SUFFERING AND SO-CALLED "POSITIVE THINKING"

 

Our Lady of Sorrows

I recently turned 70, which seemed a rather monumental birth day, as birthdays go, and it has made me think about death and suffering and the transit of my life on this planet thus far. Also, today is the Marian feast day for Our Lady of Sorrows.

Every generation, IF we are lucky enough to reach old age, is going to have the honor of being ABLE to look back on the progression of their lives and see some remarkable twists and turns of history, due to advancements in science and politics and even natural disasters, such as the Covid pandemic, earthquakes, floods, and the like. We have NO way of knowing how things would have differed for us, had our circumstances been other than what they were.

(This year, I have been telling everyone that my birthday present is the birthday itself. 70.  It's amazed me.)

We will, at times, wonder if things might have turned out better for us if we had been born to better people. By the time I was 5, my father had left our home to chase starlets, spending money on them that he should have spent on his children, who never went to a dentist, nor had proper shoes or clothing to wear, while he was buying boats, airplanes, and loose women. Meanwhile, his wife, our mother, was ill with multiple sclerosis and lupus and rheumatoid arthritis from her early 20's, waking up paralyzed on several occasions. 

But my father's ill treatment of my mother did not endow her with sympathy for her children, however, and she treated me, in particular, as the scape goat, tormenting me with ruthless emotional abuse and giving me not a single shred of love my entire time with her, causing me to take my junior and senior classes in one year of high school and graduating a year early, just so I could leave home as soon as possible, walking out the door with nothing but the clothes on my back, shortly after I turned 17.

Is it legitimate to wonder what my life would have looked like, had I been raised with love by either parent, instead of the two narcissistic and utterly selfish people I was given? Of course, it is natural that this thought would blow across the sere landscape of my childhood memories.

Somehow, however, I am at peace with the idea that God had me born to the people and in the way he wanted me to. His reasons are his own, and I will never fault him for it, because I am not privy to the thoughts of Our Lord, and it is not my business to second guess Him because, if one actually believes in God, who is all good, one HAS to assume that "something good is going on," (as my old Hindu teacher used to say), no matter WHAT the circumstances of one's life. We are not entitled to know the reasons of God.

I make the best of my circumstances and usually experience great serenity of soul, despite the suffering. I know it does not seem possible and, indeed, many people have made assumptions about me, that if I have so many sufferings, then I must be miserable, but it isn't true. How suffering and blessedness can exist, side by side, at the same time and in the same person, is incomprehensible to many people but it is the spiritual version of walking and chewing gum at the same time. More than one layer of reality exists in our consciousness at the same time. 

This does not mean that I do not suffer. Yes, I certainly suffer EXCEPT that, no matter how bad it gets, I have avoided feeling sorry for myself, and I think that this has made me, in general, happier than I have a right to be. I am quite sure I have not met my Lord's hopes for me and His standards, so I must not withdraw into self-pity, in case he decides to treat me as I really deserve to be treated. It is nothing but his generosity of grace that preserves us all from the fate we have earned, no matter how much we delude ourselves about how holy we are.

When I encounter the frustrations of life, I do feel those frustrations. But the drama is playing itself out on a blessed field. We are not expected to just lay down and say, "oh well, it's God's will. I will do nothing." That is not what we are called to do. We must fight it. If we have needs that are not being met, we must do what we can to ensure our survival and get those needs met. We do the best we can, make the calculations of action that we believe will bring the best result, but not grieve too much if we have miscalculated and the result is not what was desired.

I have been seeing a lot of very selfish and self-satisfied memes on social media lately. What most of my Catholic friends do not realize is that these are toxic message from the "New Age" philosophies which are the opposite of our Catholic faith. Each of these memes is some version of the admonition to shut up if you are suffering, don't tell anyone about it, and "be grateful" instead. This seems cruel to me for, if our neighbor is suffering and there may be something we can do to alleviate it, we will not know how we might do so, if they are under orders to keep a scarf stuffed in their mouth!

This offal sandwich is breaded, on the one side, with the writer's claim that they deserve to be friends with people who bring them only joy, and on the other side, with the instruction that anyone who is suffering should not only refrain from mentioning it, but should only talk about how grateful they are instead!

