Tag: #hope

Any storm can be weathered

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on September 21, 2021 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/any-storm-can-be-weathered

When we calm one part of the body, the rest follows suit.

Standing in first position, feet grounded on my soft mat and sunshine on my face, I felt the quiet release of stress. Experiencing mania again, I dug into my toolkit to find a self-care technique to help me find balance.

There are many ways for me to improve my mood. The motion of dancing changes my emotions for the better. This is something I have to attend to with the chronic mental illness I live with.

Dancing is one of my passions. I have taken lessons on many styles of dance: hip-hop, flamenco, ballroom, and ballet. I have been learning to move my muscles in new ways to get rid of extra energy or monthly blues.

When I dance or do any exercise, endorphins are released, causing positive feelings. It can feel like I flipped a switch in my brain to recalibrate. Thankfully, it is very effective.

This summer I joined an outdoor ballet class seeking the happy chemicals to find inner calm.

Suzy Q, ballerina and founder of The Ballet Lounge, brought a spirit of joy and acceptance to our class. Her little dog Gizmo accompanied her and cheered us. His fluffy little body leaned against my knees as I got to pet his silky fur. His presence soothed me and made me smile.

Reaching my arms above my head, I embraced the moment of dancing by the sea. I felt connected body and soul. In my mind I gave over my worries to Jesus to take care of.

Finding the outdoor beach side ballet class was such a sign of hope for me. A way to tenderly care for my body and soul.

We are integrated beings. When we calm one part of our bodies and mind, the rest follows suit.

My mood has been up and down like a sailboat tossed at sea. To survive the choppy waves, I need to take down the sails, put a life jacket on, and let the storm pass.

Jesus’ love is my constant. His comfort for me shows up in the hidden everyday. Smiles from friends, cuddles from little Gizmo the ballet dog, and reading the perfect Scripture verse.

We all carry scars and have our own mountains to climb. Jesus whispers to me, “I’ve got you.” And he can endure any storm. Any storm can be weathered with Jesus’ strength.

I whisper back to Jesus, “I trust in you.”

His call for us is to take up our cross and follow him. These are beautiful words, but to actively take up the uncomfortable and frustrating circumstances in my life is a challenge I face daily.

Carrying my cross on my own was never the plan. I need Jesus to shoulder it with me. It humbled me to ask for his help.

As St. Gianna Beretta Molla says, “The secret to happiness is to live moment by moment and to thank God for all he, in his goodness, sends to us day after day.” He surely sends me all the love and help I need for in every moment. I rejoice in all the little details he takes care of for me.

Jesus carries my illness and leads me to new life. So all I need to do is be receptive and trust. In dancing, I feel whole again. The Lord delights in my ballet moves and offering of trials.

May you too find the peace of Christ in events of your daily life.

Lisa Rumpel’s podcast The Will to Thrive: Stories of Resilience is available on popular streaming services.

“Cover me with sunshine. Shower me with good times.”

Pink

Hope in My Step

“I walked with hope in my step after that.” Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

Me: Why does sadness come to me so often?

Great-Grandma: Emotions are a gift like the tide for the ocean.

Me: It hurts my heart to miss loved ones.

Great-Grandma: They are very close to you. Fear not.

Me: I long for heaven without suffering.

Great-Grandma: Keep moving on your journey. You will get there. Enjoy life’s path.

Me: All of it?

Great-Grandma: All of it.

I walked with hope in my step after that.

I sat in the garden and saw the whole world. A butterfly, buds, birds, cats, spiderwebs, rotting wood, sun and spirit.

Unknown

Choosing an attitude of hope can carry us to the next day

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

“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.” (Briana Tozour/Unsplash)

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.

Take it from a saint who survived a pandemic: ‘all shall be well’

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

There is a time for everything, from taking creative time alone as a writer to enjoying the companionship of others.” (Hannah Olinger/Unsplash)

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.

Sitting on a picnic blanket with Oakley and my cousin Sarah, “I know that I am loved.”

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.

You’re not a robot, and God can prove it

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.

“The Lord has granted us natural means to heal and grow,” writes Lisa Rumpel. “Everything we need to live well the Lord has provided.” (Adobe)

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.

The bravest thing you can do is ask for help

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on September 28th, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/the-bravest-thing-you-can-do-is-ask-for-help

I delight in writing. Discovering the joy of writing and being vulnerable brings me such comfort and connection.

“Pick up the pen and be brave.” Five years ago, these words came in my heart during prayer. The Lord asked me to let go of the stigma and shame of having a mental illness.

I had been carrying it around for so long, it was time to surrender and to write about it.

