Faith and Doubt

"There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds."
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

I have always been a person of deep faith, but as I've studied theology and philosophy in college I began to question the beliefs I had held since childhood. Realizing much of what I thought came only from what I had been taught as a child, I embarked on a journey to discover what I believed for myself. As I began to question and dig deeper than than the traditional "party lines," I found myself wanting more. The simple answer of, "Just have faith." was no longer enough. As I asked the hard questions I felt adrift in an endless sea of ideas and opinions. I began to resent those who forced their beliefs on others. We all have the right to place our faith in whomever or whatever we want. It's interesting how people often make fun of others for insisting what they believe is right,when they obviously think they're right or they wouldn't believe as they do. What amazed me most was the reaction my friends had to my ruminations. They felt I was being faithless and cerebral, overthinking the things we had all believed for as long as we could remember. It felt like I was alone, not understood by anyone, my quest mine and mine alone. Thankfully my three mentors (a pastor, a professor, and a lawyer) have encouraged me on my journey and spent many hours in deep conversation with me about the different issues I have faced. I'm grateful they are willing to discuss and debate topics without ever forcing their opinions on me. It's often frustrating and even challenging to try to figure out where I stand on things, but I appreciate the chance to figure it out for myself. I'm not really sure where this journey is going to take me, but I plan to enjoy the ride and not "make my judgements blind." Many people say that this is a common experience for folks my age, we all get to a point where we have to see where we stand. Still, I envy those who can continue on in the childlike innocence of their youth. Like the quote above, I seem to have found more faith lately in my honest doubt than in all the creeds I've professed. I guess we all have to come to terms with what we place our faith in, and I'm interested to see where my path will lead.

The following poem was given to me by one of my mentors to encourage me in my quest. It is from Alfred Lord Tennyson's, In Memoriam A.H.H. XCVI. My favorite lines are about facing the spectres of the mind and ultimately finding a stronger faith in the end, although I suspect it's different than the person planned it to be.

You say, but with no touch of scorn,

Sweet-hearted, you, whose light-blue eyes

Are tender over drowning flies,

You tell me, doubt is Devil-born.

I know not: one indeed I knew

In many a subtle question versed,

Who touch'd a jarring lyre at first,

But ever strove to make it true:

Perplext in faith, but pure in deeds,

At last he beat his music out.

There lives more faith in honest doubt,

Believe me, than in half the creeds.

He fought his doubts and gather'd strength,

He would not make his judgment blind,

He faced the spectres of the mind

And laid them: thus he came at length

To find a stronger faith his own;

And Power was with him in the night,

Which makes the darkness and the light,

And dwells not in the light alone,

But in the darkness and the cloud,

As over Sinaï's peaks of old,

While Israel made their gods of gold,

Altho' the trumpet blew so loud.

(A bit of blog maintence: I've also updated the Phooling Around , and About Me pages)

The Right Tool

In my previous post I wrote about volunteering to do some construction work this week and being more than a little peeved that I wasn't really getting to do the work I expected. Well, today while we were working, (I was getting to use the power tools, by the way) I was really struck with how juvenile, and petty my complaint had been. Here I was, supposedly volunteering to help someone, and fussing about whether or not I got to use power tools. I think it's safe to say I lost track of the bigger picture. I was doing a job that needed to be done, fulfilling a purposeful part of my crew. It may not have been the most glorious or exciting one, but it was still important. Wandering mind that I have, I started ruminating on how this was a metaphor for life. There's the folks that get to do the glorious jobs like movie stars, politicians, star athletes, and then there are those who have the more unassuming positions. The folks who work the grocery store counters, who drive the garbage trucks, who teach the nations children. Each is necessary in our society, and each can be fulfilling if approached with the right attitude. We all have our niche, the job we are gifted for and love to do. To do anything else would be like trying to drive in a screw with a hammer, it'll get the job done, but it'll be hard going and the end result won't be near as sound. Sometimes when putting in a screw, you first set it up and give it a few taps with a hammer to get it started, to give it a foundation, for the drill to come in and place it where it needs to be. I started off the week, merely as a go-fer (and an unhappy one at that), by the end of the week I was doing what I loved, helping actually build the wheelchair ramp. The same is true in life, we have to do things we don't necessarily like or want to do, but I believe ultimately these things help point us towards what we're meant to do. To that niche that we're supposed to be in. If we're patient, and continue to work hard, endeavoring to use the right tools for the job and not being frustrated with the position we're in, then we will eventually find what's right for us. It may take all of our lifetimes to do so, but in the end I believe it's being happy and at peace with yourself that matters more than the glamorous job or the big bank account, (though I certainly wouldn't turn them down!). A lucky few will end up with all of the above, but for all of us, we should focus on finding the balance in our lives. To use another construction metaphor, to find that which puts us on the bubble, that levels us out. Sometimes it takes a couple knocks with the hammer here or there, sawing off a bit, rethinking your strategy, or even simply starting over but in the end we can find that balance if we're patient and persevere. To do this just remember, driving screws with a hammer is possible, but a screwdriver makes the job a lot easier.

