Kristin Ritzau

Self-Care 101: The Reconciliation of Self

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 10:40:24 -0700

"Over the years, the growing consciousness of radical grace has wrought profound changes in my self-awareness. Justification by grace means that I know myself accepted by God as I am. When my heat is enlightened and my heart is pierced by this truth, I can accept myself as I am. Genuine self-acceptance is not derived form the power of positive thinking, mind games, or pop psychology. It is an act of faith in the God of Grace." (Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel, 48-9)

I love Brennan Manning. Other than certain stories in the Bible and of course Jesus Christ, Brennan is the poster boy for grace. He writes paragraphs like this that leave me in awe and wanting that so bad -- to accept myself as I am, right here, right now -- no matter the circumstance.

The problem of perfection is that the right here, right now is not "okay." We can always do more or do it better. Even if we achieve the desired outcome, there is no time wasted before we're on to what is next or cleaning up the next mess or faced with yet another disaster that grips our ever-ready attention.

In this world of self-care (or perfectionist recovery) I find myself in, I see many responses to what I speak on and try to live out. The first response, we'll call her Person #1, is that she gets it. She might not fully know what it entails, but the way of her crazy life isn't working anymore. She wants to stop listening to the chiding voices in her head and start caring for herself better in order to be healthier for others. Person #2 is quite a different story. The message of self-care is internalized, but to the point that she cuts herself off from her community only to wallow and not heal. She thinks that the wallowing will lead to self-care, but actually this person is not wanting to take care of herself. It is a position of paralysis. Person #3 thinks that self-care is selfish and keeps on keeping on. She is the do-er extraordinaire and will stop at nothing (or stop nothing) to face her own issues.

There are other responses, but these three dominate. Of course I am a huge fan of #1, but at its root all three of these mindsets revolve around reconciliation -- or lack thereof -- of the guilt and shame we hold in our bodies and if we're ready to face it. Person #1 is ready to deal with the voices and start down the long slow journey of reconciling with herself. Person #2 can only see her shame and guilt. The hope is buried so far down that she can't even imagine finding it and/or thinks she does not deserve it. Person #3 does not want to slow down to ask herself anything. Her life is one of burn-out management, sacrificed for others.

You might know these people. They might be you. The truth is, they are all me at different times. Sure I want to be Person #1, but that requires the hard work of showing up to myself every day. I have to reconcile who I am every day. Yesterday my pastor defined reconciliation as, "Making friends with the future in mind." Meaning that when we reconcile we are constantly working at the friendship for the sake of the future outcomes. (Hope I got that right Josh!) That takes a lot of work to do with myself, let alone my enemies! So if we can't or don't do within our own souls -- how can we do this others? There is no better time to ask this question of ourselves in this day and age.

So how then do we experience reconciliation, grace and healing? We have to start in that bleak place of our guilt and shame. The church has emphasized "guilt" a lot in the past. "Jesus takes away our guilt." "We are no longer guilty." Shame is thrown around too, but shame is still what I felt for so long even though I was "forgiven" of my guilt. Recently I discovered a profound definition of both and it helped bring to light the ache in my soul. Norman Bales writes, "We feel guilty for what we do. We feel shame for what we are." And isn't that just it? We feel that we can be forgiven for actions, but we feel we can't be forgiven for who we are. There is no changing that -- but that's just it -- we're not supposed to! However, this self-masochism plunges us into more penance actions i.e. perfectionism.

The truth is the love the Trinity has for us encompasses and embraces us just as we are at any point in time. We are loved for exactly who we are, but why is it so hard to accept this?

The reason I always start with the reconciliation (making friends) with one's self is that most Christians know in their heads that God loves them. "Yes, God loves me." But their experience of embodying God's love in their souls and skin... what the heck is that all about? It's more than a hike, a devotional, or a book. It can be terrifyingly awesome. That is the grace of God and it moves and shapes the core and essence of our beings. There is no way to avoid love in the darkest hour if you know this radical space -- but it takes work.

Trust me, I still look like Person #3 quite a bit. But SLOWLY I am learning that even when I am sick I am okay and I am loved. Even when I am busy, I am loved. Even when I feel darkness and there is no light, God is there, and I am loved. I don't know how to explain it more today, so I close with this thought: Making amends with my own soul -- the guilt of my actions and the shame of who I thought I was -- I have unearthed a tiny slice of the Spirit's love. This happens most often when I am just being me.

