Journal of Sacred Work

Caregivers have superpowers! Radical Loving Care illuminates the divine truth that caregiving is not just a job. It is Sacred Work.

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Beauty  (Today’s meditation was written by Cathy Self, Senior Vice-President for the Baptist Healing Trust)

   This picture of a summer flower caught my eye at first because of what I would call beauty – deep colors, striking contrasts, interesting texture. Looking more closely, there are a number of imperfections that become evident – asymmetry in the petals, light that is somewhat flat, even a little out of focus perhaps. Curious how easily I find myself losing the beauty because of perceived imperfections.

   How we see ourselves, how we hope to be seen, and how we see others seem to me to be at the core of this week’s sharing. We wear masks, we create stories and desire to emulate other magnificent personas, or we strive to create the perfect legacy for those who will follow. Recently I heard a speaker suggest that he doesn’t want to try and emulate someone else, even a highly admired individual like Gandhi, Churchill, or Martin Luther King, Jr. – he just wants to be the best "him" he was created to be. I like that perspective. But I know that some days I find it a challenge to be the best "me" that I think I may have been created to be (begging forgiveness from the grammarians among you). There just seem to be too many opportunities to judge myself as failing or falling short. I heard this pain shared by a number of caregivers in a recent gathering of people who work in non-profit charity care.

   In times of what can feel like a crushing weight of need in this world, caregivers are asked to bring their best. Through these pages we encourage radical love, consistent compassion, continuous chains of caring. Balance that with worry about fiscal sustainability of the organization, more need than solutions, personal family demands, routine errands (love the Spring, but, oh darn, have to cut the grass again), and even whether we can afford to pay the gas bill this month to cover the home visits needed by our community clients. As one caregiver put it, "sometimes at night I think it is just too much, and I am not the person to do this work. I just don’t feel smart enough, capable enough, strong enough. It’s hard to love others when you don’t feel very good about yourself." I understood, for I have also heard those words bouncing in my head late at night.

   I was reflecting on this dear caregiver’s pain (and my own) when I came across a delightful gift in the form of a poem by Elizabeth Carlson. It’s title is Imperfection, and I share it with you for those moments when you might also feel less than perfect:

I am falling in love/with my imperfections

The way I never get the sink really clean/forget to check my oil/lose my car in parking lots/miss appointments I have written down/am just a little late.

I am learning to love/the small bumps on my face/the big bump of my nose/my hairless scalp/chipped nail polish/toes that overlap. Learning to love/the open-ended mystery/of not knowing why.

I am learning to fail/to make lists, use my time wisely, read the books I should.

Instead I practice inconsistency/irrationality, forgiveness.

Probably I should/hang my clothes neatly in the closet/all the shirts together, then the pants/send Christmas cards, or better yet/a letter telling of my perfect family.

But I’d rather waste time/listening to the rain/or lying underneath my cat/learning to purr.

   I’ve heard it said it is impossible to love well unless you feel well loved. I hope you will accept the words of today’s meditation as a love letter written just for you, sent with prayers that whatever makes you feel well loved comes to you wrapped in the sweetness and grace of Love itself.

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4 responses to “Day 101 – The Beauty of Imperfection”

  1. Erie Chapman Avatar
    Erie Chapman

    Thanks so much for this beautiful meditation, Cathy. I guess that since we are all imperfect, than no one would love themselves unless they accepted the counsel contained in your thoughtful words.
    Bravo!

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  2. ~liz Wessel Avatar
    ~liz Wessel

    The essence of this weeks Journal meditations is expressed so well in your writings, Cathy. Yesterday a friend sent me an e-mail after reading my “Laguna Laughter” story to express support. I encouraged him to post a comment and he shared, “It is too difficult to post because the comments are so eloquent I do not feel I have anything to offer” (an he is an incredibly gifted man.) I responded with sincerity saying, “I think we all feel that way.”
    Judging thoughts about me are ruminating in my head as I find myself uncomfortably embarrassed by the flattery I received yesterday. For me, writing is a newfound love that longs for expression. Yet, I question inner motives and judge my ego needs for recognition. Then an intuitive voice speaks, “Look to understand, do not pass judgment.” When I let go of self-judgment the squeeze on my heart eases, and I can begin to accept my imperfections, and open to Love. I know I want to continue risking by putting myself out there.
    Tuesday’s questions in Erie’s meditation” What Do Our Lives Reveal” continue to illuminate my awareness. I am sharing this meditation with others and I believe it will be especially beneficial for my children to contemplate as well. Last night a friend and I shared some of our unspoken dreams and we encouraged each others unrealized possibilities.
    Thank you for the gift of your Love, Cathy. May it ripple out exponentially from us to others.

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  3. Mareanne (MFM) Avatar
    Mareanne (MFM)

    What a wonderful meditation Cathy. I love the poem. We all try so hard to be what we think we are suppose to be, the perfect spouse, parent, child , employee, cook, housekeeper, etc.. Learning to see past the imperfections in ourselves and others would make for a much happier world.

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  4. ~liz Wessel Avatar
    ~liz Wessel

    Another Poem on Blue
    once you’ve located
    such a wound, you’ll want to enter,
    no matter how swiftly
    it flickers in & out of sight.
    Inside, you’ll find
    there’s room to unfurl
    your baby or grown-up wings,
    your fastidious or blundering wings,
    your blushing, drowned, or glissando wings,
    your blistered, bandaged, or lightly iced-over wings—
    unfurl them as far as they’ll go, or farther,
    & fly around in enormous circles, figure 8’s,
    rhomboids, hexadexadrons, helioglobes,
    any shapes your particular wings might invent,
    fly until your lungs are drinking,
    your bones are drinking
    even the roots of your hair are drinking
    from that unstaunchable
    hemorrhage of blue.
    Exerpt of poem ~by Claire Bateman

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