Day 5: Glorious Autumn

 Really rushing to get a post out today... my apologies in advance for the lack of editing!

To borrow the words of literature's most famous Maritimer, Anne Shirley,
 “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."

"Gonna rain starting Wednesday," my husband advised me late Monday night.
"That'll be the end of the leaves, " I lamented. Both September and October have been particularly warm this year.   We traveled south for nearly two weeks this month, and upon our return we were greeted with a chill in the air. It comes fast, that switch from the beauty of autumn to its dreary drizzle. 

Late autumn in New Brunswick is not only the cold rain that strips the trees of their leaves, but also the rapid shortening of days.  I've been struggling finding times to go out for a run this last week, because I only do so when my husband is home and this time of year, he leaves before the sun rises and is not home until after it sets.  

Running has become such a welcome and peaceful part of my life.  I began running regularly in the summer and from day one I committed to praying the Rosary as I went. At first it was walking the Hail Marys and only running the Our Fathers, but lo and behold one day I found myself running straight through and then some. It has truly become a mini-retreat for me to pray and be silent and push myself to persevere. Not being able to run as frequently any more combined with anticipating the winter snow and ice have had me looking into home treadmills and gym memberships.  

So, when I woke up in the dark this morning  I was already bracing for the changing weather, scrambling to find extra layers to put on before going downstairs.  But when I opened the kitchen door to let our puppy out to the yard I was pleasantly surprised to find it was as warm outside as it was indoors.  Perhaps warmer!

I loaded up the van with kids, a puppy, water bottles, and plastic bags and we headed to a beach not too far from home which I knew featured a great playground plus enough pavement and trails to let me run.

My heart began to soar just driving through red-gold-green woods to arrive at the park and when we pulled into the driveway and caught sight of the river it took my breath away. 

Glory to Thee, O Lord in all Thy creative splendor!

Today felt like such a perfect gift from my beloved Father who knew exactly what would bring my heart joy.  The warmth of the air made for a cozy blanket, the forests ablaze in glorious colour delighted my eyes.  The laughs ringing out as my kids piling up a massive leaf pile and jumped in it filled my soul with joy.

Pure grace! 

Day 4: Why all the Mud?

My blog was originally named "Letters from the Mud" and I changed it to "Ordinary Time" a while later.  Blog subscribers will know that already because the posts always have that original title in the subject.  Inside knowledge like that is just one of the benefits of being a subscriber by email -- you can sign up too, over on the right if you're on a desktop, or at the bottom is you're on a mobile device. Go ahead, I'll just wait for you...

I've never written about my blog's title, but the story behind it holds a lot of significance.  It's because I feel this story is so dear to me that I've hesitated to share it publicly before.  It stemmed from a dream unlike any dream I'd ever had before or since.   I'm not into dream interpretation and I don't tend to give dreams much credence, even though I love trying to recall the ones I am able to remember -- who doesn't? But, this one, well, it was different.

Frankly,  I have always considered this dream to be an important message for me.  I don't say that lightly, in fact I say it quite squirmingly, knowing how flaky it may sound. I certainly don't want to just share this for the sake of getting attention for myself.  I did share it with a few trusted others at the time,  hoping for insight and guidance, but mostly I've kept it guarded in my own heart.  

One of the things about writing somewhat publicly like this (especially after Brandon Vogt created a 300-fold increase in my blog traffic by sharing my review of his book -- thanks Brandon), is that you have to be really cautious about sharing consolations -- or perceived consolations -- you've experienced.  I think the standard sage advice is that any consolation (along with any gift at all) you've received is always meant for the good, the love of others, however that doesn't always mean you explicitly share what happened, even though the fruits that are borne of the insights gained and the virtues deepened are definitely for God to use for the good of others.  

