Hope is a muscle we need to exercise

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on April 27, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/hope-is-a-muscle-we-need-to-exercise

Experiencing acute back and nerve pain, I realize that my identity is not in all the things I can do. It’s me and my toothy smile.

When I was hit with intense pain from a pinched nerve and muscle spasm in my leg, I had to relinquish my to-do list.

Hot, sharp pain travelled up my leg, and I found that the most comfortable position was lying flat on the floor. I couldn’t stand to floss my teeth at night. Walking became limping. And breathing became a catch-and-release routine. 

My sister helped me by making dinners, making me laugh, and supporting me on short walks. She offered her shoulder to lean on. She served up patience with my constant groans and complaints about how much pain I was in.

My hope was faltering and it started to feel like this pain would be my new reality. One night my mom played ukulele over Zoom video as I lay on my back and cried. She let me choose my favourite songs. The next night, we prayed a Rosary together on a video chat. I shifted to find the best sitting position. Her smile lit up my heart. She asked the Lord to show me how much he loves me and to show me that he is suffering with me. 

There is a comfort in imagining that my Saviour is suffering alongside me. I can picture him holding my hand and giving it a squeeze when a muscle spasm shoots fiery shocks up my leg. I let my breath out that I catch and release. 

I cancelled story time with my 4-year-old godson because the pain was so strong one night. The next day, we set up a new time to video chat and to my surprise he read me a story. He read The Cat in the Hat as I moved now and then to relieve the nerve pain. His bright face beamed with excitement to share his new talent with me.

The Lord is doing a new thing. Stripped of my usual comfort and the busyness of my task list, my priority becomes peace of heart, I am aware of how intertwined my mind, body, and spirit are. Amidst hot tears I sing a song I made up, “You can take all this pain away,” hoping Jesus would take the hint. 

Experiencing acute back pain and nerve pain, I realize that my identity is not in all the things I can do. It’s not in what I can offer. It’s me and my toothy smile. It’s the fact that I was born and am alive. And what a miracle that is, that my parents met, and their parents met. I am a beloved daughter of God. 

Accepting my sister’s help is hard sometimes. I don’t want to feel like a burden. I am reminded that I am enough. I’ve read that we are human beings after all, not human doings. We are overcoming. We will always need healing from past wounds or illnesses. 

St. Paul says, “That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor 12:10 NIV) 

I have the Lord and he is everything to me. I trust that he can take care of everything. Even in my suffering, he is there. 

For now I must endure pain, and with each discomfort I withstand, I am molded into something new. A strength has sprung forth in me. A fierce hope in seeing what is to come. Suffering in this day is not going to keep my spirits down. Hope is like a muscle. I choose to exercise it more than self-pity. I will not give up!

Resilience and resurrection in a pandemic

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on March 31, 2020

Carving out more time for online Mass, rosary podcasts and spiritual reading, I embrace the peace it brings.

I have never felt such a strong hunger for the sacraments in the days leading up to Easter. It is a strange time that we are living in right now. A global pandemic is striking fear and panic in me and maybe you too. Worries can be overwhelming. What will happen to my family, job, finances, and way of life? It is uncertain what our lives will look like in the coming months. With all this change unfolding rapidly, we can count on the resurrection of the Lord. He gives us everything we need.

In this “darkness of uncertainty, loneliness and isolation,” we need a “change of mindset and renewal of heart,” as Archbishop Miller said in his homily livestreamed from Holy Rosary Cathedral on March 22.

Even more now, I am turning to the Lord in prayer throughout the day. I share with him all of my fears and questions about what is going on. I wonder when he will come in and calm this storm. He gives me the strength to face the difficult days.

I am discovering that the meaning of life is more than having enough toilet paper in my cabinet. Yes, I stocked up on food and planned healthy meals in the event I were to get sick. And yes, I am grateful to my landlords for leaving a few rolls of bathroom tissue at my door. Each day of self-isolation, my emotions are rising and falling, and I let myself feel the feelings. I don’t shut off all the anxiety because a little anxiety is good to protect myself from danger.

