What's in a Name? A Personal Transition Reflection

For most of my life, I've been "Cathy."  Recently I decided to make a transition back to Catherine, my given name.  Not because I had a profound revelation.  It was more a longstanding desire that I finally acted upon.  It brought a gut level joy and excitement.  Excitement that it’s never too late to change.  Excitement because I think it’s a beautiful name.  Joy that it fits. 
 
I wanted to make the transition three times before.  In middle school I wanted to go by Catherine… but my new best friend was Catherine… so, in earnest middle school logic, I definitely couldn’t be Catherine.  The same logic held in high school.  When I went away to college, I wanted to transition to “Catherine.”  But soon I discovered more than embracing this change, I wanted familiarity and a sense of being known.  So Cathy it was.  Recently, as I was redoing some paperwork for the Soul Restoration Project, I thought, ‘this is it!  It’s time to go by Catherine.’ 

I was named Catherine after my paternal grandmother.  I have a lot of love and respect for her and I’m proud to have her name.    And, as my parents age, and as I appreciate the good of my heritage, I want to reclaim this part.  It was a gift to me from my parents, and ultimately a gift from God.

 

Names matter.  We know that intuitively.  Every parent I know is thoughtful about naming their child.  I also believe that somehow, whether God is intentionally sought for wisdom or not in naming, our Creator is at work.  God is at work, in partnership with parents, to name His children. And we have the opportunity to receive this gift and celebrate it.   

I’m curious about you.  What meaning does your name hold for you?  Do you think of your name as a gift?  I’d love to hear from you. 

Acceptance and the Gift of Self-Acceptance, A Reflection

There are few gifts as beautiful as the gift of acceptance.  In my own life, experiences of acceptance flow like a stream in the desert.  I’m sure the stream started as I was welcomed into my family, the little girl my parents happily anticipated.  Then there were my earliest friends in kindergarten; I remember an enthralling sense of acceptance as we learned our first bad word together.  Then there was the wonderful experience of sitting on the lap of Ms. F, my first grade teacher when I moved to a new school and felt like the outsider as the new kid.  Then there was the kindness of Matt when other boys teased me.  Fast forward many years there was my first significant relationship that imprinted a deep sense of specialness and acceptance, healing many rejections.  And there was the steady love and respect from my closest friend in a faith crisis. 

There are moments in my most intimate relationships when my weaknesses, fears and general darkness are exposed—and I hope against hope for acceptance ... that s/he/they won’t leave, either physically or emotionally.  What I really want to know is, when I'm messy, will this person hang in there with me?  Will I experience that beautiful gift of acceptance and genuine connection?  Pop singer Kelly Clarkson articulates this desire so beautifully in her song Dark Side.  Part of the lyrics go, "Everybody's got a dark side.  Do you love me? Can you love mine? Nobody's a picture perfect. But we're worth it.  You know that we're worth it.  Will you love me? Even with my dark side?”  I love that song.

There are no guarantees that we will find the acceptance from others that we long for.  At some point we painfully realize that others leave.  Or they express their disapproval or criticism in ways that can feel even worse than if they just physically left.  The temptation is to withdraw and shut down, believing vulnerability is not a worthy investment and that messiness is our greatest liability.  Many of us fear that our worth is defined by our mistakes and our weaknesses.  We can offer a history of our mistakes, of the ways we are unworthy.  Therefore we hide in shame and pretend all is fine, convincing ourselves and others that we are worthy.   

Often we are our own worst enemy here.  We become ruthlessly critical towards ourselves (and even others at times).  Sometimes this is even what prompts us to seek out counseling and personal growth.  

We go to therapy or embark on some personal growth journey wanting to change something about ourselves or our circumstances.  So we do a little therapy, go to church or read a book and are often discouraged that, “it’s still there.”  In an earnest determination to change we can actually calcify some aspect of ourselves we don’t like.  
 

A more effective approach is to create an atmosphere of acceptance.  I may not like an aspect of myself but what if I choose to accept it and even embrace it as an important part of the whole me?  Whether it’s my temper, my weight, my complaint, my sensitivity, my addiction, my fear, my sexuality, my drivenness, my avoidance, my loneliness.  Could I choose to accept it?  In other words, could I believe, “this is a significant part of me.  It’s not my best or my worst, but it is a part of who I am.”  I am convinced that acceptance creates the greatest atmosphere for movement!  

 
For example, Sara would get extremely frustrated with her spouse.  Frequently seemingly small household chores would become the focus of unleashed rage.  In many other facets of her life she patient, helpful and kind.  She generally was sweet and gentle.  Sarah had difficulty owning her anger.  Instead she blamed her spouse for it.  By blaming him she didn't have the opportunity to grow in insight and understanding of her internal process.  Once she could accept her own actions and feelings-- insight, understanding and growth followed.  She came to understand her feelings and how she tended to bottle them up until they were explosive.  In therapy she explored how feelings, and particularly hurt and anger functioned in her family of origin.  In time Jill learned to care for her own emotional life more attentively.  She learned to navigate frustrations in new ways that produced peace and growth.
 

