Prodigal Living

So the United Church of Christ (and others) lectionary text this week was the parable of the Prodigal son. It's one of my personal favorite parables and for good reason which I will get to shortly. However, let me refresh those of you who may not be up on this story as to what goes down:

Man has 2 sons. Younger son demands inheritance while father is still living and leaves home. Parties and squanders the money away. Ends up working with swine. Broke and homeless and whatnot younger son returns home to ask to be a servant for his father so that at least he gets fed and shelter and clothed. Father sees son coming before he can even open his mouth to apologize and welcomes him back home. Throws him a party even. Older brother gets pissed off and wants to know where his party is. But the father tells the older brother to be glad that his younger brother has returned for "he was dead but is alive"

Okay now...obviously this story has a protagonist and an antagonist...every story does (according to my high school English teachers anyway). But where I get caught up is deciding which one is which. See while everybody is busy feeling super sorry for the older brother who was loyal to the father the whole time his younger brother was snorting cocaine and banging strippers (I may have added that for funsies...I feel certain that part is not in the Bible)...he doesn't get a party. He barely even got invited to the party. But...I have a theory that we all sympathize with the older brother because that's who we...at our deepest core...long to be. When in reality we are all the prodigal son (maybe not the cocaine and stripper version....).

Who doesn't want to be viewed as constantly faithful, and loyal, righteous, and just. And to take this beyond church...the "father" doesn't have to be a Jesus/God figure. That father could be your own father. Or your mother. Or your boss. Maybe your grandmother. See...there's a desire in many of us to please. "People pleasers" are everywhere. And nearly everyone can relate to the desire to feel...acknowledged and praised...and some people have a need to feel that constantly even at the expense of themselves. Here's where I find the older brother in this story to be a protagonist.

And enter the prodigal....or me. I'm going to use myself for this because....damn it it's my blog and I can make it about me if I want to. I always used to joke about this parable and tell my parents that obviously my older brother was the "prodigal" in our family...we go so far as to call him the "golden child." But while I felt like he was...he felt like I was. And now...I realize that we're both pretty damn prodigal. We have both ventured from home...made tons of mistakes...and at one point or another come back home to be welcomed not chastised. Only before when I realized this...I nearly cried with relief that I was done making mistakes and that "this time I would get it right." And I didn't want to identify with the prodigal son because that means turning my back and ignoring my numerous "fathers."

This weekend while doing a little research on the prodigal son...I got to thinking about how the emotions in this story affect everyone at every imaginable milestone in his/her life. There's the prodigal...of course...probably in his 20s doing some experimenting and trying to find himself. There's the older brother who "stays the course" and is a people pleaser wanting to "do right." He's probably in his 30s and works behind a computer in a cubicle. At least in my head he does. And I think he probably has a pocket protector too. And then there's the father...and every mother or father has the opportunity to welcome and celebrate a child's mistake and learning and growth no matter how old or young that child may be. This story is inherently relatable to us. And that's one of the coolest things about Jesus. He told these seemingly innocent stories that have been woven into the fabric of our everyday life whether or not we acknowledge it.

I digress. This is not really a blog about Jesus. It's a blog about how...I used to feel like the older brother. I used to be an extreme people pleaser. But I've worked behind that same computer and while I didn't wear a pocket protector (I mean really...they're just embarrassing) I DID do everything I could to be a "good person." But I've come to realize that part of being a "good person" is to live in my truth and to honor who I am as a person. So now...I'm going to take a page out of the prodigal's book. I'm going to make mistakes. And I'm going to live in the present and celebrate who I am today. This of course means that I'm going to screw it up and "sin" but I haven't really got a choice in the matter. In order to learn we must all examine ourselves and our motives and our methods and our many other M words....we can't just do what we think other people want us to do all the time. We can't presume to know what is best for us sometimes until we have ruled out every other possible option. And this means that life is going to get messy and I know I will have my share of working with the swine. But what a glorious party waits for me when I return home.

Judgement Day

I have worked 9 days in a row. Forgive me if this blog/rant/venting session goes slightly askew. I am exhausted. And I may have indulged in a glass of wine (or 2) while kicking my feet up the minute I got home from work.



Regardless. I have had....an interesting week. It was long, but many people have long weeks. It was tiring. It was emotionally charged and draining. It was a learning experience. It was a test of my perseverance. It was challenging. It was exciting. It was daunting. And it was Heaven. And it was Hell. I went to see Tim Burton's latest work of genius with Caitlyn on Saturday and it was marvelous. This week was my week down the rabbit hole.



Perhaps you have gotten the sense that I love my job. And that there are parts to the job that I am not particularly fond of. Such as my boss. It's not her as a person that I dislike. Rather...it's that it's humilating that I work for HER. I mean...college degree works for high school degree that I'm not even sure how she obtained. Let's be honest. Seriously. Don't know. Especially since it's the high school my genius father graduated from. Anyway before I get stuck on that. My boss has not made this the easiest week. I think sometimes she forgets that I'm not her personal assistant...rather I am the Assistant in the Activities Department. When I made this comment to a friend once she told me to gently remind my boss that my name is not "Assistant Cain-Borgman." I mean when I decide to do one thing at work I get ordered to do another. And it's usually something such as this: I decide to do one on one visitations and then I get told to remove all of the supplies from her car. I mean....really?