As I live through this unexpected spread of coronavirus, I am exercising the virtues of faith and resilience. Carving out more time for prayer with online Mass, Rosary podcasts, and spiritual reading, I embrace the peace it brings. I also listen to the needs of my mind and body. When I am hungry and need a snack, I find a few baby carrots or a bowl of mango yogurt to eat. When I need to move, I go for a walk or dance to my favourite upbeat songs. I am trying to accept that there is an outbreak and find peace in the moment by taking action.

On my first day working from home, I woke up to my sister making oatmeal. Adding fresh bananas, I ate it with my coffee as the morning light filtered into the living room. After breakfast, we lit candles scented with frankincense and myrrh for daily Mass. We participated in the Mass in Bishop Barron’s chapel on YouTube. We blessed each other with holy water and prayed in silence. What a wonderful rest for my soul.

Sitting at my desk to work remotely on the projects from my office, I felt grateful. It’s so good to have meaningful work, to have purpose. “Without purpose,” says Eric Greitens in his book Resilience, “we can survive – but we cannot flourish.” 

What is taking the edge off my anxiety is talking to family and friends on the phone and connecting virtually with friends and communities. Gifts are hidden in this darkness. I have joined a live stream Rosary, sung along with Josh Groban in his live performance on Facebook, watched operas streaming free on MetOpera.org, and laughed as I watched a video of penguins roam the aquarium after hours on YouTube. We live in an amazing age for technology. As my friend said, “It’s the world wide web of God’s beauty.”

The joy of Jesus’ resurrection is contagious. Because of his generous love, I am looking for ways to show up and give to others. Eric Greitens explains, “We become what we do if we do it often enough. We act with courage, and we become courageous. We act with compassion, and we become compassionate. If we make resilient choices, we become resilient.” When we believe in God, we receive a new hope-filled perspective.

While reading Scripture by my soft bedroom light before bed, I find Jesus’ words comforting, “Do not be anxious about your life, what you eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on … But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Mt 6:25, 33).

This day is a gift. Looking back at it, I breathe deeply and ask, “Who will make these days brighter?” Closing my eyes, I feel deep gratefulness for Jesus’ love for me. The light of the world brightens my heart in this uncertainty.

Home is where God is

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on March 4, 2020

A home restores. It is something we are all made for. Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

How can a place you’ve never been to before feel like home? On a cold day in February, my friend and I travelled to Phoenix, Ariz., for a retreat. Neither of us expected to feel like we had come home.

Lifting our heavy backpacks out of the cab from the airport, we laughed and smiled, admiring the variety of cacti growing in the neighbourhood. 

We would be staying at the home of a relative of a colleague of ours from the Archdiocese of Vancouver. The sun was shining, and we no longer needed our coats and scarves. When we left Vancouver at 4 a.m., the temperature was below zero. Here in Arizona, doves cooed from surrounding trees. Palm trees dotted the yards and swayed in the distance.

We stood at the front door, where a large statue of Mother Mary was the first to greet us. I knocked and the door immediately opened. A beautiful blonde woman smiled and opened her arms. “You must be Maggie!” I said. As soon as I passed the threshold, her arms wrapped me in a big hug.

Her home beautifully combined order and cheerfulness. “Can I get you something to drink? We have beer, pop, and seltzer water. Feel free to help yourself to anything. Make this place yours.”

We settled our things into her teenage daughter’s bedroom and lounged on their large grey couch. Excitedly, we told her about the retreat that would start the next day. Then she left to take her son to his older brothers’ baseball games. She promised to take us out for margaritas and Mexican food when she and her husband returned home.

I’d come to Phoenix with a worn-out heart, mind, and body. My heart was heavy, my mind was exhausted, and my lower back ached. It was no coincidence that the theme of the retreat was Restore. It was organized by Blessed Is She, a ministry for women with a mission for community and prayer.

When Maggie came back with her son from the baseball games, her younger sister Stella popped by with her 2-week-old baby. Seeing the precious baby cradled in my travelling companion’s arms made my heart swell. It was easy to notice how close-knit this family is. They live on the same block and visit each other frequently.

“If anyone loves me, he will keep my word and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him” (Jn 14:23).

It rained hard on Saturday morning. It didn’t rob us of our joy for the day. Stella’s husband’s brother waited outside to drive us to St. Andrew the Apostle Parish for the retreat. He is an Uber driver, and our colleague’s mother paid for our trip. We were overcome with gratitude at the generosity of this family.

