Grief, Brokenness, and... Parades?

In the days since Izzy’s passing to heaven, our lives have been overwhelmed with blessings!  Yes, you read that right.  Our friend, Joe Quigley, the founder of Timmy’s Fund, told us those weeks ago:  Get ready and hold on, because the blessings are gonna flow!  He was spot on.

It happens every day that someone will tell me, or other family member, what an inspiration Izzy’s life has been to them, or that they were moved toward God at her service.  On some days I’ve melted into tears to witness the hand of God at work, being moved beyond words in knowing that our amazing God uses broken vessels to proclaim His perfect glory!   Some time ago, a friend wrote an insightful post titled, How deep the wound -- how much deeper the healing, and I’ve come to embrace this phrase and Truth wholeheartedly.  There is so much I have to say on the topic of pain and joy, but I’ll save that for next time.  For now, I want to share a very joyful moment or two.

The photos below depict just one of those abundant blessings:  Sts. Peter & Paul Catholic School wanted to do something special for my sister and family.  They gathered the students outdoors on a brisk spring day to release pink and purple balloons in memory of Izzy and to present a loving gift:  an adorable dogwood tree for the McManaway family to plant in their yard.  I love trees as gifts because they continue to bless others as they grow.  They provide not just the memory of that love shared, but cool shade on hot summer days (perfect for selling lemonade under!), fun in climbing sturdy limbs and in the case of dogwoods in particular, the joy in watching birds nest among the leaves and dine on their autumn berries.  Yes, a delightful gift indeed.  Our heartfelt thanks to all those at Sts. Peter & Paul Catholic School.

Releasing balloons at the school

Sis, giving and receiving hugs from the students

My sister,  ...a beautiful woman of God

Jenny with the new dogwood tree

Kind people ask how my sister, Jenny, and her family are doing.  They’re doing all right, they really are.  Everyone experiences and works through grief differently and I admire how my sister and brother-in-law take each day at a time,  allowing themselves time to be alone as well as embracing their friends and meeting life head-on.

They’ve been working in the yard, going to birthday parties and events at school,... then there’s softball and homework and the thoroughly enjoyable parade we held in front of their house yesterday evening.  I might show you those photos, too, if I weren’t such an incompetent smart phone user.  If you saw those pictures, you’d see my two nieces and daughter dressed in fancy attire with theater masks boasting tall feathers affixed to the top, batons and parasol in hand, all the while, pulling the youngest in a red wagon and dancing down the street.  For my own part, I followed along on my bicycle and nearly fell off from laughing so hard.  I’m in favor of having a parade at least once a week!

As always, THANK YOU for your prayers.  God hears, He answers and He sustains through His amazing grace.

To God be the glory for all things †

Amy Winehouse, Addiction & Paths Through the Wilderness

Since my brother-on-law has embarked upon a new journey as a student working towards a degree in counseling, I’m enjoying a new dimension in our conversations and the concepts he shares with me about this latest field of study.

I’ve long held an interest in psychology, probably spending way too many hours reading things that are fascinating to me, but maybe not all that edifying. Exploring questions like “Why do people act the way they do?” and “Why do some seem bent on a path of self-destruction, even when other options are available?” often occupy my thoughts when reading the news. I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to figure people out but even so, I’ve made a few interesting discoveries worth blogging about.

A few weeks ago, I couldn’t tell you anything about Amy Winehouse, except that she was a singer ..or maybe an actress. However, thanks to Yahoo headlines, I end up reading about all sorts of unimportant things, such as the lives of the famous.

Amy Winehouse, Image from Harper's Bazaar Photo Shoot in 2010

Amy Winehouse’s death intrigued me, from a psychological viewpoint, because of her apparent history of self-destructive behavior, including the use of opioids. It’s no surprise to most of us that fame and self-destruction seem to go hand-in-hand. What seems apparent, that fame begins a break-down of the essence of a human being, must become so distorted for those swimming in the mire. I’ve noticed that “successful” (my definition, which has nothing to do with monetary value) celebrities are those who have learned to live outside of themselves...finding satisfaction and relevance in giving back to others through charities or other organizations they deem “the greater good”. The ones who have become sophisticated in protecting their privacy and value the balance between work and family. They’ve learned a technique for staying sane among an environment that promotes lascivious, sycophantic relationships; a way to remain connected to that beautiful emotive core of the human soul.

