The Ignatian Workout (Day Four)

Principle 4: We should want only what we were created for.


We should want only to seek the will of God, which is our eternal well being. We are encouraged to see all things in light of our ultimate goal.


I think about what I want, as opposed to what I should want. I want a purposeful writing career. I want my children to be healthy, well-adjusted and happy. I want to be a good wife. None of these are wrong; they're all good. What I should want: To seek these things in light of my ultimate goal, which is discerning and following the will of God.

I dreamt last night that Lily was in danger of dying from a terminal illness. Her big symptom: Her heart hurt. The thought of losing her was so real and terrible to me, a pain I hope to never, ever, ever, ever experience. Clearly, my children are central to my sense of well being in this world. Again, not a bad thing.

What are the things in your life that make you rich? Do they make you happy? Do they help you to know God and to love people? If the answers are no, then they aren't [helping you achieve your ultimate goal].


Lord, I pray that you would show me the things in my life that hinder me. I keep saying that I want to write a book, but I know that the subject must be something that keeps me coming back with a passion. I am blocked. My current writing job eats up my time. It doesn't help me to know God and to love people. But of course I can't quit.

What else is blocking me? I don't waste time on TV. Where does it go?

The Ignatian Workout, The Foundation (Day 5)

To summarize the principles of the Foundation:
My focus should be on my eternal well-being. Everything else--marriage, kids, career, friendships--should be approached in light of that. Purpose of my life: to praise, revere and serve God. I should view even my disappointments, frustrations and embarrassments through the lens of how they might shape my eternal well-being. I must not care about external things (health, wealth, reputation, etc.) but I should want only what I am created for.

Naturally my first reaction is the expected one: I fall hopelessly short of this ideal. I am more like the rich man in Jesus' parable than like Lazarus--I yearn for control and comfort. When I feel out of control or uncomfortable, everything is amiss. I am drawn to the idea that I can find God's peace by changing my outlook.

When it came time for me to meditate on these principles, my heart settle on the issue of marriage. Like everyone, Lee and I have good and bad days. I could list all the ways that I feel he fails to love me, but what a tiresome and mean-spirited way to spend my time. He says I fail him, too, that his behavior is a direct response to my own. (Of course I can't see the infractions I've supposedly committed.)

I shift my focus away from what I "deserve" and consider, instead, that God uses my circumstances to sharpen me. He is molding me into his image. He uses my central relationship to change me, train me. How can I revere God, and serve him, through my marriage?

Just for a minute, I will consider the 4th principle. I should want only what I was created for. What would I learn, how would the Lord train me, if my husband loved me perfectly? Nothing. If I want only what I was created for--to focus solely on praising, revering and serving God--then my husband's behavior shouldn't infuriate me. It should challenge me. It is an opportunity to grow in love. In Luke 6 Jesus said, "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them."

I am called to lift Lee up, to care for and comfort him, even when I feel that he doesn't do the same for me. The difficulty, of course, is that other, very legitimate voice in my head: "You are not a doormat, and no self-respecting person would let him get away with saying/doing what he just said/did."

But...if the purpose of my life is to praise, revere and serve God (and by these means to achieve my eternal well being), then perhaps during these moments of frustration, I could/should soften, give in, refrain from fighting back. In doing so, repeatedly, I create an atmosphere of gentleness and kindness. I've no doubt that living in that kind of atmosphere would soften Lee. And of course, I would pray for God's intervention in this, too.

The Ignatian Workout (Day Three)

Principle 3: We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. All experiences in our lives can be occasions of grace. When suffering inevitably comes, we need not think that God has abandoned us. Suffering may indeed be a place where we can come to know God's will.

I'm reading a book right now about raising confident daughters. In one chapter, the author JoAnn Deak mentions the chaos theory: "Chaos theory begins with the thought that everything in the universe fits into a pattern in connection to everything else. We have difficulty seeing the big picture because we are too close, or because we are focused on the wrong thing." This idea fits seamlessly with the concept of God's universe, and our inability to understand it. We can't see the big picture. We can only use the tools God's given us: prayer, grace, etc. All experiences in our lives, whether joyful or painful, can be occasions of grace. It's just not obvious to us.


Deak uses the chaos theory analogy to explain why sometimes mothers and tween daughters actually can't see each others' points of view. I find that to be happening in my marriage. I can't see Lee's point of view, at least not without looking through the lens of my own experience and emotions (and, if I'm being honest, my selfishness).

From my point of view, Lee is often dismissive of me. He's quick to poke fun or to contradict what I've said. He gets annoyed very easily, rolling his eyes or taking a deep breath (as if to signify that I've said something crazy or stupid).

