Friday, August 24, 2007

The Never Ending Pain

Why do I assume present pain is going to be permanent? Lack of faith at the outset, but deeper problem than that I think. I read somewhere during the past week that almost all chronic overeaters are incapable of envisioning happy endings.

When beset by unpleasant circumstances I am immediately overwhelmed. I feel crushed, squashed down, incapable of meeting the problem, and certainly unable to see beyond it. And yet I am known as a genius at problem solving. I come up with an almost instantaneous plan to meet whatever adversity I encounter. My quick thinking has saved many a day for myself and others. But during the crisis I imagine it will never end and I will be called upon to endure the present pain forever. Hence the eating. I eat to relieve the stress and pain of what I perceive as an intransigent problem. Guess what? The pain never lasts.

Do you suppose this is from a childhood of blows I couldn't ward off? What is my deal? I choose to believe God loves me and wants to give me an abundant life. I am already living out some of that. But, still I wait for the other shoe to drop. Lack of faith.

I have also been thinking about God as Father in Heaven. I have to say from my viewpoint, my Father has been damn unreliable. What use is a father who loves but refuses to protect? This dog deal is allowing me to bring old stuff out into the light. How am I to trust a Father/God who allows such suffering while all the propaganda assures us of His love and protection?

Paradigm shift: I misunderstand the love of God. I got no idea under Heaven about an earthly father's love and I don't understand a Heavenly Father's love. I may have badly mixed the two. So...I choose to believe my father God can handle my anger at His apparent inaction. I choose to look for happy endings and miracles. And I ask for wisdom.

Take care of yourselves. Love Bea


Lori said...

I don't know the answer to your question. I was reading (instead of working) about Mother Teresa. Her spiritual guides have written a book and basically she didn't feel that God was there with her. Theologians believe this proves she was a believer because she kept on doing God's work and the skeptics say, well, she couldn't go around saying that she wasn't sure if God was there, could she?

I worked for a woman who studies abused women (and my cousin was in an abusive marriage). Most of these women were the most clever and intuitive women when you thought about it. They could quickly assess their partner's mood and accommodate it. My cousin came up with a way to hoard money -- she arranged for the girls to get free lunches and never told her husband. She pocketed the money. My point is that when you are in fear or live in turmoil, you either develop some skills in dealing with it or you hide somehow. That's how come you are probably good in a crisis.

I don't know why God doesn't help that dog. I wish he did. I don't understand that song, "His Eye is on the Sparrow" or why Pat Robertson believes God will help him find a parking space (I read this in an interview-he prayed for a good parking space). Why him and not the poor dog? Or you or me when we need it most? I don't have anything that makes any sense except I am thinking of you and hoping you are okay.

Cindy174 said...

You describe my faith dilemma so well. Lately I have been calling God my heavenly father. I don't know why but it came to me in my meditation one morning that I was my father's child but not my earthly father, my heavenly father. I was moving in my relationship with God somehow. I don't understand it all yet. I also realized how much I had looked on earth for things that I could only find in God. I so much see God in nature that I become infatuated with the beauty of the earth and then in turn am so shocked and hurt by the brutality of Man. In my post thunderstorm meditation it was revealed to me to expect suffering and brutality on earth and also to embrace my reactions to it, my natural responses, but to give them over to God and not expect Man to heal me, ever. The brutal cruel things have been and will be here always. Anger and outrage at these things were just but they were to be given over to God, that only God can handle my rage and my anger, my natural responses. So I write letters to God and put them in a pretty box under my bed. It has a heart on it. A reminder of God's love for all of us. I don't know where I am going on this faith journey but I know I am moving. And it is the thoughts, and realizations, and ponderings like yours that are moving me. Kind of a long ramble here but I am getting somewhere new in my journey and want to share it somehow.