Obstacles

This weekend, I served as an adult leader on a student retreat for spiritual formation and discernment.  I was asked to give the talk on Obstacles.  The entire retreat was extremely rewarding.  I was moved by the stories shared by the student leaders.  I was touched by the kind words and affirmation given by the participants.  I was humbled to be a part of such an incredible experience.  It was one of the many times for which I was grateful to have such an incredible job.

Each talk by the leaders started by playing a song and ended by playing a song.  Here is the story I shared, with links to the songs I chose to accompany the talk:

Opening Song: Forgiveness

Like many of you, this is my first Kairos.  So when I was approached to attend this retreat, I looked up the meaning of the word.  I found endless definitions, and regardless of specific wording, they all pointed to the same thing:  Kairos means the sense of the right moment; of God's time; of God's action; the moment at which God moves, acts and intervenes in our lives.  The definition gave me pause.  Who am I to talk about the moments in which God intervenes in my life?  As a childhood CCD dropout and an adult who has struggled with the meaning that faith and spirituality play in my life, who am I to try to articulate such times and actions?  But as I sat and reflected, a voice inside of me reminded me that the answer to these questions; the answer to "Who am I?" is "I am me."

So I am here, present with all of you, to talk about obstacles...to reflect upon both extending and accepting forgiveness...and to think about relationships in your lives that may be in need of healing.  Forgiveness has been a major theme in my life.  As a young child, I suffered heavily from low self-esteem and a lack of self-worth.  If someone treated me poorly, I was quick to forgive, less so because I had mastered the meaning and value of forgiveness, but because forgiving meant avoiding more negative attention or conflict.  In junior high school, one of my closest friends began to tease and torment me on a daily basis.  Day in and day out, I felt anxiety about what cruel words or deeds he would do to me at school and which people would join in on laughing at me.  His bullying came out of nowhere, as does most childhood cruelty, and it ended as quickly as it started.  One day, as we were leaving the classroom, he tapped me on the shoulder to ask me a question, and just like that, we were friends again.  In that moment, I forgave him for his actions, not because I could comprehend the deeper issues behind them, but because I didn't value myself enough to cause a stir.  Though I don't think this is a stellar example of forgiveness, it did pave the road for future obstacles that I would need to overcome.

Years later, I would experience a strangely similar situation with another friend.  As an adult, you hope that maturity has set in and unexplained cruelty becomes a thing of the past, but sadly, that isn't always true.  I am fortunate that I have a strong circle of friends with whom I grew up.  These are the people who were by my side for formative milestones, such as driving tests, broken hearts, proms, graduations, college acceptances and career choices.  In May of 2000, we toured the east coast visiting each other's college graduations - celebrating another milestone.  And two months later, one of us was killed by a drunk driver on his way back to Jersey so that we could celebrate as a group before we all set off to our post-graduate adventures.  In this moment, my world stopped.  And without the support of this tight circle, I'm not sure any of us would've survived.

So you can imagine my surprise when a year later, one of my friends stopped returning my calls.  And when we were back home for the holidays, he ignored me at group gatherings.  I had been shunned.  And I was stunned.  I reached out to him in a letter asking to talk and to make amends for whatever had happened, and I was met with more silence.  This silence lasted for years.  And I felt a lot of pain and hurt.  One day, on a dance floor at a friend's wedding, years after I had given up hope that we would ever connect again, again I was tapped on the shoulder to turn around to come face-to-face with a friend who had caused me pain.  He said, "Can I hug you?  I miss you and I'm sorry."  I said, "Yes.  I miss you too, and thank you."  And I forgave him.  Unlike 20 years earlier when my forgiveness was based on a worry of continued teasing, this forgiveness was about something more; something deeper.  It was about knowing that this is a person who I love and care about, and who had clearly been dealing with his own baggage and issues that would cause so many years of silence.  And while I could punish him for this, I could also accept the genuineness of his apology, and allow his love and friendship to reenter my life.  The choice was mine, and I chose opening myself to love over holding on to anger.