(Leaf portrait picture - Jenny Lee Fowler)

What is self-care? an intro

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 10:35:32 -0800

You know it's been a long week when the new roll of toilet paper doesn't even make it on the holder. It sits there on the top of the empty one, ever ready to grab but not in its proper place. It might sound inappropriate, but this is how my life has felt the past couple of weeks -- not fully in place and slowly being depleted... and yes I just compared myself to toilet paper.

Life keeps speeding up, rolling on by. I rip off way more than I need. In the past two weeks my days have been catalogued by workshops, conferences, students, events, friends and being sick. It's enough to make me feel like putting that roll of TP on the holder really is time and effort I don't have.

Someone somewhere once said that artists create what they most need. This is why I do what I do. Yes I believe that this is the path the Divine has me on, but if no one gets anything out of it, at least a little part of my own soul will not be completely devoured in this crazy pace of life. Perfectionist recovery is what I need, and a few others have found healing too, so this journey has started. But what the heck is it? Perfectionism? Self-care? Sounds intriguing at first, doesn't it?

Self-care and perfection are words I choose completely on purpose. People can relate to them in their own rite. Self-Care? Spa day! Couch potato! Shopping! Perfection means high achiever, goal setter. Here's where I want to flip these notions on their heads -- Perfection to me is that feeling in the pit of my stomach, the ache in my neck, the wrenching of my heart that I am not good enough, that I will never arrive anywhere. Sure I can look back and see where I have come from, but I still look out and see how far I have to go. That is true of my dirty kitchen, my marriage, and my career (etc.). It is a disturbing force that moves me, not one of peace and reconciliation. Self-care is not facials and mani/pedi days, although I love those things. Self-care means slowing down long enough to hear your inner voice and listen for the Holy Spirit. It means meditation on your life and healing in dark parts of your soul. It is living with intentionality in our bodies, our communities, and our churches. It is not zooming from one thing to another, it is creating room to show up to what is already there. That's hard to do when you're bombarded constantly by messages in your own mind or in ads that what is there isn't good enough.

But how do we do this in an insane world where there is no time to pause? Where pastors and leaders are more concerned with programs than people? When to stop and listen to my thoughts means that scary things come up? And this is my point exactly: Where are the spaces to pause and think, while doing life with leaders and friends around us on this journey? Two hours on Sunday morning isn't going to solve this crisis.

Two weeks ago I had the amazing privilege of speaking at the first National Recovery Conference for churches all over this nation. I met people from Virginia, Michigan, Texas, Orange County, and Boston. The church is diving into this thing called recovery head first and there is no greater time for it, but what are we endorsing? As I looked through the different sessions there were things on boundaries, balance, steps to success, and children's recovery... but even at the conference there really was no space to breathe. For two days you were shuttled around from workshop to workshop trying to gain tools and resources for your work to take back with you. So if there is no model of pausing around us now, where do we look?

It might sound cliche', but one place to start is with Jesus. His life models the habits of self-care with communion, solitude, and meditation. He was faced with people around him all the time, good grief, they were cutting through ceilings and grabbing him in crowds. He would have been in People magazine. But he would not have been in every issue. He knew what he needed and when to retreat.

I realize this is a weird concept. I don't live in la la land -- I live in a world where the TP doesn't get refilled. So I get it. We do need the tools and resources, but we need room to breathe, to cry, to laugh... and those things are becoming more and more rare. The books and steps are great, but true self-care is not about a quick fix. It's about showing up, being open, and hitting pause. Going "a million miles an hour,"' as I often say I am, is unsafe because the accidents that can happen at that pace are devastating. And here is the warning, the tools and resources are not the end-all/be-all - they will not save your life. They will help you radically alter your way of being, but you have to truly want to get in touch with your soul. No longer can you avoid it. There will still be rhythms in your life that will make for weeks where the TP doesn't get refilled, but then there is moment of slowing and you start by just replacing the one roll. That is self-care as nuts as it sounds. Starting small and showing up to what is there. Your journey with God is one that will never be "complete" in this life, but it is one that you should feel committed to in a healthy way and not overwhelmed and burnt out by.