For others enveloped by fame, well, the lure of drugs is too powerful, too immediate and pleasing to pass by. With drugs, opioids in particular, the user discovers a way to insulate themselves from the wild emotions and pain the body/soul/spirit now has to deal with. Painful emotions that stem from lack of self-worth, mistrust in relationships, being false to self, employing a counterfeit paradigm for making decisions --in essence, the death of morality brings these painful thoughts and feelings. Fame and it’s twisted tentacles appear to be a very wicked tool in the possession of our enemy. With one hand he coaxes and flatters, with the other he numbs the spirit, with the goal to kill the body and snatch a soul. And with opiates like heroin, the physical body becomes utterly dependent upon these pain-killers, which replaces the body’s natural way of coping with pain through endorphins.

As I was reading about Amy’s death and following up to learn more about opioids, a question in an addiction recovery forum caught my attention. A young man wrote to say that he had been addicted to hydrocodone/oxycodone for about 6 years. He was now on his way to full recovery and talked about the healing process. The question burning in his mind was, [paraphrase] “Does anybody have any opinions on opiates or other depressants and their potential ability to inhibit spiritual growth?” I’ve been thinking on that one.

Knowing that we are created by God, in His Divine Image, of three parts: body, mind and spirit, how can an illness in one part not affect the others?

As an Orthodox Christian, I know that to nourish my spirit, I need communion with my Creator. I know I need to be in His Word, to be praying, fasting, receiving Holy Communion and doing my part to aid the suffering. These are activities that nourish the spirit. It seems reasonable to say that to do the opposite of these things, would diminish the spirit. I’m speaking of gluttony/over-indulgence, being self-centered, being ignorant or apathetic to God’s Word, or inflicting pain on self or others. These indulgences, derived from laziness and lack of self-control, dull sensitivities and cause a disconnect between our three-part nature. So, yes, absolutely opiates can suppress spiritual growth, inasmuch as these drugs can be used by our enemy to sever the bonds of harmony in a human being.

Interestingly, as I was talking with a friend about this topic, we went on to discuss morphine, codeine, and other drugs in the opioid family that are used in the medical community to alleviate severe pain from trauma (i.e, Izzy!). How can the spiritual needs of these patients be met whilst they receive heavy doses of pain-killers? It’s a far-reaching question if you consider this statistic: The USA makes up only 4.6% of the world’s population, but consumes 80% of its opioids -- and 99% of the world’s hydrocodone, the opiate in Vicodin.*

What is the spiritual ramification of a country that is dulled from its senses?

I believe it’s easy to read an article about someone famous like Amy Winehouse and think - wow, that’s really a life-style on the edge - and how unrelated it is to our own faults and sins. But is it really so unrelated? or does it just have so much momentum and exposure that in all its raw ugliness, it grabs our attention - for the tiniest bit - like train-wrecks wont to do?

I was asked once, “Do you believe there are any healthy addictions?” The jury is still out on that one. I suppose it depends on how you define “addiction”. I would never say, “I’m addicted to God” because it sounds ridiculous, but yet, I cannot live apart from Him. The term, addiction, has such a negative connotation. Is an exercise addiction healthy? Well, not if the exercise routine steals time away from another important aspect of life, like family needs or going to work.

My brother-in-law & I were talking about the nature of addiction once and he spoke of a beautiful mental image that stayed with me. He spoke about how, with addicts (of various sorts - drug users, shop-lifters, video-gamers,etc.) the thought process becomes so routine and ingrained as to become a sense of comfort to the person, even if the consequences to their actions cause pain to themselves or loved ones. To overpower that “pathway” of routine thought patterns, is to break something very commanding and forceful - and this, too, can be painful but oftentimes necessary.