As for dreams... well, yes, the Bible shows that God most certainly has been known to send messengers via dreams from time to time.  So, was this dream a message from God? Honestly, I feel it is -- though that sounds so alarmingly haughty- but I don't trust myself to say that with authority.  In any case, for whatever reason, I had an astounding dream that definitely impacted me and which I've found to be an ongoing source of wisdom and insight.  By contrast, most of my dreams are just wonky, oddball things, involving lost shoes and sitting the wrong exam and trying to answer a ringing payphone when it's actually the alarm clock sounding.   Do I dare call my dream a message from God? A consolation received? I'm still undecided about that, but yes, it was something radically different.  In any case, I do know with certainty that God can use anything and everything for our good, so my odd dream must at least fall into that category, if nothing else.

I've had two dear friends both implore me recently, in almost identical words -- of which this will be a terrible paraphrase -- to share the light of Christ through my writing and both alluded to my own messiness as hope for others.  As I read their beautiful letters, especially the second one I received which reiterated so much that the first one had said, my mind immediately went to that old dream and I felt yeah, I think it's time to write about it.

So after the longest preamble ever, here's the dream!

I was standing at the foot of the cross, on dusty ground.
My eyes were at the height of Christ's chest.  
I couldn't see his face, but I could see his torso, his arms, and his legs.  I was close enough to touch Him.
I stood there begging for forgiveness and mercy and the water from His side began to gush forth, showering me with a torrent.
I remember feeling so joyful, so hopeful, thinking how clean, how white as snow I'd surely become washed in this font.
But I looked down, and to my chagrin, I realized that somehow the dust from the ground was mixing with the flood of water and instead of being washed clean I was being completely splattered, no, utterly covered in grey-brown mud. 
And I wanted it to stop! 
"No, Jesus! Please," I was begging him, "clean me!" 
Why is this happening? I don't want to be muddy! Wash away my sins, don't make them more obvious!
The water is supposed to wash my white as snow! Why is it making me dirtier?
And it was as if I was made to understand that the path by which I would work out my salvation, the one ordained for me, was going to involve being brutally real about the mess I am, about the mess I've been, that wretch. 
I always cringe at my own failure, my swollen, battered pride always urges me to move on and cut ties after I've screwed up. I want to start again; make some good first impressions, leave behind those who know me at my worst.  
I long to put on a shiny new garment over the old, dirty rag and hope no one notices it peeking out from under the hem.  
But Scripture reminds us that, "...there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light." (Luke 8:17)  which has helped me to more willingly try to discard the masks and cover ups now while I still have the chance

I understood that my mud would somehow, amazingly to me, be light in the darkness to others, that through my humiliating messiness others, who saw themselves being just as muddy, would find great hope in Christ.  
I understood that humiliation, weakness, embarrassment would be planks in the cross I was being asked to carry.
Over time I've come to discover with joy some other things this dream means:
I understand now that God doesn't just forget our repented sins, but in His merciful love He truly uses them to weave them into a tale even more beautiful, glorious.
I understand now that salvation is never a solitary manner, we are saved for others, and others for us. God will use all we offer Him for the good of others, for their salvation.
I understand that what's impressive and useful to me is not what counts to God, what is externally impressive to me is not what He sees. holiness doesn't look like you've got it all together, it looks like you've given it all to Him.
But most of all, I understood that I was not alone in this mud, I only needed to look up to see Him right there in front of me, with me in every moment, carrying me.

So why am I sharing this?
Well, maybe you're thinking you're way too far gone.
Maybe you're thinking Christ isn't for you, but for those normal looking people over there.
Maybe you can't see a way out of the mess you're in.
Maybe you think you can't approach Him until you're finally good enough.

Well, you're not too far gone as long as you have air in those lungs.
He is for you, completely.
Christ can see the way, because He is the Way.
And no. You'll never be good enough. No one will ever be good enough...not even those beautiful, normal, successful people over there. But He is good, and that is enough.

Don't be afraid to surrender, He loves you and wants to scoop you up from the ditch and carry you. No matter how crusty and gross your mud is, no matter how convoluted and twisted and wretched your story is, your mess,  He loves you, he wants to liberate you from all those ties that bind you and bring you into His radiant, glorious, beautiful, liberating life.