I Can Do It Too!

I'm sunburnt, sore, filthy, and exhausted...but I feel better today, than I've felt in a long time. This week I'm volunteering with a group to help repair the homes of the less fortunate. I was originally supposed to be one of the photographers for the week, but after a minor injury left a crew short I laid down the camera and picked up a hammer, or so I though. The crew I'm with is tasked to rebuild a porch roof, and build a wheelchair deck and ramp for an older lady. It's exhausting, hot work (and it's only day 2 of 5!), but the joy of helping someone overcomes all of that. It's renewed my faith in humanity to see folks come together to make a difference in people lives. With that being said, I must get something off my chest. As we've been working on the roof and doing other projects, I've noticed that certain jobs seem to be reserved for the men and certain jobs are designated for the women. Now for most people this may seem the logical choice, but it absolutely drives me crazy. For someone who grew up on a ranch building fences and sheds, and lifting 50lb bags of feed, it's almost humiliating to have to stand on the ground and merely act as a go-fer for the men doing all the work. On some level I understand the men not expecting a woman to know how to use power tools or put roofing on, but I figured after I helped unload the 80lb bags of cement yesterday (which the guys my age couldn't lift) and did at least my fair share of digging postholes, they would let me do a bit more. They are extremely protective, which is sweet, but at the same time, it's difficult to feel like I'm actually contributing to the project while standing on a ladder watching them lay the roofing. I get to hold the boards while they put the screws and nails in, and mark lines with a pencil after they've already measured it out. I detest being treated as though I don't know how to do those other things just because I'm young and a woman. A friend of mine, who is my age and also a woman, actually has more power tools than most guys I know, and can use them just as well! When will guys ever learn that women can do those kinds of things too. Most of the women got stuck doing landscaping or painting, and I'm grateful that I get to do something a bit more exciting than that. Tomorrow we start working on the ramp, and I can't wait to get ahold of those power tools and show those guys what's what. There's even a rumor of screening in the porch using a nail gun...now that could be fun!

Taking the Time

I'm one of those people who is always busy. Working and attending school take up most of my time, and I almost always find a way to fill my spare time with some project or another. When I was younger I would say that I'd relax after I got into a good college. Then I got to college and said I'd take time after I got into grad school. Now, I find myself accepted into a grad school for January, about to finish my B.A., and fully wishing I could go back and enjoy all the time I spent being so driven to get to the next level. I've spent the last 5 or so years so focused on what's ahead that I've forgotten to have fun while on the journey to get there. I've realized there's always going to be a goal out in front of me, always some next step I'm wanting to get to, and it's how I get there that matters more than simply achieving success in it's various forms. My boss/mentor is constantly asking me, "What did you do to have fun this week?" Most of the time I have a hard time coming up with something I did solely for the purpose of relaxing. It's so easy to let life slip by without taking the time to truly appreciate it. While thinking about my mom this week, I decided to really focus on having fun and enjoying each day regardless of all the stresses I have or projects I'm working on. Life is to short to spend it always worried about what's coming next. It's important to have a plan and to work hard to achieve it, but it's equally important to enjoy what you do.

