Without Warning

trigger warning, n.  an advance notice for any content, usually violent, that might prompt a flashback, panic attack, or episode for survivors of trauma.

I venture into The Pocket University's selected readings for November 2. Perhaps next time I will read the section in which it is categorized before jumping straight to the page and diving in. A bit of a warning is sometimes helpful, and not at all a spoiler alert. But poetry has a way of couching hard subjects in beautiful settings, so anything remotely related to PTSD is softened.

Fifteen years have gone round
Since thou arosest to tread,
In the summer-morning, the road
Of death, at a call unforeseen,
Sudden.  For fifteen years,
We who till then in thy shade
Rested as under the boughs
Of a mighty oak, have endured
Sunshine and rain as we might,
Bare, unshaded, alone,
Lacking the shelter of thee.

excerpt from Rugby Chapel (1867) by Matthew Arnold

A quick summary based on a single reading:
As I proceed through the lengthy poem, I come to understand it is about a father by a son who describes both the character of the father and himself, the ways they differ, and his admiration for the father's life of inspiration and integrity.

My response:
This poem is not about my life. The similarity? I have a father who died. I can identify with a number of descriptors in the poem, and am deeply satisfied with the metaphor and imagery. But it is not my life.

Too often, much too often, those of us who have experienced pain (can I see a show of hands for anyone who hasn't?) begin to make everything about ourselves. Pain is excessively egocentric. I know that when I'm in it and still can't find my way to suffer in silence. Others can. Yet we must work our hardest to stop looking at everything and everyone we encounter through the lens of "how does this apply to me?" or "how can this help me?" or "how will this make my pain worse?"

Some poems are not for you. Some poems are not for me. Some movies, places, parties, churches, events, facebook debates, books, or stories are best avoided and I try to do so by screening content before I'm immersed in it and have to walk out.

Unsolicited advice:
1) If you are a survivor of trauma, avoid highly intense, dark, or morbid "entertainment" and situations. Movies, dark themes for parties, emotional music (even when beautiful) drain our emotions and energies beyond our capacity to self regulate our reactions.

2) Don't absorb or assess every situation as if it's about you. Most times it's not. Everyone is doing their best in their current circumstance to share their stories, and recover from them.

3) Let's aim for wholeness. Don't associate with that which takes a piece out of you.

That's it for today. Be careful out there, my friend. Your heart and soul need your protection.

Apples of Gold

“It really makes me sad to see you speak so harshly to yourself.”

I looked at his face, tender with concern. Harshly to myself? What had I said?

“I pray I will know when to speak and when to shut my mouth.”

It was, on the surface, a genuine concern to only say what is helpful. To not speak in unhelpful or hurtful ways. To carefully choose my battles and determine which hills to die on, then speak with the right attitude and in the right tone of voice. Because we know that it’s not so much what you say but how you say it that leaves the listener remembering how you made them feel. For goodness sake, I even pray about this sort of thing. And I sometimes decide not to speak when I listen to the still, small voice which cautions me to be still.

I had said the first part in a normal voice: “I pray I will know when to speak.” Speak up for those who have no voice. Speak peace into a troubled heart. Speak encouragement for the weak one. Speak up when I have been wronged. I’m still learning how to do that last one without being a prickly pear.

But when to shut my mouth? Ah, that I said with a snarl and a curled lip. A self-flagellation for every time I spoke out of turn, spoke too loud, spoke unkindly, hurt someone, accused someone, berated someone.

It takes me right back to Grade Eight science class when Bruce and Gerry gave me an unflattering nickname: Meramac Cavern Mouth. They were my friends, we sang together. I liked them. We teased each other. But I was loud and they poked me for it, choosing the largest cave in the state as my namesake.

Yes, I was loud in Junior High. I was obnoxious. I was funny. I was busy. I was a singer. I was confident. I was sometimes insecure and I was trying to find my place in the world, just having experienced my first kiss.

That was awkward and gross. I didn’t know what to do with that icky feeling. So I redirected it in anger against the boy who tried it and to my best friend and her boyfriend who goaded us into it. Sitting on the cold floor of her parents’ garage, we two couples, all the early side of 14 years old, decided to explore kissing. And it was a bomb. I was embarrassed. Was something wrong with me? Was it him? Neither one of us knew how. I was disappointed that I’d chosen poorly and I could never get “my first kiss” back. It was gone and now it would forever be engraved in history as a bad mistake I made with a pudgy Grade Seven boy.

