Beliefs

There are some kinds of beliefs that have nothing to do with faith. 

Like things that we believe about ourselves or other people. We seem to hold onto these beliefs pretty tightly. We make up our minds and almost get a little stubborn about it. When someone tries to encourage us to see things differently, seldom do we want to let go.  
It's as if we fear we are giving up some part of ourselves that feels essential to our functioning!

For example, when we're at odds with someone, we feel powerful when we get angry, so we don't want to calm down or let go of the anger because we fear the power will drain from us too. Or perhaps we want to confront someone and it is only through aggression that we find the courage to do so.

We stoke the fire so we can feel strong -- so we can feel motivated to push for change.

But what if there was a way to be powerful without being angry -- to find the power from a deeper source within us? 

What if mercy -- or forgiveness -- came from a place of might and not inadequacy? What if grace could truly transform a difficult situation?

Would we really believe that?  Would we unclench our grip?

It seems to be such a risk. We are so fearful of what will remain standing when the smoke and mirrors are stripped away -- when it is only us and who we are. How can we come face to face with the question of whether we are an instrument for peace or for war?

What would it take to convince us to simply be fully ourselves -- defined, determined, compassionate -- to believe that we alone, with justice and goodess and hope inside us, are more than enough to affect change, to engage on behalf of ourselves and others?

Maybe my first sentence here isn't really accurate. Maybe all beliefs, sooner or later, have everything to do with faith.
Kay

In Pursuit of Peace

I am a textbook middle child. I was born between a dynamic, talented, first-born and a fun-loving, darling, baby of the family.  According to birth order theory, middle children have peacemaking tendencies, and I certainly do.

What I've had to learn though is that peacemaking in relationships is not peace-at-all-costs.  If we subscribe to this view – “I must sacrifice whatever I have to in order to make peace with this person” – we need to understand that the price is too high.

The truth is peace at all costs is not peace.  It is acquiescence under duress, a tentative armistice, appeasement.  It is not genuine peace.

Genuine peace is acceptance of another; it is agreement (even if it‘s agreeing to disagree).  Genuine peace involves both people.  Peace at all costs takes you out of the equation, and in the end, leaves you feeling disappointed, hurt, and unheard – there is no peace within you.  Besides, when we rescue others (or even ourselves) from facing the hard work that peace necessitates, we soon realize we have to perform the rescue over and over again.

Peace at all costs comes from a place of weakness.  Genuine peace comes from strength – compassionate strength.

Peace is more than resolving a conflict though.  Even if disagreements are settled, peace may not be present.  Peace requires more of us. It calls us to be at rest about the situation -- in our own hearts and toward others -- to hold no grudges.  We can arrive at solutions, but peace needs pursuit.  It demands our every effort in the quest.

There is much we can do as individuals to bring peace into the situations of our lives through the decisions we make about our own behaviors and attitudes – and the good news is we have complete authority over all these decisions. The words of the old song that say, “let peace on earth begin with me” are really pretty accurate. We truly can be a great influence for peace in our encounters with others, and within ourselves.

It is this hope that compels us to keep moving forward in our pursuit.  When we do, we learn some things about our own capacities for compassionate strength, and no matter what our birth order is, sometimes we discover the surprise of a few peacemaking tendencies too.

Wishing you peace,

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com


Revised and republished from blog entry at Life Skills Resource Group

Spring

See! The winter is past; 

   the rains are over and gone.
 Flowers appear on the earth;
   the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
   is heard in our land.
 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
   the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. 

                                                           ~ Song of Solomon 2:11-13

I am thrilled that April's here, it's my favorite month. 

The short, dark days of winter (yes we have them even in Florida) hover like gray clouds sometimes, and I feel like it requires so much energy to keep my perspective positive.

Of course, there are things I enjoy about winter--a cozy fire, the freshness of the crisp (non-humid!) air, and, certainly, all things pumpkin.