Over the course of the next few weeks I am going to continue to define and introduce this notion of self-care. I would invite you to consider trying out one spiritual practice or joining us on our April retreat as starting places in this journey in the meantime. I look forward to hearing where you are at in this crazy life as well, so leave comments about what excites you about self-care, what makes it hard, what do you currently do? Anything really -- it's prime time for this discussion to start.

Ashes to Ashes: a perfectionist's take on lent

Kristin Ritzau — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 21:52:29 -0800

As I sat in Ash Wednesday service this evening, it was brought to my attention that there were millions who did the same today. It moved me to think of the human race all with ashes on their foreheads representing individual and communal lamentation.

I love traditions, especially ones that have been passed down over thousands of years. There is a rich legacy in this day around the world that should not be taken lightly. In the past few years, I have removed myself from the common lenten practices of giving something up, fasting, or taking something on. For me it became a crutch to my addiction: I must do lent perfectly; if I miss a day or don't do something right, I will fail and disappoint.

Don't get me wrong, lent is about the discipline of showing up to a practice that is chosen with discernment and contemplation in the Spirit. But the process that seeped through for me became more about my performance for God than opening myself up to God.

As I sat there tonight listening to the pastor talk about being open to God, I was moved to tears because I have been in a season of lament for a while. I want the darkness to be turned into light (the sooner the better). Fortunately, I am not the keeper of light or time, so this has not happened yet, but I do feel like dawn is approaching. That is the feeling of lent, as Tony Campolo famously says in his sermon (and book), "Sunday's comin'!" But the night is darkest right before dawn.

I feel like the dawn of a new season is approaching in my own heart. However, I am also acutely aware for others it is not. Therefore, I hung my head tonight in solidarity with them, in the darkness, for yes, we all were and will be again...ash.

I will never be able to truly feel what another feels or experience the life of another, but in my life I know that I want to live. Even among the systems that bug the hell out of me and with the people who annoy and scare me -- I want to live in the dark and the light. I can no longer naively avoid either, just as I feel now I cannot avoid lent for fear of failing it.

For such a time as this, I have a lenten practice I am going to try out because God gave me an overwhelming sense of my heart being flooded tonight with gratitude. I'm following the Spirit on this one, so I'm not sure if it is a 40 day thing or not, but at least for tonight it was an invitation of gratitude while sitting in the dark. I'm not being specific about what I'm doing because the lenten action I am called to feels sacred in this moment -- it is between me and the Spirit. As it should be. Maybe on Easter I will share it in communal celebration, but for right now, I wait for the dawn with a full heart.

An Olympic Reminder

Kristin Ritzau — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 07:29:07 -0800

It is that time again when everyone starts humming NBC's Olympic anthem in their heads (daaa daaa, da da da da da -- that's how the composer writes it, I'm sure). As I am still shaking the remnants of this cold, I was reminded of a recent blog entry I wrote about competition and the Olympics. So I wanted to post a link to that blog entry for this week: (click title to be directed there) Why I am not a US Soccer Fan. Happy Reading and I will be back with a new series on Self-Care very soon!

Making Sense of Sickness

Kristin Ritzau — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 02:23:59 -0800

I have a confession. I have been in a dysfunctional relationship for the past three and a half years. It started one afternoon with my heart beating out of control and it has been a love/hate relationship ever since. When things are in sync life seems bright and possibilities endless. However, when there are long wrestling matches, I wind up jaded and broken, tired and hurt. While tackling this relationship the past couple of years, I thought I could make it work. This relationship hasn’t made sense for a long time and it is one I must reconcile because I am not speaking of my marriage or my parents or my best friend, I’m speaking of my health.

2006 was definitely a stressful year: Graduating from grad school, the terrible job search, turning down a job I could see myself loving, but knowing it wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I also started therapy to face my torturous inner voices. And on top of all of that, I came face to face with many family members awful perceptions of me as a former fundamentalist that was once upon a time more interested in the “right” way rather than the loving way. It was a long year, and in August of that year, my thyroid, which unbeknownst to me had been pissed off for months prior, really let me know how mad it had become one day by speeding my heart rate up to 120 beats per minute (resting).