I clung to the safety of anonymity and the label – bipolar disorder – that I lived with. I was hiding in my pain. I thought everyone who knew me would think mental illness is a weakness, not a sickness. My fears of people finding out reared in my head like ugly cartoon monsters. It was hard to shut them out. I trusted only a few people with my story for a long time.

When I opened up to friends about my story, and they didn’t run away, I knew I was not alone. For years, my identity was in having a disability. I began to see that I am not my illness. I have an illness. Language is important to live the truth of who you are.

I am a beloved daughter of God. 

This realization frees me from the monsters of shame, fear, and anger to live in abundance. 

On a recent workday, I went for a walk outside to recharge. I brought a picnic lunch with me and settled in at a wooden table in a garden outside of the Healthy Minds Centre. As I sat down, I noticed faint green writing in front of me. Written on the table were the words, “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay, healing takes time.”

I smiled. It was what I needed at that moment. I was tense and stressed and worried. The message jumped out at me even though the words were faded from the sun and rain. 

As I sat down, I noticed faint green writing in front of me. Written on the table were the words, “It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay, healing takes time.”

I read once that “the bravest thing you can do is ask for help.” It takes humility to reach out. I turn to family and friends when I am lonely, afraid, or unable to cope. “Don’t you think the things people are most ashamed of are the things they can’t help?” wrote C.S. Lewis in Till We Have Faces.

When I spend time in prayer with Jesus, I’m made aware of my wholeness. The Lord is the ultimate physician. “It is the Lord … who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy” (Ps 103, 3-4).

He gives medicine and psychiatrists, counsellors and therapists, to bring us healing. We can’t do life alone. God, who is a communion of persons, made us to need each other.

So I began to write, and write, and write. I started to journal and write poems and short prose. I worked on writing a couple of books (these are still unpublished works). I started to write for The B.C. Catholic from the encouragement of my friends and the movement of the Holy Spirit. I delight in writing. Discovering the joy of writing and being vulnerable brings me such comfort and connection. As my favourite high school English teacher would say, “It’s cathartic.” 

My journals keep filling up. I keep Post-it notes and loose papers with ideas, musings, and quotes. My room is full of books – a small library. My reading list is always long. I spend many an evening curled up with a cup of tea and a good book. I am always looking to improve the craft of writing. I am learning from great writers like Austen, Lewis, and Tolkien. 

Finding my identity in Christ, my life has become a beautiful unfolding tale. Reflecting on it provides me with hope because the Lord has gifted me with good things and people. I am grateful for the unveiling of who I am; I look forward to who I will become. I no longer wear masks to hide the fact that I have bipolar disorder (although I wear a mask now due to COVID-19).

I’m unashamed and do not carry stigma from having a mental illness. I like the lyrics from the country song I Got a Truck by Devin Dawson, who sings “’Cause I got a song, I got a story to tell, I got a reason for living.”

And then, “I got a dream and a hope and a prayer … I got the drive and the grit and the spirit.”

We all have a story to share. There is room for all our stories. And we can be brave in sharing them because our hope is in the Lord. 

Lisa Rumpel’s podcast, The Resilient Catholic: Shining light on your journey to flourish with Mental Health, is available on popular streaming services. It is updated every other Wednesday.

If there be one thing…

I hope my stories become prayers, become hopeful living.

If there be one thing for me to leave in the world. It would be a legacy. A legacy of love.

I hope my words remain etched in the fabric of life.

Stories unfold and rest in the bosom where memories are treasured.

I hope my stories become prayers, become hopeful living.

I try to be true, honest and light. There is pain and trial. With God there is might. His love never leaves me dry for long. The pen flows freely. If I sit here, a song.

Sanctifying menial tasks

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on July 21, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/the-prayer-in-doing-chores

The ordinary task of doing dishes helps me to silence the noise I am usually surrounded by and to talk to God. Photo by Lisa Fotios on Pexels.com

Washing dishes with pink gloves in hot suds, I had pause to think of all the good gifts in my life. The people, the growing of a dream, the crafting of a memoir. It all means so much to me. Soap suds squeaked and popped. Plates clattered together. I got lost in a hope-filled reverie.

The sun was behind rain clouds, and outside the window a bright green canopy of trees lined the street. A newness even in the overshadowing of a worldwide pandemic. There was a change. The smell of lilacs and honeysuckle in the alley wafted behind my little grey house.

Leaving the sink, I carried the trash outside. I tossed the compost in with a whump. Stretching my arms to the sky, I watched for aviator-like bumblebees passing by. The evening songbird sang high on the telephone wire. The ivy covering the gate shook in the slight wind. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “I am going to be okay.”

