Christmas Eve, and my mind is whirling.  It has been for a few days now.  I keep thinking: “What exactly do I believe?  What is it that keeps me ‘positive’, hopeful (full of hope)? Am I just a “Pollyanna” who lives with rose-colored glasses?  Why is it that I find myself inside of Joy and Love, more than sadness or death?  Is it that my life is so much easier that others? What do I really believe about life?

So, this morning, I feel compelled to sit down and write—to perhaps organize my thoughts, put them down on paper, in black and white, to somehow sit with them, to test them, to see what is Truth for me.  And this is what I’ve come up with so far.

I have not always been a happy-go-lucky Pollyanna.  Ask my husband.  For years, Jim has asked the perpetual question, “Did my lady have fun today?”  And for years, my wry reply has been “The point of life is NOT to have fun.”  But something has happened over the last few years, and there is a current of joy that seems to continually flow through my life these days.  And, “Yes Jim, I seem to have more fun now-a-days.”

So, why?  How did this happen?  Jesus said, “I have come to give you life; life more abundant.”  One of the fruits of the Spirit is “joy”.  Abundant life and joy have been missing most of my years.  But over the last few years, something has changed.  For the most part, I love living my life.  I enjoy being Sheila Conner.  I enjoy my relationships, and I’ve even fallen in love with “the world” around me in some crazy kind of way.  Just last week, I told my massage therapist, “I love my life, and I feel so loved. I live in a universe that is love. I am cared for, and I know it.  Why do I ever doubt tomorrow—I have never been left alone.” So, what??? Name it, Sheila.

I believe in God – not an old white man “upstairs”, nor a “God” out there, who has a white beard, but I believe in a Universal Presence/Intelligence that is trustworthy and ultimately good.  I believe in a Good Presence that permeates time and space, and even matter—It permeates even the cells of my own body so that I cannot tell where It begins and I end—yet, It exists without me, even though I cannot exist without It. This Universal Presence is LifeSource, Ground of All Being, Love, and I live and move and have my Be-ing inside this Source, even as It lives and moves and has It’s Be-ing inside of me.

I believe it takes more energy to resist this Flow of Life than it does to open to it and allow it.  But, resist it I can.

I believe Life needs a reference point, so what is my reference point?  Jesus.  Wow…It always seems to come back to the Man we know as Jesus (who’s birthday we celebrate tomorrow by the way).  Jesus always has been, and I guess at this rate He always will be, my reference point.  I may love the Black Madonna, the Goddess, Mary Magdalene, Sophia, Hagia Sophia, but even them I love and embrace in reference to Jesus.  He has been all things to me: Father, Brother, Friend, Companion, Husband, Lover, Spouse, Partner, Teacher, Way Shower, Truth Giver – all things.  When I come back to Center, it is always in reference to my relationship with Jesus and his journey to the cross, the ultimate reference point.  When I lose my focus, I see hundreds of partials, with fly eyes; but when I come to Center, connect to Ground, my eyes refocus and my experience of Jesus becomes once again my reference point.

I believe my Ground is Love.  That’s where my roots go—straight down into the richest of soil, Love: God’s great love for me and for all sentient beings.  I am rooted and grounded in the Goodness of Ultimate Presence.

And Love requires me to let go of the old stories that perpetuate the story that I am a victim.  As long as I keep repeating the old stories of who has wronged me or what has gone wrong in my life, those old stories remain alive; they take on a life of their own and become my reference point.  What may have been true 50 or 60 years ago is not necessarily true today.  What happened to me as a child or a young adult cannot continue to be blamed for who/what I am today. As an adult, I have not only the capacity, but the responsibility to become the Good Mother and/or Good Father to my wounded child, and to stop blaming others for the injustices done to me.  The old stories have to be broken open.  Cracks in the story have to appear…that’s how the Light gets in.

Recently one of my priests, Andy Parker, shared a poem with our Centering Prayer group:

Prayer at Winter Solstice

Blessed is the road that keeps us homeless.

Blessed is the mountain that blocks our way.

Blessed are hunger and thirst, loneliness and all forms of desire.

Blessed is the labor that exhausts us without end.

Blessed are the night and the darkness that blinds us.

Blessed is the cold that teaches us to feel.

Blessed are the cat, the child, the cricket, and the crow.

Blessed is the hawk devouring the hare.

Blessed are the saint and the sinner who redeem each other.

Blessed are the dead calm in their perfection.

Blessed is the pain that humbles us.

Blessed is the distance that bars our joy.

Blessed is this shortest day that makes us long for light.

Blessed is the love that in losing we discover.

 ~  Dana Goia, Image 73, Spring 2012

I find it so interesting that this poem blesses resistance.  It’s crazy, but it just might be that in blessing the resistance, our armor begins to crack.  I have a body that, thanks to fibromyalgia, feels resistance, even the slight tinges of it.  And as I’ve learned to recognize the resistance, to bless it, and to allow the resistance to relax inside of me, the walls of Jericho come down—thick, stone, armored walls of blame, rejection, anger, and fear seem to tumble, and in all that rubble, I can find Truth.  It is my own resistance to life and love that keep me inside any prison walls. On the other side of that brick wall is Love.  Love waits for me.

My truth, the one I’ve discovered over the last few years, is to bless the resistance, relax, and let the walls tumble.  Let the old stories go. Release the blame, and the light come in through those cracks in the walls.

There IS a Love stronger than death…It won’t die without me, but I shall die without It. And in Love, there is no room for blame anymore.  There is no room in this Inn for anything but Love and an open heart.

PS: This was written Christmas Eve morning, but I've been unable to post because my Internet has been off and on down.  But maybe there's another reason.  This post was written in response to an ongoing "conversation" with a friend of mine who has a very different experience of life than I do, and even as I wrote this, I knew I was still feeling resistance.  Over the last couple of days, I realized the resistance is that I can't fore-feed her my experience of Love.  I once more agonize with the 5 virgins of Scripture who were unable to give their oil away.  We cannot give our joy and our experience in God to someone else, especially if there is resistance to receiving the Good News.  And there's my own point of resistance.  There's got to be some place in the middle where we can meet and still relate, but I don't know how.  So for now, the only thing I know to do is wait, be still, breathe, and trust that the resistance - at least my own, will pass. I wish for my friend all things beautiful. I wish for my friend the joy of knowing the Lover of my soul. That's all I know how to do.