Inspired by the book Embers One Ojibway’s Meditations written by Richard Wagamese
Me: What if I fail?
Great-Grandma: The Creator is within you. You will not fail.
Me: How do I not let fear hold me back?
Great-Grandma: You have opportunities to trust in your destiny of gold. Believe with all your heart.
Me: But how?
Great-Grandma: You are not alone.
I walked with peace towards my goals after that.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on July 13, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/choosing-an-attitude-of-hope-can-carry-us-to-the-next-day
Splashing my toes and stretching my arms past my head, I smiled and breathed in the warm summer air. With each throw of the frisbee and swimming to catch it, stress washed away in the spray. Not even the pesky Canadian geese trying to eat our cherries bothered me.
Surrounded by dark green trees, boats bobbing on the water, and sea gulls soaring over the docks, I felt a deep peace. But our external environment alone cannot bring us interior freedom. It is our thoughts that make us feel at ease.
Sheer delight can make me forget I have a diagnosis of a chronic mental illness. Floating on my back in Cultus Lake on a weekend getaway, I felt free to be.
An attitude of hope can help us appreciate living each day as a gift.
Viktor Frankl’s classic memoir of surviving a concentration camp, Man’s Search for Meaning, observes that some of those who held on to hope to be free one day in the future lived to see it come to pass. Others said they would be free at Christmas, but when it never came to be, they gave up and died.
“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
I used to think and speak to myself with hurtful words. My self-worth was my diagnosis and how people treated me.
Bipolar disorder was a glaring label. I thought it would limit everything about my life and future. What could I ever be good at if I suffered with suicidal thoughts and felt numb from medicine?
The depression, weight gain, loss of friends, and dropping out of college pained me. I am a dreamer, and this experience was like a nightmare.
It must have been the day I got the diagnosis when I decided to find a way to become whole again. In the hospital, I complied with the nurses and calmed patients who were trying to escape the locked ward. I even entertained them with origami soccer ball games I made up. On walks every day to get exercise, I learned to hope again. I began to look at the diagnosis as something to solve.
“When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves,” Frankl writes.
I wanted to step out of the shadows and into the light. “Here I am. It’s Lisa!”
My delight is in the warmth of friendship. I had not seen my dear friend for a year. It was extra special to finally catch up in person. Staying at her home for the weekend and spending quality time at the lake is a blessing I will cherish.
My friends never look at me as “less than” or “troubled.” They love me for who I am – completely, illness and all. I have received healing and learned to love who I am and who I am created to be.
I am blessed to offer up any mental suffering. It can be for my loved ones, souls in purgatory, and the whole wide world. It is a passive mortification that I can offer to the Lord in prayer.
I see now, having lived with bipolar disorder for more than a decade, that what is painful can also lead to refining.
“So that the genuineness of your faith – being more precious than gold that, though perishable, is tested by fire – may be found to result in praise and glory and honour when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Pt 1:7).
It took many years to have the courage to share my story even to new friends. In prayer, I kept hearing Jesus tell me not to be afraid.
“Be brave!”
I hold on to my only hope, my dearest friend, Jesus. And I do not have to produce, perform, prove, or please to be worthy.
His love called me out of the shadows. And he encourages me to take time to jump in the lake and swim. “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9).
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on June 15, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/take-it-from-a-saint-who-survived-a-pandemic-all-shall-be-well
Sunshine floods the coffee shop through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I lick the crumbs of my chocolate chip cookie from my fingers.
Too often I overbook myself, not leaving time to just be and to create. This weekend I have walked in the sunshine through Vancouver neighbourhoods and found a quiet time to pen a few poems. Creative time alone is essential for me as a writer. I need solitude to think and let the words pour on to the computer screen or journal at hand.
I look down at the messages on Matchstick Coffee Roasters’ cookie wrapper:
“We don’t have all the answers, but we do have pastry.”
