So My Passion Doesn't Burn You - a spoken word poem.

Someone said journaling

is just another kind of navel-gazing,

attaching guilt to this activity.

Then I see

I’m more Peaceful Person than Steam-rolling Babbler

when I put half my words on paper

and not in people’s ears or bottling them up where

they bulge out my eyes and wrestle for air

then punch me in the throat.

In TV’s Parks & Rec, I’m the Leslie Knope:

mission-minded leader yet

steam-rolling pusher to get

what she wants, not listening when she’s upset, 

but not intentionally mean. She’s just passionate.

That’s it, passionate. 

My passion is like an eager waiter rushing to serve you

a mug of hot coffee filled to the brim,

meant to be

invigorating, pleasant, filling,

but when hustled to you, it sloshes and spills-

sloppy, painful, unwanted,

a mess in your lap

instead of a warmth in your belly

so that I wish I’d never brought it to you

at all. 

That’s why I journal,

so my passion doesn’t burn you and all

I touch but keeps doing good

while staying where it should.

Some people run to live, some ride to live-

well I, I write to live 

at peace in my own mind and body,

passionate yet wise in community.

-Ellen H. 

Mindfulness - a poem.

Walking out to the garage after an autumn rain,
I notice my black and white rain boots
stepping between soaking yellow oak leaves
on the sidewalk dotted with recent rain drops.
Sun shines anew and the air is humid for once,
thickened and warm like a friendly hug,
scented by damp earth.
It's too bad I can't enjoy it-
my brain sternly cuts in to remind me-
Life has too much worry and burden and sadness
to linger in such a luxury

as the present moment.

Post-massage ache: a metaphor.

The last massage I got was a year ago for my birthday - I was 35 weeks pregnant, so I figured I deserved a professional massage. It was short but relaxing, good for my aching body weighed down by a growing baby inside. As I was leaving, the massage therapist informed me she had worked out the built-up lactic acid from my knotted muscles, and warned me that I might feel achy later that day. The irony struck me: getting a massage could make you sore, not just fix the soreness. There might be uncomfortable after-effects of even a good thing.

I was reminded of that massage recently, due to my August birthday, and then of the warning after a particularly tearful counseling session. For those of you who don't know, I started going to counseling at the beginning of this summer. I felt that I was not handling the stress and anxiety in my life and that it was significantly affecting my personal relationships. Thankfully, God led me to a female counselor in my small town, who both accepts my insurance and has been a good fit.

So it's been a couple months of counseling now, and my counselor and I just uncovered a painful childhood memory that many negative emotions have wrapped themselves around. We began to untangle these old feelings, and for the first time I truly grieved the pain I'd felt back then. It was validating and cathartic. It helped to mentally summon my current self as a sort of stand-in sibling to comfort my younger self in that difficult moment. I left the session emotionally raw but hopeful for beginning a path toward healing.

Later that day, I surveyed the mountains while walking baby girl in the stroller and reflected on my progress in counseling so far. Per my counselor's suggestion, I listened to the song "Dear Younger Me" by MercyMe on my phone, stroller wheels clicking over the sidewalk.

"Sometimes I wish it were a smoother ride..." 

...And my heart began to ache. It was that post-massage ache I'd been warned about. My knots were doing better, I knew, but sadness that I ever had to experience that memory in the first place now I began to surface. Why must childhoods hurt at all, Lord? Oh, how I long for a day when no more innocence will be lost! I grieved the sum pain that my past had shaped Me Today into, for better and often for worse.

"If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far /
then you could be / one step ahead / 
of all the painful memories still running through my head"

It's a powerful perspective, to imagine myself putting an arm around my younger self and comforting her with loving yet wise words: "That hurt. That matters. But you're gonna be okay."

"If I knew then what I know now / Condemnation would've had no power"

Truly, I'm gonna be okay. My childhood was not deeply traumatic, unlike so many others', and I am grateful for that. But it's time for me to stop waving away the hurts that I experienced back then. They shaped me. Many of them still have their claws in my nearly-30-year-old heart because I never learned to listen non-judgmentally to them, to work through them, then forgive and heal. What's encouraging, however, is that I know I'm in the process of healing because I'm experiencing this delayed soreness of sorrow.

I love how that song quietly climaxes, and it moved me to tears as I walked on:

"Dear younger me / it's not your fault /
you were never meant to carry this beyond the cross... 
You are holy, you are righteous, you are one of the redeeemed... 
You are free indeed."

This is a mournful ache right now, but it will fade. Then I'll simply be left with good tools for dealing and a healing heart. Ultimately my goal with counseling is freedom. I want to release the talons of negative self-identity planted in tender childhood.
I want to be more in control of my stress.
Way more content in Jesus and in who I am.
More free indeed...

...do you?

--Ellen H.

 Dear Younger Me: Listen to the whole song. Really. It's good.

Community - Operator Error?

Have you ever had something fail so many times that you concluded the only explanation was operator error? Like, it must be something you're doing wrong because everything else should be working? Fair warning: I'm gonna rant here, but I promise there's a point and there's definitely a takeaway.

Where are the people who say they want "community"? (You know, community being a thriving web of human connection in a common region.) What are they doing? There seem to be so many people saying they want it, then not showing up, not initiating events, never responding to requests, that I conclude they're all hanging out without me... or purposefully avoiding me... or...?

