Whoa - this prompt touches the deep part of my gut and soul!
“ I used to be fascinated with the disciples because of their piousness, but now I’m more fascinated with the stories of the most unlikely people used by God.”
A hearty AMEN to this quote, and sure, I'll tell you about my redemption story.
Indeed, my faith is strengthened and buoyed by the screw-ups in the Bible like Adam and Eve, who ate the forbidden fruit, Lying Jacob, who wrestled with God, and David, who killed Uriah to sleep with Bathsheeba. And then there's Paul, the prolific writer of the New Testament who hunted down believers in Christ to kill them. Yet God used the screw-ups to bring redemption in their lives and all of humanity! I am a living testament of God’s redemptive power in God’s creation.
Getting down to the nitty-gritty: While recording an album for Sony records, as a young and very green girl, I collapsed under the pressure, and at one point, I struggled with bulimia so bad that I weighed a mere 88 pounds and could not stop eating and throwing up. On the floor of my Miami Beach apartment, in desperation to live, I asked God to lift me and promised that I would use my voice (singing and speaking voice) to lift others. This is when I truly “knew” God/Christ for myself. The Bible became a living and breathing story of hope and redemption for me. God was and is very real to me because God met me and lifted me out of the ashes that day. That was 25 years ago, and my life continues to be a testament to God’s faithfulness. After reading The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen, I got more clarity about my life’s vocation and why I was always drawn to the hurting, frail, misfits, and those on the margins; they are my people. It took years of experiencing God in the light of my frailty, counseling, and being loved unconditionally by my husband to heal. Come to find out that there were things that happened to me as a child that I had somehow blocked out of my mind. There were things I witnessed that no child should have to see, things I did to myself to unsee - yet God!
I am not pious. I for damn sure don't have it altogether. I am a broken vessel aware of my need for others, for love, for God, for the healing power of grace and redemption, and this is why I do what I do and live the way I live. I don't always get it right, but I live to lift others because God lifted me.
I will hurry up and post this without looking over it for perfection cause this is my story and why I am drawn to Suleika and this community!
Thanks for sharing this with us. Though we have no real relationship, it feels close enough for loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others. Sending love from New Orleans this morning.
I was so moved by your hospital bed studio visit that you found your way into a poem I wrote a few days ago about another great survivor, Frida Kahlo. I offer it to the community here:
FRIDA’S DANCE
The cup of my being broke open
two pelvic halves along my shattered spine
and from the ruins grew a vine
a seed cracks concrete if it must
It’s not about wellness
it’s all about pain
Art is the needle that enters the vein
From my bed I’ve travelled universes
If the corset forces you to sit unbending, deck your head
I didn’t realize how much I needed this today, until I read your post and the prompt and burst into tears. The words “adjust,” “adapt,” “rebuild” hit particularly close to home—my husband died in 2020 from colon cancer, my mom died suddenly this past January and now I am watching my elderly dog struggle with a disease. I have said on too many occasions the past couple of weeks, “If he goes, this could be my undoing.” Of course, I know I will keep going, but it feels infinitely harder with each loss of those closest to me. Nothing profound there, just fully felt like the first days of a breakup where that person’s absence still blocks out the sun,even when you know it’s still there keeping you alive. Love the idea of planting seeds and I think I have been doing so, even joining this group has been one. So true, as Rilke says, “no feeling is final.” The highs these last few years have felt higher, and the lows lower, just knowing re-emergence is possible is hope enough, Thank you for sharing such beautiful words.
