misunderstood his inner life

     When I was in my thirties I was in Des Moines, Iowa; working thinking breathing. Making a name for myself. An artist through and through, not able to support my family from the portraits I painted. Instead, spending my nights vacuuming, emptying trash, stripping floors, waxing, and doing janitorial work. Church wise, I was outside the denomination of my birth, hearing other lingo, other ways of praising God, other ways to pray, other ways to be. And drawing my new conclusions.
     One of which was toward my dad. I could not perceive his inner life.
     For his part, there seemed to be a lot of doing, making, and drawing attention to what Dad did.
     I misunderstood his relationship.
     What was inside.
     I wrote long letters to Nebraska to dad, arguing. My passion was seen as anger. I didn't see his connection to God. It wasn't all the new ways I was experiencing God in Des Moines. It wasn't the songs we were singing. It wasn't the rhythm we were swaying to. What had been familiar to me growing up in my parent's church, looked more and more foreign. Distant. Out of touch.

     Now I am the age my dad had been, looking back at photos so young and lively, so engaged. The way Dad operated back then was really hidden from my young eyes. Dad's thinking came out of listening to the One who makes. Dad drank in the sacred scriptures, musing, listening, wondering. His inner being shaped by the One who names and treasures the seeking soul.

     I see it now. Deep praises pressed into treated wood, burned by a red-hot welded letter, something Dad himself created
for branding.

    Always near,
        hovering, close,
            pulling Dad into the next
   set of problem solving,
        which later manifested itself
            as a mosaic panel
               or a candle holder
      or resembled a cross shape.

Lemteyoso
This same Lord, this same baptism, this same Word
        hovering, close,
        drawing my moments into His gaze, His study and
         feeling His emotion for me
being known, His heart stirred stirs me

Lemteyoso
    in the act of making
        the LORD draws close
        to uncover His feelings for me
     "you are not forsaken,
                   not alone,
                   not abandoned"
the way His Wind BREAKS into moments of NOW
  to catch me once again
     for me He is active - alive - intent -
        - generating emotions of gratitude for His Son

    this pulse of Another
      initiating in me - hope - joy - longing 

    makes a way   to belong to Him
    makes it possible   to know His thoughts
    balances the weight of these photos I am sifting

Peter, Cole, and Me

"How are you now?" he asked me, during the question and answer time.  I looked at my basketball teammate from recess and replied, "I know where to get help now. As a grownup I do get mad from time to time, but I have learned how to handle it." The blonde fourth grader went on, "You are just like me. I have anger issues too and I am working on them here."

Our group had finished listening to the book "Touching Spirit Bear." Ms. Price and Ms. Allen had read chapters to us after we came in from recess each day.

The author Ben Mikaelsen told about the struggle of two juveniles, Cole and Peter, on a remote Alaskan island. Pain and anger, justice and healing were central to that story. Near the end Cole and Garvey helped Peter deal with his feelings. The scene where Peter cried uncontrollably and was held in the arms of Cole meant a lot to me.

The two teachers I work with in the Behavior Management Program had me speak to the group today about an art collage on the wall. After discussing the street materials I used in the collage, I tied the image to Peter and Cole.

I too had anger issues growing up. Anger at my parents, anger at myself, holding on to grudges, wanting to get even. The hurt caused by words did take longer to heal than physical cuts do. (Something Garvey told Cole in the story) For me, the feelings had been stomped down inside. Mom could blowup at our house, but I could not. Bitterness shaped how I related to others. Then, help came. Twenty-five years ago painful feelings resurfaced in my life and I cried many tears. There were shoulders for me to cry on. Tears were a good thing. They have become a treasure. When the pain was pushed out, it was replaced with peace, lots of peace and healing. It also brought JOY and HOPE into my grownup life. I came to forgive myself and others.

When I gaze at the collage I think of an explosion, things flying through the air in a freeze-frame. It reminded me of the help I got. In the center was the butterfly, the One-who-gave-me-help, and all around was the glitter, his activity, breaking off problems that were bigger than I could handle, huge things beyond my control. I think of the JOY and HOPE, the people who helped me through it, the holy spirit and his reply, his answer, his deliverance. Real time, real life, real rescue, real help.

One of the classroom posters told us to use our words to say what we FEEL. Writing about the anger helps. Drawing about it helps.

 

The laminated blue poster on the wall has three life goals in our classroom. 1) I CAN take good care of myself, even if I am mad. 2) I CAN be okay, even when others are not ok. 3) I CAN be productive and follow directions, even if I am mad. (BIST)

 There was one collage on the wall I had not talked about. Students could check it out sometime, touch it carefully, but not tear any of it off.                                                         Consider these two questions. 1) What materials might it be made of? 2) How does it make you feel? Dark? Sad?

It was then I took questions from the group, seated at tables, at cubicles, in the recovery room, sitting on chairs. Today.

