Stranded on the Mainland: Inner Pilgrimage and Living Alone as a Spiritual Path:

I read somewhere recently when children are able to name something they feel relief.  Unexpectedly, that's when the fog cleared for me this Christmas.  Now I know that having been "stranded on the mainland" has a name.  It's called Betrayal Trauma.  Like a child naming something, I feel relief too, and want to share it. Wikipedia has this to say about Betrayal Trauma : "The concept originally introduced by Jennifer Freyd in 1994, betrayal trauma theory (BTT), addresses situations when people or institutions on which a person relies for protection, resources, and survival violate the trust or well-being of that person." Given the massive betrayal trauma in the world today with politics, climate change, cost of living, wars, I want to share this important talk below: What is Betrayal Blindness, With Jennifer Freyd, July 13, 2023. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=QXlAZpD8zkI . On a spiritual note, I'm thinking of Blind Bartimaeus.  I wonder if he is an ...

I remember being told even if I was the only person in the whole world, that Christ would have come just for me. This morning I can BELIEVE it. You see, from my balcony, right this very minute, I'm watching a little girl filling a sand-pail with snow. If that little girl was the only person in the world, I can see with my own eyes that God is letting it snow just for her! And for the little boy with the truck. And for the child care worker taking pictures of all THIS with her phone. And for me. And for you. LET IT SNOW! Amen   source:istockphotos

Another Advent begins. This year I'm grateful for the family who wrapped the extra huge evergreen tree in their front yard with strands of white Christmas lights.  Every night from my balcony, I look with awe and wonder at the big tree off in the distance. I am not alone in waiting. Not the tree,  Not awe and wonder. Not even God. Tomorrow, Turning to the Mystics Retreat with Jim Finley begins! Amen

It just hit me, I did not serve the Lord as a civil servant, a political staffer, or social worker. Instead, I served an expectation, enculturation, and myself.  It didn't always work out well. Then I heard someone talk about his friends serving by doing something I never thought of as service.  He said something to the effect of, "some of his friends were serving by doing intense mental health work, and that was their part in healing the world."  I resonated with this.  CAC, Everything Belongs podcast, 2023-11-13). And there it is. This is what I do, intense trauma work.  It is doing my part in healing the world too.  I am beginning to see trauma work not as an affliction to hide, explain, or fix, but as a service we do, and express. Someone Untied Your Camel (Hafiz). Amen          source:istockphoto    

SEE you are already unpacking your heart! Unpack Your Heart, by Phillip Phillips https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=myHWD6Pch8U Cb Amen

This week I completed another on-line Center for Action and Contemplation course. Our teaching assistant shared a favourite song of hers that sums up the whole course for me. I want to share it. Unpack Your Heart, by Phillip Phillips. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=myHWD6Pch8U .    imagesource:vectorstock

Today, a link and a prayer: https://thisjungianlife.com/ donald-kalsched-saving- democracy/ . God, you know we are tired and that our democratic institutions are vulnerable after Covid and growing polarization in politics. Guide, strengthen, and protect good leaders who are trying with all their might to hold the "dark and light angels" together; in themselves and their countries. Amen. In the spirit of the bounty of Thanksgiving here is one more link. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=uEX5sFbKtqE . Listen (all the way to the very end) for a transcendent moment in Canadian history. A moment born of trauma.   source:vectorstock

My post today refers to the mystic Mechtild of Magdeburg. In a recent CAC Turning to the Mystics podcast episode (2023-09-18), Jim Finley says Mechtild wrote her book The Flowing Light of the Godhead over her whole lifetime.  And she was still writing it right up until the day she died. Is that what I'm a doing with this blog?  Maybe. Another thought.  Is this blog my "red convertible"? Ora Labora? On-the-Way? Ragtop Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=MYFsMdzwVKA

Today I want to blog about Making Amends (Step 9 from The Twelve Steps of ACA).  It is said when it comes to making amends, that opportunities often will present themselves on their own. On that note, the opportunity to make an amends to my mother came last week while I was watching a movie called, "9/11: Four Flights."  The movie, as described by The History Chanel, " recounts the celebrated and the little-known stories of the passengers, crew, family members, military officers, and air traffic controllers who experienced the day—each more moving and impactful than the last." It was while watching about the fourth flight that I finally let 9/11 in — which led me to making an amends to my mother by way of a short email.  The miracle of amends happened when I realized the email is what I would have wanted to say to my mother if I'd been on 9/11's fourth flight. The only thing I would have added is, "I love you." Here's the email : Happy Sunda...