A couple years ago I was in Kenya volunteering over Christmas break, and got stuck in the middle of their "ethnic clashes." One night in particular there were threats made against the place we were staying, and a pretty significant chance we were going to be attacked. I spent the night seriously contemplating my life, what I had done up until that point, and what I planned to do. I made a decision to experience as many different things this life had to offer while I had the chance because I didn't know how much time I would have to do them. I wanted to do all those things that people regret not doing when they get older. I got safely home from that experience, got caught up in all of stress of work and school, and promptly forgot all about my plans. The next summer reminded me of my decision as I went skydiving with my sister, and white water rafting in the Andes (in their winter...brr!) with a group from my school. Now it's developed into a goal to do something crazy or unexpected every summer that I possibly can. I'm working on a bucket-list of sorts, of all the things I hope to do, and I plan to slowly save up and check them off whenever I can. Now, I just have to find something to do this summer to keep the plan on track. The suggestions I've recieved thus far include writing a book, trying to get a ride in a racecar, and going parasailing. None of those are quite what I'm looking for, so my search continues. Meanwhile I'm just going to continue taking the time to go see movies with friends, enjoy a fine dinner every once in a while, and simply stopping to smell the roses.

Empty Wishes

Written in memory of my mother, Dianna Ruth Bensmiller Bryan (Oct. 2, 1957 - June 16, 1997).

Mom,

It's hard to believe it's been 13 years since that day. I can still remember every detail, every word, the exact way I felt when I found out I'd never see you again. "It was cancer," they said, "She wasn't in pain, never even knew she had it, and went quickly and peacefully." It didn't help much then, and I must admit it still doesn't ease the ache I feel. The old adage says time heals all wounds, but today it hurts the just as much as it did then. I just wish that I could see you one last time to tell you how much I love you and always will. How I wish you could see the wonderful women H & S have become. You would be so proud of them. It hasn't always been easy, but Dad has always been there for us. We dubbed him Mr. Mom when we were younger, and he's done all he could to live up to the nickname. He was at every concert, every ballgame, every little thing we were ever involved in as kids. He still misses you so much. We all do. S was so little when you passed, she doesn't remember as much as H and I do, but we have told her all about you. All about your big smile, your magnificent hugs, and your heart of love so full it never ran dry. How I wish we could have said goodbye. It was all so unexpected, so sudden. I don't think I'll ever forget that day. Or the look on Dad's face when he came home from the hospital. I instantly knew what had happened. I've tried over the years to be there for them as much as I could, but a big sister is a poor substitute for a mother. S has become like a daugher to me, and I love her more than life itself. I often wonder what she would have been like if she'd had you to guide her through life instead of me and H, probably would have been even more amazing than she already is. I just miss you more than words can express. Every once in a while I still catch myself wanting to pick up the phone to call you and tell you about something and I have to go through reminding myself that I can't. It's like losing you all over again. I fear that the ache in my heart will never really go away. It's become a part of me. They all say I remind them of you. Grammy still calls me Dianna half the time, and all the other relatives do a double take when they see me at reunions. I only hope to be half the person you were. You had such a big heart, such a love for people, no matter who they were. I know you wouldn't want us to dwell on missing you, you'd want us to be thankful that you had a full and blessed life, but it's just so hard sometimes. It feels like there's a whole in my heart that can't be filled, no matter how hard I try. An pain so intense that I still cry myself to sleep sometimes, even though it's been so long since you were taken from me. Every year I spend this day remembering all the wonderful times we shared. Dyeing Easter eggs, planting the garden at the school, making Halloween costumes (my Zorro one was definitely the best!), and of course, bird watching. Probably the biggest lesson I learned from you was that you never know how long you have on this Earth so you need to live, love, and learn all you can everyday. I've got a great life, full of people I love, and blessed beyond measure, but I can't help but wonder what it would be like with you here. Having you here to help decorate my new apartment, to chat with about my newest crush or heartbreak, to tell me it's going to be okay even when I firmly believe that it isn't. I know it doesn't pay to dwell in the past, but today I remember you. I love you more than anything, and I always will.