My heart was under renovation. Negative thoughts had been spinning me into low moods. “I am not good enough. I am unlovable. I am alone.”  During times of worship and adoration, I heard words like a whisper fill me. “I will never leave you alone. I wanted you in your mother’s womb. No pain, no loss is wasted. Do not be afraid. You are my delight. Find peace in me. I love you, my beloved daughter. There will always be days of rain, but I am always shining brighter than the sun. I will provide for you.”

The home we stayed in for three nights was a refuge. The love Maggie showed for her family, her community, and her vocation of motherhood confirmed for me the boundless love of God.

A home restores. It is something we are all made for. We desire to belong and to be missed when we go away.

Author Annie F. Downs says in her book 100 Days to Brave, “Do whatever it takes to expand your map. Because if you go where you’ve never gone before, you will see God like you’ve never seen him before.”

God makes a home in our hearts. Our ultimate destination and eternal home is heaven.  We long to return to the heart of the Father. And now I also long to return to Arizona.

Collecting your blessings can be just what you need

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on February 5th, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/collect-your-blessings-it-may-be-just-what-you-need

I have been collecting what I am grateful for, like beachcombing for pretty rocks.

Wind whipped my face as I pulled my tuque tightly over my ears. My sister and I were out for a walk along Kits Beach, and it was a blustery day by the water.

Like the stormy waves crashing against the sand, my mood ebbed and flowed like the tide. Sometimes I feel fine and then, in an instant, I feel extremely low. There is nothing wrong or shameful about having a mental illness. It is known that January and February are often the bluest times of the year. 

Last year, I took an online course from Yale University called Psychology and the Good Life. Not surprisingly, sleeping for eight hours, meditating, doing something kind, and listing five gratitudes were scientifically proven to improve our wellbeing. Making these a part of my daily routine takes effort. Happiness takes work. I pay attention to activities and strategies to live happier. 

I have been collecting things I am grateful for, like beachcombing for pretty rocks. As soon as I started noticing all the wonderful things in my life, a warmth enveloped me. God’s love is ever-present. He looks after the details.

The most precious blessings are the people he has woven into my days. I am rich in friendships and I hope to share the wealth. I enjoy each moment as it comes. I am grateful for many things.

When I went running with my sister in the rain, I felt alive. 

Playing games with my godson as we visited on a video call, I felt silly.

Dining with my brother at my favourite restaurant, I delighted in his conversation and in fine wine.

Playing ukulele with my Mom on a Sunday afternoon was joyful.

Listening to live music with friends and dancing on a Friday night was exciting.

And going to Mass with my friend and her young daughter brought a feeling of home.

These are some things I am grateful for. For you it could be a clean house, a good cup of coffee, or the Super Bowl.

Rushing into the pew at the back of the crowded church, I smiled at my companions. My friend and her little girl were waiting for me. I slipped in as the entrance song ended.

During the Prayers of the Faithful, my friend’s daughter reached out her little arms and asked me, “which one do you want?” Stickers of many colours and shapes were on display between her fingers. I pointed at a bright yellow sun. She peeled it off for me and I stuck it on my hand. The sunshine sticker was a token of love.

It reminded me to look up as the host was being consecrated. Jesus, the true light offering himself to me again. His love, solace during a cold and dark month. I smiled at my friend and her beautiful daughter. I felt connected, a part of the family. 

Growing in resilience builds confidence to carry on in adversity. It is possible to fight the blues with companionship, simple prayers, acting with unusual kindness, and praising the Lord for the good things in your life.

The courage it takes for people to actively choose life is commendable. Struggles can weigh heavy on the mind, body, and soul. It is healthy to seek help and to brave change.

I have hope because I trust in the Lord’s provision for me. I know he wants me to be free of pain and suffering. He can show me a way through depression, anxiety, and fear.

Bipolar disorder has been a tool to lean more on Christ’s strength than on my own. He can calm the storm. “He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.”

I need not be afraid. The Lord brings peace and I will get up again and again. Gratitude and kindness are strategies that can make you happier. Counting your blessings actually works.

Who are your Jedi?