This past weekend I watched a documentary about 9/11 called, You Are Here: A Come From Away Story (2018) . It evoked a 2019 memory of Sr. Antoniana welcoming me to the Sisters of Life Centre as a sort of "Come From Away" too: One stuck in trauma, who landed on her doorstep during a snowstorm.  And, just like the plane-people in Newfoundland during 9/11, I was welcomed with unexpectedly happy, joyful, loving, generous, open arms. I felt (and still feel) like she did for me, what Gander did for stranded 9/11 passengers in 2001.  I too got diverted (just in time for the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown in Toronto) to a generous, hospitable, loving, religious community with very different political DNA than my own. Having said that, my take-away as a "Come From Away" with the Sisters of Life is this:  Without trauma, loss, tragedy, disasters, diversions, and different politics, then how could a 'Gander' ever have happened, or the Sisters of Life? I want to end today b...

"Pearls originate when a bit of sand gets stuck in an oyster’s shell. The sand irritates the oyster, which creates a nacre to coat the irritant. Layers and layers of nacre build up, creating a larger and larger pearl over time. Perhaps this is the primary source of pearls’ deep meaning.  Pearls are unique among gems because they develop underwater instead of on the earth. They have a distinctive shine and are unlike sparkles, such as diamonds or other gemstones: A pearl takes years to form. It comes from the constant effort and time an oyster puts into changing something painful into a beautiful and bearable outcome."  (oceanjewelrystore, September 23, 2022) .   What if I looked at 'trauma' as the bit of sand in my oyster? (Matthew 13:45) Wow. Fr Morgan Rice, thank you for the story that got me thinking of trauma in this unique way.  I am blessed to have you as a spiritual director. 🦪

  https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=_kROK5ugSRo

Most of the things that we notice, we notice in passing, on our way to something else; then, every so often, something gives us reason to pause. Something catches our eye or draws our attention, and we’re drawn for a moment to ponder or to reflect on that which awakened us in this way. —James Finley. (CAC Daily Meditations, The Comtemplative Heart: Weekly Summary, Sept 2/23.) I'm thinking of my tabby cat following me into the kitchen for her breakfast this morning. Something prompts me to stop and look back at her. I am filled with awe wakening. I see her face, looking up at me. I turn and keep walking Listening to the sound, of her paws on the floor. The atmosphere is soft, and it is holy. A clear pond that God-- Skipped a stone across. For a moment I'm a mother duck.

Please God let the horrible conditions at Fulton County Jail in Georgia (and bad jails everywhere) improve as a result of press coverage of Donald Trump and his allies' arrests there this week.   When I was in prison you "visited" me.  (Matthew 25:35-36). I suspect there are a lot of Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Families (ACA's) in politics, in prison, and everywhere there are hurting people. Having said that, I was inspired to edit the 12-Steps of ACA and apply them to politics below. Here are those edited steps: 1. We admitted we were powerless against the effects of political dysfunction, that it had become unmanageable. 2.  Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves (or our political party) could restore us to sanity. 3.  Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of our good God, as we understand our good God (in all our political affairs). 4.  Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves (before...

"God can only come in with mystical over-and-above help when we have reached our limits and can go no further.” Ruth Burrows. Reflection: There comes a moment when the picture frame falls away. And we can go further. Amen Cb       

In my last blog I said, "strength does not always look like us." But I think sometimes it does. " In every case, we are presented with some form of powerlessness—and from that situation God creates a new kind of power. This is the constant pattern found hidden in plain sight. [1] " (Fr. Richard Rohr: cac.org/daily-meditations/stories-from-the-bottom-2023-07-17/) . Last Sunday morning I went to the corner store for something, I can't remember what it was now. But I remember I wore flip-flops outside for the first time this summer. I remember that I forgot how much I love the clicking sound they make when I walk! I remember I stopped in the middle of the store's huge parking lot before going inside. I took a deep breath. I looked around me. This is where I live. Still standing in the parking lot-- I look down at my naked feet. What is hidden in plain sight? Maybe Love? image credit www.timeout.com/newyork/things-to-do/are-flip-flops-okay-nyc  

Hotdogs in the frig Air quality forecast is bad Not missing the campfire so much. 🔥  

Today I want to blog about Olivia Chow winning the Toronto Mayor's race. I was deeply struck by her victory speech.  It brought back memories of when I was young and helped my mother amidst problems with my father. And it brought back more recent memories of being lucky to find an affordable apartment|home where I could begin to heal from post-traumatic-stress injuries.  I'll put a link for Olivia's the speech at the end of this post. On a different but related note, turns out I was not being called to end my current blog and start a new one on politics like I thought. No. God just wanted "Politics Blossoming" to be my next post, and that meant waiting for the election to be over, and for me to hear Olivia's victory speech.  There were internal connections to be made and integrating to be done. Next. Going deeper with Olivia's victory speech, I want to share another link below.  I know-- two links in one blog.  But I'm a poet, I connect things. The s...