See, what I knew about this situation...something that I now understand about my childhood situation that I couldn't possibly comprehend then...is that there was more to the story than I was experiencing.  My friend had his own baggage...his own issues with which he was dealing that manifested itself into how he treated me.  And yes, I wanted to know why.  I wanted explanations for what happened, but I knew that sometimes we don't get to know why.  And likely he didn't have an answer to explain his actions.  And while I don't condone those actions, I do forgive them.  Because haven't I been guilty of allowing my issues to negatively impact others?  And during those times, haven't I deserved forgiveness?

In my professional career, I have supervised countless staff members throughout the years.  A number of years ago, my supervisor sat me down and told me that some of my staff members were upset that I hadn't been present at a series of meetings and trainings that they were required to attend.  I knew that the reason I wasn't there was because I was working on a different project, but regardless of what I knew, they were upset.  So I swallowed my pride and sat down during our next group meeting and apologized.  I explained to them why I wasn't there and apologized for upsetting them.  I also encouraged them to come speak with me if they had other feedback.  As we left the meeting, one of my staff members pulled me aside and asked if we could talk.  She explained that recently she felt as though I was not present to her during her 1:1 meetings or when she needed guidance.  She said she knew that I had other things going on, but that it had been difficult to get support and be successful without the presence of her supervisor.  Her words shot through my heart.  I immediately wanted to defend my actions and explain why I had appeared not present.  But I realized that that defense would just feel like empty words to her and would only serve to assuage my guilt, not heal her hurt.  So I looked her in the eyes, and I apologized.  I apologized for how my actions were impacting her, and I vowed to work harder to meet her needs.  And I thanked her.  I thanked her for being open with me and trusting me enough to hear her concerns.  And trusting me enough to attempt to make up for my actions.  I apologized, and she forgave me.  She did not punish me for the baggage that I carried.  She did not focus on why.  She forgave.

Forgiveness.  The song that I opened with is one of my favorites.  And one of the lines that I find particularly haunting...particularly poignant...is when she says, "It's hard to give.  It's hard to get.  But everybody needs a little forgiveness."  There is so much to say about the power of forgiveness and the obstacles you can overcome if you can truly embrace the notion of forgiving.  Because when you are unable to forgive, it is typically a barrier to something else.  Two years ago, I watched my mother pass away from cancer.  For over a year, we were given hope from doctors about her health.  First, the news: she has breast cancer.  Don't worry; we are confident about her chances.  Then, the treatment: chemo was a success, let's do a mastectomy just in case.  Now we think radiation would be helpful, more of an insurance, really.  Then the good news: She's in remission; let's move forward with reconstruction.  Then the setback: it appears the cancer has spread to the lungs.  Time for more chemo.  Then the day it all changed: the cancer is in the brain.  I was sitting at my desk at LMU when I got that news.  My world stopped.  Everything around me stopped.  I vaguely remember how the next few hours unfolded, but I do remember crying hysterically in my supervisor's office and frantically talking with an airline agent all before jumping on a flight back to New Jersey.  I had a backpack.  I had no idea how long I'd be gone.  Maybe the weekend.  Maybe the week.  I was gone four months.

In that time, I became the caretaker of my family: A nurse to my mother; an aide to my father; a consultant to my brother.  We were all in new roles, and as things unfolded very quickly, it became clear that time was of the essence.  We were angry.  We were devastated.  We were numb.  She was so young.  She was so alive.  She was all of our rocks.  How could this be happening?  My father's anger increased the more he thought about moments - arguments - opportunities for forgiveness that he missed.  My brother's and my regret increased the more we thought about moments - missed phone calls or skipped family holidays - opportunities for connections that we missed.  Amidst these emotions, a voice inside of me reminded me that this wasn't important.  We had more important things to focus on.  We had to forgive ourselves for these moments because I was sure that mom had forgiven us.  And if we didn't, we would miss so much during such a precious time.