The fact is that we are all suffering, and when we love our neighbor, it is one sufferer healing another. The lacuna in my life matches an embarrassment of riches in the life of another person, and vice versa, and this is how we are all meant to get through life - helping one another, each in our own way. 

I have had many opportunities to help other folks, even though my finances and physical condition are not good, because (like most people) I have other talents and treasures than the obvious. I try not to talk about my own "talents and treasures" unless it is necessary to the topic of a conversation. But it occurs to me that, if I am not allowed to discuss how I have helped someone, and it is not allowed for me to discuss the help that I myself need, and it is terrible to brag about my good fortune (which some people do to excess on social media, in my opinion) and many folks object to being forced to hear religious dissertations, then what exactly must I discuss?  "Small talk" is very difficult for me, as it is for other Aspergerish folk and, while I can do it, exhaustion often results. 

I have very few conversations, one-on-one, in my daily life, but with all the restrictions, I struggle to know what to say. I may try to touch on art or literature but, unless the other person has the same interests, it lands with a sodden thud in the middle of the discussion.

All of this makes for a recommendation to the solitary religious life for me and, although it is not understood very well by anyone else, it is perhaps what God had in mind for me all along, because nothing has worked so well, and I have also had many unpleasant pressures pushing me in that direction. Everything that has happened to me has contributed to the direction of my life which I believe is something close to what God had planned. I was not intelligent enough to figure it out for myself, so He had to close off all the other avenues to make sure I understood His meaning.

Every once in a while, though, I have a message that I need to give because THIS, this writing thing, is one of the "talents and treasures" with which The Lord has gifted me, and I think he expects me to exercise it, every now and then.

So, I think the message for today is simply this: Stop telling people to shut up and save you from having to listen to their pain. If there are some people who you think may harp on it a bit much, I will suggest that it is their effort to be HEARD in a sea of people who refuse to hear them that is causing them to repeat themselves. Maybe if just one person would do a splendid job of actually hearing that person, in a calm, patient, and nonjudgmental fashion, the sufferer may talk about it less than otherwise. It is in that hearing that the sufferer will find some relief.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose

SAY HIS NAME

Saint Luke, painting Our Blessed Mother

and Baby Jesus

While I am crocheting lace chapel veils in the evening, carefully executing each blessed stitch made of fine crochet thread, I endeavor to say at least a few prayers over my work, after having dedicated the entire work session to the Lord's will in whatever person may use the object I am creating. Sometimes, it is a danger to repeat, for instance, the Jesus prayer, because I feel a deep thrill in my heart at the sound of his name, and I lose a few moments in happiness, perhaps missing a stitch and having to rework it.

I am so terribly grateful to have been led to our beautiful Lord, that I may even shiver at the thought of what might have become of me if the Lord's grace had not descended upon me, allowing me to begin to know him. It is such a treasure!

To become part of His family, when my earthly family was so wretched and devoted to their sin, is a bloomin' miracle. I was well on my way to sliding straight into hell myself, had the Lord not showered me with his grace, thanks be to God!

The Lord is Risen! He is risen indeed. He is risen in our hearts, in the depths of our being. Let us all adore Him in gratitude and love.

My quick thought for the day.

Silver Rose

THREE GOOD THINGS

My pink Christmas tree

As an introvert often saddled with a certain ennui and melancholy, in addition to a righteously earned case of well-managed, but still ever present, PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) I was thrilled to hear from a Catholic psychologist on Immaculate Heart Radio that everyone is born with a certain set-point for happiness, where the psyche naturally rests. The happiness quotient is on a continuum. He kept saying, "It's not your fault." After a lifetime of people blaming me and finding fault, here is this man who really knows something, and he kept saying, "It's not your fault."

He also said there are some things that we can do to naturally improve our moods, no matter what we are dealing with, whether born with a melancholy temperament or having earned one through a brutal childhood or other traumas. I am all for that, being a naturally pro-active person, so I was all ears.