Today I'm thinking of the marriage wound. I'm uprooting a  half-dead Bridal Wreath shrub on my balcony. I'm planting a huge basket of red petunias in the empty space. Absence becomes presence. Cb Amen

Yesterday I watched a re-run of Super Soul Sunday. It was an unexpectedly beautiful interview with Chanel Miller discussing her memoir, Know My Name : " Know My Name (2019) chronicles Chanel Miller's journey after experiencing sexual assault. Miller was assaulted on Stanford University's campus in 2015 and became publicly known as "Emily Doe" during her assailant's trial " (uw.pressbooks.pub) . Chanel's sexual assault story is different than mine, however I am profoundly struck by the similarities between how it connects to the car accident I had when I was 19 years old. Let me explain: I too was sexually assaulted in the U.S. a few months before my car accident in Windsor. Chanel and I both had been drinking prior to what landed us in the hospital. We both woke up in a hospital not remembering how we got there or what had happened. We both processed our traumas through writing; Chanel in a book, me in a blog. Her trauma mattered. My trauma matte...

Tomorrow I am returning to ACA (on-line).  It strikes me that we ACA's are a bit like a body of broken bones.  Broken, but often stronger in those broken places:  "As long as we are on earth, the love that unites us will bring us suffering by our very contact with one another, because this love is a resetting of a Body of broken bones." (Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 2007, 70). Forty-two years ago today, I was nineteen years old, living in Windsor, and literally a body of broken bones in a hospital after a car crash: "Our bones are dried up and our hope has perished. (Ez 37:11). Now years later I am filled with gratitude and awe to be remembering a friend I lived next door to in Windsor.  She had an older sister who I think became a journalist at the Windsor Star?  There was something magical to me about this sister who became a journalist. Next, I did some research and learned she had indeed become a journalist-- a staff writer at the Windsor Star. Then I...

Pentecost Sunday is growing larger on the horizon.  This weekend folks will be gathering for my Uncle Cliff's Celebration of Life and for Mother's Day too. What does a celebration of life mean to you? I have been thinking about this today. For me I feel it's connected with Pentecost. "Pentecost is a Christian holiday which takes place on the 50th day after Easter Sunday. It commemorates the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the Apostles and other followers of Jesus Christ while they were in Jerusalem celebrating the Feast of Weeks." (source:wikipedia). How does the "Feast of Weeks" speak to the Celebration of Life for Uncle Cliff in Parry Sound? How does it speak to those who are and are unable to attend? An excerpt from the Acts of the Apostles finds and shines amazing light on how. "And they were all amazed at this-- at how everyone attended. They did not understand how all the apostles, family, friends, colleagues, and relatives could do this....

Once upon a time I wrote a Fairytale about a young girl's Big Dream to change her troubled, dysfunctional family into a loving and supportive one (ACA).  She failed for the most part.   With both Fairytale and ACA on my mind, I want to share some excerpts from the book, Adult Children of Alcoholic and Dysfunctional Families (Chapter 8) : We reach adulthood believing we failed, unable to see no one can stop the traumatic effects of family alcoholism and dysfunction. We go forward in life by knowing where we came from and how we survived to get there. We can restage (and reclaim) our childhood and teen years with gentleness by being a Loving Parent to ourselves. We do not fictionalize our childhood (make it a fairytale), but we take the time to see how vulnerable, courageous, and loving we were as children. This is defictionalizing failure.   I think I'll stop here. imagecredit: Creator: Appleing  |  Credit: Appleing // Shutterstock Loving Parent ...

The Mystical Life / Thomas Merton Remastered Lecture was my Lectio Divina (spiritual listening) this morning.  You can google it if you're interested in hearing more.  It's on Youtube. Three things Merton said caused me to pause and think:   "When we look inside and see, then we have to travel what we see."  "Have the courage to give a little push when an opening comes."  "Whichever way your heart draws you  then choose that way with all your strength." I imagine saying to Thomas Merton, "But what if I have little strength left for travelling, pushing, or choosing?" I imagine him saying to me-- "Then use it all." A little is a lot in the spiritual life. Amen.