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on January 5th, 2020.

Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com
Like voices of the Jedi guiding characters in Star Wars, “I am comforted by my loved ones who are around to companion me on my journey.”

(This column may contain spoilers about The Rise of Skywalker.)

There are very few things my big family can agree on. The Star Wars Saga is one of those things we can.

It has been a family favourite since I was a little girl. I remember gathering in the living room with chairs tightly surrounding a small square TV. We competed for the best seats and shared bowls of homemade buttered popcorn. My parents delighted in their faith in God and their interest in stories of adventure, like the movies that George Lucas created.

It became a Christmas tradition to watch together in the theatre the current Star Wars film being released each year. We would take up eight seats, almost a whole row, trying not to disturb anyone as we passed bags of licorice nibs, chocolates, and bags of salty popcorn. 

In October, when I would be thinking of what to dress up for Halloween, my eldest brother said, “Just throw your hair over your face and you can be Chewbacca.” We both laughed and I rolled my eyes. “I would rather be Princess Leia!”

My family has its struggles and has come through many difficult times. We have endured illnesses, deaths of loved ones, and many more trials. The support I receive to help me flourish with good mental health comes from their triumphant spirits. I could never fully thrive without the love and care of each of my brothers, sisters, and my parents. 

In The Rise of Skywalker, Poe tells his friends that the First Order (the enemies) wants you to think that you are alone. “We are not alone,” he says.

Finn tells Rey before she embarks on a dangerous journey, “We go together. We’re all in this … till the end.”

During Rey’s Jedi training, Princess Leia reminds her to “be patient” and to listen to the voices of the Jedi.

When I am depressed or experiencing hypomania, which comes with the chronic illness of bipolar disorder, I am comforted by my loved ones who are around to companion me on my journey.

The saints are also friends I turn to for help in prayer. God is more present to me than I am to myself. He knows how many strands of hair are on my head. I don’t. We are worthy of his love for us. We are worthy of life. Knowing that I am a daughter of God strengthens me to carry on. I can struggle longer and hold on to the hope of healing. In times of distress, I turn to my family and friends, the saints and to my Lord. His love is in me.

One of my favourite scenes from the latest Star Wars movie is when the evil Emperor Palpatine says to Rey, “You are nothing. A scavenger girl is no match for the power in me. I am all the Sith.”

Rey shouts back, “And I am all the Jedi.” Then she defeats Emperor Palpatine with Luke and Leia’s light sabers.

I do not need to fear or give up when it seems hopeless. I can always turn to Jesus. I have all the Holy Spirit, the love of the Father and the Son. And Mother Mary and the communion of saints. The Lord has our back. “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart. I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33).

The Star Wars Saga offers lessons in choosing love over power. It shows the glory of standing up for what is good and that we don’t have to be afraid in the face of adversity.

Our Lord is great and glorious and has won the battle. We can choose his side in fighting for our friends, sons, daughters, husbands, wives, and homes. When we know who we are, we can courageously live because we lack nothing in the love of God.

Season of blues often hides seasons of beauty

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on December 3rd, 2019

https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/season-of-blues-often-hides-seasons-of-beauty

Keep watch for a sign of hope, like shoots in the soil. There are better things ahead.

As snowflakes fell on the morning of my birthday, I was reminded of the story around my birth that my parents had shared with me.

On that late November day, when they were ready to take me home from Grace Hospital, there was a snowstorm. As they drove through a blizzard to be welcomed home by my two brothers and grandma, they prayed. And my Dad affectionately nicknamed me “Snowflake.”

Winters are known for coldness, darkness, stark landscapes, bare trees, frost and snow. We go through seasons as men and women, like the passing year. With or without a mental illness, we face change. But even in the winter season of life, we are beautiful. Beauty comes from within, a quiet strength that shines through our hearts. “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well” (Ps 139:14).

I have noticed seasons of beauty in the nature at Queen Elizabeth Park. The park is a short walk from my home and the office where I work. On occasion I wander over there on lunch break or visit on weekends. In the warmer weather, I enjoy picnicking under the trees or playing ukulele on a blanket with my friend. Cherry blossom season is very popular, as well as the tulips and the summer roses. But there is an austere beauty found in winter too. Varied hues of green, red, orange, and brown array the earth like hot chocolate spices, warming the eyes. Little unnoticeable buds push through the soil. And buds hang from trees in anticipation for spring. The dormant trees stand inactive, but they survive the bitter cold. Birds that haven’t migrated sing in the chill. Squawking ducks swim slowly in the pond.