The beautiful part of this mental image comes as I considered those “pathways” for healthy thoughts and actions. He said, [paraphrase] ‘Picture a path in the wilderness...one you wish to go on and you walk it over and over and over until it becomes such a familiar place, so ingrained that you won’t want to depart from it’ An aha! moment came... isn’t this exactly the nature and mystery of prayer? I sometimes go to my prayer corner angry...or tired...or apathetic. Sometimes I forget those I want to pray for, sometimes I fumble over my words and my mind wanders. But I go.

I go to that place in the dark morning hours, light the candle before our icons and speak to God. I return there at night to pray before sleeping and it occurs to me that even when my attitude isn’t just right, I am going - I am moving on a pathway that is beautiful and meet and right. A pathway that nourishes my spirit regardless of my bad temperament. And how much more so of the saints?

Those spiritually mature people who walk the high road and experience a taste of heaven on earth, inhaling the fragrant breath of God on their journey. They walk a path set before them by other spiritual giants who desired to be a part of the Kingdom of Heaven- the road marked by honesty in confession, repentance with humility, forgiveness with love, integrity, honor and a continual pursuit of Truth. A road that we, as followers of Christ, are invited to follow. To paraphrase a quote I read recently, ‘God does not tell us to avoid sin in order to punish us --He tells us to avoid sin because it hurts us’. If only men knew the glory that awaited them in heaven!

If only they knew.

*according to ABC news 4/2011

Praying in the new year with St. Panteleimon

Happy New Year to all my pals in the blogosphere =-)

December proved to be a month of emotional highs and lows, with a healthy dose of deadlines thrown in for good measure. My time was divided between work and family and one family member in particular has occupied our hearts and minds over these past 5 weeks.

My 2 year old niece was diagnosed with a malignant tumor at the beginning of the month and subsequently, undergone many tests and two chemotherapy treatments. It’s a hard time for the family and yet, as my sister will attest, it’s also been a season of unexpected gifts of compassion.

Never before has my sister and her family been in a position to receive such generosity and love from others... it is nothing short of amazing to be at the local grocery or post office when someone approaches to say, “How is your niece?” ...or “Isn’t it your sister’s little one who is on our church prayer list? How is she doing?”

Between the internet and instant messages to church prayer lists/chains, news of my sweet niece traveled faster than beauty shop gossip. I know she has prayer warriors out there lifting her name to our merciful God from Florida to Chicago to California and probably beyond.

One of those prayer warriors is Holy Great-Martyr St. Panteleimon, a physician and healer during his time on earth in the early 4th century. A group of friends & I made our way to Holy Cross Monastery recently and went to a moleben (mo LEH ben) to St. Panteleimon, asking for his intercessory prayers for my niece among others who are ill and suffering.

A moleben, a Russian term, is a service of thanksgiving and supplication in honor of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Theotokos or a particular saint or martyr. In Orthodoxy, we believe that those who die believing and following Christ are not dead, but alive in Christ, worshipping Him in heaven and interceding for us on earth. Just as we would ask a friend to pray for us when we’re ill, so, too, we ask the saints in heaven to please pray for us!

The service was so beautiful... I wish I had photos to share, but it was not the time or place to be making pictures. It was a time for reverence and quiet and prayer. We lit the long beeswax taper candles and placed them in front of St. Panteleimon’s icon and then stood for the remaining minutes of the service.

Fr. Seraphim led the moleben while a monk and novice added harmonious refrains of “Lord have mercy” as well as St. Panteleimon’s Kontakion and readings from the Holy Gospel. While the names of our loved ones were called out through the service, I noticed the beauty of the candlelight upon the brass casings and how the sunlight, even on a cold wintry day, came into the church like a warm embrace of our Heavenly Father. There is no place on earth I would rather have been at that hour. We concluded the service by venerating a relic of St. Panteleimon and being anointed with holy oil by Fr. Seraphim.

It is that peace, that hope and love in Christ Jesus that I wish for you during our new year.