This is the heart of grace.  In the Apostle Paul’s letter to the church in Rome (chapter 2) he writes that it is God’s kindness that leads us to repentance.  In other words, God’s acceptance leads to transformation.  God’s love creates the soil in which we are free to grow. 

Paradoxical isn’t it, that acceptance leads to change?  Often we thin that acceptance leads to laziness or being stuck.  We think, "I don't want acceptance, I want change!"  But what if acceptance leads to change?  ... It's an interesting principle that has wide application: experiencing kindness and love softens our defenses and leads to openness and growth.  When I am living in an atmosphere of acceptance I am naturally more willing to acknowledge my faults and my impact on others. 

The concept of acceptance may seem distasteful, weak or passive.  It isn't.  Acceptance is an active cultivation of compassion and gratitude.  It opens the door to self-awareness.

Acceptance is not just the beginning as if we then go onto self-criticism on our quest for bigger and better real change.  Acceptance and embracing of what is can be the beginning, middle and end of our journey. If things change in the meantime, great.  But some things may not change.  In ourselves or in our circumstances.  Even as some things do change (Thank God!!), there will be new difficulties on the horizon.  We can continually choose the road of acceptance, embracing what is with humility and gratitude.  As we become more accepting of ourselves, we will probably be drawn to those who are likewise more accepting.

Acceptance is a key aspect on the path that leads to change.  And if we embrace acceptance along the way we will cultivate the most important changes: the formation of compassion, patience, kindness, humility, comfort, clarity and other facets of love.   

Practically-speaking, what if you were to suspend your judgments of some aspect of yourself?  Instead, what if you were to become more familiar with that part of yourself?  What if you were curious and chose acceptance?  What if you were courageously vulnerable?  If that part of you could tell you his/her story, what would s/he say?  Would you talk about loneliness?  Fear?  Anger?  Rejection?  Sadness?  Can you listen to and accept that part of yourself?

Accepting yourself is a gift you can give yourself.  My hope is that you will experience this gift firsthand and then offer the gift of acceptance to others. 

Christmas 2012: Longings, Loss and Hope

I'd like to share a few thoughts on the sometimes difficult path back to God and hope.  This fall I led a women’s group whose purpose was to discover God and hope anew.  It was a challenging, vulnerable and hopeful journey.  In Advent, a time of expectant waiting, I think about the invitation to find hope in quiet waiting … a waiting that invites the longings of our hearts to find fresh hope in Christ’s coming.  Too easily I'm tempted instead to go through the motions, settling for something that's more akin to a dulled optimism.  But optimism is a cheap substitute for deep hope.  One author writes of the need for quiet, deep hope:

Optimism speaks incessantly, fearing that if it stops framing this reality in a positive manner it will be annihilated by the nothingness all around us.  But hope is a secret that calls for silence, contemplation, and deep reflection.  Hope bubbles up from deep within our being that is so close to nothingness, making its way to our lips in fear and trembling.  We find ourselves choking on the wonder of its possibility; we find that contemplating it forces us to speak lower; because we are hoping in an altogether different reality, in the dawn of God’s future, where death is not optimistically given face paints and cotton candy to hold, but is obliterated in the fullness of life in God’s Love.  (Andrew Root, The Promise of Despair, p.143-144)

As Christmas approaches, in celebrating, longing and hoping for the fullness of God’s love, we sing out:

O Come, O come, Emmanuel, / and ransom captive Israel,

that mourns in lonely exile here / until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice!  Rejoice! / Emmanuel shall come to thee ,/ O Israel.

We celebrate the Hope fulfilled in Jesus’ coming … and we await, with lonely longings, for the day when there will be no more tears and no more exile.  Apart from connection to our own brokenness, longings and need, how can we make room for the Christ child in our lives? 

Hope, longings and loss closely comingle.  In the women’s group, we grieved how our hope had grown dim, and we opened up deep, historic longings and disappointments.  We courageously wrote and expressed laments to God. 

As Jesus said, “Blessed are those who mourn: they shall be comforted.”  Henri Nouwen comments on this, “That’s the unexpected news: there’s a blessing hidden in our grief.  …  Somehow, in the midst of our mourning, the first steps of the dance take place.  Somehow, the cries that well up from our losses belong to our songs of gratitude.” (Henri Nouwen, With Burning Hearts, p.31)    

The risky path of vulnerability is the path of hope.  It was what Jesus embodied: naked vulnerability and deep trust.  It is the path of growth and the path of salvation.  It is the greatest gift. 

This is the gift we celebrate at the Soul Restoration Project, the path we walk in therapy, workshops and groups. 

I hope for both you and I to know abundant love and hope deep within this Christmas and to be agents of it to those around us.