What followed was my first experience with really hurting someone with my words. I broke up with the boy and decided I didn’t want to be friends with my best friend any more. I made unkind remarks about her to others at school. The vitriol went on until one of the teachers called me aside to say, “I know your brother (a teacher in Grade Six) and I know your family and I know they didn’t raise you to act like this. You are being a bully and it needs to stop.”

I did stop. I was embarrassed that someone had to take me aside like that, yet I was grateful because I knew he was right.

“The right word at the right time is like a custom-made piece of jewelry, and a wise friend’s timely reprimand is like a gold ring slipped on your finger. Patient persistence pierces through indifference; gentle speech breaks down rigid defenses.” Proverbs 25:11-12,15 (MSG)

My friend and I made up but it was always different after that. We had both been wounded and my words had left scars on us both.

The awkward, gross, icky feeling of Grade Eight surfaces every time I see that look in another person’s eyes: I’ve hurt them. I kick myself over and over for speaking at the wrong time or in the wrong way, even if what I said was valid. They couldn’t receive it because my timing or tone of voice was offensive.

As time passes, as I mature, I have earned a measure of success and respect for how I speak and what I write. But as many writers do, I write very carefully, wrestling long and hard over anything I put in print: to say it right, to say it well, to say it clearly. It can take an entire morning to write and publish one blog post. And I anguish over emails, writing and re-writing paragraphs to minimize any possibility of misinterpretation and still, it is sometimes misunderstood, the reader misses the point or fixates on one ill-chosen phrase.

I have no one to blame but myself.

Or so I thought.

In sober second thought, my rational mind can logically deduce that others are also responsible for their reactions. They hear what I have to say through their own background experience and emotional filters. They give different value, meaning and weight to my words than what I intended.

When another is offended, I can sometimes understand in retrospect how it hurt them, if they let me know. More often they don’t say anything. They just fade away. Not many people confront me about my words. Not many people confront anyone. It seems confrontation is avoided at all costs by a majority of us.

When that unsettled feeling rises, that subtle alienation after I say something intense, passionate or strong, I go away and analyze it. Replay the full conversation, maybe the entire event in my head more than once, guess at how it might have been interpreted (how impossible is that, since I’m trying to understand someone else’s filters through my own).

I know I am not alone in this practice. You do it too, perhaps?

So back to the original remark that started this all off. When I pray I want to know when to keep my mouth shut, I’m thinking of all that has come before. All the ways I’ve caused pain to the heart of another. That overbearing burden of being a person who so often wounds another, that somehow I should be able to not do that.

I should be perfect.

Or at least, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”

So I turn on myself. “Keep your mouth shut!” my inner critic snarls.

And the one who loves me best, who sees me at my worst, who has promised to love and cherish me until death parts us, tells me how sad he is to see that venom turned inward.

This is a shining moment in love, in marriage: the mirror held up by a loving hand to help me see clearly where I am self-cutting. The one who sees my heart, knows my life and moves to restrain my hand from the mea culpa.

“It is not only what you say but, more importantly, how you say it.”

Especially when you are saying it to yourself. Self-compassion is not selfishness. It is what makes it possible for us to live whole and compassionate in all our other relationships.

He goes on, “Ask yourself how you would speak to another person, and speak to yourself in that same courteous way.”

Words can heal and words can kill. Words wound and words give life. So, I will continue to pray about when to speak and when to be silent. Because silence is not always golden. Sometimes silence means consent or cowardice. In that case, speaking graciously is the most loving way to live in community with one another.

I’m so glad for the way another spoke healing words to me.

Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. Don’t grieve God. Don’t break his heart. His Holy Spirit, moving and breathing in you, is the most intimate part of your life, making you fit for himself. Don’t take such a gift for granted. Make a clean break with all cutting, backbiting, profane talk. Be gentle with one another, sensitive. Forgive one another as quickly and thoroughly as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:29-32 MSG

January Inventory

So much of what I'm reading online these days sounds like many of you are experiencing post-Christmas crash and crush from looking at all the coming challenges of the new year. A few stave off January darkness by snowbirding south or snowboarding north. Those who can't escape bear down to work harder or smarter, resolve to declutter, lose weight, exercise more, make a life plan, do this, do that - all good things - but the undercurrent carries the despairing sense that we've been here before and nothing is ever good enough to exact lasting change.

