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Spiritual diary of sheltering in place: The lifeline of separating thoughts from feelings

Lynne Baab • Thursday May 7 2020

In January, 2015, my husband Dave had a bout of bronchitis that he never really recovered from. By June, he had seen a lung specialist and gotten a diagnosis. By September, he had a different diagnosis and a horrific drug that he endured for three months. Afterwards, his energy was still low, his lungs still hurt, and he just plain didn’t feel well.

In early 2016, my spiritual director referred me to a therapist to help me cope with the roiling emotions and thoughts I was dealing with. I had lost the energetic, caring husband I’d known for almost 40 years. I...

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How I changed my perspective about autumn

Lynne Baab • Thursday October 24 2019

It took me two or three decades of Seattle winters before I started hating them. That’s pretty good, I figure.

People think it rains all the time in Seattle, but actually our rain is concentrated in the winter. Seattle averages 38 inches of rain per year, and 21 of those inches come in four months, November through February. Early November, of course, is when we go off daylight savings time, so November is a double whammy. The rain suddenly increases and the days suddenly end much earlier. Seattle winters are dark and wet, not just wet.

When I started disliking winter, I found...

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Creative prayer as remembering truth

Lynne Baab • Friday July 26 2019

The “impostor syndrome” is a name for those feelings when we doubt our accomplishments and wonder if we’ll be exposed as a fraud. A friend of mine sometimes feels this at work, and she recently asked for prayer that she wouldn’t let this thief steal her joy in her job.

Two years ago I wrote a post on this blog using a quotation from American journalist Fulton Oursler (1893-1952): “Many of us crucify ourselves between two thieves – regret for the past and fear of the future.” He’s using that same notion that we can allow certain thoughts and perspectives into our...

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Freedom from Fear of Death

Lynne Baab • Thursday June 26 2014

On Valentine’s Day, 1994, I got the flu. Two days later I couldn’t breathe. A long diagnostic process followed. At some point, the lung specialist described to me the possible diagnoses, one of which was fatal. He had put me on a cute little oxygen tank, but my brain still wasn’t getting enough oxygen to think clearly, so I misunderstood him. I thought he said the fatal lung disease was by far the most likely diagnosis. It was a week before my next appointment with him, so I spent a week thinking I was going to die. I had moments of...

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