So, getting out of your comfort zone is uncomfortable. And I think it's unreasonable to think that you can just stay in the uncomfortable zone constantly. If you don't give yourself a break occasionally, you might just give up, snuggle up in your favorite chair with a good book, and not try anything new for years!
For those moments when you feel the need to comfort yourself and re-energize for your next excursion beyond your comfort zone, I suggest banana bread. I mean, who doesn't have a couple of overly ripe bananas laying around most days? Just throw them in a bowl and squish them up.
Then, add melted butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, baking soda, salt, and flour. Mix gently. Also mix together some sugar and cinnamon. Put part of the batter in the bread pan, sprinkle some of the oh-so-comforting cinnamon and sugar mix on top, then add the rest of the batter, and then the last of the cinnamon and sugar on top. Throw it in the oven for 45 minutes or so...
Voila!
Eat while it's still warm from the oven. Mmmmm...
There. Don't you feel better? Now get up, get out there, and do something new! Report back here for input and encouragement!
(Here's the recipe if you want it...it's a good one...throw in some chocolate chips if you're feeling the need for extra comfort!)
For several years, I had foolishly convinced myself that always sticking with the known, the familiar, the comfortable--my beloved routines--was a function of my somewhat introverted nature and my seemingly innate desire to live a simple life.
And while there is nothing wrong with routines or with living simply, these things should not be confused with living fully. To do that, you've got to get out of your comfort zone. Trying new things allows you to discover different aspects of yourself, and having this curiosity and courage is vital.
I had so filled my live with everything that was familiar and routine, I forgot to leave space for the unexpected, growth, challenging and thinking deeply about my beliefs, hope, possibility, wonder. And ultimately, developing and strengthening my faith.
I was placidly living my life, thinking I had it all figured out.
Amazing how something comes along to rock your world every time.
Most recently for me was my dismay over the number of people who voted for our current president, who is a malignant narcissist and represents the opposite of every value I possess.
As I emerge from my depression, I am recognizing that having your world view challenged is actually a good thing. I've been asking myself some difficult questions and realizing that, if my faith is so easily shattered, I have some work to do. But it's not meant to be easy, right?
Some of what I've been doing is connecting with different people and reconnecting with familiar people in new ways. I'm becoming a bit more outspoken about my views and more willing to share my fundamental beliefs, as well as emerging ones that are still developing.
For the foreseeable future, I'm resurrecting my blog to share and reflect upon my journey out of my comfort zone, and I hope you will tag along. Maybe share some of your own ideas and experiences (I'm always open to guest bloggers!). I also received some recent feedback that my previous blogs were a little dark, so I'm also hoping to lighten things up a bit!
So far, my first steps have been small ones...participating in a protest march...going out to dinner alone...planning my own birthday celebration...setting up some friends on a blind date...becoming a member of our local art museum...sipping a little moonshine...
I could go on, but becoming a member at the Appleton is where I'm focused currently. The extent of my artistic ability includes writing and singing. That's it. I love art, I appreciate art, but I have no ability when it comes to drawing, painting, etc.
My youngest son, however, is a budding artist. He went to several art camps this summer, and when I was looking at the offerings for the fall, I noticed my new favorite museum also has opportunities for adults. So, on a whim, I signed myself up for a pottery class, which meets at the same time that Ben will be taking his drawing/painting class.
I'm pretty terrified that, given my lack of artistic ability and general klutziness, it is going to go something like this...
I recently saw a post on Facebook of a friend visiting her parents' grave. She's from WV and knew my family when we lived there, and it crossed my mind to ask her if she would send me a photo of my mom's grave.
I pretty much immediately banished the thought from my mind. Quickly realizing that I shouldn't ask her to substitute my grief for her own. At least not at that moment in time, when she was clearly focused on honoring her own parents. I can be self-centered, and I'm on a quest to recognize, interrupt, and become more in tune to the needs of others. So, I put the thought aside and made a mental note to maybe ask her about it at a later, more appropriate time.
The next day, she sent me this photo. To say I was overwhelmed is to say the least. Apparently, she has never had the same struggle with selfishness that I have battled. Without my ever saying a word, she thought of me and knew that I would probably appreciate a photo. And I did. And still do.
I've only ever visited my mother's grave twice.
The first time shortly after her death. A teenage girl desperate with grief and no idea what to do with my overwhelming emotions. I lay on her grave, wept, and prayed for the ground she was buried in to swallow me up as well.
Then again years later when I took my husband to see her gravesite. A young adult embarking on marriage and motherhood. Overwhelmed by everything she and my children would never have. She would have loved being a grandmother. And they would have loved her.
Today, I have lived more than 30 years without her. I am older now than she was when she died. The scar on my face is a daily reminder of the tragic accident that took her life and changed mine forever.
