Wisdom to Discern

It's wonderful to see the transformation in me when I am given the serenity to accept what (and who) I cannot change. It is like ripples in a pond - others are automatically touched when I've found my center and grow in my relationship with myself and with God. 

It's amazing what can happen in my attitudes and interpersonal relationships when God grants me the courage to change the things I can change. 

But discernment ... knowing what things I can change and what things I cannot - that's a bit trickier. Often I spin my wheels trying to change the realities of life because I think I can control them. I can't. I never could. That's why I pray for wisdom. 

Wisdom is one of those "don't-leave-home-without-it" gifts. Everyone has probably heard the story of Solomon, who was considered the wisest man who ever lived. When he became king, God came to him in a dream and told him that he could ask for one thing, and it would be given to him. Solomon's response was one of humility, teachability. "I don't know how to lead this great people. I'm just a kid! Please give me wisdom, so that I can tell what is the right thing to do and what isn't, so that I can lead Your people well." (Judy's paraphrase version.)  Because Solomon asked for wisdom, and not for fame or for riches, God gave him what he asked and then some more beside! Over and over again in the Proverbs, wisdom is the principal theme of Solomon's writings. Plus, it is the one thing in the New Testament that we are promised will be given to anyone freely every time if we ask God for it. (See James 1:5) 

Pinging along from crisis to crisis isn't necessary. When I take the time to ask God for wisdom to know what to do, for direction to decide which way to go, whether to accept what is, or to change something, or even whether to stand still and wait - (hardest. thing. ever.) - and I actually listen for the answer, He opens the door or doors through which I am to go, or provides a place of peace for me to rest. It's uncanny.  

Rainbows remind me
to trust

 A wonderful friend of mine, whom I admire a lot, has - on occasion - called me a wise person. It's high praise and I take it as such ... but the wisdom doesn't come from me; it's a gift. So when she calls me wise, and because I know myself enough to see how far there is yet to go, it reminds me how much I have yet to learn, to apply in my life. And it gives me another gift: a good dose of humility, because I know that without God, I'd be messing up big time. All the time. I know because that's what happens on every occasion when I think I can handle things by myself without any help from Him.

I can't.

Dependence on God (which I've always considered to be the "fear of the Lord" or respect for His wisdom and the fact that He knows all things and has the final say) for me has been the beginning of wisdom, where it starts. In every circumstance, in every area of my life, in every decision with which I am faced, I can ask for wisdom, and it will be given to me, just the right amount at the right moment. 

All I need to do is listen for the answer,  quiet my mind's screaming meamies, and truly expect direction. It will come.  It always comes.

Every time.

Courage to change

I pray the Serenity Prayer. A LOT. 

Sometimes - when I have been struggling with someone else's decisions impacting on my life - I even pray the codependent's version of it: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the person I can, and the wisdom to know it's me."

Acceptance of things I can't change is one thing.  I talked about that in my last post on this blog.

The other side of the coin, and one which still is a challenge for me just as much as acceptance ever was, is courage to change what I can. 

My responsibility is to work on myself, on my relationship with myself, on my relationship with God, on my relationships with other people. My responsibility - my realm, so to speak - is to concentrate on knowing and being true to my true self.  Not the facade that I am sometimes tempted to dig out and put on, but the real me - the one I am becoming for what is probably the first time in my life. . . at least that I can remember. 

Changing involves hard work - and most of all, courage. 

I find it really interesting that we get the word "courage" from the Latin word for "heart" - in fact, the word "heart" in French (most of which comes from Latin) is cœur. In essence, courage means "heart-fulness." 

That's cool. 

It takes bravery, guts if you will, to live from the fulness of the heart, because the heart can so easily be injured, pierced through with unkindness, rejection, and anger... and so many more things.  

Since I started living this lifestyle of rigorous honesty, of letting go, of being real, ... living from  my heart is one of the main tenets, one of the foundational principles, on which I base my thinking and my decisions.  I pray for courage in my daily life - nearly as much as I pray for serenity. The changes that have come about in my life have been due to having been given the heart-fulness - the courage - to live one day at a time AS ME. Nobody else, no masks or games. I spent the first year of my recovery from being a chameleon, a people-pleaser, a door-mat and a "fixer" ... getting to know that person who I really was, the one who was beneath all the layers of hurt and the walls of self-protection built up over decades of being put down so much that I believed those lies in the core of my being. 

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it ... real healing starts on the inside and goes toward the outside. An exterior change will stay exterior ... and it won't last. I want LASTING transformation. So, I've been focusing on the inside changes - the ones that only those who are closest to me would notice. How I think. How I react to things. What I consider important. What my priorities are. These are the things that will eventually - I believe - show on the outside. It might take some time because the habits of decades take time to reverse. However, they are possible. 

I just need to keep focused on those internal, unseen changes that matter (not the external ones that don't) . . . even when the external ones eventually start showing up.