Your daughter,

Ruth

When I started this blog I swore I wouldn't post YouTube videos on here, but this song has helped me through some pretty rough times so I thought I'd make an exception today in case someone came across this who was going through a similar situation. "Save A Place For Me" - Matthew West

The Best Medicine

This post was inspired by a recent post from Deb and Barbara at The Middle Ages. Their post concerning the goodness of people in the world and the resulting discussion of reading or not reading all the bad news we get in newspapers, led me to consider what I do to keep it all in perspective. It's so easy to get discouraged by all the terrible happenings in the world today. We are constantly bombarded with news of wars, death, natural disaster, and all other atrocities thought up by mankind, and I have found that I must be intentional about adding some joy to my life or risk being swept away by the discouragement of the world. Every day when I come home the first thing I do is either turn on the TV to a comedy show or look up some funny videos on YouTube. I try to take 10-15 minutes to have a laugh and relax from the stress of the day before beginning homework, housework, and all the rest of the stuff I must do that evening. When I was in the dorm, my suitemates and I would set aside 11:00-12:00pm Monday thru Friday to watch reruns of our favorite comedy show on TV. We found that no matter how strained the atmosphere of the suite was, for that one hour we could just sit down and have a good time. For me, it is impossible to be mad with someone if I'm sitting there with tears rolling off my face, and a stitch in my side and they are stuck in the same situation. Laughing together helped us set aside our differences and all the drama going on with our families, and schoolwork and simply enjoy spending time together. I've noticed that the power of a laugh is unmeasurable. Even just a simple smile in someone's direction can change their day. Many's the time I've been having a rotten day, only to encounter someone who took the time to give me a quick hug and a smile, and had that simple act turn my day around completely. Laughter can help chase away the film of despair that comes from watching/reading the news and hearing about all the horrible things happening in the world or from things happening in our own lives. There's just something infectious about laughter. When someone around me starts laughing I immediately start to chuckle, even if I don't know why they're laughing. Unfortunately, much of the time it's laughter at my expense, but I don't even mind that anymore. Life is a lot more fun when you can learn to laugh at yourself. So don't take yourself too seriously and try to laugh everyday. I guess that's become my new goal for the summer!



(Sorry for not having posted for awhile, I've been playing catchup from when I was sick...not too much fun at all)

2 Cups Short of a Batch

I have rediscovered my love of cooking! After 3 years in a college dorm, eating out of a cafeteria, I'd almost forgotten how much fun it was to whip up whatever I fancied. I've been feeling a little under the weather this week, and yesterday I finally got tired of eating soup and sandwiches and decided I wanted to make some cookies. I believed I had almost everything I needed to make butterscotch scotchies (recipe on the back of the Nestle Toll House Butterscotch chips package) and they just seemed like a good comfort food. Even though it was only about 7:00, I was already in my P.J.s and planning to hit the hay a bit early (I was hoping to get a little rest in an attempt to quell a pretty big headache). However, cookies sounded really good so I pulled on something semi-respectable and headed to the grocery store to pick up the one ingredient I knew I was missing, ground cinnamon. Thirty minutes later I climbed wearily up the steps to my apartment and began to pull out all the stuff to make my cookies. I was just about to start mixing things together when I realized I had better check and make sure I had enough of all the ingredients to actually fulfill the recipe. I made it all the way to the last item on the list, the oatmeal. As I picked up the container, I instantly knew it wasn't going to be enough. I decided to measure it out anyway, secretly hoping for a bread-and-fishes type miracle. Sure enough, I only had 1 cup to the required 3. I considered another trip to the store, but decided instead to just curse my rotten luck and climb into bed with a cup of hot tea. After work today, I came home and cooked a delicious dinner of beef stroganoff, then decided to once again attempt to make the scotchies. I braved the thunderstorm to head to the grocery store, and low and behold, oatmeal was "buy one, get one free!" I guess it did pay off after all! I set about making my cookies, and watching You Tube videos for a nice easy evening. I managed not to burn any of them, and now my new apartment smells absolutely wonderful! There's nothing more fun than putting together a whole bunch of seperate untasteful ingredients to make something that's purely heavenly (if I do say so myself!). Now I just have to find someone to give all these cookies to since they are strictly against my diet!

(Note to self: Cookies and cookie dough are not good for an upset stomach...)