Redemption songs, redemption songs, that Bob Marley lyric keeps running through my head as I try and respond to this prompt. Maybe my redemption has been through this move to Asheville, NC. It happened over 8 years ago but it has taken that long for me to see that though it may have shattered my marriage it may also have redeemed me as a writer, an artist and a good friend who has been embraced by a community of women I haven’t experienced since my 30’s and my tight knit group from the abortion clinic where we all worked at the time. By necessity and passion for our jobs we clung to each other both for safety and for moral propping up when those who opposed and threatened us brought their best game. Now here I am, about to turn 68, one week in to the post Roe world sitting in the ashes of its undoing. For a brief day or so I grieved for all that had been lost and felt that all I had worked for in my career in reproductive rights was gone. Then I slowly started to remember the women and girls that had passed through my care, the 12 year old pregnant by incest, the young mother already overwhelmed with four small children, the beaten down look of a woman who has suffered too many blows but in each case they were able to rise up, clear eyed and look in the mirror at their own decision that said no more. And I was there for a brief few hours as their advocate, I held their hand and proffered no judgement, I simply listened and at the end received small tokens of gratitude like a final glance over their shoulder that said thank you as they went out the door and back to the rest of their lives. I have found that same kind of camaraderie here through a book group I joined several years ago. Women all around the same age gathered last week, pre-planned before we knew and the day after the oppressive supreme court decision, we each were in mourning with stories to tell, some even with their own illegal abortion journeys circa 1970. We were stunned and sorrowful but also gathered strength from each other’s presence and though our child bearing years are in the past we each left that brief respite with a resolve to continue the fight for our daughters and granddaughters. So much lost but so much gained too. I thought I moved here with a husband to enjoy retirement; it turns out I moved here to meet these women and continue the work. “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds. How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?” Thanks Bob
Jul 3, 2022·edited Jul 3, 2022Liked by Suleika Jaouad
Isn't "River" just the most perfect name for a pup that has flowed to you, to float you? Dogs are one of my greatest joy, may River be one of yours. ❤️
4 and a 1/2 years ago my 27 year old daughter died from anorexia. Over the past 9 months I have written a memoir, my story of loving and losing her. This writing has been redemptive for me.
When at the lowest moments of grief and despair the ladder that we climb up and out is usually made of a simple gesture. A last brushstroke to a painting satisfyingly makes a painting complete. The joy of completion and a movement upward and onward.
When my daughter died I felt the universe would now give my life an easy path. Nothing could hurt me as much as a loss of my child. This is true. But I have been hurt again. I have had loss again. My mother died. My father. When my father passed I lost my sister to selfishness and she took away my niece (same age as when my daughter died) so I never saw her grow up. I have lost friends. I have looked at my life with tear filled eyes, and then putting myself to sleep, I said I can’t do it anymore. And when I woke up I was still here. And in that darkest hour I realized the blessings are not big ones or ones that are always feel good. To me they were the moments of challenge that I was still here and I noticed. So i continued on with a little more light and honest heart. Upward and onward. A step on a ladder.
A dog named River. A friend. A stranger. Another sunrise to sunset. A savored moment.
“I’m learning that joy and sorrow can coexist. I’m beginning to understand that this is the space that I will spend most of my life.” These are the wisest words. I so appreciate hearing them this morning. So often we think of these as binaries. Redemption is everyday I wake up.
Cleveland School Englewood, NJ. My second grade teachers name was Mrs Johnson. She was a kindly person, slight in frame and big in heart. I took her literally when she told us to put a memory box next to our heart. Every night before going to bed place the precious memories in that place next to your heart. Whenever, you wanted to remember the memories would be right there for you to capture and hold. I took Mrs Johnson literally.
Then there was the school secretary who permitted my mother's sisters to meet my brother and I outside of the school because my father would not permit us to see them. And then my 3rd grade teacher Mrs Tate, who hit me over the head (it was permitted) and said everyone feels sorry for you-but I don't. (Thank you Mrs Johnson-redemption-next to my heart-sometimes buried deep-but there)
Suleika glad to see your getting the dog. I hope in this tough time for you it lifts you up. Everything I'm thinking of goes back to what my daughter has been going through medically. When everything was at lowest when there so much uncertainty with the pain she had, the non smiling because of it. As a parent I felt like there was a dark tunnel and couldn't find the light. The redemption in all that came when she was discharged and I could see that smile coming back. The day that happened I was so emotional because we went 4 almost 5 months without that. What else would like redeemed? My confidence that we can enjoy life again without these issues popping up again. I worry everyday when she wakes up that she'll complain of a pain that will be signal of that. What else is in their is me thinking confident of myself to do what I have to do to make things better for us. I don't remember too much other than hospital stuff of whats happened for the first part of this year. Part of me feels like I'm trying to catch up because it feels like something is missing.