Yesterday was Father's Day, which meant brunch with my parents. Time with my parents is always a minefield. He doesn't like my dad, and becomes reserved and dismissive in his presence. The dynamic is tense, because Dad never fails to be hurt and angry. This time, Lee arrived an hour late. (He said it was because I never told him what time we were meeting for brunch, and he had to go over a song with the band after the service.) By the time he arrived, Dad was already steaming. Lee was cordial but didn't make an effort at conversation either. He didn't want to be there. The whole experience was awkward for me, as it always is.

When we got home, I asked what was wrong (code for "Why are you behaving like such a jerk?"). When I didn't get a satisfying answer I told him he had to start being nicer to my parents. The rest of the day was a kind of cold war. He took the girls to the pool without including me. I went along anyway. At the pool he played with the girls, and when he got out, he left and went to the grocery store to buy food for dinner.

That night, he made BBQ chicken, and made it extra sweet for me (brown sugar and honey). That's actually not how I like BBQ chicken, but I recognized his intention to be kind. By evening he was treating me better, as usual. He's always best at night.

And so to the third principle, and how it relates...


We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one.  What we SHOULD care about is described in the first principle: We are created to praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.


In my Next Generation Mentoring group, Martha (our mentor) would listen as each of us younger women described these minor daily atrocities of our husbands. She often agreed with us that they (the husbands) were in the wrong and needed gentle reminders. But her overall message was that as a wife, we are meant to be our husband's helper. We are encouragers, comforters, helpers.

My reaction to this, of course, is what about accountability? Lee needs me to hold him accountable for his dismissiveness! His coldness! How can he change if I don't point it out to him?

But here's the rub: When I call Lee to the carpet, he almost never reacts well. I told him the other night that I felt he might be a little bit depressed. He replied (and I could have predicted this) that he could easily say the same thing about me. Then he said that he felt like I was riding him a lot lately. This is the interminable cycle: I call him out for being cold, and he replies that I'm critical and nagging. And so it goes. As the chaos theory says, I can't see his point of view, and he can't see mine.

And so back to these principles. We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. Instead, focus on what we are created to do: praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.

All experiences in our lives can be occasions of grace. How is this experience an occasion of grace? Focus on what I am created to do: praise, reverence and serve God. When Lee isn't loving me well, I'm to focus on loving him more.

It's not lost on me that I've never been especially good at picking up the cues around me, the muted hopes for help. In college I shared an apartment with a girl who lost her bearings. She and I weren't good friends, just roommates, and I came and went and made small talk with her when we both happened to be there. She wasn't a sad sack; in fact, she had sorority connections and interested guys and a cool smoking habit. At one point, though, she just packed up and left in the middle of the semester. Later, I met another student (a psych major) who asked me, "Didn't you notice that she hadn't left the apartment for three days? She was having a breakdown." I hadn't noticed. She had never indicated to me that anything was wrong, and I never asked. That she was often sitting on the couch, watching TV in her PJ's, didn't pose a red flag for me. Perhaps it would have if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own classes and guys and friends, etc.

Back to Lee. I see his red flags only when his behavior affects me. When his coldness makes me uncomfortable in front of my parents, or when he rolls his eyes in anger at something I've said. It's so easy to feel the injustice of this! He shouldn't behave this way! But am I creating an overall atmosphere of love and comfort, one that would maybe possibly smooth some of his rough edges? Nope. I keep anxiety at bay by making lists and focusing on my children and my work and getting dinner on the table.

We must not care about external things, like health or sickness, wealth or poverty, fame or obscurity, a long life or a short one. Instead, focus on what we are created to do: praise, reverence and serve God our Lord, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.


I react against this, because it feels weak. Give in? But he needs to be held accountable! This is the way I think, have been thinking for years. What if I TRY to change my focus to being Lee's helper? What does that look like?

He wants me to break the kids' habit of crawling into our bed at night. He's not a good sleeper to begin with, and any hindrance can mean a night of tossing and turning. I've agreed with him several times. But when the moment comes, usually at 2 or 3 or 4 a.m., I'm too tired to get up and shepherd them back to bed. And even on nights when I do, I haven't figured out how to keep them there. I need to turn my attention to this issue. It won't be easy.

He tends to want to have more date nights. This is always tricky. The money issue, the overeating issue, the which-friends-will-he-go-out-with issue, etc. But it's not as if I'm asking myself to make some big sacrifice here. I can navigate these waters.

In the moments when his behavior strikes me as...infuriating, I will focus on praising, serving and reverencing God.

The Ignatian Workout: Foundation (Day Two).

The second principle: Focusing on our eternal well-being. If something helps us, we should use it, and if it hinders us, we shouldn't.




Focus on the image of the rich man in the story of Lazarus and the rich man (Lk 16:19-26). What in your life makes you rich? What do you most value? What things in your life make you happy? What things in your life hinder you from being more loving?