Miraculous Healing in Our Parish

It was only in April of this year that a dear lady from our parish was diagnosed with brain cancer and given only a few months to live.  Such devastating news for not only the immediate family, but the entire church body who esteem her highly.  

I first learned about Mrs. H on our trip to Holy Cross Monastery, near the end of April when a moleben (muh LEH ben) was served to ask for the intercessory prayers of St. Panteleimon (the patron saint of Holy Cross)   for Mrs. H as well as other ill family members of our group.  

St. Panteleimon lived in the 4th century A.D. and was martyred under Emperor Maximian.  His name means all-merciful and is frequently invoked by those seeking his prayers to God for their health and healing.  St. Panteleimon had been trained and educated as a physician and spent his life with the suffering, the weak and those in prisons, praying for them and healing them in the name of Jesus Christ.  His gifts of healing became so well known in the Roman Empire that other physicians became jealous thus creating the catalyst for his martyrdom.

An akathist to Great Martyr-Healer Panteleimon begins:

“Chosen passion-bearer of Christ and gracious healer, who freely grantest healing to the sick, we praise thee in songs as our protector.  As thou hast boldness with the Lord, free us from all harm and sickness who cry with love to thee:

Rejoice, Great Martyr and Healer Panteleimon!

Most Holy Saint and Martyr Panteleimon-the-Healer, intercede to the Most Merciful God for the healing of (names for the healing of his/her) in soul and body.

We know thee, glorious Panteleimon, as an earthly angel and a heavenly man.  For adorned with angelic purity and martyrdom thou hast passed from earth to Heaven, where with angels and all the saints standing before the throne of the Lord of Glory, thou prayest for all of us on earth who venerate thee with these invocations...”

Just as of yesterday, the 28th of May I learned of a miracle, through the intercessory prayers of St. Panteleimon to Christ our God, in the life of Mrs. H.  Upon visiting the Cleveland Clinic, her doctors were happy to report that there is no trace of cancer.  It is believed that she did suffer a mild stroke; a full recovery is expected.

Glory to God for all things.  Glory to Thee!

*Photo is a shrine to St. Panteleimon at Holy Cross Monastery in Wayne, WV

PS.  Just in the short amount of time since I've posted this, Fr. Andrew, our assistant priest at St. George Cathedral,  has informed me of yet another miraculous cure of cancer in our parish!   Praise God!!  This is a quote from Fr. Andrew regarding this latest information:

"The smart medical people I've talked to tell me that the only way these could have been medical flukes or mistaken diagnoses would be for multiple doctors, labs, and high-tech medical machines to have been wrong multiple times in a row over the course of weeks and months."

Myrrh Streaming Icons

Converting to Orthodoxy has been wonderful ...and overwhelming at times.  I  imagine it’s something akin to the wonder felt by the Pevensie children as they tunneled through the wardrobe to arrive at the brilliance of Narnia.  

There is so much church history to devour and Tradition to understand as entrusted to us from the ancient church.   It’s a marvelous journey that I am on and it’s worth a pause here and there to hold a discovery, a treasure of the Orthodox faith, before others so that they might be blessed, too.

For those who are cradle Orthodox or have been converted for many years, myrrh streaming icons are nothing new.  But for me, coming from a Protestant background with a subtle prejudice against anything that looked or smelled Catholic, these ‘weeping icons’ were met with skepticism and even quiet anger as I contemplated a possible mockery of God’s house.   For those of you who may be unacquainted with weeping icons, they are  an icon or statue* (please read comments below)  depicting a saint or Jesus Christ himself, that miraculously begins to produce an oily substance commonly referred to as ‘myrrh’.  

The myrrh usually begins to form as small droplets on the painted surface of the icon and then slowly streams down to the bottom, thus the phrase ‘tears of heaven’  is a frequent description.  Typically the priest or pilgrims venerating the icon will use cotton balls to absorb the liquid, placing them carefully into airtight bags to preserve the oil as long as possible.   Oftentimes those who are blessed by the myrrh report being healed in some physical or spiritual way.