Some are obsessed with "doing", goal setting and comparing (10 ways to Declutter, Four Steps to Improving, 7 Habits, The Best Way to Do the Right Stuff for the Wrong Reasons). Or learned apathy drives others to refuse, rebel, or mock the "resolutioners" with cynical humour or outright Debbie Downer criticism.

The depth, cold and darkness of winter, creeping age, fatigue, chronic pain all take their toll. Yet we seek to do, be, act, live better because our very nature is imprinted with the creative drive to do so.

I write this because I recognize the cycle in myself. The bleak midwinter wants to bury me emotionally under the long nights and piled snow. I have found some specific actions have made a lasting change for me. These are habits of which I still must remind myself daily. There are apps available to help track and/or remind me of activities and goals. Change does not happen overnight and even after good progress is made, change in circumstances or relationships (job, death, birth, marriage, etc.) unearth areas that have not previously been addressed. I'll list the order in which I began to tackle my own problem areas, but I don't think there is a particular formula. This is not a "how to" but rather a "what helped me" blog post. Start where you are, where you feel you are ready (or completely desperate) for change.

A. Emotional Health

I started here about five years ago. There is no easy button, no quick fix. I just knew I was a mess. Angry, overweight, depressed, and in deep need of healing.

We cannot heal what we don’t acknowledge. I addressed this in a two-pronged approach: support groups and professional counseling. I realized I was powerless over compulsive behavior and the tendency to do the wrong thing. I would often lose my temper with family and others. I saw the toll this was taking on everyone. My life had become unmanageable and I realized I needed help. I attended Freedom Session, http://freedomsession.org/  a modified 12-Step group based on emotional healing and the power of God. It provided tools that helped move me forward from where I was stuck in my hurts, habits and hang-ups. I learned to get out of denial, stop lying to myself, stop the blame game and identify the original wound being triggered by current events. It helped me learn how to heal.

In addition, I had been seeing a clinical psychologist for a number of years, since my son was born. When I started in 1994, I was suffering from post-partum depression but it was undiagnosed for three years. Later on, I met with her on occasion when life got overwhelming. I continue this practice. A professional is trained to support you in ways your friends and pastor cannot.

B. Mental Health.

Professional clinical counseling is also a great aid in mental health and intellectual processing, and I also cannot emphasize too strongly the need for many to have medication which helps resolve the chemical imbalance of the brain which often leads to irrational thought. Just as we take medication to keep our blood pressure stable or insulin to help diabetic conditions or other medicines which replace functions of organs that may have been damaged, we also must see there is NO stigma to taking medication to help the most important organ, our brain, to function as it is designed.

If our brains are working as they should, then we can reason and learn and absorb and make effective, healthy decisions. One way is through reading experts or inspirational writing which educates and encourages us and helps us to understand and act differently, in ways that will help us rather than harm us.

I read two significant books which assisted me in understanding two key areas in which I was stuck: perfectionism and discontent. Brene Brown's book "The Gifts of Imperfection" helped me stop beating myself up for always falling short of my ridiculously high expectations. And Ann Voskamp's "1000 Gifts" was a dare to live fully by opening my eyes to the beauty right in front of me, large and small, every day. To see it all as a gift. “Nothing is a given. Everything is a gift.”

C. Physical Health

I saw my doctor on a regular basis, yet I often did not disclose to him the true nature of how I was feeling until I was in crisis. My late husband struggled with depression and anxiety and this greatly impacted our relationship. While I could not help him, I had to help myself. Like the airlines caution you about the oxygen masks, you need to put your own on before you help others, I needed to get better myself so I could be of any use to him. Sadlly, he refused to see a counselor, a medical doctor or to consider medication for his condition, and this ultimately resulted in his suicide.

I put depression and anxiety under the “physical health” column because I believe the majority of these conditions start from physical causes, not “wrong thinking” or “spiritual failure”.

I decided to see a Naturopath who specialized in food sensitivities. She identified my intolerance for wheat in all forms and I eliminated it from my diet. I experienced an immediate lift in my physical health. The chronic heartburn almost immediately disappeared. My hiatal hernia stopped acting up, except in high stress situations. The Naturopath also put me on a regimine of vitamins, supplements and natural remedies for stress and anxiety. I began to feel better than I had for decades. I also significantly reduced my intake of soft drinks like Coke, stimulants like coffee and replaced them with unsweetened juices, herbal teas, water or club soda. I also reduced my sugar intake, which reduces inflammation and cravings.

