Cussing in Hebrew

So I just discovered today that the first word in the Bible, in the Hebrew language, is Bere’shit…

The first thing I did when I read that was check it on Google.  Yeah, it’s really true.  Multiple sites, including the omniscient Wikipedia, told me so.  There was even a Jewish comedic blog with the title, “Does a bere’shit in the woods?”

The next thing I had to do was overcome my sudden case of the giggles…

Okay, it’s not pronounced that way, but I still have this pre-pubescent reaction to seeing the word in print.  I feel just a bit naughty.

looks very pretty in Hebrew, doesn't it?

Bere’shit means “In the beginning” (if you haven’t already figured it out), and is not only the first word in the Hebrew Bible, but the title of the first book (“Genesis” means “In the beginning”).  It brings to mind this saying:

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

Seneca (Roman philosopher, mid-1st century AD)

I told you I was feeling naughty.

But truly, I feel like I have been given a new beginning.

There are lots of beginnings in life, and they hinge on the ending of something else.  You start school, and you end your time at home, you graduate from one school to another—each an ending and a beginning; you get married and end your single life; you choose to be a follower of Jesus and you end your life of open rebellion.

Some beginnings are obvious; August 28, 1972, my birthday; December 18, 1993, my wedding date; October 5, 2010, the date I reached out for help with my OCD and depression.

Other beginnings are slow and less noticeable; they become conspicuous by their absence—the endings that were created.  Somewhere along the line, I quit sneaking out of bed to sleep in the closet.  I’m not sure when I quit tapping my fingers against my hand when riding in the car, either.  And I usually wake up now without wishing I was dead. 

These beginnings signify the beginning of the end.  The end of depression.  The end of slavery to compulsions.  The end of being a "less-than" person.  And they signify the beginning of what?  What I choose to fill them with.  Reliance, not on self, but on El-Roi—the Father Who Sees Me; deeper communication between me and my husband; and an understanding that I am a valued and valuable person, if only for the reason that I am a beloved daughter of the King.

And these beginnings and endings want me to shout out and tell others that there can be new beginnings that will be born out of the sufferings that are the horrible reality for them today; that I didn’t think that I would have new beginnings, but I’m smiling and I’m laughing and I’m finding new purpose in my life.

Keep on beginning and failing. Each time you fail, start all over again, and you will grow stronger until you have accomplished a purpose – not the one you began with perhaps, but one you’ll be glad to remember.
Anne Sullivan

I never thought my healing journey would be as rough and rugged as it’s been so far. I never thought it would take so many twists and turns, or that I would stumble and fall so many times and have to start over again.  I never thought I’d learn so much about myself, life, love, God, and the wonderful beauty of His amazing grace.

What about you?  Is there something you want to change in your life?  New beginnings, new endings; they can all be achieved one step at a time—sometimes those steps go backwards, but as long as motion continues, you can learn, and the “failing” will turn to growing.  Just try.

If all you can do is crawl, start crawling.
Rumi

Don't eat your toothbrush!

My dog ate his toothbrush.

It was on the counter, primed and ready for use, and it must have been knocked onto the floor somehow.  Because the next think I knew, I was hearing “crunch-crunch” sounds from the far corners of the living room.

On my way to investigate, I found bristles littering the floor.  And then there was Charlie, gleefully chewing his toothbrush—the head was already gone!

As soon as he saw me, he went into defensive position and gave a warning growl as if to say, “This delectable piece of goodness is mine!”  But considering the fact that he’s just a ball of fluff, I reached over and plucked the toothbrush away.  In characteristic Charlie fashion, he immediately forgot what he was growling about and returned to his normal happy state.

Who, me?

 Maybe it was the fact that the toothpaste was peanut butter flavored, but Charlie obviously considered brushing to be not nearly good enough.  Perhaps he thought, “If rubbing this on my teeth is good for me, then chewing it must be better!”

Okay, I could be anthropomorphizing him a little too much…

But I can relate.  If a little exercise is good, then a lot must be better—and I end up sore and regretting it.  If a little journaling and delving into my emotions is good, then a lot must be better—and I end up overwhelmed with feelings that I am not yet ready to deal with all at once. 

I actually found a term for this:  Hormesis (from Greek hórmēsis "rapid motion, eagerness,") is the term for generally favorable biological responses to low exposures to toxins and other stressors.  Or so say my friends at Wikipedia.