The recipe he proposed was very simple. Every day, think of three good things that happened for you that day.  That's all - just three. He said that one would find (and it is true) that, once the brain starts to look for three good things, scores of good things come to mind and it becomes hard to pick just three! 

What this does is to train the brain to seek out positive things, things that make us happy, give us joy, a sense of accomplishment, etc. The brain will develop new habits, new neural pathways, and the happiness level will be raised.

I have been doing this now for a few weeks, I think. I post my 3 good things every day on Facebook and I ask my friends to chime in with theirs, if they want to do it, and I have found that some of my most sincere religious friends who have time to play on Facebook, are also keeping up this practice.

I highly recommend giving this a try, even if you are the most ebullient person, because it brings epiphanies in its wake and, best of all, a continuous stream of feelings of gratitude, which leads into praises to God throughout the day.

Give it a try. Keep up the practice for a few weeks and see how you like it. The effects may be subtle at first, but, after a while, you may find that your way of doing things has shifted slightly, your mental orientation is slightly different, and your mood may be, generally, much better.

This practice hasn't stopped bad things from happening in my life. It hasn't prevented me from becoming upset when the logistics of life work against me at every turn. I still get mad or frustrated, but I am easily distracted from it by something good. My mind is gradually changing its operation. It is always on the lookout for THE GOOD, and we know where ALL GOOD COMES FROM, don't we?  Yep.

My three good things for the day:

(1) I found some DEEPLY DISCOUNTED yarn on Amazon that is perfect for some warm and snuggly hats and neck warmers for the poor and homeless this Christmas, as well as a discounted yarn to complete a small project for myself.
(2) I had a lovely romp in a big pile of leaves with my little service dog. (He actually did the romping, since I am on a cane, but I enjoyed seeing his joy.)
(3) I got to eat pizza today. I hardly ever get to eat pizza because it is expensive to have it delivered, and I really don't go to restaurants, but every once in a while I relax the rules and have a treat. Chicken, pineapple and jalapenos. Delicious!

What were YOUR "three good things" today? Let me know. I will love to hear about your happiness.

God bless us all,

Silver Rose Parnell
(c) 2015, All rights reserved.

PRAY FOR NEPAL

I woke up this morning feeling very grateful that I was born in a country with amazing resources and a high standard of living.  Even though close to the poverty level, I have an adorable, clean, sturdy apartment; hot and cold running water; a fairly safe food supply; nice clothes in my closet; hobbies and friends; a wonderful church community.

As of this morning, the confirmed death toll as a result of the recent earthquake in Nepal is nearly 8,000 souls, at 7,912.  The utter devastation is due to a combination of factors, mostly a very strong quake combined with antiquated buildings.  About 298,000 houses were destroyed, and more than 10,000 government buildings collapsed.  About 8 million other people have been affected by the quake, but the U.N. reports that donations of funds have fallen well below that which is needed to help this nation rise from its knees.  They need $415 million, but have only received $22 million in response to last month's disaster.  Click the following link to get information about U.N. efforts and what is needed:

U.N. REPORTS FUNDS ARE WELL BELOW WHAT IS NEEDED

The clock is ticking because June is typically the beginning of their monsoon season which customarily causes floods and mudslides.  With millions of people homeless as a result of this disaster, it doesn't take much of an imagination to divine what looms ahead for this beleaguered nation.

If you can contribute any funds to help the Napalese, here are some links:

CATHOLIC RELIEF SERVICES
CAFOD - Just One World
TROCAIRE.ORG
CANADIAN CATHOLIC ORGANIZATION FOR DEVELOPMENT AND PEACE
CARITAS AUSTRALIA
CENTRAL OFFICE FOR CARITAS - In Rome, Italy
AMERICAN RED CROSS

If you are like me and have no funds to contribute, please join me in prayer for Nepal.  Do an extra rosary.  Take some time in adoration before the Blessed Eucharist.  Remember the Nepalese people when you say grace before eating, that they should also have food and safe water.

God bless us all.