Working out my salvation one gloppy mess at a time

This is an article developed from one I originally wrote a couple of years ago. I'm delighted that it was recently published by Aleteia.org!

For a long time after reverting to Catholicism I would trip up over the idea of “duty”. Over and over again I’d read about discerning the will of God, and I’d consider that whatever God’s will for one’s life, it always included a sense of vocational duty.

But I had a stubborn resistance to being told what to do. In my mind I associated duty with oppression, or at least with unfortunate, toilsome obligation. Wasn’t this what the Protestants were always charging Catholics with: thinking we had to work for our salvation?

I came to realize that I had been thinking of my duty – within my vocation as a mother, for instance — as what I begrudgingly needed do in order to repay God for ....  

To read the rest of the article, please follow the link to the Aleteia website.

Why You Should Read "Why I Am Catholic (and you should be too)" by Brandon Vogt

I was given the chance to receive a complimentary copy of Brandon Vogt's new book "Why I am Catholic (and you should be too)" in exchange for an honest review.  So, thank you, Ave Maria Press for that opportunity.

Brandon Vogt has written a great summary of the basic arguments for Catholicism, and that in itself comprises an exhaustive list.  His work, while concise, covers so much ground. It truly is impressive and would stand out among other introductory apologetic works for that reason alone.   This is clearly a well-planned, and deliberately executed book.  I get the sense no detail was left to chance.  

I know Brandon has done extensive research into the 'none' phenomena and has written about and developed evangelical tools to that end previously. Brandon is an expert apologist and evangelist, no doubt.  However, the rigidity of the structure kind of got to me: Twice in the book he states something akin to wishing he had more space to elaborate.  Personally, that irks me.  "It's YOUR book!" I feel like shouting at the page, "Who's stopping you from writing what you want to write if it's that important to you?"  At points like that I feel like I can see a bit too much of the behind-the-scenes, planning and that is a bit off-putting, but really, this is the only criticism I have of this entire book.  

But, since it's so well-structured, let's look at that, because really, I think it was brilliant and was what really made this such a great book, that exceeded my expectations.  The book begins and ends with a provocative appeal to the 'nones' to seriously consider Catholicism as the last true rebellion.  Sandwiched between the introduction and conclusion, Brandon categorizes his arguments.  Each chapter is entitled with a direct and concise answer to the question "Why I Am Catholic". These chapters are organized under what he calls the three Transcendentals: truth, goodness, and beauty, and herein the book soars.  More about that in a minute.

As someone who is already Catholic, I think this book, thanks in large part to its clear and thoughtful organization, makes for a great reference book to have on hand for me to "always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope" (1 Peter 3:15).  

But this book isn't really written for Catholics. Brandon has written this book for "nones" -- those who have either never experienced religion, or who effectively rejected the religious tradition of their parents by the time they reached young adulthood.  This is the group of people who claim no religious affiliation.  This is not exactly the same as atheism or agnosticism, as many 'nones' have not necessarily ever pursued that line of thought -- rather it seems that many have either just passively arrived at adulthood with no religious conviction, or having rejected some element of their childhood faith tradition, left it and never filled that void, at least not with God.

I was baptized as a ten-day old and raised by my Catholic mom and my 'none' dad. I went to Catholic school, was quite involved in my parish, and considered Catholicism to be an important part of my identity.  However, as a sinful young person, my desire to justify my appetite for sinful behaviour led me down the road of twisting the truth, picking and choosing Church teachings, embracing subjective truth, and basically fabricating a set of beliefs that I wrongly felt suited my (stunted) self. Before long, and without noticing, the deity I worshiped was replaced by the god of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism.  I no longer knew or believed in God the Creator; God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; the Word made flesh who dwelt among us.    Having married a 'none' myself, being only nominally concerned with my faith at that time, I slowly began to tire of coming up with convoluted, wishy-washy answers to my husband's questions about Catholic teaching that allowed me to have my cake and eat it too.  Finally, I rejected this god I had constructed as weak, distant, and unconcerned with life on Earth, and I embraced the 'none' label myself.  Looking back I see this as a very good thing, as I wasn't rejecting God, but an idol, and He would use that void to draw me back to Himself.  But at that time, I would have none of it and I sought to reconstruct my understanding of the world and actively undo all the silly, quaint, beliefs of my youth.