I think back over my day. Summer is unique--a time of year when I find myself out of the house,  mostly at the pool, amidst other mothers of school-aged children. At no other time of year do I have so much opportunity to interact with friends. Robin's dealing with her aging mother-in-law staying in her home. Renee just bought a new Range Rover, then promptly got hit by a teenager; now she's catching heat from her husband. Jen M., a working mom, is having to adjust to a new nanny who's not vigilant enough at the pool. Christina's daughter is socially awkward and has few friends. Alyssa's son is on meds for ADHD.

Rarely do I feel as rich as I do in the month of June, sitting poolside with these women. Our problems are the problems of rich people. Our husbands are at work, and our bank accounts allow for daily trips to Publix or Kroger. I am stressed out by swim meets, not cancer or loss. In the story of Lazarus and the rich man, I most identify with the rich man.

The story makes me think: Who are the Lazaruses at my gate? In a literal sense, last spring I sought out an opportunity to work with poor children. I searched on the Internet, found a local group that helps poor kids, met twice with the director, and was placed as a volunteer at an after-school tutoring program for underprivileged kids. Every Wednesday, from 3-4:30 (while Mom took my own kids), I drove the short distance to Roswell North Elementary School and helped out with the first and second graders of Fulton Family Matters.

The experience ended with the school year, and I came away from it feeling...nothing. One and a half hours a week isn't enough time to make much of a difference. The mostly Hispanic kids weren't as advanced as my own, but they weren't in dire straits, either. They may be the children of day laborers or custodial workers (I don't know, just assuming), but they go to Roswell North, a good school. And they're brimming with confidence and spunk. Many of them didn't even seem to need my help with their homework.

I hear about the devastating effect that the recession has had on Georgia families. Kids are losing their homes; they don't have enough food. I am so isolated in my rich person's life that even my feeble attempt to reach out to poor children backfired. Feeble because the sacrifice I was willing to make was minimal. Because I have my own kids, I didn't want to travel far, and I was only willing to give up one afternoon a week.


What in your life makes you rich? What do you most value? What things in your life make you happy? What things in your life hinder you from being more loving?


Things in my life that hinder me from being more loving: my selfishness, of course. My need for security, for peace. I long for comfort, a smooth life. I don't think this is inherently wrong. I am saddened by the news of hurting people that I hear on NPR. But it doesn't affect me enough to pull me away from my own concerns.

The Ignatian Workout: Foundation (Day One)

Principle One: We are created to praise, reverence, and serve God, and by these means to achieve our eternal well-being.
Living the practice of the foundation is about challenging the false notions about what is good and bad in life.
"Jesus said, 'You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matthew 5:48).
Our perfection lies precisely in our ability to mirror the kind of love that God has for us...Our perfection is simply our desire to respond to this already accomplished fact of God's love, to make our lives great because we are capable of it.
To praise, reverence and serve God means to work with God at each moment, constructing our lives in such a way that all our choices, all our desires, all our hopes are oriented toward the love of God.
Our happiness depends upon loving God with all our heart, soul and strength. Take time to consider how you do this...


There's a swim meet tonight. It's been two weeks since the last swim meet, when I nearly drowned in a wellspring of agitation.

The backstory: Since February, I've brought Isabel and Lily to twice-weekly, semi-private swim lessons to get them ready for swim team. I'd noticed that Isabel had started putting on weight. Not too much, but enough to show that she hasn't inherited my skinny girl metabolism. I know that Isabel (and possibly Lily) will probably face a day, and after that a lifetime, when their bodies will become a source of burden. The focus on weight loss is so rampant, so ever-present around us, and my girls are just a few years away from noticing.

There are ways to deal with this, but the one I prefer is avoiding the weight issue naturally. Just don't put the weight on to begin with. And so the swim lessons. I thought I'd get Isabel into a highly aerobic sport, one where she'd burn calories without even realizing it. If she liked swimming, I'd sign her up for one of the year-round swim teams that are so plentiful in this area.

Then came May, and the neighborhood's summer swim team began. Despite those three months of twice weekly lessons, Isabel and Lily lagged behind their teammates at practice. Both were relegated to the last lane (where the weakest swimmers go). The coaches, laconic teenagers, had little incentive to help struggling swimmers get better. On the day before the first meet, when they had the kids race one another and timed it, Isabel came in dead last.

She dreaded the meet, and so did I. I called the assistant coach, and asked if Isabel could be in just two races, her two strongest strokes. But when the heat list arrived, Isabel was in three races, one of them a relay--which means three other kids (and these are not nice kids) would be depending on her to do well in order to get their ribbon.