What ensued have been rounds of doctor appointments, hospital visits, ER runs, pills, and hormones that have been out of whack for 3 years (God bless my husband). I’ve spent countless hours praying and crying, wishing for answers,wondering if my body will ever “feel normal” again. I have seemingly been in a constant state of PMS or menopause for years (yes, I put myself in menopause – I was 26). Every day waking up is an adventure, “What will I feel like today?” And so the relationship has proceeded through murky, uncharted territory.

I’ve spent a lot of time and money trying to get healthy. I nuked my thyroid a year ago and it took 10 months for my body to re-stabilize… now I must deal with the aftermath. I am missing an organ. I have to take a pill each day for the rest of my life. Even though I respect modern medicine for making all of this possible, I still find it incredibly weird. I knew I was breaking up with my thyroid, but I didn’t think I was murdering it. I thought it would still be in my body, although dead, but like an old boyfriend’s picture that you stumble across or spotting a similar car that you made out in when you were 16. I didn’t know that I was literally excommunicating it from my body only to replace with a monthly Target pharmacy purchase. “It’s in the Los Angeles sewer system,” my ever so eloquent doctor told me when I learned it was “gone” in October.

It’s taken me a long time to write about my struggle with my thyroid because of one fact: I don’t want to be the “sick girl.” I don’t want people to feel sorry for me or, on the other hand, not think me capable because I’m “sick.” I want people to see me for me and that is the realization I am starting to make sense of because I am sitting here in bed for the third time in five months getting over another 48-hour fever. My immune system is jacked up. That is the polite way of putting it. Trust me I’ve tried everything to boost it – garlic, vitamin C, Echinacea, the list gets old after a while…

The thing I hate most is what I have to do and that is just sit in it and wait. My body has been through too much for its age, but this is the hand I’ve been dealt. Some women have been dealt much worse hands like cancer or watching closed loved ones die. Worse yet are those whose stories are not told - abuse and rape survivors, war victims, and those who have left this earth way to soon.

In my own story, what I wrestle with most of all is that no one really ever promised me health. Not even God. There were a lot of people that Jesus did not heal when he was on earth… I wish that weren’t the case. I know next week I will be out of bed and operating closer to 100%, but I think that’s the myth. I’m always 100% me even when I’m sick. I might not be at full capacity, but I am still me. I hope I get new cards, but I keep picking up “ear infection,” “flu,” “hormonal imbalance.” And all of this takes time to sit in and get better. As a perfectionist, that is extremely hard because you can’t “do” sickness perfectly. I want to get better and help people… the world needs me. But the truth is I need the world more. I need help and understanding and when the sick are shut up behind closed doors, the understanding starts to slip away.

This relationship is one I have to fight for understanding and trust me, I believe that I am healthier for it. It just might not get me the cover of Self Magazine though, and I’m trying to be okay with that too. Comparisons are not worth living your life for. So in a week when everyone is trying to pick out their celebrity twin… I’m working really hard at picking out myself. I’m trying to make sense of it all and sense of just me. Some days it makes more sense than others, but that’s life right? It would be easier to pick out a celebrity. Sitting in bed, trying to make sense of being sick? That’s no easy task. I do it because I hope that someone somewhere can find hope in her own mess. Because life is a beautiful mess.

white flags

Kristin Ritzau — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 10:54:14 -0800

It has been a long, wet week in Southern California. Rain is to L.A. what snow is to Seattle: Life stops, people stay home, others forget how to drive, and even more of us gather at the windows to watch it fall. It's pretty funny when I stop to think about it. In addition to the weather, my husband was traveling for work on the other side of the world (literally), the supreme court made a decision that my PMS decided to take all of my vengeance out on, and Focus on the Family is running a superbowl ad. Jesus, please come soon...

After I read about Focus on the Family, I put a link on my facebook. I wrote, "Seriously Focus on the Family? You couldn't find another use for 3 million dollars?????" Which spurred on 30-something long comment chain on my wall. Unbeknownst to me, a college friend of mine's dad works in the marketing department at Focus on the Family and she had him write to me to set the record straight. Fine. It's not their money. Donors gave them the money to put an ad in the superbowl. I still don't think that's a good reason, but I'm waving my flag. I retreat. In other news, the supreme courtgave permission for companies to back political candidates. How quickly we forget how LONG the election of 2008 was, and with this little juncture, it will make elections the most annoying, biased campaigns EVER. But I'm waiving my white flag here too.

