate my Fibromyalgia. But I’ll never consider it a complete loss. I’m weakened by my experience. I won’t consider some previous activities because of what might happen. I’m more likely to stay home than I used to be.

But my eyes are opened to new things. And I appreciate a lot of the things I already have. Exercise isn’t a burden, it’s a privilege. Steady work is a blessing, even if the day’s a little difficult. I no longer take a pain-free day for granted, as something I deserve and am entitled to.

I don’t understand God, but it’s at least possible he’s using Fibromyalgia to make me see new things. If that’s the case, it’s not a loss. In some ways, it might be a roundabout answer to my prayers to be a better person.

If you keep at it, change is inevitable

The changes I wanted to make felt impossible, especially when I first started trying. Every effort seemed to end in abject failure. I wish someone had been around to tell me that if I keep working at it, the change I want would inevitably happen.

I used to be an angry person. My viewpoint of myself as a loser–a lower-level cog who could be replaced on a whim without anyone noticing–colored every relationship I had. It hurt me at work, and it shaded my interpersonal relationships in ways that still linger.

Every day I’d say this was the day I’d be different. And then something “bad” would happen and I’d fall short. It fed my viewpoint as someone who couldn’t possibly change. Then I’d wonder why bother when I’m this screwed up–and the cycle would perpetuate.

Except I’m not an angry person today. I’m a generally reasonable person who infrequently gets angry. Because I did the work. I showed up every day, even after I failed. I tried again.

A good deal of the change came from the fact that I got wonderful coaching along the way. You coach can guide you, but you have to do the work.

I did the work. I kept at it when it seemed hopeless. And I worked through the perception of others, something that always lags reality.

Whatever you’re trying (in vain) to change, keep at it. The change will come. You’ll fall short again and again on the way. You’ll feel like giving up.

Don’t. Just show up again. One more time.

Then make that a habit.

Look for signs of change and believe them.

We have more power than we can conceive.

When expectation leaves no room for gratitude

I wasn’t entitled to waking up this morning. I did nothing to earn any of the breaths I’ve taken since the start of the day. I didn’t deserve any beat of my heart since the calendar flipped.

I’m not entitled to the day going easily or to things working out in my favor. I’m not entitled to people cooperatively working toward a greater overall good.

I’m not entitled to mechanics or technology doing what they’re supposed to do. Or to people meeting their commitments.

I’m not entitled to my body acting the way I want. Or to being pain-free. I’m not entitled to my mind functioning in a structured fashion, to coherent thoughts or an ability to communicate those thoughts effectively.

I’m not entitled to affection, respect, or love.

All of those things are gifts. For society to function, we expect them. We need them. But we aren’t entitled to them. We aren’t entitled to our individual viewpoints and opinions being respected or embraced.

This isn’t a dour, pessimistic view of existence. It’s the opposite. It’s a realization of how little we’re entitled to and how much there is to appreciate.

It’s become fashionable to think that the world’s in a death spiral. If it’s not climate change or fascism that’ll doom us, it’s overbearing woke elites. There are threats everywhere. Your neighbor–the one who thinks differently–might be a bigger threat than the country aiming nuclear warheads at us.

In reality, when you consider what we’re actually entitled to and what we currently have, things are pretty damn good.

Entitlement’s a greedy, never-ending consumer of assumed rights. It’s a relentless, discriminating inspector of things, looking for any flaw to invalidate actions or efforts. Only then can we, the elect, be held up to the esteem we’ve earned.

When we deserve everything we have, and more, there’s no room for gratitude.

In reality, we’ve earned nothing. Our existence in the next moment isn’t guaranteed. It’s precious and valuable, a gift bestowed from whatever you consider to be its origin. If we aren’t entitled to even those basic things, how much room should we make to appreciate the things we assume will be there to make life better?

Seizing the day when the day’s not the best

If I’m honest, I’m not super excited about today. The Fibro’s been asserting itself, and I got acupuncture yesterday for the first time in about two months. If you’ve never done acupuncture before, there’s a hangover the first couple times.

Between them, while the pain isn’t off the charts, the lethargy score’s pretty high. I feel like there’s been a significant ass kicking. And the ass was mine.

Against that backdrop, today’s Daily Stoic Journal reading is a bit of a challenge. The theme is Carpe Diem. If you’re in my demographic, you can almost hear Robin Williams whisper it to his class. Seize the day, boys.

In the entry, he quotes Seneca, saying “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession.”

I’m not sure I want to possess today. I’d like to return is for a different day. This one is a mess. Given the fact that today will never come again, I almost feel like I got cheated.

Unfortunately, there’s no customer service desk to process a return. There’s no phone tree, leading (with luck) to a human. I can pick up the phone and say “Representative!” all I want and nothing will happen.

This is the day I have. Making life extraordinary means sometimes you have to do hard things on days when you’d rather not.

Seizing the day doesn’t mean you run a marathon while you’re sick. It doesn’t mean you go out and thwart evil, cure cancer, and make everyone’s life better at work. It means you take your limitations into account, do your best, and take care of yourself. It means you do some things you’d rather not do (stretching this morning was a bitch). You play your hand to the best of your ability.

You write a blog post mixing a bunch of metaphors.

It means you go to bed secure in the knowledge that you did your best.

I have to go into the office today. I might not last the entire day. If so, that’s okay. I’ll have done my best. For me, today, that would be seizing the day.

You never know how the day goes, but you’re not powerless

I felt good enough to go for a run to start the day. The run tapered off before I wanted it to. Now, I feel less-than-spectacular. Little lingering pains hurt a lot. And I’m much colder than I should be.