“Life can be complicated. Take a moment to yourself and enjoy what is, or maybe what was, in this bag. We hope it brings you the nourishment (and pause) you need.”
In times of sadness and fatigue I often have no words. These times have been challenging, with more distressing news as the weeks go on.
In order not to lose heart, I look to the sacraments, where Jesus can pour his love into me. Confession has been a source of renewal for me that I return to again and again. Attending daily Mass, I recommit myself to God. And in adoration I let the Lord shine his light in me.
Sometimes healing also looks like taking a nap. I lie down and tuck the covers under my chin. I adjust my eye mask and close my eyes. It feels so good to begin to feel sleep come over me, rosary beads in hand. I don’t have to be afraid. Mama Mary, as I like to call her, offers protection and prayers answered. And wherever Mary is, Jesus promises that he is here with me too. I can trust him. He is a faithful God. Warm waves of comfort expand across my whole body. I whisper, “Come, Lord Jesus.”
The house is quiet as I wake.
I say to myself, “Just be. Do not worry about the things you need to do tomorrow. My work is never finished. And if I don’t take time to restore, I will always feel exhausted.”
Better than the perfect words spoken at the right time has been the presence of my friends and family during times of trial. My cousin Sarah rides her bike to meet me, bringing her French bulldog in her backpack. His ears flap and his tongue wags.
Oakley has been my favourite furry companion since the day he rested his head on my knee when I told Sarah I wanted cuddles. I have seen him run with a limp in a race and cheered him on even though he ran in the wrong direction.
A wagging tail greets everyone Oakley meets. He is not afraid to show up in his brokenness, with scoliosis and one eye. I think that is what makes him so dear to me.
When I am experiencing the symptoms of bipolar disorder, I remember that it is not my fault. The illness comes and goes in seasons of stress.
“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,” said Julian of Norwich, who lived in isolation and survived a pandemic.
She experienced suffering and through it all wrote words of wisdom and hope. Her writing inspires me to continue my own work, to take the time for my craft amid all the suffering and uncertainty around me.
In the presence of my cousin, sitting on a picnic blanket with Oakley and me or in my living room, I know that I am loved.
Our greatest contribution to the world is the attention, encouragement, and love that we give to each other. We can give these things every day. And these gifts don’t cost us any money.
Ecclesiastes famously said, “For everything there is a season, and a time to every matter under the heaven.” There is a time for solitude and a time to be together.
I recently bought my cousin the children’s book Can I Sit with You? by Sarah Jacoby. It is a story about a little dog who wants to be with his owner, a growing girl, in all the happy and sad moments of her life.
Companionship is a gift, to be received and given too.
I don’t walk alone in this life. No one does. It is in difficult times like these that community matters. The presence of another makes a difference. It can save a life.
Who will you sit with today?
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience , is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on May 20, 2021 – https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/you-re-not-a-robot-and-god-can-prove-it
I am not a robot. I have emotions, a heart, an intellect, and a will. I have learned that “feelings are not facts,” from the cognitive behavioural techniques of Dr. Abraham Low. However, feelings can indicate truth to us: how we feel in a situation, where we need support, or our need to find peace.
My colleague Sandy Marshall, associate superintendent of the Catholic Independent Schools of Vancouver Archdiocese, shared her prayer time reflections with me recently. Staff of the superintendent’s office gather every morning at 9 a.m. to pray together. We take turns leading the prayer. We pray a decade of the Rosary for each staff member during their birthday month, and for deceased members of our community and those who need healing.
We stand at our cubicles or at our office doors – spaced out due to COVID safety restrictions, and yet we are still united. I have noticed Sandy facing towards her office window as she sits in her chair. It overlooks a beautiful view of the Vancouver neighbourhood we are situated in.
Sandy told me that she looks out of the window and focuses on the trees and then on the houses and buildings. She calls it her “I am not a robot” game, inspired by the online test to purchase tickets or to log into a website. You may have come across this when a site asks you to click on the boxes with cars or bridges or fire hydrants, and once you answer correctly, you have proven you are not a robot.