So there was boss stress this week. And there was family stress this week. And because unfortunately nothing is sacred I can't go into detail about that on here. The internet is amazing in how you get your material to everyone potentially....and then you find yourself censoring what you say because your material gets to potentially everyone. So I can't go into family drama.

I can, however, state that there is truth in the whole "big cities big ideas, and small towns small minds" statement. While this is stereotypical thus does not represent the ENTIRE population of Iowa...it certainly does represent a good portion of the people I know in Storm Lake. Let's be honest....these people are God fearing, Republican conservatives who still believe that being single at 25 is a tragedy and that God does not believe in "Adam and Steve." I was raised differently from these people. I was raised to believe that my destiny was in my hands with God's divine help. My God believes in equality. FOR ALL...NO EXCEPTIONS. And the thing that I struggle with is...I believe my God loves these people too. But I mean...people still use words like "colored" and think it's okay. I mean...in my world that isn't normal. I understand when some of the residents at work do it....that's from their time...but when my 30 year old boss uses the term...I have a problem.

And the homophobia out here is honestly just frightening. I never considered myself an activist or a crusader for social justice. In fact that's the part of my church that I always felt the most distant towards. I once heard "a man often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it." I am becoming a believer in this. And I've always believed that things happen for a reason....but now I can truly bear witness to this fact. I feel that if I can change just one person's sense of prejudice or judgement....or at least open his/her eyes to greater possibilities then I've achieved whatever it is I set out to do in Iowa. I mean...honestly...at home I say "gay" for "stupid, dumb, lame." I know it's insensitive. I once got into a debate with a professor at seminary over using the term gay. You see...many of my friends do not mean it as a deragotory term when they say "that's gay." Older gay people don't understand this (until I got so emotional about it I cried during said debate). It's just that we grew up with gay being so normal that honestly no harm comes from our mouths intentionally when that word is used.

I guess as I've been rambling I've learned that there IS a central point to this rant. Words DO hurt. The old "sticks and stones" mentality is a false little rhyme parents use because they don't know how to tell their children that what people say to and around them WILL affect their lives forever. But it truly is not those hateful words that are uttered...it's what we do with how words affect us that matter.


I know this blog has not shed Iowa in the best light...and to that I can only say it comes from the slant of someone who has lived outside of Philadelphia her whole life. And whenever my family made the pilgrimage back to the midwest (I was born in Kansas) I always felt home. Now that I am actually calling it my home...I couldn't be prouder of where I'm from. Sure Philly has it's problems. And sure the "ISMs" happen at home...but at least where I come from there's a desire to change. And a willingness to change. And a church for people like me who believe that one's sexual preference has nothing to do with his/her ability to preach the Gospel.

I've never really thought about the afterlife before. I'll be honest resurrection is a huge struggle for me. I do believe that there was a resurrection but I struggle with the "resurrection of the body" and I still don't know where I stand on that. What I do know is that I've always believed that God is loving, and just, and forgiving. We are created in God's image....not molds of him or her. We can't be perfect. When I overheard a pastor at work recently discouraging someone from attending one of the "rival" church's in town because "they weren't truly religious" I asked him what he meant by that. His response "well, I know I'm biased...but that's because MY
words are those of God." I call bullshit. At the time I turned and walked away. But I call bullshit.

We can not speak for God in the sense that we can claim to know what he/she is thinking. We can INTERPRET the Scriptures and teachings and the world around us. But we cannot give voice to the mouth of God. I believe if anyone tried it would be like the ending of "Dogma" where Alanis Morrisette (as God) can only be heard in a tone...there is not a word that can be understood by human ears.

Words are important. They're sacred. They're fun and funny. They're romantic. And they're scary. Perhaps we all need to be less sensitive or more sensitive...I don't know. All I know is that now I speak up when someone is belittled or judged unfairly which I never used to. And that I am personally more careful with my words lest they reflect my prejudices. And I truly believe that there will come a day when my life will be laid out for God's judgement. And that if I believed with all my heart that God loved me and I loved God...I will be forgiven and loved. God bless you too.

Ashley v 2.0

There are a few things that I have learned since moving to Iowa:

1. Asking for help from those around me is not a sin.
2. Sometimes the most productive thing to do is to simply do nothing.
3. Exercise is always beneficial and generally good at relieving negative energy.
4. "No" IS an appropriate response.
5. Most guilt carried is from the unwillingness I have to forgive myself.
6. It is completely acceptable to buy alcohol for it's quantity rather than quality on my salary.
7. Spiritual practices can be as simple as painting my nails every week.
8. Family...even those "weird" ones I mentioned...is beyond important. They ARE it.
9. Laughter is better than any amount of Xanax I can be prescribed.
10.I am okay as the person I am today...even if I don't think so.