To me, “myrrh” is a bit of a misnomer as it calls to mind the resin from the Commiphora myrrha tree found in Somalia.  This resin is steam distilled into essential oil and frequently used in therapeutic oil blends for the skin and as a meditative aid.  In fact, this type of myrrh has an ancient history in the role of healing, meditation and religious ceremony that is worthy of another essay.    However, the miracle of “myrrh” weeping from some icons is something altogether different.  In at least one instance  I’ve read, the molecular structure of this weeping substance was likened to that of olive oil.

And something else which I find utterly fascinating is  the scent commonly ascribed to the streaming icons:  that of roses.   This is particularly interesting to me because long before I knew anything about Orthodoxy or icons, I was reading accounts of people with near death and at-death experiences.   Repeatedly I would encounter stories from people who would notice the scent of roses - when no flowers were present-  when a loved one passed or during prayerful times or occasions when they were ill yet felt the presence of God.  The scent of roses seems to be inextricably woven in the veil that separates the heavenly and earthly realms.

As I was learning about these icons and sifting the hoaxes from the genuine accounts, I came to discover the Weeping Icon of the Theotokos at St. Nicholas Albanian Orthodox Church in Chicago.  It’s a wondrous account and, if I’m not mistaken, I believe it was this icon that so touched Matthew Gallatin in his book, Thirsting for God in a Land of Shallow Wells.   A genuine weeping icon will be examined and blessed by a priest or bishop and revealed to the Church for all to pray and venerate it as they wish.

More recently, I read the account of the Iveron Weeping Icon from Hawaii that has traveled to San Francisco in early September ’08 to be venerated by the faithful at Holy Virgin Cathedral.  Very often, these wonder-working icons will travel to various parishes, cathedrals or monasteries so that the miracle may be shared by many.   I know that the Hermitage of the Holy Cross near me has hosted such an icon.  I regret that I didn’t learn of it earlier so that I might have visited and prayed before it.    It’s truly a miracle,  an occurrence without explanation.  Still, people will ask, “But why?  Why does the Blessed Virgin weep?  What are we to make of this?”

Since so many around the world have been blessed by these icons, I would say that they weep for our healing.  I’m not seeking to understand the how or why, I just pray that someday God will grant me the opportunity to see and touch these tears from heaven.

*Photo is from Holy Theotokos of Iveron Russian Orthodox Church website.

Painting with light

Recently I was playing around with my camera, trying a technique new to me called painting with light.  I knew I wanted to experiment with candles and thought our standing cross would also provide impact.  I set everything up on an end table, placed my camera on a tripod and set to turning off all the lights and shutting all the doors to eliminate all light sources.  With cable release in hand and a mini pin light, I opened the shutter for 15 seconds while dancing my little flashlight around the cross and candle holders.  This experiment went on for a good 40 minutes as I became inspired with each new frame.

I’ve posted my two favorite exposures and as I contemplate the one with lit candles, I can’t help but think of something I wrote in my apologetics notebook several years ago: “we humans are called to create an atmosphere conducive to miracles”

Healed by the Light

I had been studying the miracles of Jesus, particularly the story of Jairus’ daughter (St. Matthew 9:18-26, St. Mark 5:21-43 and St. Luke 8:41-56) and the woman who touched Jesus’ cloak (St. Mark 5:28).  The study came about in response to a Calvinist perspective which proclaimed man has no responsibility toward his regeneration, which, from my perspective, is a miraculous event.  In every case of Jesus’ miracles, man is called to have faith.  In fact, Jesus frequently says “Go in peace, your faith has made you well” to those whom He has blessed and healed.  Man cannot heal his own wounds, but his faith creates an atmosphere conducive to God’s miracles.

When I first entered the Orthodox church, I noticed other people entering the sanctuary and lighting small votive candles immediately inside the doorway.  They would then pause to pray silently beside them.  It was explained to me later that anyone can light a candle and offer a prayer for a loved one.  And, what was especially touching to me was the fact that I was welcomed to this practice even before converting to Orthodoxy.  Later, while reading various Orthodox books, I came to see that these candles represent much more.  