The only wisdom I have are the same old clichés. Life is joy and pain. Fear, failure, regret. Courage, triumph, hope. Realizing that the little things are the big things. Appreciating the daily routines that seem unchanging but will not last forever. Not being afraid to try new things and take some chances. Don't stop until you have to. Life is short. Make the most of it...
Like so many, I've been haunted by this child, injured in the fighting in war torn Aleppo, Syria.
The sweetness of the six-year-old boy from New York, who wrote this letter to President Obama has also had such an impact on me. Especially the line where he says, "We will give him a family and he will be our brother."
One of my favorite passages in the Bible is from the book of Ruth, and somehow the cadence of the words and the sentiment expressed by this child continue to remind me of the lines that Ruth says to her mother-in-law that are also hauntingly simple and completely lovely.
Perhaps it is also the fact that these children, like Ruth and Naomi, are not connected by blood or country or religion or ethnicity. Just humanity and love.
The saga continues. Not wanting to just disappear, I met with my pastor, and ended up having an awesome conversation. As always, I am reminded that the world does not revolve around me. There are so many things that are so much bigger and more important, and I always appreciate the perspective. This meeting, of course, also allowed me to connect with another human being in a very real way, and now, I'd like to go back and eat a few of my previous words spoken in haste and the heat of the moment. He is truly called to the ministry and is facing his own struggles and challenges, yet he put that aside to listen and support me and was willing to be so open with me. What a gift.
But the truth still remains...to paraphrase John Pavlovitz (a really interesting pastor who I enjoy following on Facebook)...I'm feeling a bit like an outcast in my own skin.
The current church no longer fits, and I'm exceedingly anxious about trying on a new one. What do I owe to the church family who welcomed me back to the church? What do I owe to my growing recognition that my views don't fit and aren't really nurtured here? Do I speak and try to change things, or do I move on to a place that is more in line with my beliefs and values? How do I best serve God?
So I'm in limbo. A time of discernment. Wishing I was just quietly following my familiar routine. Realizing it had become a rut.
I am usually the type to become quieter and quieter, more and more withdrawn. It's like I wish I could just disappear.
However, this time, painful as it may be, I'd like to try to do things a better way.
Part of my nature is to be quiet and contemplative, especially when I'm troubled or faced with a major decision. I don't really gossip, though I may reach out for advice and guidance to a trusted few.
Now that it is clear to me that God is leading me in a new direction, I need to tell those who are important to me, and to whom I am important, that I am going. And I'm praying for the right words. The right time.
So that I can be honest without resorting to gossip or cruelty.
Clear without reducing this decision to game-playing.
Resolute so that they can understand this was not a decision made lightly but only after much prayer, thought, and heartache.
Kind so they know my love for them is not diminished.
And then I will need courage to take the next steps. I am such a creature of habit. I love my routines, the knowing, the sameness. Adventures terrify me. It would be easier to stay, yet at the same time, impossible. This place is no longer my place.
I've been attending the same church for years, and I'm attached to the people, especially my choir friends, but more and more I am realizing that it is not the best fit for me. While I love a traditional service and hymns, I am progressive in my views, and more and more I feel the need to be engaging with others who feel similarly.
Today, the pastor talked about immorality, and he used Terrance McNally's play, Corpus Christi as an example of immorality in this country, and the congregation was gasping and shaking its head right along with him. I was the only one sitting there cringing and contemplating leaving.
I'm not even that familiar with the play, but I am so grateful to live in a country with our Constitution, and I am a huge fan of the 1st Amendment ("Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."). Sitting in church this morning, I was struck by the irony...the same amendment that allows us to gather together and worship in the church of our choice also protects Terrance McNally and his play and those who choose to actually watch it before condemning it. God, this is a great country!
And more than the idiotic use of this play as an example of immorality, I was struck by all the much more disturbing examples of immorality that could have been mentioned but were not. For example, early in the sermon, the pastor gave a lengthy list of the vast quantities of junk food that are consumed in this country each day; however, he failed to mention the number of children living in poverty in the U.S. (15 million, which is 21% of all U.S. children), the number of people who die of starvation every day in this world (21,000, the majority of them children), or the number of children living in war torn countries (more than 1 in 10 children), while we blithely go about our business. Now THAT is fucking immoral.
I have a hard time believing Jesus is too worried about Terrance McNally's play, as I am certain He is far too busy weeping over all of those poor, hungry, injured, and terrified children. But that's just my opinion. It is also my opinion that the reason so many people are so irritated with "Christianity" is because far too many so-called Christians are more interested in judging others than in actually following the example of Jesus Christ. From what I can tell, He was interested in healing the sick, feeding the hungry, comforting children, and loving and accepting the marginalized.
