​March and April always bring Easter at some point to our world. Some celebrate, some don’t. To me, it always elicits memories of Mrs. Mikita’s third grade classroom in Elmhurst, IL. She had tulip decorations throughout the classroom, on the bulletin boards, on the blackboards, on the windows. The bright colored flowers, and the bright Easter eggs meant that spring was here, Easter was coming, and snow would eventually be melting and leaving. (Although sometimes to return at least once more!) But it was rebirth, joy, new life, and joyful times ahead. And for those following Christian tradition, that is exactly what Easter brings – rebirth, new life possible, and joy that knew no previous bounds.
And yet, we can still feel fear deep within us, as though our flowers within are not blooming. We know this through the recent series of articles on depression we have been posting. Yet, this is a time to reach up to our Higher Power – God or Yahweh. A time to reach in – to our own hearts and minds as well as out to others to ask and embrace forgiveness. To speak our fears and accept the love and support offered by a safe and supportive friend, partner, priest, or other. And to reach into our hearts and see what our Higher Power is offering, and then to accept what we are given in the way of support, forgiveness, and love. All of this will allow us to blossom. As John O’Donohue summarized this: 

​This Easter Sunday I wish for you the bulbs planted last fall in your heart, possibly without your even knowing it…

​Blossom into a full and beautiful tulip garden.

The Advent season is a time of preparation for the coming of Christmas and the reminder of the birth of Jesus. What does this mean for us in our everyday hurried lives during this busy season? To me, it is a time of peace, hope and joy. Let’s focus on the hope today. Hold onto the thought that hope will get us through. That doesn’t mean that we always get what we hope for, but that we are, in the end, always protected and strengthened to get through what comes in our lives.

Advent is a time of hope, and that can be very welcome during times of war , financial crisis, and other challenges. On some days I believe hope is one of the only things we do have (an object) and a step we can take (hope is an action). When I was at church a week or so ago this was brought home to me again by Fr. Garrett Galvin of Franciscan School of Theology. I’m sure I’ve used the word in both ways, and yet I’d not acknowledged the fact it was both action and thing, verb and noun. If one has a spiritual connection, I do believe it may be easier. But hope, in the end, is the mental or spiritual or emotional trust that something will happen or come to be in the future. I saw a picture when perusing the Internet looking for some different views of hope. The Christian view of hope at this time of Advent is that of focusing on light instead of darkness; the Judaic of Hannukah is hope in the midst of darkness. Essentially the message of hope is to trust that there will be light, brightness, change, or answers once the day is again well-lit or the time of difficulty passes. 

Henri Nouwen wrote of radical hope:  He wrote that it is waiting with openness and trust – (wow, hard to do!) that “something is happening for us that is far beyond our own imaginings.”  I have to tell you, that is not something I can do daily – leaning far beyond into a Source, for me a source of strength from my God despite anything that I might encounter in life. I may seek to be that strong, but it is a daily choice.

And that’s the funny thing about hope, it is a choice, and it is a gift. We don’t always realize this, but it’s true. I know how hard it is to hope amid those dark seasons. When all one has hoped for or believed to be true is suddenly turned upside down, leaving us bereft, questioning the reality of all one believes or holds sacred in life or a relationship. So how to change and lean in more fully to hope?

It takes daily living in hope to finally feel it. It can be unbelievably difficult, but hope demands we keep moving before we feel it. The paradox I’ve found to be true is that I must act on hope, trusting I will eventually feel it, and by the time I do the most challenging times have finally passed.  I want to feel it before and during the tough time. But while I consciously hold onto the thought of it, the feeling comes after recovery from cancer, after one has finalized the divorce on all levels and gone on to live a new life, or after one’s energy rebuilds following surgery or chemotherapy. Or has it? Isn’t hope the living – the belief things will get better…and the time we can see the results the effect of the hope?  Think about how that might apply in your life. You might be surprised to find you have some hope – you’re just not acting on or living it.