Why do we go where we go?  I'm thinking of Mary Magdalene going to the tomb on Easter morning (John 20:1-18) . On a related note, a phrase jumped out at me in CAC's Daily Meditation today, "To be Resurrection for another I need to be Resurrection for myself." I think I will stop here, let that sink in. We go because of love?  (April 23, 2023) Amen. ImageCredit:ignatianspirituality.com

The 40 days of Lent are over and we are entering Easter Triduum territory (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday).  These can be pretty serious and intense days. To lighten things up a bit, I want to share a funny, wise, down-to-earth talk on the contemplative life, by Fr. Terry Ryan.  Fr. Terry is a Paulist priest staying at Snowmass, a Trappist Monastery in Colorado.  He hails from the Bronx (which will be clear in his talk).  I will put a link at the end of this post. I loved the endearing commotion at the beginning of the recording. I loved Fr. Terry's wonderful stories and his way of telling them. I loved watching a humble, humourous Fr. Terry deal with advertising interruptions throughout his talk.  He's a trooper, God bless him. Another gift in the desert in the 11th hour of Lent. Amen. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=WysUvv0MQmQ&list= PLrd9oadgqwXx91PRQ2SIyru6ElD0Y _pmy&index=13   ImageCredit:Catholic365.com

Last week in Toronto we had a brief thunder and lightning storm in the middle of the night. The next morning I found an excerpt from one of Merton's books, Bread In The Wilderness . The excerpt resonated after the storm. I wrote this post then, but decided to save it for closer to Good Friday. "Under the pressure of a very great love, or in the darkness of a conflict that exacts a heroic renunciation of our whole self, or in the ecstasy of a sudden splendid joy that does not belong to this earth, the soul will be raised out of itself. It will come face to face with the Christ of the Psalms. In an experience that might be likened to a flash of dark lightning. a thunderclap on the surface of the abyss... . (146). Understanding Merton's words above, poet Emily Dickson describes a similar experience of being dealt ... "The imperial thunderbolt, That lays bare your naked soul." Both Merton and Dickinson describe being under the pressure of a very great love. Both desc...

This Lent I have been thinking about how blogging is a lot like the art of Japanese Kintsugi. The broken pottery pieces are the posts, photos, and links. "Prayer, gratitude, and waiting are precious connecting metals of gold, silver, and platinum used to fill cracks in wholeness and replace missing pieces." (source: dictionary.com paraphrased) . The mind (mine anyway) boggles at this thought. It free associates: Leonard Cohen. Rivers of gold. Basho. The soul. New pathways in the brain. Empty before the sunrise. Connecting metals. Resurrection. The soul holds. On one last note, I'm remembering a short Youtube talk I heard recently.  If you want to google the talk it's called About Soul by philosopher and photographer Tim Wainwright. Amen. https://stock.adobe.com/ca/search?k=kintsugi

Today is the second time I heard Fr. Leo give a homily! So on this Solemnity of the Feast of the Annunciation I wanted to share some notes and thoughts I wrote in my journal this morning.  Notes I wrote while watching (on-line) Fr. Leo being installed at St. Mikes as the new Archbishop of Toronto: Woke up late, ten minutes into the installation mass. I see Sr. Gaudia and Sr. Rose Patrick! "We will love those who are near and far from us.  We will love those who mock us... " (St. Pope Paul VI). Watched a Youtube webinar yesterday that I can't find the words to describe, except to say, afterwards I felt like a bird who had flown into a window pane and woken up in stunned peace.   If you want to google the talk it's called, "Healing From an Unloving Mother," by writer Peg Streep. For me the writer Peg Streep has validating truths to share. And now it's time for Spiritual Communion, I am so grateful for this. My Jesus,  I believe that You are present in th...