After eight months I was finally ready to tackle my body shape and fitness. I set before me the goal of health, not just a certain body shape or a target weight. Exercise to feel good, not to feed your ego. Physical exertion in safe ways releases reward endorphins in your brain which help you feel good. I jump-started my program by signing up with a personal trainer.  I would arrive at our session feeling down, tired, discouraged and invariably I would leave rejuvenated and happy. On Nov. 27, 2012, I posted: “Amazing, how being pushed past my own perceived physical limits by my skilled trainer helps me see how strong I really am. Feels good. Taking nothing for granted. So grateful for this new period of health.”

There are also direct links between my nutritional intake and my emotional and mental health. I must drink at least two litres of water per day and eat balanced, whole foods, minimizing prepared foods high in salt and sugar (hint: choose foods that don’t have an ingredient label). Don’t be obsessed by tracking any one thing or denying yourself. Any extreme is unhelpful. To eliminate or emphasize any one food group (i.e. low carb diet, vegan, high-protein, and so on) is to put ourselves at risk to physical, emotional and mental disease, not getting the holistic natural nutrition our body and mind need to live in optimal health.

D. Spiritual Health

I have always believed in the power of the scriptures, as the Living Word of God, to be spiritual food, a truth anchor in the midst of mood swings, or a thermostat that controls the emotional temperature of my life, a fertile garden where I can grow and gain wisdom. Two other significant books I read during this time were Brennan Manning’s “The Furious Longing of God” that helped me understand how much God pursues me, is crazy about me, and loves me completely. As you can understand, this goes a long way toward emotional healing as well as spiritual. The other book was “The Inner Voice of Love”. This is Henri Nouwen's journal from the most difficult period of his life, when he suddenly lost his self-esteem,  his energy to live and work, his sense of being loved, even his hope in God. Although he experienced excruciating anguish and despair, he was still able to keep a journal in which he wrote a spiritual imperative to himself each day that emerged from his conversations with friends and supporters. I found it not only resonated but encouraged me – a spiritual leader who was also depressed yet learned to see God and hear God’s voice in the darkness.

On Nov. 27 I also posted, “Some have lost faith because of terrible circumstances. Isn't that the time when you would most want to rely on God's strength, comfort, healing and love?” Please know that a few years before, I had nearly despaired and seriously questioned God’s love and goodness, due to very difficult circumstances of my life, but this statement shows the distance I had come in healing from that wounded place to the present moment of wanting to rely on God.

Little did I know that one week later my husband of 31 years would die by suicide. The presence of God in the moments and days following was so tangible, I could physically feel myself being held, covered, carried, by Love.

I don’t know where I would have been or how I would have survived if I had still been in the days of pain and denial. Sometimes these traumatic situations force us to a life change or a break down. I began reading the scripture again with renewed vigor, for all the strength I felt draining away in the crush of preparations needed to be restored. For months afterward I soaked in the trilogy of books written by Dr. David Benner: “Surrender to Love” which helped me discover the heart of Christian Spirituality, “The Gift of Being Yourself”, the sacred call to self-discovery, and “Desiring God’s Will”, which is all about aligning my heart with the heart of God.

Since those days two years ago, I have studied to become a spiritual director but found I am not yet emotionally strong enough to bear the deep burdens of others who are still in a very wounded place. I hope, one day, to delve more fully into this field.

E. Relational Health

Life is best lived in community. We clearly see what happens to those kept in solitary confinement. A supportive group of family and friends who encourage us, have the courage to care enough to confront us when needed, keep us accountable and point out where we might need to practice more healthy habits and behaviors.

I had two small groups: one of just a few women and a mixed group of six couples I/we met with on a weekly basis, some more often on a social basis: one on one for coffee and/or Bible study or just social time. They were my confidants, my soul-sisters, my brothers in Christ. I could tell them just about anything and know they would keep it in confidence, pray for me, help me work through it, even give wise advice if I asked. Several times, especially after my first husband’s death, I felt a great restlessness and was tempted to do something impulsive like quit my job or sell the house or run away. I would call one of those small group members and meet with them and they helped keep me steady. I am deeply indebted to each one who held me and helped me in my weak times.

