All In Good Time

For as long as the weather holds, coffee happens in the field in front of our home. This morning the mountain was out in all of her glory. It was 37 degrees, which meant an extra layer, a wool beanie, and a buffalo plaid, wool, fleece lined blanket. I was taking notes to get ready for my upcoming conversation with my spiritual director, Dane, which meant capturing the various wonderings going on in my head and heart. It’s always a meandering list, often times so random that I can’t imagine how one thing connects to another. Yet somehow, in conversation with him, the seemingly disparate threads begin to weave together, connecting this part of my life to that one, this question to that answer, this seeming ending to that possible beginning, this lingering fear to that little swatch of bravery. It is a beautiful and rare gift that he brings to our conversations, helping me stitch my life into the tapestry that is uniquely mine.

Looking at my list, it was indeed a bit of a hodgepodge, made up of a little bit of this and a little bit of that, and it was hard to see if and how it all tied together. But somehow I trusted that it did. Or it would, all in good time.

As I closed my journal, a text came through. A storm from Hurricane Francine had knocked out his internet and we would have to reschedule. While disappointed to miss our conversation today, I knew we would have it eventually, all in good time.

In large part thanks to our work together, I’m learning to hold it all a little more lightly. All, as in all of it. Time, schedules, plans, perspectives, beliefs, and even life itself. Grasping and gripping rarely make things better, and usually worse.

The day I had anticipated became something else. It was bit of a hodgepodge, made up of a little bit of this and a little bit of that. No big progress made in any direction, and it’s hard to see if and how it all ties together. But somehow I trust that it does. Or it will, all in good time.

In gratitude for Dane Anthony, and the gift of working together.

The House I Hate

I hate my house.

Don’t get me wrong. I love our home and all the life that happens here. We couldn’t live in a more spectacular spot. Mt. Adams looms directly in front of us, offering a staggeringly breathtaking view that is just there for the looking. Our home is a place of hope and healing, a space to grieve and give thanks, and a dwelling where imperfect love, grace, and welcome reside in abundance. This rustic home is a shelter in the storm and a sanctuary in a world that seems to be crumbling before our eyes, threatening to taking us all down with it.

But I still hate my house.

We built it 14 years ago, and it is in need of freshening up. It’s true that most of the furnishings have a fun story behind them. There’s the fantastic $25 couch from the Goodwill Outlet (yes, that’s a thing), a dining room table and chairs from the consignment store next door to Sleepy Monk (our favorite coffee shop in the whole entire world), the matching Woolrich blinds that were still in their original boxes when I found them at another Goodwill, and the coffee table that used to display men’s ties from my days working for Nordstrom. There is a serious lack of floor and table lamps, as those seem to be what little grand boys love to bring crashing to the floor. Nothing goes with anything else, and if I hung sale tags on everything, you would think you’d wandered into a secondhand store with a first-class view. The house is a decorating hodgepodge that has gotten under my skin. And not in a good way.

Given the current economy, this isn’t necessarily the time to invest in a large-scale makeover. Two things are helping me navigate my current aesthetic crisis, and neither one costs me a dime.

The first is a comment from my sister several months ago. She suggested that every time I walk through the house, I should remember something good that happened here. Remember all of the gatherings and conversations and decisions and stories and apologies and connections and celebrations that have happened in this house that I hate that sits under the shadow of that glorious mountain. Recall the tears and hugs and laughter and prayers and meals and toasts and naps that have taken place in front of that beautiful rock fireplace.

So much good has happened here, and it’s had nothing to do with finding the right fabric or purchasing the perfect rug. It’s happened because of the intention with which we built this home, the vision we had for it to be a safe place for all who walk through the door, and our ongoing work to learn how to better love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Starting right here. In this house that I hate.

The second source of help came today in the midst of what is always a fruitful monthly conversation with my spiritual director. As he quietly listened to me express my need to get back to writing but not finding my way to my desk to actually write, and my failed commitment to spend regular time in contemplative prayer and meditation, it hit me. I recently took an inventory of the spaces that I actually love in this house that I hate. There are two to be exact. One is my tiny office on the stair landing, the other my meditation space tucked under the eves upstairs. I love everything about these two spaces: their location, the furnishings, the colors, and the way they are arranged. The two places I love the most are also the ones where I need to show up the most.