I came home last night and cried. I'm tired, I miss my husband, and I'm not sure what is going on in the world. People are hell bent on winning and nothing more. So I lose. This is not a world for the little guy or girl. If you have the most money you win, plain and simple. So I prayed. Outloud. The kind intermingled with tears and snot. In the end I chose to pick my battles.

The battle I went back to was last week's Bachelor episode. Yes, I am watching it again and as infuriated as ever. But this is what confirms the battle I want to fight. When a 32-year-old homemaker was "let go" she said, "Things in my life don't work out, so why should this surprise me?" Heartbreaking. And she bursts into tears. I wanted to reach through the TV and say, "Thank god it didn't work out! You're going to be okay!" But she lives in a culture that tells her she has failed. She didn't win and now she must sulk back to the story that is her real life.

There are so many unhappy, burnt out, frustrated women and it's only going to get worse unless somethings shifts in our thinking. Last week there was a study released that more than any other time in United States history, college students are more stressed out than ever. Even more than the Great Depression era. The highest instance of stress was a symptom called "hypomania." The reporter said that this is when there are unrealistic expectations set, and then extreme let-downs happen when those expectations are not met. I have been seeing this in myself and in the students I work with for years, but now this is happening everywhere.

When I looked up hypomania to research for this post, this is what I found (from WebMD):

Excessive happiness, hopefulness, and excitement
Sudden changes from being joyful to being irritable, angry, and hostile
Restlessness, increased energy, and less need for sleep
Rapid talk, talkativeness
Distractibility
Racing thoughts
High sex drive
Tendency to make grand and unattainable plans
Tendency to show poor judgment, such as deciding to quit a job
Inflated self-esteem or grandiosity -- unrealistic beliefs in one's ability, intelligence, and powers; may be delusional
Increased reckless behaviors (such as lavish spending sprees, impulsive sexual indiscretions, abuse of alcohol or drugs, or ill-advised business decisions)

Ringing any bells? Sound like you or a twentysomething in your life? What I found astonishing is that this is a symptom of being bipolar. Don't hear me say if this is happening then you are bipolar. This means that you exhibit symptoms like a bipolar person, but you can still function like a normal person in society. I tried to get around this. I didn't want to say, "Oh goody, I'm working in a bipolar environment in my own mind and at work every day." I went to medical website after medical website, trying to find a definition of hypomania apart from bipolar... I couldn't find one.

So this is my fight. A borderline bipolar nation of twentysomethings, soon to be thirtysomethings who want to marry the bachelor and save the world. I believe in these women more than that though. It's not a matter of marriage and world peace. It's a matter of finding peace in our own souls. I can't care about the supreme court decision or the Focus on the Family commercial because those are blips on the screen that too often occupy valuable space in my soul. There are plenty of people fired up about both of these things, so I'm moving on.

As the sun shines this morning, I am full of hope that there is something more than Supreme Courts or Christian Orgs saving people from calamity. It might not mean avoiding crises on this earth, but it does mean that the Holy Spirit can save us from the calamity of our own depravity. The only way to do that is tell the truth of our own stories. So my truth today is that I'm learning to wave my white flag and let go of battles I don't want or need to take on. I'm learning that the battle I want to fight is not a battle, but a journey of walking with others and building relationships and villages. It's not one I'm going to "win." It's not a law, marketing campaign or a commercial break... it's life and we're slowly giving our lives away to bipolar frames of mind. These laws and campaigns, whether Christian or not, will not answer questions or solve the world's problems. We can only help each other one person at a time, and that is something that one cannot gauge in a Gallup Poll. It's a path that is going to have more heartbreak, reward, satisfaction, and joy than a win or lose could ever bring me because life isn't about winning and losing, it's about learning to live. I'm learning that the Holy Spirit is goodness inside of me even on days when I get my period or am sick.... and that is something worth a snotty cry, and something no one can take away from me.