Take care Suleika, hope things start to get better for you.
To those with sadness, badness wishing for no more madness - next time you feel behind or out of line search until you find all that is kind inside your mind - I've found mine --------- 4 years of living the responsible obligation of providing Papa Daycare Las Vegas has given me purpose and reason - these GrandGirls are 5 & 3 years old now - not sure I can ever tell 'em "goodbye" because I am a part of something REAL --- PapaRussL happy in his HEART
I loved Anna’s essay. I identified with so many parts of it, especially the Christian background (and being obsessed with the Bible, also being depressed and floundering as a young adult). God was my special interest, and I now know I am autistic which really helps me make better sense of my inner world. Just one shift, and I I can accept myself instead of looking to religion or others to tell me how to be a person.
On July 16 I will be attending a patient reunion for bone marrow transplant who have survived 5 years or more here in Seattle at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. I will see many former patients I treated through this process. It is an exciting time. Patients want to see their nurses! Joanne Rochester, RN
Whoa - this prompt touches the deep part of my gut and soul!
“ I used to be fascinated with the disciples because of their piousness, but now I’m more fascinated with the stories of the most unlikely people used by God.”
A hearty AMEN to this quote, and sure, I'll tell you about my redemption story.
Indeed, my faith is strengthened and buoyed by the screw-ups in the Bible like Adam and Eve, who ate the forbidden fruit, Lying Jacob, who wrestled with God, and David, who killed Uriah to sleep with Bathsheeba. And then there's Paul, the prolific writer of the New Testament who hunted down believers in Christ to kill them. Yet God used the screw-ups to bring redemption in their lives and all of humanity! I am a living testament of God’s redemptive power in God’s creation.
Getting down to the nitty-gritty: While recording an album for Sony records, as a young and very green girl, I collapsed under the pressure, and at one point, I struggled with bulimia so bad that I weighed a mere 88 pounds and could not stop eating and throwing up. On the floor of my Miami Beach apartment, in desperation to live, I asked God to lift me and promised that I would use my voice (singing and speaking voice) to lift others. This is when I truly “knew” God/Christ for myself. The Bible became a living and breathing story of hope and redemption for me. God was and is very real to me because God met me and lifted me out of the ashes that day. That was 25 years ago, and my life continues to be a testament to God’s faithfulness. After reading The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen, I got more clarity about my life’s vocation and why I was always drawn to the hurting, frail, misfits, and those on the margins; they are my people. It took years of experiencing God in the light of my frailty, counseling, and being loved unconditionally by my husband to heal. Come to find out that there were things that happened to me as a child that I had somehow blocked out of my mind. There were things I witnessed that no child should have to see, things I did to myself to unsee - yet God!
I am not pious. I for damn sure don't have it altogether. I am a broken vessel aware of my need for others, for love, for God, for the healing power of grace and redemption, and this is why I do what I do and live the way I live. I don't always get it right, but I live to lift others because God lifted me.
I will hurry up and post this without looking over it for perfection cause this is my story and why I am drawn to Suleika and this community!
May God be real to you today!
Much love,
Tammy
Thanks for sharing this with us. Though we have no real relationship, it feels close enough for loving you and deeply wanting you to know how much you are helping others. Sending love from New Orleans this morning.
