Compassion

Hey everyone!

Ok, before I say anything about anything, I just want to freak out for a second, BECAUSE I GOT INTO LUTHER FOR FALL 2012.

The application process took about three months longer than we thought it would, but I finally got my acceptance letter, and I am SO excited about the future.

Alright, so. Lent.

Here's the update so far: We're two weeks in, and I think I'm doing pretty well with some of my goals, and kind of poorly with other ones. First off, I've been trying to devote more time in my week to prayer and study, and I feel like that's getting done, although I've been failing at going to bed before 1am on Saturday nights, as I had planned. I've been keeping a running tally of the nights I want to go out to buy junk food, and have been allocating money for charity instead, and at first that seemed like it was working, but then I felt like that wasn't really getting me anywhere, so I've upped the ante, and am now keeping track of any time I eat junk food, period, and counting that way. And last weekend, Neil, one of my roommates, asked if I was going to church in the morning, in a way that made me think he was interested, and I said yes, but couldn't get up the nerve to say "you could come with me, if you want!" until the next morning. I told him he'd be welcome to come with any time, so we'll see if that happens!

I'm still looking at different churches up here in Minneapolis. I haven't found anything that feels like home yet, though I keep getting reminded of C. S. Lewis' words in The Screwtape Letters about the dangers of becoming "a connoisseur of churches."

But enough about goals and the never-ending to-do list in my brain.

One of the things I've been concentrating on this Lenten season is compassion. I joined a book group that runs throughout the weeks up until Easter at Grace Lutheran, which is the University of Minnesota campus church, and we're reading a book called "Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life," by Karen Armstrong. The group itself is enough to keep me coming back, even if I didn't enjoy the book, which I do. Most of the people who are in this group are middle aged or retired, and it's so wonderful to fill this gap in my life with people who are older and wiser than I am. Sometimes it hits me just how surrounded I am with people my own age, and I miss the opportunity to connect with people who are in a different part of life. There are also a few married couples, and I always appreciate their insight, because they have a wealth of experience with relationships, and I learn so much just by listening to them.

So far we've talked about what compassion is, the major theories and theology associated with it, what it's looked like in history across cultures, how to bring it into the home and work-place, and, most recently, how to be compassionate with ourselves. Last week, when we started talking about that last one, almost everyone in the group admitted that being compassionate with themselves was the thing they found most difficult. This surprised me at first, because I feel, personally, that I'm too easy on myself in a lot of ways. I thought it was much harder to be compassionate with the people who really anger me than it was to be compassionate towards myself, but since Wednesday I've rethought my position.

I've been having a lot of issues with self-image in the last couple of months, mostly due to the winter chubbiness that we Minnesotans are so prone to, but it's been exacerbated by the fact that I'm working what is essentially a desk job, and spending too much of my extra time on the computer. I don't like the way I've been feeling physically, but I'm also pretty defeatist about my ability to change. All of that together has been breeding some intense self-loathing, but it wasn't until this past week that I began to see it for what it is. The problem itself is caused, partially, by being too wrapped up in my ego and my own problems, but that doesn't mean that it's not something that's meaningful to me. I didn't realize that I was capable of being compassionate and gentle with myself until my friend Ariel said "take care of yourself, please," and for just a second I saw myself through her eyes.

I realized that if she was feeling badly, I would want her to take good care of herself, and to be nice to herself, and that's without my even trying to be compassionate. That's just because I care what happens to her, and how she feels. So why couldn't I wish these nice things for myself, as well? When I thought about it that way, I stopped beating myself up and started kindly asking myself what I'd like to change, and how to best go about changing. And then, more importantly, reassuring myself that I'm a good person no matter if I run a mile in twelve minutes or six, or if I have a big lunch or a small one. It doesn't matter, because I am still loved.

That's the bottom of the compassion issue, for me, and I think, too, for most of the people in my reading group: God's love is not a scarce resource, is not dependent on what we do or don't do, and is for everyone. We just have to find the best ways of sharing that love with each other, and with ourselves.