So, there you have it. A long list of things I have done and continue to do. Through it all, I learned if I want to be different I have to BE different. Don’t continue doing the same things. Make the hard choice to do something more effective and keep it up, one day at a time, one step at a time.

F. Recreational Health

Finally, creative and recreational outlets are also important to having fun and getting moving in fun and enjoyable ways. I took up photography, glass fusion, swimming, hiking, camping, singing and renewed my writing, blogging and poetry. I even dabble in art and sketching and took a turn at scuba and parasailing. Others quilt, knit, crochet, cross-stitch, ride horses or motorcycles, snowshoe, ski, skydive, and the list is endless. These are the things that bring zest to life, the reason we want to be healthy – to enjoy all the good gifts in God’s beautiful creation.

I’m still in process, but I’m healthier now than I have ever been in every area I have discussed. I don’t take this for granted – I have to choose this every single day. I still battle areas where I haven’t yet had healing but I am so grateful for the life I have, the friends and family who support me and the God who created me to live in this kind of freedom.

I hope you might be helped by something here. If you have other books or practices that have helped you get unstuck and you would like to post about it in the comments, feel free.

Now go live and laugh and love.

Blessings,

Joyce

Still Reflecting

View from Moose (Alces) Lake Campground, Whiteswan Provincial Park, BC

A friend asked recently when I was going to start blogging again. She missed it and others missed it. Another person who is very close to me doesn't have any framework for why writing publicly about one's life is of interest to others. These two opposing perspectives also exist in my heart and head when I consider writing.

The answer to why I do or don't write is not so simple. I began blogging in 2005. It was a space to dump the jigsaw puzzle of my thoughts out onto the table of the Internet and sort through it all to make some sort of connections between both my thoughts and the lives of others. It was sometimes humour, sometimes angst, often juvenile and beginner level writing. I took classes to hone my skills, increase the complexity and accessibility of my poetry and articles and began publishing certain pieces. This is a life-long pursuit: to articulate that which the heart struggles to convey in hopes another will say, “Oh, now I see.” Or “You too? I thought I was the only one who felt that way.”

As a writer who was compelled to write, I used to say, "I simply can't NOT write" (and yes, I know that's incorrect grammar). In the processing of blogging and increasing Facebook posts and the trauma of losing my spouse of 31 years, a number of people began following my blog and Facebook page. I was both perplexed and grateful. Many are interested because they love me, many knew and loved my late husband, some are like-minded writers and bloggers, some are strangers who find a kindred voice. For whatever ways we may have found each other, I believe we share a resonance in matters of life, death, heart and soul.

David Whyte describes the phenomenon in this way: "You could say people are reading me like they read my poetry and they are following the unfolding of each chapter. None of us really knows how the chapter is going to proceed or what themes or characters are going to make themselves known."¹

One of my ongoing themes has been “busyness.” This is a challenge to every writer – the tyranny of the urgent which crowds out the more important issues of life. Early this year, I returned to full time work for the first time in twenty years. This, in and of itself, was a phenomenal challenge, as I was still emerging from grief in the extraordinary loss of my spouse and had not had a significant break from work since his death, all while trying to maintain a home, wade through legal and financial matters and support my son as a widow and single mom.

The very same week I began my new job, I had my first date with a very interesting man.

Since these two significant life events began, I've written very little about my inner life. Work and romance have filled my days. This has also made less room for photography, singing and poetry, along with my blogging, but they each have filled my soul in different ways, so I was not found wanting.

The job has a steep learning curve and high workload. It has only been the past couple of weeks as we have become fully staffed, where I feel I have finally hit my stride. Woken up, as it were, to the strength of my former gifts and found a rhythm with my duties and become comfortable in the dance of teamwork with my colleagues. It's inappropriate to blog about work, so there was nothing out of which to write there. Duties also included much editing and writing, so the compelling need to write in my spare time was lessened.

The budding relationship captures my remaining time and thought. The intellectual and emotional processing of a new relationship after such a wounding loss has been a significant draw on my emotional resources. The one great gift in my new love is that he also has experienced deep loss and is a few years further down the road in the healing, so can understand much of my pain and provide perspective from his own healing journey. He speaks peace into places of my life where I didn't even realize I was wounded.

Our ongoing relationship and subsequent marriage on August 30 has been a sacred space, and inappropriate to parade publicly before blog or Facebook followers. It is a place of wholesome, holy wholeness.