Today I was walking home with take out pizza for dinner and the cutest thing happened. But before I tell you, picture standing on a sidewalk at a major intersection at a red light. Picture massive construction fencing behind you, there is only so much room to step back (it's Toronto). Suddenly you see a group of four or five school girls running full-speed towards you and your pizza. What do you do? Here's what I did:  Remember the construction fencing-- I couldn't move backwards. Without thinking, I lifted the pizza box over the girls heads making room for them to run under it. Laughter and looks passed between us. I hadn't intended my pizza moves to be funny, but they were. Sometimes the best encounters happen without words! Amen

We are now well into the 3rd week of Lent.  The gospel on Sunday was the one with the Samaritan Woman at the Well.  But instead I'm thinking of the gospel about the Woman Caught in Adultery. It seems to me both stories have scapegoats in common-- something that has been on my mind this Lent. Suddenly I find myself slipping into imaginative prayer: I am on the beach with Jesus. We are sitting beside each other in beach chairs. I can hear the ocean breathing... in-and-out, in-and-out, in-and-out. I smell suntan lotion. I am telling Jesus all about the old roles and trauma I am stuck in. He leans forward in His beach chair. He draws a line in the desert sand. Then He tells me this: Their stones of judgment, anger, guilt, and shame do not belong on your side of the line. I do not want my little sister to be a scapegoat. My Father does not want His precious daughter to be one either. So how about we do this. I will write a word in the sand (loneliness, grief, fear, expectation, anx...

A few blogs ago I promised I would share a new technology I'm learning about.  A technology that makes it impossible for me (or anyone) to hear criticism, judgment, blame, diagnoses, assessments, etc., ever again. As we approach the 3rd week of Lent I thought it was a good time to share it. Here it is:  Jackal and Giraffe Technology: https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=QjQVzgYsEns Amen!     empathymagic.com      

I don't fit into structures very well. That said, most of my life this has been a source of loneliness, guilt, frustration, and shame. But this Lent I'm finding that not-fitting-in is a mysterious source of freedom. On another note, I have been thinking all morning about the Parable of the Talents . (Matthew 25). Could God use my talent for not fitting into structures to make a good and trustworthy servant of me?   I don't see why not?   Who knows what talents we've outgrown. What new talents we're growing into. Amen

As week two of Lent deepens, I'm thinking of scattering ashes on Mount Tabor. I'm thinking about Peter wanting to pitch a tent at the top of Mount Tabor with Jesus, James, and John, when he sees the shining Jesus. I can understand how Peter might have felt. I can remember a breathtaking summer night with some friends, in a boat, in the middle of Georgian Bay-- looking up at the stars.  I couldn't stay there either. But what if today the mountain top is now a place where we need to unpitch the tents (roles) others pitched for us?  Tents and roles concealing our true identities as daughters and sons of God. I continue imagining:  Now I am with Peter, James and John on Mount Tabor. There is an old jar of ashes beside me. Somehow I know it is holding an equally old lie that there is something wrong with me. I start back down the mountain with Peter, James, and John scattering the ashes as I walk. At the bottom of the mountain I imagine an Angel handing me a shining message...

Scapegoat Duty is a job no one will ever fire you from-- you have to quit. I'm thinking of Pope Francis and something he said during a recent trip to the Congo. "Let us not start with the history books, but with what changes history." With this in mind, I imagine walking in the desert this Lent and finding a message in a bottle. I open the bottle and begin reading the message: "The path to healing for scapegoats is establishing safety and stability, building self-esteem and healthy boundaries, and replacing compulsive coping patterns with self-awareness, self-compassion, and reciprocal relationships."  (Julie L. Hall, psychologytoday.com) . Fear not and rejoice, you are relieved of duty. Amen

We are approaching the end of the first week in Lent 2023. I have to admit I like Lent better than Christmas.  Maybe because there isn't  a "violent" expectation to shop, be happy, attend parties. Which brings me to the three things on my mind today: The first is "nonviolent communication" ( Marshal Rosenberg) . Second is how deeply essential nonviolent communication is to hear God.  How it connects to the Isaiah quote in my (first) blog introduction, "Therefore, I will now persuade her, I will bring her into the wilderness, and I will speak tenderly to her" (2:14) .  I can understand why seekers, believers, and writers went into the desert. Third, how can I hear God speak tenderly to me in the desert through my own and other's evaluations, judgments, criticisms, even compliments? In a future post I will share a "technology" I'm learning about that will not even allow me to hear these things again. But for now I want to end with wh...

I imagine going through Lent Customs. The border agent asks me two questions. Oddly not what country I was born in? Or how long I plan to stay? But what drags me down? What holds me up? Then they confiscate it! And wave me through... Amen littleshootsdeeproots.com  

When I think of Lent I think of deserts and dark nights of the soul. Of black and white photos and this quote by poet David White: Sometimes it takes darkness And the sweet confinement Of your aloneness to learn Anything or anyone that does Not bring you alive.   Amen.