People Not Projects

Kristin Ritzau — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 13:30:03 -0800

Well, El Nino has finally come to Southern California. After months of projections and predictions, the showers started yesterday and promise not to let up for a week. As I sit here and look out my window at my backyard soaking up this downpour, all I see are unfinished projects: a deck not stained, a staircase that needs to be built, a half built chicken coop, and a struggling vegetable garden. It's days like these that I can lay in bed with a cup of tea and say to myself, "Well none of that is getting fixed today."

It's easy for me, a former Pacific Northwesterner, to sit back and enjoy the rain. It soothes my soul as only few things can. I realize many right now do not feel soothed. My friends who are closely connected to orphanages in Haiti have had sleepless nights and a week of torture waiting by the phone or computer. Not to mention, the people of Haiti and the reality they are living in the images and videos I see on my computer. I can turn off my computer -- they can't turn off their lives.

On a day when everyone is quoting Martin Luther King, Jr. on their Facebook status and donations are pouring in from around the world to Haiti, I am struck by one simple fact: People are not projects. I fear that well-intentioned people will turn Haiti into a hobby and not help the people of Haiti help themselves. Obviously right now, everyone needs to come together, but Haiti is a nation of people, with organizations who have been there for years helping them. It's not a matter of creating new ones or jumping on a plane right now to take away food and beds from those who need them; it's a matter of building relationships with the people who cared about Haiti before this even began. They are the ones who know what help is needed.

During Christmas, I was struck by the number of Project Vietnams, Operation Christmas Childs, Project feed the hungry or clothe the homeless. No names, not even mention of long term relationships, just emotionally charged literature and videos. Sure these might be alright short term solutions or make someone feel good filling up a shoe box, but how does this affect the good for the long term?

Martin Luther King, Jr. knew racial reconciliation was not a project. It was a way of life -- one that requires no start or end dates, rather a commitment to stay at the table, no matter the cost or length of time. By calling everything a project, an operation, or even a mission, implies that these matters are concrete and fixed. "Mission accomplished." "Operation contained." "Project completed." If I learned anything this week it is that concrete is not fixed. It's riddled with instability and the power to crush and forsake.

The only concrete thing Jesus gave us was himself -- a man who was/is fully God and fully human. He didn't start charities. He worked within a system by gathering people to care for the things God cared about. He founded no country. He waged no war. He was not about projects, he was about people. He gave of himself body and soul.

In some ways it is very easy to give of ourselves from thousands of miles away. There is no relationship or attachment for most of us. The challenge is giving of ourselves in our own neighborhoods, or asking for help from our communities. Who have we deemed as a failed project? The man living next door? The girl who only comes to church once a month? The family who looks different from our own down the block? Our own self?

It's going to be a much greater challenge for Haiti in the future and the uphill climb for racial reconciliation in this nation continues to go on as well. How will we stay at the table with these issues and the other ones facing our neighborhoods? How will we truly commit to restoration and reconciliation of the body and spirit? I don't have answers right now, but I do have faces in my head of people I want to sit with.

I can't dig anyone up from my bedroom, but I can look out over my yard and instead of projects, I can now see a future home for chickens whose eggs will help feed our community. I see a deck that has been a gathering place, stained or not. I see a vegetable garden being nourished by heavy rain without pesticides to help ourselves and our neighbors. This is about people, and I hope it always will be.

What Heidi Montag and Pat Robertson have in common

Kristin Ritzau — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 14:32:15 -0800

We all have people in the public eye who annoy us. Close to the top of my list are Heidi Montag, reality TV star, and Pat Robertson, who needs no introduction. Yesterday both came out with shocking announcements. Montag had 10 plastic surgery procedures in one day at the age of 23. Robertson blamed the earthquake in Haiti on it's people making a deal with the devil. Both appauling stories that made me shake my head in shock, saddness, horror, and grief.

These two have a lot in common: They love the spotlight. People either love them or hate them. They have platforms which to speak to entire cultures of people. They both have been molded by cultural expectations that are unhealthy and lack accountability. Maybe most importantly, they both provide a distraction in a deeply troubling time.

In a certain way, they both seek acceptance and a need to give themselves security and answers in a national (or at times worldwide) arena. So they mold themselvse into characters. Their life choices are easy ones - seeking surgery to completely conform to a world's view of what she should look like - smaller chin and nose, ears pinned back, and bigger boobs. And another gives a reason for a terrible natural disaster to satiate what I hope is a small population's need for an answer to such an event -- they made a deal with the devil, plain and simple.