I was so moved by your hospital bed studio visit that you found your way into a poem I wrote a few days ago about another great survivor, Frida Kahlo. I offer it to the community here:
FRIDA’S DANCE
The cup of my being broke open
two pelvic halves along my shattered spine
and from the ruins grew a vine
a seed cracks concrete if it must
It’s not about wellness
it’s all about pain
Art is the needle that enters the vein
From my bed I’ve travelled universes
If the corset forces you to sit unbending, deck your head
make offerings to your ancestors
from your own dignity
You will make art in emergency
with all that is available,
it is the machine that keeps you alive
use your own body
do it now
do not wait to tidy the studio up
do not search for a meaning
a moment
a sign
You speak for women yet unborn
It is your body
It will dance
so you’d better get out of its way
I didn’t realize how much I needed this today, until I read your post and the prompt and burst into tears. The words “adjust,” “adapt,” “rebuild” hit particularly close to home—my husband died in 2020 from colon cancer, my mom died suddenly this past January and now I am watching my elderly dog struggle with a disease. I have said on too many occasions the past couple of weeks, “If he goes, this could be my undoing.” Of course, I know I will keep going, but it feels infinitely harder with each loss of those closest to me. Nothing profound there, just fully felt like the first days of a breakup where that person’s absence still blocks out the sun,even when you know it’s still there keeping you alive. Love the idea of planting seeds and I think I have been doing so, even joining this group has been one. So true, as Rilke says, “no feeling is final.” The highs these last few years have felt higher, and the lows lower, just knowing re-emergence is possible is hope enough, Thank you for sharing such beautiful words.
Redemption songs, redemption songs, that Bob Marley lyric keeps running through my head as I try and respond to this prompt. Maybe my redemption has been through this move to Asheville, NC. It happened over 8 years ago but it has taken that long for me to see that though it may have shattered my marriage it may also have redeemed me as a writer, an artist and a good friend who has been embraced by a community of women I haven’t experienced since my 30’s and my tight knit group from the abortion clinic where we all worked at the time. By necessity and passion for our jobs we clung to each other both for safety and for moral propping up when those who opposed and threatened us brought their best game. Now here I am, about to turn 68, one week in to the post Roe world sitting in the ashes of its undoing. For a brief day or so I grieved for all that had been lost and felt that all I had worked for in my career in reproductive rights was gone. Then I slowly started to remember the women and girls that had passed through my care, the 12 year old pregnant by incest, the young mother already overwhelmed with four small children, the beaten down look of a woman who has suffered too many blows but in each case they were able to rise up, clear eyed and look in the mirror at their own decision that said no more. And I was there for a brief few hours as their advocate, I held their hand and proffered no judgement, I simply listened and at the end received small tokens of gratitude like a final glance over their shoulder that said thank you as they went out the door and back to the rest of their lives. I have found that same kind of camaraderie here through a book group I joined several years ago. Women all around the same age gathered last week, pre-planned before we knew and the day after the oppressive supreme court decision, we each were in mourning with stories to tell, some even with their own illegal abortion journeys circa 1970. We were stunned and sorrowful but also gathered strength from each other’s presence and though our child bearing years are in the past we each left that brief respite with a resolve to continue the fight for our daughters and granddaughters. So much lost but so much gained too. I thought I moved here with a husband to enjoy retirement; it turns out I moved here to meet these women and continue the work. “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds. How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?” Thanks Bob
“…sometimes we have to plant seeds for future Joy.” I’m so happy to hear River is on his way to you, Suleika. ❤️
Isn't "River" just the most perfect name for a pup that has flowed to you, to float you? Dogs are one of my greatest joy, may River be one of yours. ❤️
4 and a 1/2 years ago my 27 year old daughter died from anorexia. Over the past 9 months I have written a memoir, my story of loving and losing her. This writing has been redemptive for me.
When at the lowest moments of grief and despair the ladder that we climb up and out is usually made of a simple gesture. A last brushstroke to a painting satisfyingly makes a painting complete. The joy of completion and a movement upward and onward.