The visual light of the candle reminds us that Christ is the Light of the world and the darkness has not overcome it (St. John 4,5).  What joy in remembering that no matter how bleak our world seems, the Light will never be overcome by the darkness!  As I look at the rows of dancing flames among the candles at church, I think of how God must be pleased to hear our voices, to listen to our sorrows, our joys, our praises to His holy name.  Seeing the candles alight is a part of our worship which involves all the senses.  It is a part of creating an atmosphere of worship and prayer which is pleasing to Him.  Even now, as my family is gathered around the dinner table, we keep a candle at the center and each time it is lit, I remind the kids, “Jesus is the Light of the world”.

Thinking back on those first few months at St. George Orthodox Church, I know that God healed me there.  Being surrounded by the visual reminder of prayers to God, the incense as a fragrant reminder of how our prayers are a pleasing aroma to Him...how could I not be transformed?  With the church that has proclaimed the same style of worship for over 2000 years, based upon the things in heaven (Hebrews 8 and 9 ), how could one not be ushered into God’s Divine Presence in a place where the atmosphere is conducive to miracles?

Hello, God? Can you hear me now?

“Wait a minute, I’ve got a call on the other line.    Ok, I’m back, can you hear me?  Wait...let me walk over by the window.   How about now?    Ohhh...someone’s at the door, please hang on for me. All right, *sigh* I’m sorry, I really need to talk to you.  All is calm now, can you hear me clearly?  Yes?  Good.  Lord, I need some help.    I’m tired and I just can’t seem to get all my tasks done.;  I need more hours in the day.  My friend has just had surgery and I’m asking if you’ll please aid her recovery...  And could you please make Jane more easy to get along with?  I don’t know how to deal with her....  God?  Are you still there?    ...and just one more thing, would you please give me some patience right now? The kids still haven’t cleaned their rooms and I’ve tripped over their shoes and that squeaky thing on the kitchen floor three times now.  I’m about to blow my top.    I’m sorry, I wish I had more time but I have to go.  I have an appointment and can’t be late...I’ll talk with you again later”

*click*

Of all the possible distractions in prayer and worship, I am chief among them.  

I wrote previously that when I was frustrated in our Methodist Church, “I wasn’t getting anything out of it anymore!”  Well, this frustration was only part of the problem.  The larger difficulty was my perspective of what worship should be.  

Is worship for the believer?  If I’m not moved by the sermon or inspired by the choir, does this mean “real worship” has not occurred?   If the pastor was “off”  in his delivery and motivation, do I just shrug my shoulders and say he was having a bad day?  What am I suppose to “get out” of worship?

In truth, I should be on my hands and knees in worship praising God for His awesome mercy and love in my life.  My face should be on the ground at His feet!  It isn’t about me.  It isn’t about my preferences in worship music, church decor and the length of the sermon.  It’s about praising our Creator, the blessed Trinity in one God, the Father of Lights!    The question isn’t what do I “get out” of worship, it’s “what am I giving?”   

Praise God for His mercy and patience with me.  

As I can recall the first few months of worshipping at St. George Orthodox Cathedral, I distinctly remember the impact of hearing but not seeing the choir (the choir is located in the rear balcony above the nave) and watching the priest raise his arms upward in a gesture of worship to Christ our King with his back turned to the congregation.  This was worship like I had never experienced it before; worshipping with the priest, the clergy, the chanters, the readers...all of us, facing East, looking upward at those beautiful icons, smelling the heavenly incense and nothing in mind save Christ our King and Saviour.  Everything in the church, all that you see, hear, touch, taste and smell point to Christ our Redeemer...everything.   This is the worship described in Holy Scripture; praise God for healing in His house.  For as we give of ourselves in worship, as we empty our self-centeredness, so we receive His abundant grace.

God is always present.  The question isn’t “God, can you hear me now?”, it’s, “Amy, are you listening?”