These are quick fixes and easy answers so the world can keep turning and we can all point fingers of blame somewhere. How have matters of acceptance and faith gotten so far out of hand? Why do we constantly need answers?

Rarely, if ever, did Jesus answer a question directly, so why are people believing Pat has the answers? Jesus did heal physical ailments on occasion, but not chins and boobs -- so why is Heidi consumed with altering her God-given face to become a generic version of herself? She has claimed it is the "better" her, but she doesn't even look like herself now. Is that what we're called to do or be?

Of course there are explanations for all of these questions, but I sit her in mourning over two more souls who have compromised their own selves to make a point. I pray others learn from their examples and do not follow their lead. I hope people are coming alongside Heidi in her addiction and Pat in his quick-fix answers that solve the riddle of, "Why did this happen?"

Haiti, which sits on top of two tectonic plates just like my home does in Southern California, was cruelly forced to realize this reality in the past two days that the plates move. I am reminded that this could have been my home too, not because God chose it, but because that is how nature moves. It is awful and there are no reasons as to "why now?" The people of Haiti will not be able to mourn and grieve properly if they are being forced to defend themselves against an evangelical pastor thousands of miles and realities away. Hopefully they did not hear his report and his simple diagnosis of a much larger disaster. Additionally, people are already losing focus on one of our neighboring country's dilemma over an insecure 23 year old's choice to cut and shape her body into something else. Haiti needs help now more than ever, and Heidi isn't helping with her sultry shot on the cover of People Magazine and people buying it.

Truly there is no answer to why any of this is happening, but I trust in a God who is big enough to handle our lack of answers. The people of Haiti might not be trusting God after the dust has settled and possible chaos errupts even more. There is a incomprehensible death toll, homes lost, families split, and tempers flaring. There is enough trouble without bringing Satan into it. Out of the rubble, stories will rise of terror and heartache, but hopefully also of small glimpses of hope and redemption because God is in it, holding all people. This was not an act of judgment, and we need more people to reach out in love and not condemnation.

We need that for Haiti and for Pat and Heidi. We need to rebuke what needs to be rebuked, and help those who need help. More importantly, know the difference between the two and handle every situation in love. I believe in a God who can hold it all, so even though I want my focus to be on Haiti, it was torn by these two individuals who happen to annoy me, and I hope I can sit in the reality that I share this planet with all of them, the people of Haiti, and the Heidis and the Pats too. People need to come alongside all of them right now and create space to not explain the whys. Especially to the people of Haiti this week and the coming years.

I Stalk People (and another important announcement)

Kristin Ritzau — Wed, 06 Jan 2010 23:53:25 -0800

I grew up before women in ministry were a popular trend. I'm not sure it's taken off quite yet, but it is more "in" now than it was 15 years ago. Sure the pastors' wives were around a bit. I even had coffee with them on occasion, but in terms of teaching, I was not formally taught by women in the church. When I left for college, other than my mother, I did not have a strong feminine mentoring presence in my life.

Halfway through college I discovered Anne Lamott. For maybe the first time in my life I learned what honesty was in the form of her short anecdotal stories. She was humorous, crass, vulnerable, and real. I gobbled up every book of hers on the market and over the past five years have been to every venue she has spoken at in Los Angeles County.

A few years ago, I was walking in Barnes and Noble when I walked by an unpretentious stand with someone's new book on it. The cover was intriguing, but mostly what caught my eye was Anne's endorsement of it. It was called Eat, Pray, Love. I trusted Anne as a writer so I bought it. No one knew about this random paperback book with prayer beads on it. It was during my own time of inventing perfectionist rehab, so anything contemplative and written by a woman, I was devouring vivaciously. Kathleen Norris, Lauren Winner, Lilian Barger, Sue Monk Kidd, Renita Weems all became my private collection of friends.