The One Thing

Sitting at church this morning, my mind wandering as usual, I began thinking of how unique each individual is. How each of us has experiences and beliefs that shape us into who we are, constantly changing and evolving. And as I wondered, this question popped into my mind: "Is there any one thing that everyone on earth could agree upon." I must admit I pondered this for the rest of the service (and continued to until I realized the only way to get it out of my head was to write it down). Immediatley I discounted matters of faith and politics since there's no way we're going to agree on those. I moved on to broader topics. I thought I had a keeper in "We exist." before I realized there are those philosophers and others who theorize our existence is only a hallucination or a Matrix-like simulation. Okay then, maybe "The sky is blue." This fell through when I considered that scientists would insist that the sky only appears to be blue due to the refraction of light in the sky (or whatever the actual scientific explanation is). Try as I might, I couldn't come up with anything that we as people could agree on. Not one thing. I felt a duality of emotions after realizing this. While it's awesome we have the "free will" to believe different things, it's also kind of sad we have nothing that can unite us all. No common thread we can all agree upon. Each of us views the world through our own "rose coloured lenses" and even looking at the exact same object we will all come to different conclusions about it's existence and function. We're all individuals, and none of us has the right to say that we are right and everyone else is wrong. Surely we're all wrong about at least one thing.

Simpler Times

While trying to organize my new apartment, I came across a bunch of old photos. There were pictures of me and my sisters with our mom and great-grandparents, all of whom have passed away, and I just sat down and reveled in a trip down memory lane. Memories flooded back of my great-grandfather, who is probably the biggest influence on my life. I recalled hours spent riding the tractor with him, not really working, just looking to get away from the rest of the family and relax for a bit. Hours spent working in his garden growing the biggest watermelons I have ever seen. Laying the path for my great-grandmother's new garden areas. Helping bottle feed baby cows and horses....so many good memories. It almost makes me wish I could turn back the cogs of time and return to being 5 years old again. When my biggest worry was how to hide the muddy mess of a tepee that had once been my grandmother's best linens (oops!). Or spending evenings sitting out by the cattle pond watching the sun go down. Not having to worry about college tuition, classes, or a job, but just enjoying the time spent making mud pies with my sisters, and convincing the youngest one they actually did taste like Oreos! It seems like when we're younger all we want to do is grow up and now that I'm well on my way to being an adult, all I want to do is relive those days. Oh well, that's enough of memory lane for the moment...there seems to be a pile of dirty dishes in the kitchen calling my name...

Adrenaline Junkie

I've never really considered my self as an adrenaline junkie, I typically leave that to my younger sister. I absolutely hate roller coasters, and flat refuse to go bungie jumping! But almost a year ago today I found myself staring out the open side door of an airplane preparing to do the stupidest thing I had done in my young life.

It all started with an absentminded comment to my best friend on how I'd like to try skydiving once before I joined the military. As he was planning to join the Navy he agreed that we should go sometime. I didn't think much of it at the time, but somehow my sister found out. She's the crazy one of the family; loves to ride the highest fastest roller coasters in the park, and you should try riding in a car with her sometime (I have never prayed so hard in my life!). Anyway, she decided that as her high school graduation present Aaron and I should take her skydiving. Not wanting to look the coward, I agreed. So a couple weeks later we drove to the nearby airfield, and jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. The absolute worst part was the waiting. We had to wait about two hours before getting suited up and another hour and a half before we took off. After that it was pure bliss. As we loaded in to the small airplane Aaron and I were the last two on, meaning we were to be the first out and the ones to sit next to the jump door on the flight up. It was amazing to fly up in an airplane with the door open, feel the rushing wind, and see for miles. It was all good until it got time to jump. As I stood at the opening of the door with my toes poised to throw myself out of the plane, I panicked. And I mean heart in your throat, gut wrenching panicked. In the few short seconds I was there, my entire life flashed before my eyes. The thought that I might be about to die was definitely on my mind! Luckily the instructor I was strapped to realized what was going on and used his weight to push us out of the plane. Once I was in the air it was the most awe inspiring thing ever. The wind rushing past my cheeks reminded me of how my dog looks when he sticks his head out of the window. It all stopped too soon as he pulled the chute. For the next couple of minutes we floated in total silence, just enjoying the feeling of flight. Then as quickly as it had begun, the flight was over. They told us afterwards that we were in the air for a total of about 10 minutes, but it felt like mere seconds and an eternity all at once. I was grateful to have the ground back under my feet again, and, though it was a lot of fun, I doubt I will ever experience that again. It's something everyone should do once, but I've been content to leave the role of the adrenaline junkie to my sister after that.