When she told me this, I exclaimed, “That’s a great grounding exercise.” As someone who deals with anxiety and panic attacks, using techniques to bring myself back to the present moment is helpful. Her window reflections are a mindfulness practice that she created on her own. I was inspired. Her exercise made me think of all the things that I have learned to help my mental health.
I have found that there is practical wisdom in mindfulness exercises. Dr. Gregory Bottaro has written a book on Catholic mindfulness, The Mindful Catholic, Finding God One Moment at a Time. In it he talks about trusting in God more and finding peace. We could all use a little more of that.
I often need reminders to bring my thoughts back to the present moment. It is so easy to get caught in thinking traps and to forget that God is taking care of me.
I work in an office that celebrates growing spiritually, intellectually, and relationally. It is such a blessing to work with people who follow Steve Farber’s motto, expressed in The Radical Edge: “Do what you love in the service of people who love what you do.”
Sandy is one of my mentors in work and in life. As Nick Schneider, director of finance, said about Sandy, “Everything you say is quotable.” Her attention to the little things is inviting, like how she decorates a prayer centre for each liturgical season in our office. She is someone I turn to for recipes, party décor ideas, and how to gather a room.
What I love about the mission of the CISVA is the task to “develop as balanced persons spiritually, emotionally, physically and intellectually.” The Lord has granted us natural means to heal and grow. I have recently taken to eating more healthily with a delicious array of vegetables, protein, and grains. Everything we need to live well the Lord has provided.
It is a common mistake to dismiss practical help like medicines, therapy, and other secular resources in favour of praying harder for healing. We have the bounty of choosing good means to find peace, health, and wellness. We are human. Our energy fluctuates, and we need time to rest too.
Prayer is a gift of time to rest in God’s presence. And finding the balance of our priorities is an ongoing journey. St. Faustina wrote in her diary, “My one occupation is to live in the presence of my Heavenly Father.”
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on April 20, 2021
When I was walking home from work one day, my coat buckle on my sleeve caught in a fence around a tree. I had been trying to move out of the way of someone passing. With my fast pace, I got pulled back sharply, my leg flew up and I let out a big, “Oh!” I smiled at myself and was able to get over the embarrassment quickly. As I walked the rest of the way home, I chuckled quietly at how funny that must have looked.
I don’t take my dear self too seriously. And that helps me to laugh easily. I enjoy giggling with my sisters, brothers, and friends. To have a hearty chuckle – the one that comes deep from within my belly is the best feeling. And I am always looking for more.
I take laughing seriously. It is a wellness strategy I love to tap into.
Last year, I took an improv class with Tiffani Sierra from Improv It Up in an online class during the first wave of the pandemic. We were a small group of individuals engaging with the power of our voice and actions. We participated in games to increase our confidence in acting with strangers.
One game was to come up with a very ordinary skill that we were good at and make it a superhero name. My name for the game was the Ultimate Compost Emptier. We also added an action as we shared our name with an epic voice. I felt silly and strong at the same time.
Tiffani shared how improvisation can help our mental health flourish. The arts can be healing. In her acting classes with businesses, youth, and communities they experience more freedom in expressing themselves.
The whole improv attitude is to accept things the way they are and do something to improve the situation. It’s the “Yes, and” approach.
In my neighbourhood, one homeowner posted a sign that read, “Silly walks,” on their fence – a nod to the Monty Python sketch The Ministry of Silly Walks.
Immediately after seeing the sign I lifted my leg high and started hopping along. I couldn’t do it without laughing. My sister laughed along with me. That street became part of my route when I needed to do errands. Each time I walked by that house I invented a new silly walk. It became so much fun!
Living with seasons of depression often accompanied with suicidal thoughts, I have come to treasure the simple joys of life. My mood disorder leads me through many hills and valleys. Sometimes, I experience intense sadness and have a hard time holding onto hope. When I am on a downward spiral, I reach out to those around me.