It was long before Gilbert's book was translated into 30 languages and Oprah gave her the stamp of approval. It was at least a year or two before Time Magazine named her one of their most influential people. But in those couple of years, something caught like wildfire. Everywhere I went a woman had her book in hand. On vacation, on the bus, in coffee shops, at my friends' houses... there were those prayer beads staring up at me and all of us talking about how badly we wanted to go to Italy. Gilbert handled the fame with humility. On her website she addressed frantic readers who wanted to divorce their husbands and travel the world. She told them that was her story and not one to be duplicated, but shared. Even though she handled her newfound glory with grace, she still became a household name.

I had the honor of hearing Gilbert and Lamott speak at UCLA during the time of my reconstruction process. I was on the edge of my seat listening and learning. If I could write my college entry essay over again I would have dinner with these women and Hildegard von Bingen, Sue Monk Kidd, the old prophetess at the temple waiting for Jesus -- women who knew their voices and could stand in the truth of their own stories.

The trouble comes when we see these women and think, "I want what they have." In a season of new year's resolutions that is an easy comparison to come by. But it's not about wanting what they have; it's learning to tell the truth about ourselves. That's what I see in these women.

The hard part for me is that women who are successful Christian writers in the most traditional sense of the word have not had examples of how to do this. I am indebted to Gilbert and Lamott for their writing styles, but not their theologies. It is then so easy to walk this weird line of loving them and wanting what they have, "but not really," I hear my friends say when we dive into traveling by yourself post-divorce or dealing with an alcoholic family and being a single mother. What is there to envy?

Committed, Gilbert's new book is still drying from the printing press and people are clamouring for a $30 copy all over the country. I was too -- it's in my living room right now with a ticket to a book signing in two weeks. I love that she has given herself permission to be herself. I wish I was given that permission earlier in my adolescence. So I stalk these women now because I'm drawn to their openness, honesty, and vulnerability. They don't write about fairytales -- they tell the truth and our culture is starving for it.

The absence of females in church leadership has changed quite a bit in the past 10 years. But being in a recession is scary because it makes people cling to old fashioned values too. Don't get me wrong, some are fabulous, like farming and family dinners, but hopefully women will not retreat back solely to the kitchen in this time of uncertainty.

We need more women to own their stories and the authentic versions of who they are. It's too easy for Elizabeth Gilbert to have the entire corner of that market. I am going to add my own personal attempt this year by releasing my first book. It is a risk of sorts, but I have a story and I am going to tell it. I hope it will encourage more women to do the same because we need strong women now more than ever.

Hello Twenty-Ten

Kristin Ritzau — Sat, 02 Jan 2010 21:56:03 -0800

I am a sucker for bookstores and libraries. The thought of the amount of ink that has been spilled over the course of centuries excites me. The thought of a Kindle petrifies me. I love books. Each bound page is someone's opus, thesis, or work of art. I sometimes wonder what my life would look like if I just read book after book, only stopping to eat and sleep. How many could I get through?

My family knows this about me, so every Christmas I come home with another armful of books: Cookbooks, literature, non-fiction. It's marvelous. Then a funny thing happens. I just let them sit there for weeks on end, scared to bend their crisp covers. They are pretty and untouched. Their mysteries yet to be unfolded. I don't want them to be over with so quickly or to disappoint. Someone's life work gobbled up in a matter of a month. I want to appreciate it longer.

As 2009 came to a close I felt the same apprehension about 2010 -- not "oh ten," it's now "twenty-ten." The end of decade, the dawning of the throws of the 21st century. It's shiny and new and I don't want to blink and miss it.

I love January 1st. The promises, hopes, and resolutions -- this time it will be different. There is an overwhelming amount of expectation, especially at the start of a new decade. For what? I'm not sure yet, but it's alive inside of me too. Like a new book I want savor it, not just throw it on some shelf only to toss it into the Goodwill pile come 2012. I want to appreciate it because Someone went to a lot of trouble to create it. That Someone is already at the end of 2010. They know what happens. Is it a thriller? A comedy? Tragedy? Romance maybe? It could be all of the above, but there is trepidation in finding out. It means we must live it. We must choose the story we want to write.

Of course there are always edits and typos we never saw coming, but just as I pick up a new book, I want to choose how to read it. As I write, I want to be proactive in how I use my pen. In this new year I want to live with intention in the page of each day. Some days will flip faster than others, but I want it to be a story worth telling. So here you are 2010. Bring what you will -- may the stories that come out of this year draw a tear, draw a laugh, and draw many smiles.