My days are full, and my nights are calm. I have peace and joy. The Lord is my all in all. I try to give myself to him completely. Even the lost and broken pieces of my heart I give to him to find and repair. His love heals me through each relationship and time of prayer.

Often, I say, “Jesus, I trust in you. You take care of everything.” There have been many times when I have felt invisible, rejected, and lonely. And he has been with me through it all. I may not be perfect, but I am enough. I am learning to “trust in the slow work of God” and to “give our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading.” 

Sometimes it is hard to follow the advice from Father Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ, in his short piece “Trust in the Slow Work of God” to “accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete.”

The ordinary task of doing dishes helps me to silence the noise I am usually surrounded by and to talk to God. I long to speed ahead through the chores and in my personal projects. I can be quite impatient. “And yet,” says Father de Chardin, “it is the law of progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability – and that it may take a very long time.”

The slow growth in relationships and work is almost unnoticeable. But it is new. Gradually, with grace and action they take shape and mature. When I take a deep breath in nature, I am serene with life flourishing all around me. It takes a long time for a tree to stand tall in a forest. Reminding myself of the steady movement of God in my life, I can be present to all the blessings I have.

Who am I to be loved by a God so great? And yet, I have become more aware of his goodness when I reflect on my day with gratitude. I am grateful for rain-picked raspberries from my elderly neighbour. Time spent with loved ones at coffee shops I hadn’t seen in months brings such joy. The beauty of yellow roses and fragrance of jasmine flowers in nearby gardens are lovely.

“Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. His love endures forever” (Ps 136:1). Instead of dreading chores, I will relish the time to clean. Finding restoration in the Lord who is with me through it all.

‘Just to be alive is a grand thing’

First published in the BC Catholic Newspaper on May 26, 2020 https://bccatholic.ca/voices/lisa-rumpel/just-to-be-alive-is-a-grand-thing

I know that my small plans are nothing to what God has planned for me. His plans are bigger and better than mine.

Wildflowers dotted the grass around my picnic blanket. Shade from tall evergreens created a perfect spot for me to rest in. I kicked off my running shoes and let my bare feet enjoy the cool breeze. Laying down on the blanket tucked away in Queen Elizabeth Park felt like my own piece of paradise. Birds flitted from treetop to tree branch. Fuzzy bees flew by and visited pink rhododendrons nearby. The smell of ferns and evergreens reminded me of hiking trips of the past. Hunger pains told me it was near dinner.

Calling my mom, we chatted for a good half hour. Then after the conversation about our hopes and dreams, we said a short prayer together. Two young girls were sharing snacks on a picnic blanket near me. They laughed and picked up pinecones. I dug into my handbag for my red beaded rosary that my mom gifted me. Sitting with my chin titled toward the sky, I prayed the Glorious Mysteries with many intentions in my heart. 

The Lord is generous in his love. Even with all of the social isolation, I have felt community in the many phone calls, text messages, and video chats with my friends and family. We have become more creative in ways to connect. Virtual dance parties, brunches, movie dates, and Mass have become a way to bond when we cannot be in person.

God’s love cannot be undone with an outbreak of a virus causing anxiety to rise. It has been a “corona coaster” of worries and emotions for me lately. Going out in nature and hearing my loved ones’ voices over the phone has been a calm grounding. Surprising to me is my increased desire to create art, bake, dance, and laugh with loved ones.

My dream of completing my book has really been forefront on my mind. I know that my small plans are nothing to what God has planned for me. His plans are bigger and better than mine. I feel like God will bless my little “yes” in taking action. Without having my social calendar full, I am using the extra time to foster my creative pursuits. As I felt the Lord say to me in prayer, “Pick up the pen and be brave.” I have been journalling, writing poems, taking notes, and jotting ideas down. As a writer, living life vibrantly fills the well of creativity. I go for many walks, read lots of books, and fill my hours with varied activities which brings countless material to my writing desk. 

Being in an environment that helps me do the work and having the right tools is key. For the longest time, I was without a laptop because my old one crashed. Thankfully, I had backed up my files and didn’t lose seven years of work on my book. When we open ourselves up to what we believe God is calling us to, he provides the means. It’s amazing how many people he has connected me with to assist me in writing my memoir. “For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I will help you.” (Is 41:13) 

The excitement of possibility and leaning into the mystery of God’s plan helps me live through these days with hope. I will cultivate the garden of my heart, watering with prayer, acts of love, and faithful trust.

As Agatha Christie said in her autobiography, “I like living. I have sometimes been wildly despairing, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”