I truly enjoy people. I want to maintain as many friendships as my schedule allows me to. I realize this makes me an extrovert. But maybe I'm just an optimist, believing that no matter how small the gathering, someone there and I could hit it off great. I also feel that I can be a supportive, loyal friend-- there for you when you need it, but also knowing when to back off if you need space and life gets crazy. Yet I'll admit I can be scatterbrained at large parties, unsure where to focus, interrupting a storyteller just so someone else can tell a story too. I'm intense and opinionated, emotional, time-obsessed, and feel like the planet goes off kilter if plans change (I'm working on that one). I know I'm not perfect and I'm not everyone's cup of tea. I get it.

Let's be honest, it's been a particularly rough summer for me in this regard. I've hosted two backyard parties and two mom-baby meet ups, to sparse outcomes. With both mama meet ups, no one came. No one. That was really discouraging. I realize that connecting moms of babies is like herding cats, with those fickle eat/sleep/cry schedules. But then of the 12 people on the contact sheet, no one else bothers to head up another attempt. I contacted one gal who was particularly interested so we could coordinate one-on-one.... Nothing. Not even a reply this time. I realize there are real reasons for individual circumstances. But at what point do I see the number of flops like these and just stop trying? When do I conclude that it's my operator error?

I also realize friendships don't usually blossom under intense pressure for it to "work". That's why I cast my net wide, ask many, try many, let go of ways that don't work, and wait for better opportunities. But am I doomed to live in a town of desire and no action, tell and no show? Connections grow best organically, around common life stages and interests. This is hard for me right now because my 10-month-old baby doesn't exactly play soccer and introduce me to the parents of her teammates. I have to seek people out intentionally right now to see any people. I can't just join the local theater or or go out to a trivia night like I used to-- it takes planning and effort to have a life. This is made harder when my husband works long hours. Babysitters are great, by the way, and I happily pay them, but those really require advance notice!

I realize some people (this includes apparently everyone in Colorado) prefer to Go With the Flow and just drop in when it works for them. That sounds magical. Except they don't do that with me. Nor do they accept when I try last minute. If they even respond. Seems like I miss those spontaneous moments rather than "hit" them. I'm trying to increase our chances, not just send a hundred more arrows out of bounds. They argue that this is the easy way to live, and this loose grip on relationships means no one gets disappointed-- not in my case.

So is it all on my end? Have I not tried hard enough, in enough ways, with enough different people, often enough? Am I just not enjoyable to be around? These aren't rhetorical questions. I can handle honesty! I'm truly wondering if this is the case.

Or does everyone else have a community they're so satisfied with, that they want nothing more?
Is everyone an introvert and only needs their family plus one friend?
Is everyone actually too busy to have a social life?
Is everyone hanging out without me?

...Or are people kind of selfish and lazy? I'm serious. #sorrynotsorry. Here are some non-rhetorical questons for you, reader, to see how you're doing in this issue:

• In the last month, have you only asked those in your closest social circle to join in your typical life, such as for a hike, coffee, movie night or whatever? 
• So far this summer, have you been invited to a party and thought/said you'd like to go, but never made a note of it and never made an honest attempt to make it happen?
• Have you ever thought of a fun group activity but avoided initiating it because you don't consider yourself "outgoing" or a "leader"?
• Do you love church small groups, but let fear/busyness/apathy prevent you from leading or hosting the next one?
• If you answered no to all the above questions and are also discouraged... Let's get together!

Maybe I'm just a loyal Midwesterner (I grew up in Wisconsin) with an annoyingly-strong need for friendships and some spare time to cultivate community, adrift in independent, laissez-faire Colorado-- if so, it's lonely here.

... Wanna go for a walk?

     Ellen

Like The Movies - a poem.

(Have you seen the movie Matilda, based on the children's book by Roald Dahl, about the girl who could move things with her eyes? The movie Mr. Holland's Opus, about a band teacher who really  wants to write a grand piece of music? Amadeus, about the talented but irreverent Mozart, as told by the jealous composer Salieri? I was recently struck how art, academia and hardship often make people want to be the best, not just good... or maybe that's just me? There's a reason extraordinary people make for good movies. Anyway, here's a poem I distilled from these thoughts.) 

In the book,
Matilda's telekinetic powers vanish
after the genius skips a few grades
and her awful family skips town,
her mind no longer bored,
her spirit no longer oppressed.

But not in the movie.
She keeps them in that.
Because it's more fun that way.
Because we want to be
special,
extraordinary,

like Salieri wanted to be Mozart
(but there can only be one Mozart).
Like Mr. Holland wanted to write an opus
but his life impacted more
through ordinary influence
of teaching his students
and loving his family,
so the people became his Magnum Opus.
We too miss that being
skillful and present in the moment
are more valuable.

Still we dream of being
special,
extraordinary,
having a magical talent
to separate Us
from the common moviegoers.
Because it's just more fun
to be the only one
to tip over a glass of water
from ten feet away.

The Author and The Shepherd -- a poem.

You're the Author of my faith
and You've got a plan to perfect it!
You're the designer of my way,
then You guard and You protect it.

You're the Shepherd of Your people,
Your eye is on each one.
You won't let me wander far
before You call me, guide me, overcome.

I may try to plan it out,
I may try to dream it up,
but You O Lord direct my steps,
You ordain the way for us.

You're the Author and the Shepherd,
You outline my life-to-be,
then You take my hand and walk,
never to forsake me.

Continue Your good work--
I love what You've foreseen.
Keep me close on the path with You,
it's far better than I dreamed! 

--Ellen H.

(In honor of my Grandma Avis, who passed away years ago, but whose legacy of sweetly written poems and prayers lives on in my heart.)