I had a friend tell me once that they had recently decided to show up for their own life.

I consequently found myself talking about this idea not once, but twice today.

First, this morning I was having a dscussion with a terminally ill relative of a member of my congregation. The person I was having the conversation with is desperately worried about their loved one, who is a member of my flock. This person is sick with worry--literally--about what will happen once they are gone and no longer able to take care of the person they love more than life itself.

The more I hear of people's life stories, the more I am convinced that we are more or less the same. We all are insecure to one extent or another, we are all out there just trying our hardest to hide our insecurity. When terminal illness visits a family, bringing with it all kind of messy, unpredictable chaos it can throw even the healthiest of systems into a spin. A system with addiction issues--and I'm using the broadest possible meaning for addiction here, because people can be addicted to drama, perfection, or other people's perception just as readily as they can be addicted to gambling, meth, or vodka--well, such a system can be thrown into orbit.

I tried as hard as I could to gently show this person that the best they can do is to show up for their own life, or what is left of it anyway. I think this person thought I would dole out answers, somehow, that I would tell them exactly what to do or say to change the person they have lived with (and whose addiction to perfection they have put up with) for 40 years.

But the best I could offer was this: show up for your own life.

Ironic, then, that five hours later my therapist was giving me the same advice.

"What would happen," he asked, "if you gave up the 'inadequacy schtick' for an hour, a day, a week? What would your life be like if you treated yourself with gentleness and compassion?"

"It would feel like I had shown up." I answered.

Minister,love thyself.

Indeed.