My family is always there for me. Encouraging me and listening to my worries. It makes me want to share the joy I have. I can relate to Robin Williams’ words, “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy. Because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anybody else to feel like that.”
I make use of all the help that God has provided for me: Therapy, medicine, sleep, and a good dose of laughter.
In his Apostolic Exhortation on Christian Joy, Pope Paul VI wrote, “to savour in a simple way the many human joys that the Creator places in our path: the elating joy of existence and of life; the joy of chaste and sanctified love; the peaceful joy of nature and silence; the sometimes austere joy of work well done; the joy and satisfaction of duty performed; the transparent joy of purity, service and sharing; the demanding joy of sacrifice.
Savouring the simple human joys is a way to stay in the present moment. With God there is unending joy.
I have a friend I call on the phone often and when we chat, I laugh until I cry and my sides start to ache. It’s an exhilarating feeling of being alive.
Nothing can take away the joy in my heart, which is Jesus. He is the source of all joy. When I start to feel sad, I recall all the blessings I have. “This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.” (Neh 8:10)
Will you laugh a little more knowing that in Jesus your joy will be complete?
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on March 23, 2021
Tall bamboo stalks swayed and filtered the light through the trees as I walked through a path in VanDusen Botanical Garden on the weekend. A sanctuary of trees: red cedars, paperbark maples, all of them reaching to the heavens.
Lately, I have been visiting the gardens’ winding paths to look for new growth. Lenten roses, with the scientific name Helleborus orientalis, are covering a part of the garden in many varieties. I captured photos of floating blooms in a bowl of water on one of my frequent visits. It brings me joy to find such natural beauty, a real vision of God’s creativity.
Walking has become one of my favourite self-care tools in my mental health recovery kit. On lunch breaks I go for short walks in the area around my office. I am lucky to be close to many parks and gardens. I’ve learned that when I move it improves my mood.
On one of my lunch hours in the garden, a Canada goose came up from behind me and honked. Luckily, I had just about finished eating my fettuccine. I packed up and moved out of his way. He may have been hungry, and I had nothing to give him. Listening to the birds calling from the trees around me, I smiled. God cares for us more than a goose, or a sparrow. And he takes care of us all.
I marvel that I can walk, run, and dance. It’s such an exhilarating feeling to move in my body. God designed my body to be an image of him. It’s amazing to see how beautiful God is in the diversity of my own family.
While walking I find a renewed sense of clarity, creative ideas start to flow, and my muscles begin to stretch after sitting for long hours. When I walk with my sister or a friend, the conversation flows with our breath. It is calming and refreshing to be outside as the season is changing.
I love watching the light lengthen in the evenings. Sunsets brightly filling the sky with colours I want to imitate on canvas.
Being outdoors surrounded by nature, I imagine what it would have been like for Adam and Eve to walk with God in the Garden. Our story is also about walking in the garden with God.
Do we leave space for him to be with us?
Do we invite him into our hearts?
Do we ask him to light our path?
Often, I picture myself walking in a garden with Jesus. His sandals are tossed aside, and his bare feet lead the way through a vineyard. Jesus reaches out to pick a grape, checking its ripeness. I follow beside him watching his every move.
We pass a cluster of trees, and I point out to Jesus that it’s a great spot for a picnic. He smiles at me. And I promise to spend more time with him.
During Lent, I reflect on how Jesus desired his disciples to keep watch and pray with him in the Garden of Olives. He was exhausted and needed support emotionally and spiritually from the closest friends he had. Contemplating his passion, I am so grateful for his suffering, dying, and rising.
I want to be close to the Lord to know his plans for me. Praying helps me to feel closer to him even if I can’t hear his audible voice. I know he can hear me.
When stress seeps into my thoughts, I look for words of truth and hope in Scripture. As a writer, I find words hold great significance. And reading holy Scripture is a like a soothing balm on my heart, as comforting as walking with a friend.