That being said, I am now at a place of personal contentment and joy beyond anything I ever anticipated. I could shout from the rooftops the incredible delight which this man has brought into my life; the beautiful sense of home we find in each others’ heart; the daily satisfaction of job well done as we put order to our household and find shelter in each others’ arms.

So, Jill, for you, I offer this blog. And for the rest of the family and friends (new and old) who wish to follow the unfolding of each chapter, I write this for you. I write it for the joy of finding that beyond shadow, beyond living to the point of tears, there is hope because a new day has dawned, a new chapter has begun.

It is only by God’s sweet mercy and generous grace that I am healing and becoming whole again. Human efforts are limited and skewed, rife with mixed motives and complex, intricately-crafted defenses. Ultimately, this is a story about our lives being the roads God travels – it is his work, to will and to do of his good pleasure as he makes everything work into a pattern for good in the lives of those who love Him.

I can’t promise how often I’ll write, but I’m still here, and I’ll write when I can. If you’re hearing me, keep talking, liking, loving. We are on this journey together. Be brave and make yourself known. We need each other to help find our courage and have those difficult conversations, living to the point of tears², experiencing, as Yates would have said, “A fierce, terrible beauty.”³

I Shall Not Want

Today was a phenomenal time in my church community. Over 40 people were baptized this weekend in three services. Attending church services alone is a challenge and somewhat of a distraction that I must overcome to fully enter into an attitude of worship. I’ve begun making arrangements ahead of time to meet up and sit with another woman and this has been a support and encouragement for us both.

Today, I really felt the Lord speak to me through the songs and the retelling of the gospel through the eyes of Pastor Brad Young. Most Sundays, I sense the Lord speak through some word of encouragement, affirmation or challenge from the scripture. Today, however, was one of those rare moments of clarity, nothing short of an epiphany (albeit an obvious one) I had simply missed until now.

First, some background. When discussing the loneliness that undeniably results from losing a spouse, the question comes, “If you had opportunity, would you marry again?” I don't do well with hypothetical questions at the best of times, and this is difficult to know. I'm still deep in the grief journey and though I miss the companionship and intimacy, I would certainly not consider it again for quite some time. There is much healing that needs to happen before I could be whole enough to enter another relationship. As I told a friend, “Perhaps, God willing, my life may include someone, at some point, who will be free to receive all I have to give and be able to return the same.”

As I examine that statement honestly, the scales seem weighted more heavily on the second part: someone who can give fully of himself. I blush at my egocentricity. If any of us come to a relationship, friendship or marriage from the point of our own need, it is practically doomed from the beginning. Some of us may cling to a romanticized notion of finding that one person who “completes” us. These expectations are often based on a Disneyized distortion that my spouse's primary role is to ensure I live "happily ever after". This ignores the reality of living in a fallen world. Too often, when the lustre and newness wear off, these unrealistic expectations bring disappointment, criticism, disillusionment, resentment and eventually (half the time), divorce.

Only Christ completes me. 

I know this, theologically, but I’m still learning what it means experientially to be complete in Christ. I have been seeking for some time to live in wholeness, but this is a process of growth and maturity that simply takes time. There is SO much more depth to plumb in my intimacy with the Lord, to freely allow the Spirit’s voice and presence to be a constant reality and to surrender to God’s overwhelming love.

It is an unreasonable standard to expect another person to “receive all I have to give and return the same”. An impossible dream and an onerous burden to lay on anyone's shoulders. Today in our worship time, the Lord made it very clear to me:

“I am the One and Only who is free to receive all you have to give and I return far more than you could ever imagine.”

Oswald Chambers writes that God’s purpose in using loss and dark clouds in our life is "to simplify our beliefs until our relationship with Him is exactly like that of a child— a relationship simply between God and our own souls, where other people are but shadows." (italics mine)

Can I come to this place in my life, where I am so taken with God that "the things (and people) of this world grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace"? God is so much more than simply a provider of good gifts, so far beyond being a supplier of goods and services or a divine matchmaker. He doesn't just give us what we ask, he is the great I Am. Emmanuel, God with us. Sometimes, in wisdom, he may withhold what we ask so that he can give us what we truly need:

He gives us Himself.

He is the only one worthy to receive all we have to give. And he will not stand by while we chase after people (or things or activities) to fill the longing of our heart which only he knows. That inconsolable longing only he is able to meet - far beyond our wildest imaginings.

My Prince has come.