The Path of Circumstance & Healing

“...we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance;  and perseverance, proven charter;  and proven character, hope...” from Romans 5:3,4

How beautiful is the path that strips away our facade and shines a light on what is real in us.  But truly, how many willingly choose this path?!  None of us want to relinquish our comforts, our secure beliefs and relationships and yet, for all of us, there comes a time when all that feels safe and right, is shattered.   It may come through the loss of a loved one, a betrayal by someone at work, a severed relationship...life deals some tough blows.  Where do we go to re-group and find strength... and peace?

The church had been a comfort in the past, as it was a place to learn about God’s Word, to be inspired by a moving sermon, to be with kindred minds and hearts.  But these were the days when my husband & I found ourselves in a very loving Methodist Church, but sadly, it was also void of growth and more importantly for me, ....children.  Since our two little ones were the only children in the congregation, that meant there was no sunday school and no one to watch our baby & toddler during morning worship.  Hubby & I took turns entertaining them downstairs in what used to be a lively nursery.  After a few years of this, I was weary and frequently frustrated,: Why am I even going to church?  I don’t get anything out of it anymore!  

This unrest and developing apathy toward church life coincided with a season of private emotional pain for me.  I wondered why God was giving me so much to carry.  I wondered if God even heard my prayers and pleas....I wondered if I was losing my mind.  There may be a time to write more on this dark chapter, but not now.  It’s enough to share the remarkable lessons learned through brokenness. 

I believe every christian goes through dark valleys where the sun seems very distant and pale...”time in the desert” I call it.  What took me many years to learn though, is that these places afford doorways to growth that you cannot find elsewhere and so, I am thankful for the desert.

One such doorway discovered was concealed with vines and dense brush, the evidence of pride and self-righteousness.  The thick growth was not removed slowly, bit by bit, but was obliterated in moments by a truthful word.  It came through a counseling session.  My counselor pinpointed a vice in me that proved to be transforming.  After listening to me for a time, he replied with two simple words:  “You’re jealous”.  Those little words, what may seem so little and trivial, became the beginning of a flood that washed away the walls I had built to preserve my “justified, righteous anger”.

It’s no fun looking at the raw deal - to catch a glimpse of your heart as it truly is- and yet, without doing so, there is no hope for spiritual growth.  Unless we recognize our sins, how is it that we can overcome them?  Oddly enough, it was also during these counseling sessions with a Baptist minister that I came to understand the vital link between confessing our sins and being healed of them.  In voicing our faults, our sins, in the presence of another is to know shame and to be accountable for it.  When we confess to God alone, in our private times, we cannot understand the full impact our sins have within the Body of Christ.  This is one reason we are told to confess to one another. (James 5:16)

This path of pain and spiritual awakening slowly merged with my reading of the ancient Celts, of Saints Columba and Patrick, with my study of church history.  I devoured books, seeking an answer to my foremost questions, “How can I find peace in troubled waters?  How can I be healed of emotional pain?”

My paradigm began to shift....the church, as I had always know it, was a resource for learning and evangelizing.  Now, I was looking to the church as a hospital.  I wanted to be healed, I longed for true worship - whatever THAT meant - that left me with a peaceful heart rather than critiquing the pastor’s sermon.  I wanted to find a place where the sanctuary was regarded as a sacred space rather than a social gathering room.  I wanted to get away from all distraction in worship and realize the heart of it...I wanted to be lost in prayer and thanksgiving.  I wanted to receive the Lord’s Supper each and every time I entered God’s beautiful house.   I was seeking the faith of the Apostles, of St. Patrick and Columba, knowing that I would find “home” when I found the roots of the church.

“Thus says the Lord, Stand by the ways and see and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way is, and walk in it; And you will find rest for your souls.” Jeremiah 6:16

*These few entries touch the surface of how I came to the door of the Orthodox Church.  For anyone interested in reading my earlier ramblings and disjointed thoughts, you can do so here.

It’s not a short response, but now, when someone wants a quick answer to, “So, why are you Orthodox now?”  I’ll just hand them a card with my blog address on it =-)