As one of the Proverbs says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths” (3:5-6).
I’ve often heard that action leads to finding your purpose. I’m lacing up my shoes and hoping that with each next step I take, I walk in God’s way for me.
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
It’s funny, I will automatically speak in a higher pitched voice as I pass a cute puppy on the street to say ‘hello’. As the weather has been getting nicer, I have been out walking a lot more. I have seen numerous puppies and dogs en route. And I can’t help but say hello to them as I walk by. It reminded me of the trip to Salt Spring Island a few years ago with my favourite little furry companion, my cousin’s dog.
A gun metal grey French bulldog with a little white dot on his head is a warm comfort to my moody soul. I am so thankful that this little frenchie traveled with my cousin and my family to Salt Spring Island in the Summer of 2018. While we were in the ferry line up, I could hear his heavy breathing. I wanted to take him out of his dog carrier and into my arms to hold him close. Oakley stole my heart with his brown bulging eyes and his crooked legs. Sarah had taken him in to help him heal and learn to walk again.
On the Island, I sat on the patio with my latte, cheese and jalapeno croissant, I turned to Sarah and said, “I want snuggles.” Oakley must have heard me because he dragged his bottom across the wood closer to me and rested his head on my thigh. Having scoliosis made it difficult for him to walk any distance. This touched my heart. I stroked his short silky fur and grinned like a five year old with ice cream. I never knew I wanted a therapy dog, until now.
I smiled at the little fellow and held him close to my chest as we walked over puddles and craggy pavement. His ears flapped in the breeze. Everyone walking around the coffee shops and the boutiques squealed.
“He’s so cute!!”
“Look at him!”
“Nice colour!”
For a moment I felt like a proud dog mom.
We walked towards the Salt Spring Island market, my arms holding such a sweet and heavy bundle. A young boy approached. “Can I pet him?” “Yes,” I said, “He’s friendly.”
“This is my second favorite type of dog. What is your frenchie’s name?”
“Oakley.” I said with growing pride.
How could this four-legged pet get wrapped around my heart so quickly? He is the dog I never knew I wanted.
Sometimes, therapy comes in soft furry packages.
Every time I get to visit my cousin Sarah and her dog is a special day. As for enjoying the small things, I will continue to greet pups on my walks in the neighbourhood.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on February 21, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/riches-are-in-relationships
Margaretha called me every day for the next few days after I told her I wasn’t feeling well.
Her concern felt like a grandma’s would. My grandparents have passed away years ago. I only knew a couple of them. My grandpa on my Dad’s side was sick in a hospital when I was a little girl. I have memories of holding his soft, wrinkled hands as the nurses fed him. I don’t remember his funeral; I was so young. “Mimi” is what we called my grandma on my mom’s side. She lived with us for my whole childhood and teen years.
There is something so special about the love of grandparents. I miss them. And I wish I knew them all.
My 90-year-old neighbour Margaretha was happy to hear from me when I called her on my lunch break.
“Good thing it was nothing serious. Yeah, I worry.”
We chatted about her trip to Canadian Tire with her son. She bought bulbs to plant in her garden, a new variety that grows tall like hollyhocks.
“My wood-burning stove isn’t working anymore. Something is wrong with the pipe.”
“Are you going to fix it?”
“No, John says we could get a gas fireplace.”
One time pre-COVID I visited her house with my sister. We brought over our ukuleles. She welcomed us in with tea and cookies. The whole room smelled of wood smoke and roasting onions. We had to have a shower to rinse out the strong smell afterwards. It was such a nice visit, so it was worth it.
Having an elderly neighbour care about you is like having a grandparent giving you a hug. We always talk about the weather because if it’s raining it means she can’t go out in her garden, arthritic knees and all. She grew up working on a farm in Germany, so she is tireless. Margaretha always tends to the garden that surrounds her home even when she is in pain.
