“I don’t need to diminish my needs or become someone else to be able to love and forgive. In fact, I can only love and forgive others when I stop expecting them and me to be someone other than who we are.”
Letting Go. Then Letting Go Again. And Again.
How No Saint Jennifer learned that letting go is not a magical place of ease, but requires acceptance of her persistent nature, acknowledging her thoughts, then letting them go, again and again.
We Are All Doing Our Best. Now What?
No Saint Jennifer discovers that we are all doing our best and in the process finds new ways to love herself and others more.
The Shame of Anger: Learning Self-Compassion at the Wrong End of a Baseball Bat
An angry confrontation with a halloween prankster with a bat led No Saint Jennifer to new lessons in anger management and self-compassion.
Fear of Hell Will Never Lead to More Love
I have an irrational, but deep-seated fear of hell that has regularly prevented me from changing beliefs and behaviors that don’t serve me. A series of conversations with Jesus, including how I don’t believe in him as God, helped me to overcome that fear and see that I am loved and loveable as I am.
How Much Love Must I Receive to Believe I Am Loveable?
I started the week in the sleepy and loving embrace of my niece and nephew. In a week of daily prayer practice God showed me moment after moment of when I was loved. How many times do I need to be shown to believe that I am loveable?
Loving the Kid, Not the Temper Tantrum
“Where do you see God’s love in all this anger?” “God’s not there. If God loves me when I behave badly, then I’ll never change.” But then I remembered loving my nephew in the midst of a tantrum. Could that apply to me?
The Shame of Anger: The Making of an Offensive T-shirt
I hadn’t seen the breakup coming. On Friday night we had dinner with his daughters and talked about summer plans and on Monday he ended it. The loss of my fantasies around the relationship led to an accounting of my failures, turning a week of grief into months of wondering what was wrong with me.
The Shame of Anger: Construction Fury
The Monday after I returned from my reclusive month of finding peace in New Mexico, I looked out my window to see a small silver truck blocking my driveway. “Damn construction crews!” It had been happening for nine months. Every. Single. Day. I tried to let it go . . . until I couldn’t.