Now back to the Transcendentals.

Brandon has organized his arguments into three categories: evidence that speaks to truth; evidence that speaks to goodness; and evidence that speaks to beauty.  Each of these three transcendentals have the ability to lead us to that point where all of our natural, empirical explanations hit a wall, but with enough force, these transcendentals carry us through that wall, as though it were the back side of the Narnian wardrobe, and we find ourselves bewildered, lost in wonderment, and often falling to our knees in the sudden, staggering awareness that life and has just exploded out of the tidy, natural confines of the physical box we believed to contain the totality of the universe.  In a moment you believe there is something so much more than this paltry, earthly, physical existence.  You can sense the supernatural layer that infuses every aspect of reality, coating the world as with a blanket of love.   For the first time in your life, you have truly tasted reality and you can never go back.

This transcendence isn't analogous to anything material I can think of to use as a worthwhile example.   Suffice to say, if you aren't sure you've experienced it, you probably haven't.  

It is the Holy Spirit, God Himself, who alone is capable of converting people.  But I believe that the witnesses of the faithful, mounting piles of evidence, thoughtful reasoning, heroic demonstrations of goodness and charity, and breathtaking beauty are all tools He uses; His cooperation with His creation, to rouse and prompt the soul to conversion.

I think that what Brandon rightly intuits is that when faced with an avalanche of truth, goodness, or beauty, we will ultimately be carried on a wave through that back wardrobe wall.  For myself, it was the truth that first got me. One evening I started googling for evidence to either support or reject a claim that a Christian friend had presented me with.  By the end of that night, the truth I found had surmounted to slay all my resistance in a single moment. In a heartbeat I knew. God was real. More real to me than my own hand.  He was the Creator of all things. And He was the Trinitarian God of the Bible.   As Brandon says in his book, citing Socrates, just because something is true, doesn't make it comfortable, but we need to follow it wherever it leads, despite the discomfort or unpopularity. In that instant I knew I was a lost sinner, I knew I needed to repent, and I knew I needed to cling to God.  
Sure, I had a lot to learn and a long way to go, but something had changed, my path was set, there could be no turning back.
  
For others, I know that it has been goodness or beauty that caused them to recognize God and upend their lives for love of Him.  In Les Misérables, it is an incredible encounter with a merciful priest that radically transformed the escaped, hardened convict Jean Valjean into a heroic, model of charity.  In a word, he was confronted and overwhelmed by goodness.  For Dorothy Day, I would say it was beauty that caught her: in her memoir The Long Loneliness, Day writes of the indescribable gratitude for her newborn daughter and the longing to give thanks, and the realization that there must be something greater, beyond the simply natural world, to whom she owes this thanks.  The beauty of new life turned her mind to thoughts beyond this plain.  

For most armchair theologian-Catholics, many of the arguments that Brandon presents will be familiar ones, but he still manages to give them an air of freshness and he is always very clear.  But some of the arguments were ones I don't remember explicitly coming across previously and I was truly impressed. His chapters, "Because it Offers Forgiveness" and "Because of Heroic Charity" both made my heart surge with love.  "Because it Lifts us Up" is a remarkable discussion of the teleology of life in Christ that you don't often encounter in the Western Church.  Finally, "Because We Need Religion" is a convincing response to the spiritual-but-not-religious mantra of the current age.

Brandon has commendably provided ample materials for the avalanche. But will the 'nones' respond to this book? 