This is why we spit out our toothpaste.  Because it’s toxic.  A little bit is good for our teeth, but read the label, and it tells you that if you suck the tube down for an afternoon snack, you should consult with your local poison control center.  And going so far as to eat the toothbrush is definitely taking it well into the unhealthy range.

Life is full of the usage of hormesis.  Tylenol and other medications are helpful in small dosages but will damage organs or kill you in large dosages.  Exercise in proper amounts will keep the body healthy but will damage muscles and connective tissues if done in excess.  Foods like alcohol and chocolate have been shown to have health benefits in small quantities but are dangerous and deadly in large quantities.  Cancer treatment relies heavily on hormesis.

The word Hormesis seems to be antithetical to its meaning.  How can something involving low exposures to stressors be related to rapid motion or eagerness?  This stumped me for awhile, then it occurred to me that it’s a lot like the therapy that I go through.  I have an eagerness for mental wellness, so I voluntarily expose myself to small doses of controlled stressors in order to achieve my goals.  I have learned that trying to deal with too many emotional stressors at once can be overwhelming, creates depression, and accomplishes little.  Dealing with little pieces at a time is manageable, gives me confidence, and achieves more.  Maybe some rapid motion towards wellness, even?

I’ve been told multiple times, when I’m feeling overwhelmed, that the process of healing is like “eating an elephant”—one bite at a time.  Looking at the entire process can be daunting, but working on one thing at a time is attainable.  I think this quote from Francis of Assisi is helpful: 

 Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

It’s encouraging and motivational to see results after so many baby bites have been taken! 

But not on my toothbrush…

My son is a cartoon day trader

My son, Jacob, always finds something unusual to do with computers.

 

I walked into his room, and he was flipping back and forth between screens on his computer; one screen had little boxes of cartoon accessories—hats, ear buds, keys, and other less identifiable things; and the other screen was the home screen for some video game store.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, this?  These are things that I barter or sell for profit.  This is my inventory,” he said as he rested his cursor on a box with a red hat in it.  Words popped up, designating it as a special type of “angry” hat.  “This hat is worth $270,” he explained.

“It’s not a real hat.  It’s a cartoon,” I said.

“Yes, but people pay real money for these things.  I sell these items or video games.  I have over $200 credit in PayPal right now.”  He flips over to the other screen.  “You see, this $5 game is on sale today only for $1.24.  I can use my credit to buy some of these games, and then sell them next week for $3.  People are getting a great deal, and I’ll make over 200% profit!”

 My son is a cartoon day trader.

I think that I would like my own little computer-screen inventory, but instead of cartoon hats, the boxes would have different aspects of my life.  I could barter or sell the parts I dislike, and hopefully end up with something more palatable.

 I know it sounds ridiculous, but isn’t that what we do when we look at others’ lives and wish ours were more like theirs?  I have seen others heal faster, and I’ve coveted their journey.  I have been with those who stood firm where I faltered, and I’ve desired their resolve.  I have heard of those who escaped the trials that I have gone through, and I’ve wanted their life.  I long for the easier life that others appear to have.

But I wonder, once I started swapping around, would I find their lives any better than mine, really?  And if I did find a life that was easier, would it be acceptable anymore?  I have been told that a life of suffering births great contentment and joy.  Honestly, I don’t feel content, and joy is fleeting.  But I have found that through my own journey I have developed relationships that are deeper and more significant than I’ve ever had in my life.  I’ve impacted other lives through transparent sharing of my own hurts in ways I couldn’t have before I began this journey.  I have developed a deeper and truer relationship with my Father because of my need to rely on Him alone.

I came across this quote the other day:

 “The greatest Christians in history seem to say
that their sufferings ended up bringing them the closest to God -
so this is the best thing that could happen,
not the worst.” ~ Peter Kreeft

That is a goal worth striving for.  Forgetting the injustice of what has been done to me, and instead focusing on what is being done through me because of what was done for me.  If I look at the miracles of grace that I’ve received, would I give those up for an easier life?  Those wonderful, God-filled moments?  The truth is, I wouldn’t trade the pain away because I have received grace abundantly.

Trading the pain would be like giving real money to get a cartoon hat.