Make no mistake, living a radical hope in which one believes life will improve beyond one’s expectations, is not easy. And, especially during this Advent season, lean into your Higher Power, and trust in the hope that things will get better. It will give one some modicum of peace in the moment. Despite the migraines, nausea, sleepless nights, or worried days we may also experience, hope says “but this will change and improve eventually.”  So, through personal crisis, or preparation for Christmas, or through Hanukkah, or as one tends the crops before Kwanzaa–may the last weeks of Advent and December be a month of radical hope for you.

Take care,
​
Dr. Beth

​What is courage?

I find there is much to unpack in David Whyte’s writing in his book “Consolations”:

Courage is the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, at work, a future. To be courageous is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences. To be courageous is to seat our feelings deeply in the body and in the world: to live up to and into the necessities of relationships that often already exist, with things we find we already care deeply about: with a person, a future, a possibility in society, or with an unknown that begs us on and always has begged us on. ~David Whyte

Remember those moments when you wished someone would swoop in and take care of you? Or maybe you are facing something now that is bringing that wish alive again. Perhaps with a person, what you do, facing the world as it is now. Or simply dealing with experiences or feelings long buried. So how to unpack Whyte in this?

First, we must live our life actively. Meaning, acknowledge what is bothering you. Earlier this week for me I realized it was something as simple as the needs Finley (my pup) has on a night I’m tired and really don’t want to play. I realize this is a very simple example, but nonetheless very real. So, I must acknowledge it, make it real to myself, acknowledge my feelings about it. “Courage is…heartfelt participation.” Obviously, it’s not a relationship in which we can talk it through, so it’s only on my side, but after watching, listening, and seeing Fin’s need through pleading eyes with a toy in his mouth, I can acknowledge I’m tired and feeling selfish in that fatigue.

Second, we must “live through the vulnerabilities” of acknowledging what is happening. Using Fin, his look with the toy in his mouth is saying notice me, play with me, you are important to me, and I need you. If I turn him away when he’s already brought three toys to me, none of which I noticed earlier, then I am not “living through the unending vulnerabilities” of a relationship with him. And he’s really rather good at knowing when my exhaustion doesn’t allow play and plays by himself. The vulnerability for me is the awareness that I do need, have responsibility to Fin and for Fin. Even when I’m fatigued. the inner courage to meet him where he is, even if only five minutes and happily plays by himself afterward.

Third, I must, if living a courageous life, “live up to and into the necessities of relationships …  with things [and people] we find we already care deeply about: that begs us on and always has begged us on.” In the example above, I must find the inner courage to meet him where he is, even if only five minutes and watch him then happily playing by himself afterward.

This concept mirrors the journey of psychotherapy—the path of confronting our past, owning our present, and taking steps toward inner peace. It's like holding a mirror to our souls and saying, "I see you; I hear you, and I'm here for you."

So, here's a little challenge: think about something that might bring you pain in the coming month. It could be memories of a dear one, the overwhelming hustle, financial worries, or even that tiny voice of loneliness. Instead of shying away, take a moment to truly acknowledge it. Or, perhaps it is the fact you wish the Thanksgiving dinner would be as it was before someone passed away, moved away, or you moved. Or, as a friend of mine told me this weekend, “I simply hope for very few people at my home this year, I just don’t have it for more.”
Name it. Embrace it. And then, consider what you can take from Whyte’s poem to live courage. It doesn't have to be monumental—sometimes, it's the smallest steps that count. Perhaps just acknowledging what it is and writing it down. Whether it's simplifying your schedule, seeking comfort in the presence of friends, embracing meaningful rituals, asking your higher power for strength and guidance, or showering yourself with self-love, the key lies in caring for yourself.

Remember, you have the power to heal your own heart. So, as life unfolds its challenges, know that within you lies an incredible force of resilience and love. You've got this! Take a deep breath, embrace your journey, and step into the beautiful transformation that begins from within. One change at a time.

Take care,

Dr. Beth