Refined by Fire

What's been on my mind lately is the 1971 film adaptation of Fiddler on the Roof ( Free on Amazon Video if you have a Prime membership, by the way).   I watched the film several times as a kid, so like many, was already familiar with the songs and plot. We even sung the songs in a music concert at my elementary school one year (I was one of the "daughters" in the song "Tradition.") A few weeks ago, I watched it again, the first time as an adult. I was really struck by how profound and beautiful this film and its message is, something I wasn't yet mature enough to pick up on as a child. Of course the film centers on the rich Jewish religion, culture, and tradition of a small Russian community. As a modern Christian, I'm relating to the film and its messages in a different way. Despite our religious differences with Jewish people, I think there is a lot Christians can learn and appreciate here too. First off, can we just all just fall in love with Tevye

It's funny to remember that I thought the hard part was 6 weeks ago.  The new rules, restrictions, limits on freedom, and adjusting to a totally new way of life. If we could just get through these stay-home-orders, then some normalcy will resume. Then we can breathe a little. For myself and also probably for many others, I've been in a psychological survival mode, only allowing myself a very minimal scope of vision for the future. All the days beyond May 8th, the official day the stay-home order for Colorado is lifted, have been blacked out on the calendar. It was just too much to try to predict where we'd be by then, anyways. 6 weeks ago, restaurants, small businesses, and schools everywhere were forced to close at a moment's notice, and everyone was sent into a tailspin panic practically over night. Therefore, it felt silly to try to gauge what things would be like at the end of lockdown-- anything could happen.  Predictably, there has been a lot of noise. Arguing. St

I feel hesitant to write about the pandemic currently sweeping the nation because I am totally out of my depth here. The amount of things I don’t know about what’s going on far exceeds the amount of things I do know, and I don’t feel even the least bit qualified to make definitive statements on how we should respond to this crisis-- both on a national scale and on a personal, emotional level. Massive closures and cancellations. State-issued stay-at-home orders. Record unemployment. Tens of thousands of deaths (and counting). And all from a novel deadly virus from a country with a communist government who lied about it for weeks, allowing it to spread into every corner of the world. It all feels like a dystopian tv series I’d binge-watch while crocheting and thinking to myself, Well thank God this would never actually happen.    My family tries to calm me down, telling me we’ll get to the other side of this and be okay. There have been plagues and other comparable (and worse)

It’s been a while since my last blog post. Those of you who know me well, probably can correctly deduce that I’ve been too busy crocheting these days (which has been so much fun and has provided excellent therapy for my pain). I’d like to touch base about a recent experience and hopefully be briefer than usual. I currently am not feeling my best (headache, of course) and would like to minimize the time my eyes stare at a screen, but still feel the need to write. These past months, I had, as a whole, been improving both physically and emotionally. However, these last 4-6 weeks or so, the migraines have ramped up. I’ve been taking more medication than usual, which leads to panic that I’m going to run out before the month is up and I’ll have to endure debilitating pain. Last night, I was somewhat caught off guard when I felt this anxiety grip me. It is such a familiar path for me, but-- by God’s grace--I had successfully avoided it for a while. As another migraine struck and I

A couple months ago, I wrote a piece on four erroneous and ultimately, dangerous beliefs about suffering that are common in the secular world. These include: 1. Your body has the innate ability to heal, 2. You are the one who can end your suffering, 3. YOU are the one who can end your suffering, and 4. Emptying your mind can lead to inner peace. The common thread running through these philosophies is complete reliance upon one’s self. More and more and I find these ideas rampant in our society with a pronounced emphasis on self-love, self-care, and self-autonomy. For brevity’s sake, I won’t delve into explicit examples, but lately it seems I cannot go a moment scrolling through social media without reading some severely flawed cliche preaching that loving and accepting oneself is the highest of values. The last two and half years, I have focused tremendously on myself, and let me tell you-- this path leads to nowhere good. When the pain began to cycle out of control, it was all a

  Recently, I was privileged to see Jordan Peele’s latest thriller, “Us.” I expected (and greatly enjoyed) its unsettling terror, dark humor bits, and smart writing. I didn’t expect its haunting exploration of the human psyche’s inclination to harm itself to strike me, a chronic pain sufferer,  on such a deeply personal level. While the message, “You are your own worst enemy” may just sound like another cliche, Peele’s dark edge takes it to the next level. The film holds an unflattering mirror to his audience: facing us to glare at the ugliest parts of ourselves that we are so good at repressing. As Freud has taught us: we can deny, reject, and repress all we want-- but sooner or later, these monsters will find a way to make themselves known, often in unexpected and disturbing ways. In “Us,” this means a bloodbath of epic proportions. While there isn’t a human on the planet who can’t relate to this warning (that is, if he is being honest with himself), this film’s disturbing ta