But who or what was this voice inside of me that gave me such insight at such a difficult time?  At the time, the hospice worker said to me, "Briana, you clearly are the one providing strength to everyone in the family, but I have to ask you, from where do you get your strength?"  The answer came to me immediately: "From my mom.  She's always been my strength."  So, at the time, I could only assume that the voice inside of me was hers, guiding me the way she always did.  But now, I think maybe that this was a Kairos moment - a time at which God intervenes in my life.  And I'm surprised that I'm saying that.  As I mentioned, I'm a CCD dropout who has struggled with belief and spirituality always.  Growing up, religion didn't feel right to me.  I had a lot of anger and questions.  If there was a God, why did my grandfather suffer when other peoples' lived?  If there was a God, why was my best friend killed by a drunk driver when he had so much life left to live?  These were questions that plagued me; resolutions that I wasn't able to find.  So, why now do I sense God's presence in these moments?  I believe it's because of forgiveness.  Rather than punishing myself for not fitting a typical religious mold or holding on to anger at a God whose actions I don't understand, I've learned to forgive and let go of the why.  And I realize that must sound audacious to some of you.  Who am I to forgive God?  But for me, this has been part of my process.  And an important one.  Because another definition I found when looking up Kairos is, "The moment at which we 'arise from our slumber' to be attentive to God's work within us."  And at 3 a.m. on October 6, 2011, I was woken up from where I had fallen asleep next to my mother's bed.  The house was silent.  My brother was curled up in the hospital bed with my mom, my niece and dad were peacefully sleeping on the couch.  None of them nudged me awake, but make no mistake of it, I was nudged awake.  And in that moment, the second I opened my eyes, I knew it was time.  I got to my knees and grabbed my mom's hand.  Her breathing was shallow.  I kissed her.  I told her I loved her.  I assured her we'd be okay.  For a few minutes, we sat there together; just me and her.  Then she took her last breath.  Had I not literally arose from my slumber, I would've missed this moment.  Had I been focused on being angry at losing my mom at such a young age or watching the pain she was in, I would've missed this moment.  And this is a moment I will be eternally grateful that I didn't miss.

Because of forgiveness, I was able to hurdle over my obstacles and be aware of the present moment; be aware of the messages that were being sent to me.  And that awareness has carried me through some difficult times.  Since my mom passed away, I find myself sitting more peacefully in quiet moments waiting for answers that I previously would have frantically been searching for.  As I walk across campus, I let my mind clear and I listen for my mom's voice to guide me to answers.  I am now aware of the moments when she does.  Many people who have known me a long time often ask me how someone who has struggled so long with spirituality can find such peace in watching for these moments of intervention, and I am very honest with them.  I tell them that while I may have spent a lifetime questioning if a higher power existed, there's one thing I know for sure and that is that I refuse to believe in a world where my mother doesn't exist.  And my mother had a very strong faith; stronger than most people I've ever met.  Three days before she passed away, we had a priest come to the house to give her her final blessing.  And though she hadn't been able to speak a full sentence in weeks, in the presence of that priest, while praying hand-in-hand with him surrounded by her family, she perked up and prayed loudly.  There's no medical explanation for that strength.  The light was shining from within her.  It was another moment; another sense of the right time.  So I know she's here now.  She's guiding me.  She's intervening in my life.  Of that, I am fully aware.

My mother's favorite band was The Beatles.  She bought herself Beatles Rock Band and would sing along into the microphone not caring about her score, but enjoying every second of letting her favorite music wash over her.  So, I know she would want me to leave you with a Beatles song.  So this one is for my mom, Irene.  Listen for her voice and what moments she is calling you toward.

Closing Song: Let it Be

Inner Peace

One of the things that I frequently strive for is that feeling of inner peace. For me, this is about feeling calm and comfortable in the moment. There are so many times when I find myself feeling sad, anxious, guilty, behind or any other emotion that somehow puts me off kilter, and it is easy for me to get caught up in these emotions. This weekend, I had a number of moments when I felt at ease, even when there were things that could have set me off.