So many things can get in the way of doing what we most need to do to so that we can be who we most want to be. The fear that stops us in our tracks. The lie that things are so bad that what we each do doesn’t matter. The pain, blame, shame, finger pointing, screaming matches that find their way into our news feeds, email inboxes, and social accounts. The too-muchness of it all can cause us to do too little, and then everyone loses.

Writing is the way I make sense of the world and my place in it. Quiet time in the presence of the Holy grounds me in a world that is spinning out of control. If there are two things that I need to do, these are them. And I haven’t been doing them. And it shows.

My desk and meditation space that I love are waiting for me, right here, in this house that I hate. All I have to do is show up, and the rest will take care of itself.

To-Do or Not-To-Do?

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

~ Annie Dillard

I’m a great list maker. Lists are my secret to success in a lot of areas:

• Getting ready for a dinner party list

• Packing for a trip list

• Planning a wedding/birthday bash/ family reunion list

• Costco/Trader Joes/New Seasons/Target run list

• Christmas shopping list

• Preparing for a keynote address or retreat list

• Book off to the publisher list

• Cleaning the garage list

• Whatever-needs-doing-getting-done list

As you can tell, I love me a good list. Which is why I was intrigued by Dane Anthony’s recent essay to consider making a new kind of list. A To-NOT-Do list.

While the name of the list alone was enough to pique my interest, the name of the person who wrote it sealed the deal. Dane has a Spiritual Direction practice in which he seeks to create a peaceful and safe space for the soul to emerge, which he does by listening without agenda. Having engaged him as my Spiritual Director, I can tell you that this is exactly what he does. He is one of the most gifted listeners I’ve ever met, and because I’ve come to deeply trust him and our work together, I decided to trust in the wisdom of creating my own To-NOT- Do List. Dane’s work is rooted in the belief that we are meant to live an undivided life, with ourselves, others and God, and if making a To-NOT-Do List can help me get a little closer to that…well then sign me up.

Here are a few things that showed up on my To-NOT-Do List as soon as my pen hit the page:

• Be complacent

• Settle

• Wake up and check ANY of my devices until after my morning ritual of quiet, reading,

  meditation, AND of course, my first sacred cup of French press coffee

• Get lost in the menial at the expense of the meaningful

• React out of fear

• Make it all about me

If you are intrigued by the idea of a new kind of list too, read Dane’s thoughtful post below, and then see what words come out when your pen hits the page.

(Oh, and if you are intrigued by the idea of pursuing a Spiritual Director…think about putting that on your To-DO List.)

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A To-Not-Do List

DANE ANTHONY //SELF CARE//10.03.18

I was taken recently by the question of what my “To-Do” lists really do for me? I’ve made them and crossed things off for years. There are seasons in which these seemingly helpful lists prove a profitable exercise; a place to deposit the endless undone things I must attend to. Certainly, they can be helpful in acknowledging things that are necessary and need my attention. In other seasons, these lists, or at least the propensity to create them, feel more like a perpetual exercise in all the things that are undone. It is as if they are frantically waving their arms to point to what I’m not accomplishing.  

What do my “To-Do” lists really do for me?

In conversation with someone the other day, I came to consider what would it be like to make a “To-NOT-Do” list – a list of the things I do not need to be doing. What on earth would a list like that contain? Might this list be one that offers me some needed permission to care for myself; to see myself as more than what I accomplish or cross off? Am I able to allow or consider things I don’t want to do apart from my inclination to be productive? Can I approach this list without a shame-motivation but from a desire for space and freedom and creativity?

Might this list be one that offers me some needed permission to care for myself; to see myself as more than what I accomplish or cross off?

A quick flash of what this list would look like might be something like:

To-NOT-Do:

Worry
Stress
Hurry
Be Co-dependent
Meddle
Judge
Rage
Argue

I don’t know what this would look like for you, but my list came to me pretty quickly, so I’m aware of my need for the gifts that not doing each of them would offer. It also seemed that I could find a lot of other things to put on this list that don’t appear here. What has kept me from making a list like this, I wondered?

It seems that the messages we receive culturally, and those we create internally, are often driven by shame that we need to accomplish or perform to be accepted, to be worthy, to be enough. 

It seems that the messages we receive culturally, and those we create internally, are often driven by shame that we need to accomplish or perform to be accepted, to be worthy, to be enough. That sure feels true for me when I look at my “To-Do” lists. I do NOT sense that when I look at my “To-NOT-Do” list above. This list feels like it has kindness present in it; an open space for me to engage with my desires and intentions, and with others as they are.

What might you have on your own “To-NOT-Do” list?