I have recently reconnected with someone from my very recent past. Someone that few close to me know...and I know completely. And I have also reconnected with someone from my distant past. Someone that many people know. It has been a long time since I have given in to the temptation to call this person. I'm reading a book on the toxic effect that dwelling in the past has on one. And I did it anyway. Let's reference truth #6 for a minute. After getting far too offended by someone in my household and handling it the wrong way (a glass of wine too many) I drunk dialed my ex. Not just any ex...THE EX.

And praise be to God he didn't pick up his phone. However....instead of seeing that at that time as a blessing (remember the wine...) I immediately was irate. Thinking he had moved on and didn't need me and didn't want me. And I let it get to me. For 3 days I let his ignoring my call (okay 3 calls) eat at me. Like this horrible flesh eating bacteria...only it was eating at my soul. And I in the process broke my own heart once again.

Hindsight is 20/20. That's what I'm told anyway. I can't say I would replay said episode any differently than I did. I can say that I now realize that there are a few things which I took as heartbreaking that are truly liberating.

Perhaps he has moved on (he hasn't I happen to know)...but that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. That doesn't mean that I can't be loved again. I've held onto (with a death grip) this belief that if I let this person completely out of my life that I would never experience what I shared with him again.

This is a true statement. However...I literally just today realized that this is not a bad thing. Instead...that's what makes the letting go process so beautiful. I may always want to know that he's okay. And that he ends up being the successful person I know he's capable of. But if what we had made me let him go...then why would I want that again?

Which brings me to the person from my recent past. Many people I know do not know him. I guess in some sense it's fair to say I don't truly know him. But I do. I guess I'll leave it at "it's complicated." Regardless...today as I was sitting at work waiting for the chance to do one on one visitations...I realized how incredibly selfish it was of me to think that I could hold on to my past and expect a future at the same time. And beyond selfish...it's impossible.

My past is my past. And it is without a doubt a part of me. And I will live with it forever. What I will not do is allow it to define who I am in the present. And who I will be in the future. Now I will return to my new found spiritual practice of Sudoku. Thanks for listening.


And ps...I have forgiven myself for the drunk dial...as well as those that may occur in the future...I'm not perfect after all!

Promises

I've been dealing a lot with loss lately. Loss in it's physical sense, and loss in an emotional sense. And in a very happy turn of events...loss in a weight sense (baby steps but still!!).

It's a popular saying that when people die they die in threes. This holds true in nursing homes. We have lost many residents lately. 5 in the last 2 weeks, and I suspect at least 2 more are heading to God. Which has made me confront many of my issues regarding death. Namely...it scares the absolute piss out of me. The process of dying is not pretty physically. The grief and guilt and sadness and pain are...well...painful. And to feel these emotions as a bystander...I don't even quite feel that I have permission to feel so horrible when it wasn't my grandmother, or my uncle. It was simply a woman I read to. Or a man I used to visit with and talk to.

I can't help but feeling that while loss is a natural and healthy part of life...there must be healthier ways to deal with it than I am currently. I am not drinking or abusing substances in order to numb the pain. Rather...I'm feeling the pain so intensely that it's beginning to cripple my ability to live in the now. Before you (whoever the 'you' out there is) get the wrong impression...I am still functioning. I am getting up daily, showering, working, going to the gym, and running my errands. But I do all of this with a very slanted view of the world. I do all of this thinking "what will doing _______ be like when I'm 72?" Or "does it really matter if I ever finish my master's degree because eventually I might not even remember I ever went to school."

I can't help but think of the future. That's normal. What isn't normal is thinking of the present as only a layover on the way to the future. I used to dream of my wedding (okay I totally still do) and the kids I would have. But now when I dream of those kids...they're visiting me in my wheelchair and showing me pictures of a wedding I didn't know I had. The pain of loss is causing me to make irresponsibly unrealistic goals for my present.

So today I made a promise to myself. I promised myself that I am going to live as a 25 year old woman again. Even though I'm not sure exactly how that goes. I guess everybody just does what they can with what they've got. I'm going to continue my search for love. My pursuit of my college graduation body, and my obsession with designer make-up. I'm going to keep reading everything my mother sends me (thanks by the way mom and keep the books coming!!!) and paint my nails at least once a week. I'm going to take opportunities that come my way (such as moving to Iowa) and be passionate about all that I do. I promise myself this.

As I was reading material for children on dealing with the loss of a loved one today...I began to feel better about all the death that surrounds me. And I found a book entitled "Children's Prayers to God." I've seen and read many humorous and adorable such books...but this one ended with a prayer that I promise myself I will repeat daily and if needed by the minute. It goes:

"Dear God,
I'm doing the best I can." -Frank

Frank is a genius. And has inspired me to slow down. And manage pain in a way that is suitable. Journaling. Reading. Working out. Taking a walk. And perhaps the best testament to a life well lived that has passed on...is living my life as best as I can.