Completion.

I have been asking myself, "What does carry your cross mean?' 

I haven't gone looking to see how others interpret the phrase: carry your cross.  I am afraid their explanations will still be too abstract for me in saying the same thing I already know: how to carry the cross.  But maybe once I see how my answer constructs itself, here, I will be curious to see how my thoughts ground someone else's interpretation.  Because that is such a popular phrase, I do wonder what it means to others.

What is a cross?  Solid wood, something heavy, something Jesus carried up a hill, something Jesus would die upon, something that weakened Jesus, something Jesus innocently suffered upon

What do I carry that feels like a cross? Truth.  

How does truth feel like a cross?  I tuned in to a rosary episode, and the guest made a remark I had never heard someone say before, but I did agree.  He said, "The church is afraid of human suffering."  It was not easy to agree with his remark, but I knew the host was being vulnerable because she nodded her head in agreement like it was something she had never heard before but she needed to hear it, too. https://youtu.be/wDRYGgA6lPE

What is the church?  It is not a building.  The church is the body of Christ.  What is the body of Christ?  A collective who believe in the life of Jesus Christ.  What is the collective made up of?  Human beings.  Thus, I agreed with the guest, human beings are afraid of human suffering.  If human beings are afraid of their own suffering, they are going to be afraid of another's suffering.  

I think I have lost myself, so I am going to try and find my mark again.  Truth came to mind because I sat down with the idea of compassion.

I asked myself if I have compassion.  Yes, I have compassion. 

How do I know I have compassion?  I feel my compassion for people, so deeply it is silent.  So silent someone once told me when I had all the compassion in the world for the person, "But you don't care." I was still because I knew I cared deeply, I was already blue in the face from trying to communicate my compassion.  You know that lyric in Maroon 5’s song, “She had some trouble with herself.”  I have had trouble with myself in people listening to me when I am trying to communicate.  

Do I have compassion for myself?  Yes, I do.  

My self-compassion is where this starts to get heavy.  People are so consumed by their own suffering, they consume me because of the depth of my compassion.  The only compassion I receive in the encounter, very seeming to me, is my compassion I return to myself.  And it gets heavier.  Compassion for myself is the only way out.  An illustration I have given someone as one way that looks is: I am with you in the dark.  I have no flashlight.  You have no flashlight.  Follow the sound of my voice, I trust its direction.

(It can all get heavier, but I will keep that between Matt and I and our walk tonight.  No cell phones.  Just Matt listening to me talk and me listening to him tell me about his lunch with my sister and my brother-in-law he had today. Matt keeps me grounded well.  August 3, 2022) 

How do I know I have self-compassion?  I have led myself out with my own voice.  My family is that patient with me and that great at listening to me.  

How does the compassion I have feel like a cross?  People want compassion with convenience, they do not want the truth of my compassion.  I am urgent with my compassion but I am patient with my self-compassion and people are impatient with my compassion because they are impatient with their suffering, and my compassion comes no other way but the hard way: with the truth.  

I am not afraid of human suffering, I am afraid how my compassion will be used by suffering humans. 

(As Father Rob Galea would say, “Do it scared.”  My confidence is in Christ Jesus.  August 1, 2022)

I have heard people refer to Jesus as a best friend.  

How is Jesus my best friend? I have asked for the mind of Jesus, and His mind is with me in my suffering and His mind is with me as I mourn beside others in their suffering.  I would like to call The Mind of Jesus, The Descent of the Holy Spirit.  

(Someone tried to cripple me once with the ruthless insult, “Your mind is fucked up.” I had courage and stayed still because I can still recall every fruitful intention in my thoughts and actions; I prayed about everything in our encounter.  I knew how wrong the insult was. #bestillandknow)

Someone has been as patient with my compassion as I am patient with my self-compassion.  The response I received: “I  will never assume anything about you ever again.”  

I know people assume plenty about me; I feel it in how alone I feel in their company.  

I have been hard at work at what Kate called The Vibe.  

I do not want my vibe to be read as "You are the nicest person I have ever met."  Kids #s in middle school who asked to copy my homework because they were too bothered to do their own would encourage me with, "You are the nicest person I've ever met."  I am not embarrassed to confess: My homework got passed around.  I highlighted the main character's remark in Stay with a lot of memories in mind: "I had a right to refuse. ...I guess I knew I could, but it was so desperately uncomfortable that I usually didn't."  I was already challenged by the kids' audacity to ask and keep asking.  I never did get approached by teachers, and I don't even know to remember how it all stopped.    

I want my vibe to be so kind people don’t even ask because all by themself they know it is wrong, so they #justdoRiGHt

My little buck is helping hold me accountable in the struggle.  I am excited about juicing fruits and vegetables again because the pulp and scraps have revived him from his hard start in life.  The other deer know his celebrity, too.  I like when he is able to visit me alone or with a doe Matt and I have named, Friendly, so we can enjoy the hard work we have all put in together.  I enjoy watching him eat beside other deer, and I will scold any doe for kicking my little buck away from his fresh scraps. I see him watching me handle those kinds of does.  He gets back, too.  He has a healthy fear of me, I still cannot pet him; I am happy he does as a buck.  I have not had any issue with other bucks bullying him.  Ain't that funny!   Matt tells me I am going to get slashed by hooves one day, and I know by which doe.  Since she has had a baby of her own, she eats more graciously beside my little buck.  Ain't that funny!  

(September 2022 I noticed something about little buck at his pile of sunflower seeds Matt put out for a visit, he stood still when a doe tried to threaten him away from a pile he was sharing before he chose to go to a new pile.  He is growing brave up good and slow.) 

I stay watchful for my little buck at the window, and Dixie helps alert me, "He's here!"  

   

I told Matt one day, there is something about the deer we name.  We have named: Bonnie, Lark, Friendly, and Elby (for Little Buck but I still call him only Little Deer).  Their features are dear.  Lark was most hard to name because his features were sorrowful: They looked like Chronic Wasting Disease.

Dixie is alerting me as I type.  Her bark for Elby is deeper.  I like my surprise when I check her work; he was, indeed, among the herd.  

I have this saying Like Emily Like Dixie.  I don't have to know Dixie has deep compassion for a deer like Elby to know Dixie has deep compassion for a deer like Elby because Dixie has self-compassion.  I knew she had self-compassion when she was happy to become part of our home.     

(I know Dixie’s self-compassion is innate, but I do give credit to her start for nurturing it within her.  I once wrote a recommendation letter for her friend who gave her that start.  Strange story.  He was expelled from a community college program due to lack of integrity, and he was trying to find a new start.  I encouraged him to apply to Victoria College.  Someone had forged a letter of recommendation for him before, and I discouraged that behavior when trying to apply to one of my alma maters.  Victoria College was very good to me, and under my wing, he was going to apply with integrity.  In lieu of the letter that would be hard to get from his former college who expelled him, I tried my approach:  writing a personal letter of recommendation from me, an alumni.  I wrote about how knowing his dog, Dixie, he was going to be an allied health student worth investing in.  I appreciate the compassion the Director extended him: He explained he had been burned too many times by prospective students with similar stories and he appreciated my letter of recommendation.  Then I found the Director blocked my email address when I wanted to follow up with him teacher to teacher; the Director had intuitive insight. #divineintervention for the Director, himself, that is, and I am glad the Director followed through with what he needed to do for himself because hindsight, Dixie’s friend continued to struggle with integrity.  I told Dixie’s friend Victoria College was great. August 3, 2022)