Last night, I went to the Hotel Cafe to see an LMU student perform. I love the Hotel Cafe. It is one of my favorite venues in Los Angeles. There's nothing like getting there early enough to grab a table, and then hanging out listening to the live music and enjoying the fantastic ambiance. Last night, I looked around the table, and realized some of my favorite people were by my side, and in a moment of clarity, I realized that I have made a great life for myself in LA. I have some great friends who make me smile and love me for who I am. I have a good job with people that I like. And I'm actively working to making progress on the things in my life that I'd like to see changed. There's not much more you can ask for.

Today, I had some more clarity as I listened to what I really wanted out of my day, and didn't worry about what anyone else wanted. I was invited to go to Disney, which is typically a no-brainer for me. But today, when asked, I almost felt obliged to go. Going to Disney? Yes! Done and done. But all of a sudden, I was really aware of the feeling inside of me telling me not to go...telling me to stay home with myself and just have some me time. So, despite feeling a little sad to be missing out, I kindly declined the offer and settled in for some time alone. And this was exactly what I needed. Now, as I'm tucked into bed and looking ahead to tomorrow, I feel very content with my day and more ready to take one another.

And isn't that something?

I've Come to my Senses

On my third day of thankful blogging, I am thankful for a set of five things that many of us take for granted every day. Today, I am thankful for my senses. And though I am usually a bit partial to some over others, I'd like to share some of my favorite things about each one.

Taste

My grandmother's manicotti. My mother's Thanksgiving dinner. Sushi in Japan. Barbecue in Brazil. New York pizza. Chocolate.

Touch

A new set of sateen sheets. The skin of a new baby. Snow as you are building a snowman. The sand when you are walking down the beach. A hug.

Hearing

Kayla's giggle when she's having fun. Matt Nathanson live on stage. A friend's voice when you feel all alone. Silence when you've had a long day.

Sight

A smile on a friend's face. Kayla while she is asleep. Leaves falling from the trees in the Fall. The color green. Sunrises. Sunsets.

Smell

Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The cologne of the man you love. Salt on skin after a day at the beach.

Need I say more?

A Tweet for a Treat

Today, I tweeted. It was my first time. I still don't know how I feel about it.

Yes, that's right. I'm on the fence about Twitter. The whole world seems to be tweeting these days, but truthfully, I don't fully understand the appeal. Basically, it's just a Facebook status, so why not just update your status? Clearly, the concept is lost upon me.

However, I have recently begun snooping around Twitter for the purpose of following a few of my favorite musicians (Matt Nathanson is always good for a chuckle) and some celebrities who are damn witty (like HIMYM's Alyson Hannigan and Neil Patrick Harris). And in doing so, I decided to follow my favorite Bevery Hills cupcake shop, Sprinkles. You might be wondering how much a cupcake shop could have to say, but you'd be surprised. Almost daily, Sprinkles posts a secret phrase, and if you whisper this phrase at the shop, you get a free cupcake. Genius! And though I've seen these tweets come up on my phone and Carmen continuously reminds me of word of the day, I have never actually made it there to do the whispering.

Well, all of that changed today.

Today, I marched right into the shop, and whispered, "80,000," and for that, I got to pick a cupcake of my choice. And my choice was Chocolate Marshmallow. As I was eating my cupcake once I was back in the comforts of my own home, I was pondering how delicious it was. And while pondering, I realized that without Twitter, there would be no free cupcake. So, for that, I felt I owed the site a tweet. So tweet I did. And though I'm still a bit unsure about Twitter, I'd tweet again for a treat any time!

smell the sea and feel the sky

as i was walking home from the gym today, i had a moment where the beauty of my surroundings and the gorgeous weather struck me, and as that moment washed over me, "into the mystic" came on my ipod. so i laid down in the middle of the grass, closed my eyes and just enjoyed the moment. these are the things i don't do enough.