But when Spring comes and the grass becomes green again, when the trees and flowers and bushes start to bloom, there's an force outside of myself that lifts my spirits.  I don't have to stir up that energy or give myself some sort of pep talk. Simply viewing what encompasses me does the trick, and it's so, so nice to rest in that and let myself be carried by the beauty.

Interestingly enough though, at times I am aware that I still hold the winter inside me and I seem to resist the budding life in my world.  I'm not sure why that is. Maybe I've just gotten used to my winter habits and I'm slower to shed them when Spring enters the scene. Maybe the winter heaviness has become familiar and all the newness around me makes me feel a little insecure for a moment or two.

The truth is, though, I do want to be pulled out of my doldrums. I honestly can't resist the call of the pink and white crepe myrtles blooming along the highway and the lake outside my window reflecting the beautiful blue sky, or the long, lazy shadows falling across my porch when the sun is still low at 6:30 p.m.

I can tell I'm ready. Ready to let things be renewed, ready to fall into the hopeful promise of brighter days.

Hooray! It's Spring at last!

Kay


Photo By Exsodus/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Signposts

Recently I went for a walk in a park I'd never been to before.  I wasn't very familiar with the lay of the land, but somehow I stumbled on a sign that indicated I was about to embark on one of the walking paths. The trail was actually a sidewalk that went all through the park, around a couple of lakes, and into a wooded area.  

As I was walking I realized my confidence was a little bit shaky. Since the park was new to me, I really had no bearings, and in the forest my view was blocked on both sides, so I could only see the sidewalk in front of me. Then I came to a place where the sidewalk forked -- I was really guessing at that point!  As I continued on I thought, "Did I make the right choice? Am I still on the trail?"

All of a sudden, a signpost appeared. It indicated the distance I had already come (which wasn't that far), and the best part was an arrow which pointed the way of the path. What a relief -- information!  I was headed in the direction I wanted to go.

                                                                                                                                                            Of course, all of this started me thinking about how I've experienced so many of these same circumstances when I've made some kind of life decision and proceeded to carry it out. I knew what the path was supposed to look like, but as I continued to move on it, I found there were times that I had no bearings, and all that was in view were the steps in front of me. I kept running into decision points and wasn't sure which way to turn -- all the while trying to continue to move forward, trying to trust that what I could see was still the path.

But every now and then, a signpost would appear with information that revitalized me. Perhaps it was simply a song on the radio, or something I'd read in a book. Sometimes it was words from a friend, or a line in a sermon, or hearing about someone else who'd walked the road before me. In those moments I felt like I did when I saw that sign in the woods. It was confirmation. It was "yes, the steps that you're taking are the right steps; you are still on the path, still heading toward your destination."

It's my faith that a loving God makes sure that the signposts are there for me, and when I encounter them I experience His gentle care and the pledge of His guidance on my journey. But regardless of what we see as the Source of these signposts, I think the important thing for us is that we don't miss them as we travel along our course -- that we lift up our downcast eyes, and purpose to be aware of more than what is just at our feet -- allowing ourselves to receive the affirmation they extend to us.

Sometimes, when we're on new trails or are trying to find our way through things, we do yearn to know how long the road is, or how far we've already come. But most of the time I think, when we're in the middle of it all, we really just need to know that we're going in the right direction. 

Kay

www.confidentconflict.com

Good Water

I'm one of the fortunate people who gets to participate in the sport of rowing.  I'm on a team that does sweep rowing (one oar per person) and we do races, and, living in Florida, we get to row year round. As you would expect, the weather has a big impact on the sport -- especially the wind, because the wind makes the water wavy and choppy, which presents many challenges to the boat.


At practice, we're always looking for the calm water so we can work on our technique and synchronization.  We row on a lake, so when it's windy we look to the shoreline for this water -- the good water -- which is always behind the wind. For example, if the wind is blowing from east to west, the best water will be at the eastern shoreline.  We enter our lake from the west, so whenever the good water is at the eastern shore, the most efficient way to get there is to head directly into the wind and row straight through the rough, choppy water.  It's pretty tough to do sometimes.