I am grateful for her reliable phone calls checking in to see how I am doing in the pandemic. Talking to her makes me want to trust the Lord more. He always sends me love in the way I need. Loving God and loving my neighbour are what I strive to do.
He can provide for me when I am feeling depressed or overwhelmed. Sometimes I need to wail and cry in his presence. To know that he is present in this pain, worry, and fear. If I take time for silent prayer, reading Scripture, and a good spiritual book, I am found by God. His peace warms my heart. I am his family. I bask in the joy of knowing I am his beloved daughter.
When I am full of God, I can reach out to my loved ones and be present to their needs. “Riches are in relationships, not possessions,” says Jane Trufant Harvey in Ask Him, Simple Words to Jumpstart Your Conversation with God.
My phone rang on the weekend and I couldn’t pick it up in time.
“Hello, Lisa, it’s Margaretha. How are you? I miss you. Come over.” I am sad during this difficult time when we can’t visit in people’s houses. It’s hard to accept that I can’t visit Margaretha in person at the moment. I do what I can and call her instead.
Our divine call to holiness is through the life of a family. Ordinary phone calls, visits, and conversations bring supernatural love to our relationships. As Margaretha nurtures the plants in her garden, I am going to set down strong roots to rise and grow in love. Will we seek Jesus? Will we be creative in how we can connect with our friends and family during the COVID restrictions?
I entrust the Lord with my life. I can’t do anything on my own strength. I am a child in his arms. He is taking care of me as he is taking care of you. We are to share our struggles and help each other.
As Thomas Merton says, “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone – we find in with another. We do not discover the secret of our lives merely by study and calculation in our isolated meditations. The meaning of our life is a secret that has to be revealed to us in love.”
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience , is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
First published in the B.C. Catholic Newspaper on January 19, 2021 – https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/redesign-your-living-space-and-unclutter-your-mind-for-jesus
“Let’s move our little blue couch over there!” My sister pointed to the wall close to the kitchen.
I nodded. “That could work.”
After watching a few episodes of the Design Doctors on Amazon Prime we drew a new floor plan for our sitting room. We tired of the layout of our room that we spend more of our time in since the start of the pandemic. We looked at each of the five points of focus in interior design: light, space, colour, flow, and storage.
The piano now had pride of place with plants and lighting around it. We moved our dark furniture to be next to each other creating warmth. Our light armchairs had their own decorative pillows and a blanket draped over it for each of us to curl up in. We rearranged what was on our bookshelves, donating items that we no longer use.
Using creative design in the home helped me to have new perspective on my personal projects. I felt like the rearranging, culling, and cleaning uncluttered my head space as well. I no longer felt stuck. I have options. I can restart, reformat, and redo what doesn’t work in writing. And I can refresh, renew, and restore relationships.
When my prayer life seemed to dry up, I remembered that Jesus takes pride of place in my heart. I needed to toss and tether all the useless junk and sin that clutters up my soul.
“We need to be reminded that every second of our survival does really mean that we are new from God’s fingers, so that it requires no more than the miracle which we never notice to restore to us our virgin-heart at any moment we like to choose,” wrote Caryll Houselander in The Reed of God.
I opened up the window to let the cold winter air in. We admired our work and I danced in the wide-open space in the centre of the room. This room was now hygge – the Danish word for coziness, comfort, and contentment. Candlelight really makes the home hyggelig (hygge-like).
We can open our hearts for Jesus to find an inviting sitting room. Oh, how I want him to be with me during the sometimes-dreary season of winter.
January can be a very blue month for me. The dark days a struggle. With a fresh look in my home, I have a gift of change and eagerness for what the new year will bring. When I have hopes, dreams, and goals that I am anticipating, my life has purpose.
I like to pray the CCO missionary prayer. It goes like this: “… Lord, I will go anywhere you want me to go, I will do anything you want me to do, and I will say anything you want me to say …”
And then I step out in faith. Loving the people in my life, moving forward in writing my books, and showing up at work to serve. It is not that I can do it on my own. I know that the Lord loves a cheerful giver. Someone willing to be his instrument. He has a plan for me. It thrills me and worries me at the same time.