Here is the really exciting part that all you Catholics reading this, thinking about your lost loved ones really want to hear:  is there any chance this book will actually touch the heart and mind of your beloved unbeliever?  This is where I am thrilled to offer up the following test case: my husband.  My husband was never baptized, never raised in any kind of faith tradition.  Although we've known each other for over nineteen years, God, Christianity in general, and Catholicism in particular are still foreign and weird to him.  And this is a guy who goes to Mass every Sunday for love of his family.  Still, to him, Mass might as well be a standing date with any club. To this day, he has always claimed unbelief.

So, knowing I had to write this review I asked if he would at least read the introduction to give me his thoughts. As I said above, the introduction really provokes the 'none' to stick with the rest of the book.  My husband is not a man who reads for fun.  But he obliged me.  And here is what he said of the introduction:
"It's intriguing. I definitely felt compelled to read more. It's better than any of the other books like this that you've given me. It's smarter."  That was promising!
So today he made some time to read the first chapter: "Because God Exists".   His thoughts:
"I'm really impressed with the Kalam argument; I had never heard that."
"Hey," I interjected, my pride bruised, "I've said that to you before and all those other books did too!"
"Well, how it's written is really clear and makes a lot of sense."

He came back to me a bit later and said, "That book! It's really good. It's really making me think. It's poking holes in all my arguments."  And he's only on the first chapter!

I can't give a better testimony to the quality of the book than that!

What's in a word: comfort edition

Four Weeks in the Mud

Friends, I have set myself the goal of publishing something -- anything -- daily for the next four weeks.  I need to not just think about writing more, but actually sitting down and doing it. I need to make it a routine if I want to get anywhere with this, so please, bear with me! 

The overarching goal of the blog is to praise God for His ever-present care and love for us, and to point out a few of the gifts He has given me that I have delighted to stumble upon in my ordinary life.  I am planning to rotate through some sub-themes to give me something to write about each day. 

One of these themes will be entymology, or the study of word origins and they way their meanings have changed over time.   Language, and our capacity for it, is an incredible, intimate gift from our God, who spoke the universe into being and is the Word made flesh.  

 As always, I love feedback -- even just knowing that someone is reading, so please leave me a comment or send me an email.


Word of the week: comfort

I love words!  I love understanding the meanings of the roots of words and seeing them pop up in all kinds of unexpected places across languages.

I especially love "faux amis" as they are called in French, or false cognates. This refers to words that seem very similar in two languages, but that are not actually equivalent to each other.  There are three categories of faux amis: the first refers to words that appear to have similar roots, but actually don't; the second category is words that do have a shared root but have different meanings in the two modern languages; the third category is words that have a shared root and an overlapping but not identical meaning in the two languages.  

The reason I love them is that they beckon you to go digging into the root words. Often times you can track back to see that even if the words seem wildly divergent today they do have a similar source and this often adds nuance, layers of meaning, and power to the everyday, ho-hum words we use.  These often help us to understand the culture of the language speakers. And since I'm all about looking out for the treasures hidden in ordinary life crossed with my love for communication, uncovering word treasures is especially delightful.

Let's talk about comfort.

I asked my daughter what she thinks of when she hears that word.  She gave two answers:
1) Sitting on the couch, by the fireplace, petting my cat
2) Hot chocolate and warm beds.

In modern-day North America I think we tend to equate comfort, and its related adjective 'comfortable', with coziness, warmth, security, satiety, safety, and being protected from the environmental extremes; the "creature comforts".   There's a nuance of laziness in this understanding of comfort.

When we think of 'comfort' as a verb, we think in terms of consoling or cheering up someone who is suffering or sad.  Perhaps that is to return the person to a state of comfort -- as described above -- or maybe it's to encourage them to carry on despite their discomfort (ah, that word again).

But when we look at the Latin meaning of the word, we discover that comfort comes from 'confortare' having the roots 'com' (which is a prefix indicating intensity) + 'fortis' which means 'strong'.  It literally means to strengthen much.   A far cry from lounging on the couch!