At first the rough water hits you hard when you enter the lake from the calm canal near the boathouse. It throws you off balance. You are distracted from your rowing by the water splashing on you (and into the boat), and it seems as if your oar is rebelling.  But as you keep moving forward something happens -- you start to take charge of the situation.  You sharpen your focus and concentrate more on what's happening in the boat than around you. You figure out what adjustments you need to make in your stroke to accommodate the elements, and somehow you muster up more strength to control your oar and your balance.  You set your sights on the main objective: rowing well through the waves to the good water.


I remember all this when I think about hitting rough water in relationships -- especially when conflicts ensue.  I think the experience is very similar: we're thrown off the balance we've achieved when all was well, the circumstances around us seem to dictate the chaos that has engulfed us, and we definitely lose focus on all the things that have been good and true with the other person.


But in those instances, we seldom think about heading into the wind and facing the situation. (We'd really rather just dock the boat!)  We don't see that it is possible to regain our balance and keep moving forward. We don't believe there really are steps that can help us to see things differently, and we shy away from doing the strong work of empowerment and self discovery.


The truth is, it's detrimental to a rower to always row in good water because on race day when it really counts, you have no idea what the weather will be like, and if you haven't developed your abilities to deal with the waves and the wind, you won't do well in the race.  It's the challenge of the elements that pushes rowers to improve their skills, and if we want to deal competently with the realities of having other human beings in our life, we must allow the rough waters to equip us too.


I've hit some pretty rough water in my own life right now. I'm still at the point where my equilibrium is off, and it feels like new chaos is introduced every day.  But I take heart in the lessons I've gleaned from the water.  We have to understand that precious few of us naturally know how to deal with relational differences -- we have to learn how to work for peace.  We can regain our focus and learn new ways to move through the difficulties well. We can discover the strength we didn't know we had.  


When we courageously face the winds of struggling, when we set our goal to masterfully get to the other side of them -- when we push through -- the good water will be waiting. 

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

New Beginnings

“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too.”   ~Goethe

Today's the day I begin my first blog.  
That seems like a simple enough sentence, doesn’t it?  Well, for me, beginning is something that isn’t quite that simple to do. The hardest part of working on my PhD dissertation was facing that blank page with the start of each new chapter. It wasn’t for lack of material, I had quite a bit I could write about -- it was putting down those very first words, crafting that first sentence -- deciding how to begin.

Oh, I enjoy all the initial work of starting a new project – coming up with the ideas, doing the research, making the plan – my difficulty is in taking that first step of action. I’m pretty sure it’s because in that instant I come face to face with the reality that no matter how much prep work I’ve done, I really don’t know where I’m going (I’ve never been there before!) and the hesitancy comes over me. 
                                                                                    

Yet there is something so energizing about beginning something new -- bringing something into existence that wasn’t there before -- and it’s that energy that makes us feel we are truly engaging in life. After all, that’s the stuff of life, isn’t it? -- New beginnings? A new month, a new year, a new day full of God’s new mercies. Starting a new job or a new school semester, having a new baby. That’s the draw for me, why I keep trying to begin. I don’t want to just watch other people do something, I want to do something too – no matter how far short of perfection I may fall.  I want that engagement.   

What an appealing notion that with a blog I can send my thoughts out into cyberspace and they might show up on someone else’s computer half-way around the world! I can enter into a whole new arena of learning, and doing, and connecting . . . engagement.

But somehow, that one, completely unavoidable moment of action, of commitment – of risk – 
still requires something of me, some kind of leap.  There just doesn’t seem to be any bridge to take me easily across the divide between my comfort in the known and my total lack of experience with the thing I’m trying to begin.  

So, today, I will finish this first entry, take a deep breath, and truly believing that “Providence will move too,” I will click “Publish Post,” and begin.

I invite you to come along with me on my new journey through BlogLand.  No matter the unknowns of this road, one thing I do know for sure, as I’m traveling on it, I will love the company.

Happy February!

Kay