“What if I don’t measure up? What if I mess things up?”
Moses did not reach the promised land because he didn’t entrust himself to the Lord. It’s not an easy thing to do. Daily I need to choose to trust in my King and my God. I need to believe in his majesty and mercy. I can do nothing without him. I want him to be comfortable in the depths of my heart.
Receiving the sacrament of confession is like interior design for your soul. I have been seeking reconciliation to clean out my heart. Holding onto the promise of freedom from my sin, I begin again.
Writes Houselander, “The question which most people will ask is: “Can someone whose life is already cluttered up with trivial things get back to this virginal emptiness?” Of course he can; if a bird’s nest has been filled with broken glass and rubbish, it can be emptied.”
Jesus will see me through the winter blues. I may not always feel his presence. I trust that he is with me on the little blue couch in my heart.
Lisa Rumpel’s podcast with a new name, The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on November 23, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/prayer-of-a-silly-woman-in-front-of-the-tabernacle
Early in the morning one workday, I knelt in the chapel in our building. The sanctuary lamp flickered and glowed in the dark. It was a tangible reminder that in the empty chapel Jesus was there with me listening to my prayers.
I watched the candle’s flame dance, its light shining. I felt a peace wash over me. The feeling settled like a wool shawl around my shoulders. I am never alone. Even when I can’t see the candle burning.
My prayer goes something like this, “Please go with me. I am a silly woman in front of the tabernacle trying to find healing and strength. Lord, I know you can help me and all my dear ones. You are silent and strong. I know with you when everything goes wrong, You are right beside me. Hold me close to you. Never let me fear. I want to be one with you. I love you, my dear Saviour. I am worried but I put all my worries in your hands.”
Sometimes when I pray I can hear a quiet voice, “Darling, look upon me. Do not be afraid. I am always with you. I will not abandon you. I delight in your efforts, tenacity, and smiles. Do not weary. I will carry you if you are tired. I love you. You are mine. My daughter, be brave.”
And then after those precious quiet minutes, I picked up my lunch kit and went upstairs to my desk. I was ready to offer my day for my loved ones. I set out to work in a manner pleasing to God and my colleagues. Each phone call, email, and written report is an opportunity for prayer.
Even if you are a student and you have a lot of studying to do, it can be your time of prayer. I often think that way about my writing. When it seems I can’t take time away from house chores or other pressing work, I remind myself that this is also a way to pray.
I am my biggest critic. When I see some of my finished work – either my writing, podcast, or videos – I start to point out all that I did wrong. Or when I fall into the same sins again and again.
I turn to the Lord saying, “Lord, I am your cracked clay pot. I am your unpolished art. Mould me and fashion me.”
The beauty of that moment is, I can begin again. I can learn from my mistakes or even my beginner’s method. I can grow and adapt and change. I am leaning on the strength of the Lord in prayer and the sacraments and practising flexibility. I have a strong desire to be ready for the Lord like those wise bridesmaids who had extra oil for their lamps.
For a whole week I had trouble sleeping. I had sensory hallucinations from my mental illness showing up along with stress. It passed and I learned that taking the rest I need is non-negotiable. I treasure the hours of solid sleep I can get, knowing that this is one key way to stay healthy.
When there is a flurry of concern in politics and culture, I hold on to the word of God, which is true. And I look to the things that I can control which are my “thoughts, muscles and impulses” (Dr. Abraham Low, American neuropsychiatrist). I am amazed at the peace I can receive when I read Scripture and give my burdens to the Lord. It does help!
I continue to rise and give my best. Some days I am more tired than others. I focus on what I can do and “be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practise resurrection” (Wendell Berry).
Check out my podcast, The Resilient Catholic: Shining light on your journey to flourish with Mental Health, available on popular streaming services. It is updated once a month on Wednesday.
Stories of Resilience 