The meet was like a dark night of the soul. Hot, crowded, very loud. Whistles and horns and screams. Kids pushed through the crowd with "EAT MY BUBBLES" scrawled in Sharpie across their backs. Isabel was sick with stress and worry, and my heart fluttered in vicarious anxiety. I approached the coach, an unsmiling college girl, and asked if Isabel really had to swim the relay. She brushed me off--"She can do it," she said--and I glared at her, turned away angrily. And then...the four-hour ordeal stretched out before us like an eternity.

Kids swarmed the snack bar, buying Pushup Pops and Airheads and M&Ms and Kit Kats and Ring Pops. There's a tacit acknowledgement from the parents that the candy gorging is part of the swim meet experience. Isabel and Lily's experience, too. I objected, but not out loud. How could I?

Lee arrived late, then didn't want to stay. I fumed at the injustice of that; he fumed at my inability to understand that he'd just worked a full day and commuted home and therefore wasn't up for this brutal exercise.

In the end, the coach was right. Isabel swam all three races adequately. She didn't come close to winning, but her relay team was the B team, so they wouldn't have won anyway. At nine p.m., we dragged ourselves home, with Isabel insisting that she would never swim in another meet again.

At practice yesterday, I sat a few tables over from Paul, the stay-at-home dad to Min and Saree, who are teammates and neighborhood kids. A year ago I'd tried unsuccessfully to plant a friendship there, inviting them for playdates. They are beautiful girls, but cold and unsmiling, even at their young ages. Saree's sport is gymnastics. At the ripe old age of going-on-seven, she executes perfect cartwheels on the grassy entrance to the pool.

The first week of swim team practice, Saree took a liking to Lily. They made a tent together, rolled in the grass. The second week, Saree dropped her for another girl. Every morning since then, Lily watches them make tents across the pool, and then she makes her own tents by herself, next to me.

I overheard a snippet of Paul in a conversation with a friend. "You can't teach competitiveness," he was saying. "They have to have it in them."

I blanched. I began to talk to him in my mind. "You CAN teach compassion and kindness, though," I thought. "And which is more important, really?" He angered me, this man who put his high-achieving, unsmiling girls on the school bus with my sweet, guileless ones.

Our happiness depends upon loving God with all our heart, soul and strength.  It's a matter of mirroring back God's love for us. We are CAPABLE OF MAKING OUR LIVES GREAT, by responding to the already established fact of God's love for us. 

Tonight, another meet. Standing poolside amidst the chaos, hugging Isabel close, I will not feel the love of God. I'll feel short of breath. I'll feel angry, disappointed. I'll fret over my inability to keep the candy count down to two per kid.

Challenging the false notions about what is good and bad in life: The false--not to mention ridiculous--notions at tonight's swim meet? Swimming isn't about health; it's about squashing your opponent. Candy, gobs of it, is quite all right. (So what if Georgia is #2 in the nation for obese children? It's a swim meet!) The louder, the better, always. The later, the better, too. You're weird if you're not enjoying it.

Is a swim meet an opportunity to love God with all our heart, soul and strength? Here's my prayer: Lord, show me tonight how to love you, how to feel your love and mirror it back, in the midst of the hell-writ-small that is tonight's swim meet. I will be looking for you in the chaos.

Now as for Paul, and his girls. Lord, please help me to identify why they bother me. They are not slaying children in Darfur or raping women in the Sudan! This is small, and yet I live out my life in small spaces like my neighborhood, and even the small stuff counts.

If I am focused on your love, on mirroring back your love, then a taskmaster dad and his snooty offspring shouldn't make a difference to me. I am already quite friendly to him and his girls. I can work on meaning it. I will not be happy, and I will not make my life great, by recoiling at the people around me. I can see them in perspective. They are indifferent to me and my girls, but why would it matter when God is deeply interested in us? I will construct my life in such a way that all my choices, all my desires, all my hopes are oriented toward loving him back.

Examen

I am going to start doing The Ignatian Workout: Daily Spiritual Exercises for a Healthy Faith. Before I begin to do the workouts, I'm going to try to do an exercise called the examen for a few days.

1. Pray for understanding.
2. Give thanks.
3. Pay attention to your feelings.
--What feelings were most strong and why?
--Ask God to help you understand where the feelings come from and what they tell you about your spiritual life.
4. Examine one of your feelings.
--Your strongest feeling surely points to something important. What is it?
--Allow the feeling to lead you in conversation with God.
5. Look ahead.
--How will this affect your choices in the future?
--Are you actively creating the life you should, or are you a passive spectator?

--Are your choices determined by the people and circumstances around you, or do you create opportunities to live as you are able?

--Pray that God will lead you toward choices that are more "life-giving."

6. Close with The Lord's Prayer.