What does this tell us about ourselves and who we are called to be?  I think it says we are called, in our nature, to be strong, that this should be our neutral state.  Certainly, christianity isn't for wimps!  Ask the martyrs, ask the persecuted Church today.  We, the Church militant are always in battle against sin and the devil.   Even though it is in our weakness that God makes us strong and that we can only do all things through Christ who strengthens us, we are definitely called to strength.  And so we are called to strengthen, to comfort one another, for this battle for good: not so we feel good and have an easy life -- what our culture would tell us is our goal.  As Saint John Paul the Great wrote: "The ways of the Lord are not easy, but we were not created for an easy life, but for great things, for goodness."

Interestingly, and something I hope to write about more at a later date is that Latin is the language of the Roman Empire -- the language of conquering soldiers and cool, calculating, strategizing emporers, but it became the language of the Church.  I think it's beautiful how Christianity subverted this language of war into the language of love.

Be strong!

comfort (n.)

c. 1200, "feeling of relief" (as still in to take comfort in something); also "source of alleviation or relief;" from Old French confort (see comfort (v.)). Replaced Old English frofor. Comforts (as opposed to necessities and luxuries) is from 1650s.

comfort (v.)

late 13c., conforten "to cheer up, console," from Old French conforter "to comfort, to solace; to help, strengthen," from Late Latin confortare "to strengthen much" (used in Vulgate), from Latin com-, intensive prefix (see com-), + fortis "strong" (see fort). Change of -n- to -m- began in English 14c. Related: Comforted; comforting.

Sources: http://www.etymonline.com/word/comfort
https://www.frenchasyoulikeit.com/speak-better-french-learn-faux-amis/
https://w2.vatican.va/content/benedict-xvi/en/speeches/2005/april/documents/hf_ben-xvi_spe_20050425_german-pilgrims.html

Riverside

We took our new puppy for a walk down to the river this morning.  We are all exhausted from this little fellow who wakes up in the middle of the night and takes forever to do his business outside but does it only too quickly on the kitchen floor.  The kids are adjusting to homeschooling as am I. Spending so much time with each other has its ups and downs.  Taking an extended walk daily has become a sanity saver for all of us; a pick-me-up to keep us going for the rest of the day.

We make the trek to our favourite spot on the river, walking past older cottage-like homes on sleepy tree-lined streets.  I always feel like I've stepped back in time when I walk through this neighbourhood. It's wonderful.   As we walk we recite the geography songs and Scripture verses we are trying to memorize and we grumble through the Rosary. Lord, forgive us!

Our pilgrimage ends daily at the old boat launch.  The puppy sniffs about in the tall, reedy grasses and the kids climb along the rocks that act as a breaker along the shore. They scour the pebbly beach for good skipping stones and set to work on their water-skimming skills.

This morning as I stood at the water's edge, little waves lapping up gently at my feet, I took in the scene: four kids filled with the simple joy that only comes with forgetting yourself in nature, and a curious little puppy discovering a strange new world and my heart surged with love and hope for them and my mind turned to prayer.

Lord, make my kids resilient. Give me the grace to be resilient myself; to preserve in bringing up and shaping these children whom You've entrusted to me the way You desire.  Don't let them be crippled by a fear of failure like I've always been.  Give them the grace to be courageous, to fearlessly follow You wherever You lead them, to place all their trust in Your goodness.

Lord, let them feel cherished. Let their father and I fill them with the experiential knowledge of how precious they are in
Your sight -- as they are in ours.  Let them be quick to forget our failings and let them be slow to forget our love for them.  Let them build their identities on the rock which is Your steadfast love. Therein lies the secret to resilience, perseverance, hope. Let this perfect love from You brim up in them and overflow into the lives of their siblings.

Lord, make their hearts' greatest desire be to become saints. Let them know there is no greater joy than to know You and love You and abide with You forever.

Lord, cover the gaps in what I can give them, perfect my broken offering born of weakness. Thank you for the grace of being their mother, their guardian, Your vicar.  Thank you, Lord, for the precious gift of faith that You have bestowed on us.    For eyes to see that Your hand is upon us and that You are always near us in our messy, imperfect lives.