I have been trying all day not to blog about Valentine's Day. Finally at 11:30 pm (Feb 13) I surrendered. I deleted the blog I was settling for. It wasn't what my heart wanted to write about. It wants to write about someone I spent time with in Mexico-- Someone I loved. I want to say his memory is a blessing to me. In Hebrew, "When we express this sentiment, may his memory be a blessing , the blessing implied is that it is up to those who bear the memory of the person who is gone, to keep their goodness alive."   (bethel mausoleum .org.). Alberto used to say to me, "It is the Life that is important, Carolina."   I'm a long way from Mexico on this snowy night in Toronto, and never closer.   As close as the memory in my heart.   Amen/Shalom   Valentines Day in Mexico! Alberto and me (circa mid-1980's)

Tomorrow we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady of Lourdes and I have already received the gift of a healing grace. It came in the form of an expanded understanding of trauma connected to what researchers are calling, Post traumatic Relationship Syndrome (PTRS) . The healing came when I understood how natural and normal it is that my fight, flight, freeze responses would still happen in certain situations with people. If anyone becomes impatient, irritated, judgmental with you for going slow as you heal-- their impatience, irritation, and judgment are not your responsibility. This is what I tell myself now.  And that I am a beloved daughter of God who loves me just as I am.  I want to share a long quote below in case it is helpful: "When we suffer abuse or neglect in relationships, our brain registers that relationships can be dangerous. If we process and integrate what happened to us, then trauma in relationships can make us wiser. It can help us learn to be more discerning, ...

The last session of our three-month long Center for Action and Contemplation course 'Mystical Sobriety' with Jim Finley has opened. The teaching from this last session sends me digging through old boxes of journals searching for an entry from my first trip to Mexico. I am like the woman in the bible searching for her lost coin... until I find the journal entry I am looking for: I am looking out a small thick airplane window.  The terrain below is changing like my life.  The mountains are different than they were a few minutes ago.  This unfamiliar land below me looks like a papier-mâché globe that someone smashed with a giant hand in order to make it an interior map for me to follow.  I sit up straighter in my blue upholstered seat. The airplane bounces and something inside me shifts? I have crossed the border into Mexico long before the Customs Man will ever stamp my passport. (Circa 1986). Was my experience on that flight to Mexico maybe the unconscious s...

Often after I spend time with the Sisters of Life I think about the story of the Samaritan Woman at the Well. Which makes me think of a potent little book written and gifted to me by the sisters called, Epiphanies . One of the chapters/meditations in the book that touches me deeply is, "I am the Woman of Samaria". The chapter begins saying, "He had to pass through Samaria..., Jesus, tired from his journey, sat down there at the well.  It was about noon (Gatherings with the sisters end about noon!)" (48). The chapter ends with a consoling and hopeful prayer. I love the prayer and wanted to share it. The Prayer: "Jesus, you are Lord of all things.  You see me and know me.  I ask you to heal any lack of love in my past-- any wounds I have from others, or from giving in to counterfeit loves or desires.  I ask you to enter into those memories, and make all things new.  Jesus, I trust in You.  Amen." (53). How amazing is that. Cb Amen

The quote below resonates with me.   "Individuals in emotionally abusive relationships experience a dizzying whirlwind that includes three stages: idealization, devaluing, and discarding. This cycle can repeat numerous times, spinning a merry-go-round of emotional vertigo for those caught in such relationships." (source: goodtherapy.org, Mar 25, 2015) . Today I want to blog about temptation and cycles of abuse. In the past I have felt helpless to stop going-around-in-circles with dysfunctional but important people in my life.  Maybe you have too? For me, engaging with unhelpful and tricky people has been (still is) a temptation.   Now if I am at risk of that temptation I say, "O right, I'm supposed to turn this over to you God!" Some quotes that help me stay on course: "Knowing the tendency we have to pride, egoism, self-reliance, independence, and impatience, the evil one entices us to rely on our own calculations. This is why we often miss the God-gi...

Tomorrow our bible study starts up again. We will be talking about heaven. I'm thinking of St. Catherine of Sienna's quote, "All the way to Heaven is Heaven" . Paraphrasing and taking liberty with one of Pope Francis' well-known quotes, I think, " Heaven is a field hospital all the way to heaven". The paramedics and the patients just keep trading places. Thanks be to God for the Divine Physician!  (Matthew 9). Amen   Dreamstime  Rest in Peace Uncle Cliff (Jan 7, 2023)