 

 

(Book cover courtesy of Ben Mikaelsen website, http://www.benmikaelsen.com/books_touchingspiritbear.html, Ben Mikaleson Audio Interview at Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_Mikaelsen, BIST (Behavior Intervention Support Team) poster quote, http://www.bist.org/components/com_virtuemart/shop_image/product/Goals_for_Life_P_4b27084d807e8.jpg,  More on BIST and OZEMAN, http://www.ozanam.org/, accessed March 21, 2013)

june thoughts

      in this third week of june the "ease of blogging" has been disrupted. the fred geary presentation, the completion of the six color reductive linocut, photos stuck in a hard drive of a dead computer, all of it disconnected.XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX   joys come inspite of this circumstance. ~~~Thank you for protecting me from snakes as I move down the levee into the wild areas. You keep my truck safe. You watch over my tires. You give insight and keep me from getting stuck. You lead me to a pleasant grove with mulberries juicy and ready to pluck and enjoy. This is your abundance, this is your joy over me, a hidden delight  with you, your hands involved--I am not forgotten. Trees tall going up up up, sand, and shade,  just what I was hoping for, you lay it at my feet. You keep me safe, Jesus. Thank you for your constant attention.---
       This day I paint the surface of the river, the wind roars around me like a dragon, do I run now? No harm comes near, I remain and paint with my ears on alert for danger.---
       Before I fall asleep, you hear me. "Wake me up at 6 in the morning. Make me wide awake." Six o'clock comes and my eyes are open, ready to go out to paint. You answer. You enable. You travel.--
      With us, we work, we paint the donut window with dancing donuts, Jan's logo, her blue cup and brown donut and rising sun rays, yes, you make this pair, this team, click and work cooperatively, enjoying her, getting the work done, going forward, we help, we laugh, window colors in enamel, your YES glistens in our eyes---
     Surprised by a friend who remembers me, recalling our early days of service at the local newspaper. Your joy sweeps across my face, laughter, your YES, your happiness, welcome here.--
     Saturday morning I meet the one you picked out, the man from Texas, who will lead us forward into tomorrow's technology. You arranged for the agreement to take place, Jesus. One month later this comes forth, from the unseeable future, HERE HE IS, your gift to the Print Society, wow, look at that, wow.---
     Father, you hear. In the unevenness and uncertainty, among my garbage, inspite of my gripes and whines, you bring your surprises right now. Savior, Near, my Vast Intensity Joy Undivided.

In 1987 my wife and I were headed out to the state of California, when my mother in Nebraska gave me this advice: seek out information about Adult Children of Alcohlics. And I did.

1. Adult children of alcoholics guess at what normal behavior is.
2. Adult children of alcoholics have difficulty following a project through from beginning to end.
3. Adult children of alcoholics lie when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
4. Adult children of alcoholics judge themselves without mercy.
5. Adult children of alcoholics have difficulty having fun.
6. Adult children of alcoholics take themselves very seriously.
7. Adult children of alcoholics have difficulty with intimate relationships.
8. Adult children of alcoholics overreact to changes over which they have no control.
9. Adult children of alcoholics constantly seek approval and affirmation.
10. Adult children of alcoholics usually feel that they are different from other people.
11. Adult children of alcoholics are super responsible or super irresponsible.
12. Adult children of alcoholics are extremely loyal, even in the face of evidence that the loyalty is undeserved.
13. Adult children of alcoholics are impulsive.
They tend to lock themselves into a course of action without giving serious consideration to alternative behaviors or possible consequences.
This impulsively leads to confusion, self-loathing and loss of control over their environment.
In addition, they spend an excessive amount of energy cleaning up the mess.
 
(Characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics, by Janet Woititz 1983 courtesy of http://www.coachmaria.com/12steps.html, accessed Nov 20, 2011)


While living in southern California and going to school at the Lutheran Bible Institute of Anaheim, I attended an evening New Hope program at a church. I learned about codependency in a christian setting and followed the 12 step program.
In 2011 when I look at "my walls" that were dealt with, there is nothing "simple" about them.

hide the pain
don't feel
don't share
fake it
crippled at birth
feeling unworthy

feeling unwanted
feeling abandoned
shamed
ugly
labled
being belittled

"you don't have the brains to do it right"
verbal and emotional abuse
"you can't expect to be loved unless you do this...

internal pressure from unrealistic expectations
"you can't meet my expectations unless you do it my way"

my own critical attitudes
being a jerk around others
being judgmental

ANGER at mom and dad

forgive attitudes of anger at yourself

choose to let go of bitterness towards parents

My private diary is full of unexpected break-throughs from a higher power.

This is as real as it gets.

When he breaks in... He is not embarrassed by what he sees.

He is not ashamed of what I am.
He is pleased with my inadequacies.

He embraces this porcupine. 

tears fall, I come undone, 

my mind unravels in his embrace, 

he gifts me with joy, he melts my resistance, 

his bathes my sores, he mends my wounds.

 

"You Embrace Me, How Can You??" 10 by 28 inches, acrylic on panel
Elsewhere art exhibit, All Souls Gallery, 4501 Walnut, Kansas City, MO. November 6th to December 2nd, 2011