Silver Rose Parnell
(c) 2015

GOOD BYE COCO

Coco Chanel Parnell

2004-2014

For the last 6 years, I have had a service dog and, although I was allergic to her and she blew her coat all over my apartment so much that I could have made a sweater every week from her fur, I loved her dearly.  A few months ago, I had to take her to the veterinarian for the removal of a tooth.  It turned out that she had cancer in her mouth.  They removed as much as they could, but the cancer returned within a couple months.

Finally, when her energy waned and she was no longer able to eat easily, it was time to take her back to the vet for the final time.  I couldn't find anyone to go with me who wasn't going to fall apart and make it more difficult for me.  This is one of the MANY difficulties of being a solitary who really IS a solitary and does not live in community and is not supported by any institution.  There is no one to share the burdens or the joys.

I didn't want Coco to realize that something "bad" was going to happen, so I behaved as if everything was normal, except that the day before I took her in I made sure that she had some of her favorite things: A couple hours of cuddles and tummy scratches in my lap, some pieces of chicken from my dinner plate, a car ride, a short leisurely walk around the apartment complex, etc.

At the vet's office, I held her in my lap like a baby on her back and petted her while I sang her little lullabies that I made up on the spot.  She kept looking into my eyes with a mixture of emotions that I couldn't quite make out, except that I could tell she was worn out from pain and fatigue.  Eventually, my arms couldn't hold her any more and I sat her on the chair next to mine.  There was white fur everywhere: on my lap, my chair, the floor, and Coco's chair.  She hung her head in exhaustion.

The vet and her technician were very kind and gentle.  The technician was going to pick up Coco from the chair and place her on the exam table, but I wouldn't let them.  I had to do it.  I pulled my back out and put it into spasm for the next 4 or 5 days, but I had to do it.

Coco was on her tummy, facing me.  The vet shaved a small portion of fur from one leg.  I kept telling Coco, "Good dog.  Coco is a good dog."  I wanted to cry so badly, but I had to hold it together for Coco's sake.  I didn't want her to know that something was terribly terribly wrong.  I kept telling her what a good dog she was and smiling.

She didn't struggle until they gave her the shot.  I imagine it stung a little bit.  It was over so fast.  I told her she was a good dog.  She kept looking me in the eyes, and then there was a flicker of recognition that something was happening.  The pain was lifting.  She relaxed.  She died.  Her eyes were open.  Her tongue came out of her mouth.  They laid her on her side.

I fell apart completely.  We were all weeping.  Me.  The vet.  The technician.  The vet, a compassionate Christian woman, hugged me and said, "I love you."  I told her, "I love you too."

I couldn't stop petting Coco and asked several times, "Is she gone?"  I could not believe it.  Could not stop petting her, even though she couldn't feel it.  I tried to close her eyes but couldn't.  Eventually, I draped the end of the blanket over her body so I would not have to see her eyes.

Some time passed.  The technician left the room.  The vet asked me if I would be getting another service dog.  The queen is dead.   Long live the queen.  She recommended I get a standard poodle, the largest size, a smart dog that is easy to train and would accommodate all my needs.  I should get a puppy and train it from the beginning.

It is hard to jump right onto the next project of obtaining another service dog, but life does go on, despite the emotionally searing pain.  As with all projects, I do not have the resources to obtain a pure bred poodle puppy and pay for training, vet bills, a crate, food, toys, but somehow it will work out.  The Lord takes care of me, as he takes care of the sparrows in the field.

Spending so much of my day in contemplation of the Divine has given me a strength I never had before.  It has given me the confidence that everything I need will be provided.  The Lord knows what I really need in the ultimate, best sense, and I trust His judgment.  Trust is a remarkable gift for someone who suffers from PTSD, which generally destroys all of one's trust.  Without the contemplative life I am privileged to live, I doubt I would have been able to handle this fresh trauma with any sort of poise.  Without having become disabled, without being mostly house-bound, the contemplative life I now enjoy would have been impossible.  Consequently, I am grateful for my disabilities.  The disabilities, the chronic pain, and the poverty have all been gifts, in the highest sense.

I just have to continue to hold onto Him with all my might, rest in His reassuring embrace and be at peace in the confidence that He is now taking care of Miss Coco Puff also.

Please pray for me, that I am able to continue in faith.

God bless you all.

Silver Rose Parnell