I led the troops back home with a wet puppy, relaxed shoulders, and the resolve to keep on with our day.    Grateful, Father, for this little glimpse of how You truly do make all things work together for the good of those who love you, and confident in the hope that is life in You.

Cosmic catapults

It's Saturday night.  I'm sitting in my van, in the parking lot, about to go into the grocery store. It's 8pm. I'd hoped to go earlier in the day but my allergies are terrible and the allergy pills that gave me great relief from the itching and wheezing knocked me out for several hours midday.

I've been feeling irritable, anxious, out-of-sorts today. The kids are so busy and bickering with one another. Thoughts of leaving school in less than a month fill me with sadness though not regret. I know this is right but I know it's going to be a hard adjustment and I fear the impending loneliness and separation from my community. 

I feel I've been called to a time of hidden-ness, of deliberately stepping away from the busy-ness of the outside world and to focus my efforts and my love and my work on my family.  I know this means days could easily pass without me seeing a single person who doesn't share my last name.  

Notice me! See me!  Don't we all want to know we matter to someone? That someone out there cherishes me - you - us?  That your life matters? That you are known, are loved, are going to be remembered. We want to be eternal.  I think we have that hunger because that's what we were made for. He made us to love us and for us to love Him and enjoy Him and abide in Him forever. We are made for connection; designed for intimately deep heart-stretching relationship.  We are made by Love to be love to one another.  

My biggest struggle with temptation always revolves around my desire for affection, connection, encouragement, depth. Those are good things. 

But it's the temptation to take short cuts that is the problem: to want to spend my time only with people who like me and who see the world as I see it;  not wanting to put in the time to build up and heal the broken, difficult relationships that I am called to attend to.  The temptation to wallow in feeling frustrated and sorry for myself when those desires just are not met. That sense of entitlement to such affection, interest, appreciation. I want quick and easy answers to my deepest fear of being forgotten, left behind, unwanted.

It's the selfishness of seeking to receive that which I ought to be solely concerned with giving instead. 'Cause when you can focus on that, then you are free, then you have love.  Instead,   I look for short cuts, for self-selected metrics to measure my worth and keep my insecurities at bay.  The plan sounds brilliant but it only fuels obsession and anxiety...because I'm looking in the wrong direction.
  
I know I need to lay this down, I know this comes up in my heart because my greatest love, my Lord, wants to show me His way, to true intimacy with Him, the one I was made for.  That constant seeking of approval, of acknowledgment, of recognition and praise is really my heart crying out for Him.

Our hearts are restless until they rest in Him... So I interpret restlessness as a sign that I'm not actually resting in Him.  It's always His way of reminding me that I'm depending on myself, on my pride, on my vanity for my worth.  That I'm looking outside of Him to be filled with something only He can give.  Looking to save myself.
  
So I will lay it down, cross my arms over my head and step back, force myself to trust in His wisdom and to relent. 

And as I step back I look up to you; Lord, I am unworthy to that you should enter under my roof...and yet you still desire to enter, into the midst of my unworthiness.   It is our emptiness, our nothingness that makes room for Him to enter,  to dwell, I in Him and Christ in me.  He promises us that by the world's accounting we will be forgotten, derided, over-looked, neglected, humiliated, looked-down upon.  We will lose everything and everyone that matters to us.  We will be crushed and reduced to abject nothingness.  Because it happened to Him first.

Why do I find solace in this thought? Why does the promise of rejection - that which I dread - fill me with joy? I think it's because I know-with a degree of certitude that is rare for me-that He was there in my lowest lows, in my heart-aching-broken-down-misery.  That when the air was sucked out of the room I found a flame still flickering in the darkness of the room despite the lack of oxygen. There He was unquenchable. That is when I knew Him. That is when I knew what Love was.  

And how do I keep managing to forget THAT but not forget myself?  

Lord, wrench me from this black-hole of self-preservation and jolt my heart and catapult it back onto loving others.