I have to be patient with myself and others during the season of blues. When sadness comes, it takes effort to look for the good. It can feel lonely and cold. I remind myself that on those overwhelming days, there can be a clear view of a sky thick with stars. There is always a little glimmer of hope and beauty in humanity.

God created us unique, even more spectacular than each delicate and unrepeatable snowflake.

“Beauty will save the world,” says Dostoevsky, and I have to agree. How beautiful it is that our God came as an infant to save us. The song of angels brought a message of hope to the shepherds. They were the first adorers of the child Jesus.

We too can visit the Lord and reverently adore him in the tabernacle. He is there hidden from our eyes, a beauty divine. The gift of love that Jesus is strengthens me in every season.

So in the difficult, sad, and worrisome times, be patient. Look for the stars, shining in the midnight blue. Keep watch for a sign of hope, like shoots in the soil. There are better things ahead. The miracle of life unfolds moment by moment. I sure don’t want to miss it!

God can melt the grief, sorrow, and illness that grip us and replace them with hope, love, and joy. When we thank him for our life, we invite him to pour his love into our hearts. The beautiful Lord will console us. He silently endures depression with us. He only has to say the word and we will be healed.

Experience joy; go fly a kite

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on November 4, 2019 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/experience-joy-go-fly-a-kite

Flying a kite is happiness. And God means for us to be happy in this life.

“Tension is needed to go to greater heights,” said my friend over dinner.

I had to agree with her. Flying a stunt kite one Sunday taught me this lesson.

Fall is a good time to get cozy and curl up with a hot drink and a good book. But instead of doing that on the weekend, my three brothers and future brother-in-law took a stunt kite to the park.

This kite was hand-sewn by my older brother. He salvaged a tent to create a functional stunt kite fitted with two types of poles. We were all excited to try this out. It was a blustery day, perfect for flying.

Standing in the middle of a soccer field, we unwound the strings and assembled the poles. I watched with wonder as the guys took turns launching the kite in the air. They controlled it by slight movements with their hands. Elbows tucked in with only wrist action. Small, focused moves.

In the first trial launches, little adjustments were necessary. Zap straps kept breaking, as the wind was strong and the poles were heavy. They switched the poles to bamboo, which made a huge difference.

I asked the brother who had built the kite, “Is this like rocket science?”

“Yes, it kind of is.”

We were all so engaged in flying the kite and helping each other to have the best flight. My worries and niggling stress from the week disappeared.

When they had each finished having a turn, they shouted, “Give it a try, Lisa!” 

I hesitated. “I won’t be good at it.”

But my youngest brother laughed. He came over to mentor me in flying the very large kite. He went over the movements needed for launching and direction. I listened to him. Nothing like a little dose of sibling competition to boost me up.

With a great gust of wind, I tilted my hands back, pointed my thumbs toward me and it took off. It climbed in the sky. All the guys were clapping and encouraging me. It was exhilarating. 

The kite pulled and strained. My mentor yelled, “Hold it tight! Pull back!” I did what he said. The kite went higher, soaring like the seagull that flew by. I dipped it side to side. I laughed as it soared. All my brothers cheered. Especially on my first try. They couldn’t believe how long it was staying up in the air. When I felt the strings go taut, it reminded me of the tension you need to hold with a partner in swing dancing.

Trees surrounded us on the borders of the field. White clouds dotted the sky and my hair was blowing in the wind. I was falling in love with God in nature. I felt connected to the earth and its marvels. The power of the wind. The softness of the grass beneath my feet and the tall waving trees tinged with yellow, red, and orange.

I felt free in the space next to my brothers where sunlight blanketed us as we looked to the sky. Flying a kite is happiness. Making it do stunts is an extra dose of joy. And God means for us to be happy in this life.

St. John XXIII said, “Only for today, I will be happy in the certainty that I was created to be happy, not only in the other world but also in this one.”