In a word, I feel frail.

But it’s a work day, so I have to make an attempt to do what needs to be done. And I might feel a better once I get some coffee in me and the day goes on. It could wind up being a good day.

In other words, you never know.

Most days, life goes on more or less as we expect it to. Nothing earth-shattering happens. But there’s no guarantee of that. Unexpected things happen–good and bad. The most you can do is prepare yourself, roll the dice, and move forward.

And remember that you’ve been through hard things. It’s not your first rodeo. If things go south, you’ve been here before. You know how to handle a hard day. If they turn out better than expected, that’s all bonus.

Either way, though you don’t know what’ll happen, there’s no need to be afraid. You have the tools and deal with what comes up. You get to make the choice how it affects you. Even if it’s hurtful and leaves a mark, you’ve been through that, too.

Though you never know, you have the power to decide how to react.

Your best effort is better than no effort at all

I really wanted to get a good strong run in this morning, but my body wasn’t having it. I wound up walking a lot more than I’d hoped for. In the old days, I’ve have called it the walk of shame and cursed myself for not finishing the job I set out to do.

Because of the Fibro, I have to listen to my body. When it says stop, I can test it a little. If it keeps saying stop, I need to listen. I didn’t listen one afternoon last August. I still haven’t recovered.

Today, that’s what my body allowed me. It was still my decision to get out and do the work. And I did. I was outside before 4:30 and I finished well before six. That’s not a losing effort. That’s not disappointment.

Though I didn’t get what I wanted, my only alternative was to skip exercise this morning. That wasn’t going to happen. My best effort is better than no effort at all.

If I keep running and my body allows it, I’ll get to the point of running long again someday. It’s okay if I don’t, though. The goal is to be active, not to set personal records for speed and distance. If that happens, so much the better. But it’s silly to throw shade on myself for something I can’t control.

I’m happy to do what my situation allows me to do. I’m grateful for the ability and drive. Nothing is gained by concentrating on what I can’t do.

Some Monday-morning thoughts about work

Time has blurred the details, but I spent almost two years functionally unemployed. It was a dark period for me. I had two kids and a mortgage and I knew I was supposed to take care of them. I lost my job in the dot-com bust, then just as the job market started to move a little, September 11 happened. It seemed like the unemployment would never end.

This morning, I’m struggling with motivation as I look at another work day–and week. Though I love the 30-second commute, it’s a little harder when you work at home all day and no one else is there.

Unlike that time, I’m paying the bills. We’re putting money away. Through a couple economic downturns and a global pandemic, my employer has kept giving me work and kept sending me money. I’m appreciated at work. Overall, things are good.

But I’m still dragging sometimes.

When you can’t do something, you recognize the blessings in that thing you miss doing. When you do it every day for years, you can forget what it feels like when you can’t participate.

Maybe work feels pointless as you dive into the week. Maybe you’re tired and feel like the weekend barely started and it’s already over. Maybe you just want to take a day and do nothing. All of that’s a part of earning a living over your life. It’s not unreasonable to feel that way.

But there’s value to working. And understanding what it’s like to not be able to work.

Suffering sucks, but it can help if we approach it right

The email subject line was provocative, almost cruel sounding.

Love someone? Let them suffer.

It was from Jordan Harbinger, a self-help guy with a podcast and all that. And while it seems like a horrible sentiment, if you strip away the initial emotional response, it’s not.

The natural inclination is to clear away as much suffering as possible for the ones you love. One could even say we have an ethical obligation to work as hard as possible to do that.

One would be wrong.

If there’s one guarantee, it’s that life can be hard sometimes. Even Jesus said that in this world we would know trouble. Trouble sucks. It hurts, physically, emotionally, in all possible ways. It would be lunacy to invite trouble. When it calls, we have the choice in how to deal with it. We can let it break us, or we can let it test us.

Same with the people we love. They’ll never know what they’re capable of if they don’t suffer and learn the lessons that come from suffering.

Note that the email doesn’t say to let them suffer alone. Sometimes the best you can do when someone’s suffering is to let them know they’re stronger than they think they are and that you’ll be there with them if things turn to garbage.

At Christmastime, I had a choice to make. I was allowing fibro and a busy schedule to turn me into a person I didn’t like. I could continue down the road or I could choose to change course. It hasn’t been easy. Some days it’s been awful. But I’m a different person than I was just four short months ago.

I still have dark patches–all of us do. But I’m choosing better. It took some discomfort to get me to that place. Suffering was the kindest thing that could’ve happened to me.

Blessings so plentiful you don’t recognize them

Last night, I slept fairly well in a climate-controlled house. On a comfortable bed. I woke up this morning and took my time easing into the day. Then I got up and exercised. It was warm out, but not overbearing. I couldn’t do as much as I wanted, but I was able to get out there. My Garmin tracked my distance, speed, steps, and number of calories.

Then I came home to my climate-controlled house and jumped in the shower while my sweaty running clothes were in the dryer. I drank potable water from one of the six places I can do that from in my house.

Then I settled in for the first of two days off in a row.

No matter what happens the rest of the day, I’ve been well and truly blessed with things I typically overlook.

I’m not alone in that.

We all have our own struggles. Sometimes the things that weigh us down bring us to our knees. Just existing causes what feels like unbearable pain.

But that’s not the only part of the story. We also have an almost infinite number of blessings, as well. They don’t make the difficult things easy–struggle is struggle. But they balance things out over time.

It’s something for me to remember the next time I get a Fibro-based ass kicking or have a difficult period in life–as we all do.