When my daughter died I felt the universe would now give my life an easy path. Nothing could hurt me as much as a loss of my child. This is true. But I have been hurt again. I have had loss again. My mother died. My father. When my father passed I lost my sister to selfishness and she took away my niece (same age as when my daughter died) so I never saw her grow up. I have lost friends. I have looked at my life with tear filled eyes, and then putting myself to sleep, I said I can’t do it anymore. And when I woke up I was still here. And in that darkest hour I realized the blessings are not big ones or ones that are always feel good. To me they were the moments of challenge that I was still here and I noticed. So i continued on with a little more light and honest heart. Upward and onward. A step on a ladder.
A dog named River. A friend. A stranger. Another sunrise to sunset. A savored moment.
“I’m learning that joy and sorrow can coexist. I’m beginning to understand that this is the space that I will spend most of my life.” These are the wisest words. I so appreciate hearing them this morning. So often we think of these as binaries. Redemption is everyday I wake up.
100 day Project- Day 93
Cleveland School Englewood, NJ. My second grade teachers name was Mrs Johnson. She was a kindly person, slight in frame and big in heart. I took her literally when she told us to put a memory box next to our heart. Every night before going to bed place the precious memories in that place next to your heart. Whenever, you wanted to remember the memories would be right there for you to capture and hold. I took Mrs Johnson literally.
Then there was the school secretary who permitted my mother's sisters to meet my brother and I outside of the school because my father would not permit us to see them. And then my 3rd grade teacher Mrs Tate, who hit me over the head (it was permitted) and said everyone feels sorry for you-but I don't. (Thank you Mrs Johnson-redemption-next to my heart-sometimes buried deep-but there)
Suleika glad to see your getting the dog. I hope in this tough time for you it lifts you up. Everything I'm thinking of goes back to what my daughter has been going through medically. When everything was at lowest when there so much uncertainty with the pain she had, the non smiling because of it. As a parent I felt like there was a dark tunnel and couldn't find the light. The redemption in all that came when she was discharged and I could see that smile coming back. The day that happened I was so emotional because we went 4 almost 5 months without that. What else would like redeemed? My confidence that we can enjoy life again without these issues popping up again. I worry everyday when she wakes up that she'll complain of a pain that will be signal of that. What else is in their is me thinking confident of myself to do what I have to do to make things better for us. I don't remember too much other than hospital stuff of whats happened for the first part of this year. Part of me feels like I'm trying to catch up because it feels like something is missing.
Take care Suleika, hope things start to get better for you.
I’m reminded of Invisible Mending, an epic poem by C.K. Williams that reads in small part:
Three women old as angels,
bent as ancient apple trees,
who, in a storefront window,
with magnifying glasses,
needles fine as hair, and shining
scissors, parted woof from warp
and pruned what would in
human tissue have been sick.
….
And in your loneliness you’d notice
how really very gently they’d take
the fabric to last, with what
solicitude gather up worn edges
to be bound, with what severe
but kind detachment wield
their amputating shears:
forgiveness, and repair.
To those with sadness, badness wishing for no more madness - next time you feel behind or out of line search until you find all that is kind inside your mind - I've found mine --------- 4 years of living the responsible obligation of providing Papa Daycare Las Vegas has given me purpose and reason - these GrandGirls are 5 & 3 years old now - not sure I can ever tell 'em "goodbye" because I am a part of something REAL --- PapaRussL happy in his HEART
I loved Anna’s essay. I identified with so many parts of it, especially the Christian background (and being obsessed with the Bible, also being depressed and floundering as a young adult). God was my special interest, and I now know I am autistic which really helps me make better sense of my inner world. Just one shift, and I I can accept myself instead of looking to religion or others to tell me how to be a person.
On July 16 I will be attending a patient reunion for bone marrow transplant who have survived 5 years or more here in Seattle at Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. I will see many former patients I treated through this process. It is an exciting time. Patients want to see their nurses! Joanne Rochester, RN