Like That

I just knew I needed her this morning. The logging road can always be counted on to provide whatever is needed for the day and my heart.

Yesterday was just one of those days. A tough loss for my team. Knowing someone’s heart was hurting. Technical difficulties…All Day. Long. A knee replacement surgery looming. Concern for our country and the rocky-no-matter-what road ahead for all of us who love her. And spirits that felt like the smokey haze obscuring the mountain from view. Bed sounded good long before it was time to crawl in.

Despite all of that, one thing, well two, that I knew for sure. A new day would dawn, and a trip up the logging road would help.

A new day dawned, and before the sun crested the hills above the logging road we set out, side-by-side to make our way to the top, our steps falling together on the steep incline that will continue for almost two miles. It’s never easy, but today it’s a little harder than usual. Over the past four years of hiking this same path time and again, I’ve come to know that hard isn’t a bad thing, simply a thing. On or off the trail, hard is part of the bargain.

Today, like every day, the logging road is able to take whatever burdens we carry, always providing solid ground beneath our feet. She’s steady. Sure. Reliable. I want to be like that.

The trees on either side of the road bear witness as we pass by. Douglas and grand fir, ponderosa pine, and Oregon white oak. Rooted in the ground and stretching to the sky, they don’t question or try to fix. They simply stand strong, inviting us to come as we are. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just real. I want to be like that.

Sitting on the side of the hill, looking out over the woods, open grassy slopes, and surrounding ridges, the breeze moves around us, rustling the leaves and causing wheat colored grasses to sway ever so slightly. The air ia soft, warm, and gentle It feels like mercy, grace, kindness, and forgiveness. Freely given, asking nothing in return. I want to be like that.

Making our way down, my heart is lighter, my head more clear, and my spirit more at ease. The road hasn’t done anything to me, she’s simply been there for me, and that is what makes all the difference.

I want to be like that.

Being Bridges

“Do you think faith is a gift or a choice?” asked my friend.

What a great question. One that I didn’t have time to ponder, as the answer showed up immediately on the blackboard of my mind. “It’s both. And practice is the bridge that connects the two.”

Practice is the bridge that spans the mystery that is faith, and upon which we find traction for our convictions, callings, and inklings. The bridge of practice provides a way from here to there without having to know all of the answers. If that’s not faith, I don’t know what is.

Ever since that conversation I’ve been preoccupied with bridges. I see them—and the need for them— everywhere. Over the course of our lifetime we will, time and again, find ourselves on one side of an expanse that feels impossible to cross. We’ll need a bridge

Anyone can be a bridge.

A bridge across which prayers are answered.

A bridge across which someone who is lost can find their way back home.

A bridge that spans a fear too terrifying to cross alone.

A bridge that makes it possible for opposing views to find common ground.

A bridge across which forgiveness travels.

A bridge that makes it possible to leave an old story behind and begin to live into a new one.

A bridge that connects us to them.

Of all the reasons we roam the planet, being a bridge might hover near the top of that list. Why are we here if not to create connections, span gaps, and provide a way where none exists. Like faith, being a bridge is both a gift and a choice, and it is practice that connects the two.

There’s a reason that armies destroy enemy bridges. It is to sever connection.

Let’s not let that happen. Let’s be a bridge.

(Written with gratitude to Caley for asking the beautiful question, because questions can be bridges too.)

Climbing A Mountain Part 4: Courage Under Fire

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

Back at the trailhead we had each shared our biggest fear about the climb. His was a fear of heights. Not an insignificant thing on or off a mountain. A few hours into it, he hadn’t had to stare that fear in the face. Now he did, as our next steps would include a short but steep climb, a traverse across a narrow trail with steep slopes on either side, and finally, another steep pitch bordered by a crevasse.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

We had stopped at an outcrop to put on our crampons. He turned his face away from the slope and gripped the sides of a boulder. We all silently went about gearing up, sensing that for the moment, all we could do was give him a safe space in which to be afraid. Not try to talk him out of it, or tell him what to do or how to do it. Fear doesn’t need fixing.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

Looking up from my boots, he was sitting on a rock, his wife kneeling at his feet, carefully attaching his crampons to his boots. It was like watching Jesus washing the feet of his disciples, showing them what love does in the face of fear.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

And then he did. He stepped out onto the slope and headed straight up. Like climbing a ladder that is leaning up against the side of a house, but with nothing to hold on to. One step ahead of him, his cousin told him to fix his focus on her feet rather than the steep slope on either side. Behind him another cousin told him to simply take five more steps. The one in front was terrified too, but by focusing on him she momentarily forgot that she was afraid too. The one behind him called upon her experience as a Cross-fit coach to help him simply take the next right step. Step-by-terrifying-step, he made his way to the other side of the thing he thought he couldn’t do. He did it himself, but he didn’t have to do it alone.

When did we decide that being vulnerable is an act of weakness? From what I saw up on that mountain, it is one of the most courageous things we can ever do.

Two days later, we passed that same steep stretch on our way back down.

“I can do that,” he said.

The Backup Generator

We had a scheduled power outage today so that the utility company could bring power to a new business in our little town. If you live in a rural area like we do, along with good-hearted neighbors and wildlife sightings, one thing you can count on is the occurrence of power outages, scheduled or not. We have a backup generator in our garage for just such events, and because we knew this one was coming, we were ready. Or at least so we thought.

Before leaving the house to report for jury duty, my husband Tom powered up the generator for me so that it was up and running and I could get on with my day. While I have started it before, I’m still not very comfortable with the process, even though in my camo jacket and muck boots I look like I should be a pro at it. However, even I knew that the noises coming from the generator didn’t sound quite right, and sure enough, it sputtered and stopped. Everything went quiet and dark, and suddenly the day I had planned got unplugged.

No internet.

No phone.

No computer.

And of course, no hot water.

Thinking the propane tank might be empty, I tried to unhook it from the generator, but to no avail. Loading the extra tank into the car I drove to town where a friend who works at the gas station filled it up for me. Enlisting the help of another friend, we drove back to the house and he hooked up the new tank and started the generator. It sputtered and went out again. Poking around he tried a few other things and was able to get it up and running again, although was doubtful that it would keep going. It might be a spark plug issue. We’d look into that.

Thanking him, off he drove and I headed into the house to accomplish what I could until the generator stopped again, which it did. The power was scheduled to go back on again in a few hours anyway, so I turned my attention to things that don’t require electricity. It was quiet and actually kind of a nice forced break from emails, phone calls, bill paying, and it’s always a good day to skip a shower. However, all of this got me thinking about the importance of being prepared for the next power outage. Obviously we need to get the generator in the garage repaired so that can power up and sustain life in the house when we need it. When the temperature plummets in the winter, or a windstorm takes out a transformer, we rely on that generator to shore us up.

When it comes to our lives, having a backup generator is essential too. There are times for all of us when we experience a power outage. When the supply of the inner resources we’ve come to count on can’t keep up with the demand. Some we can plan for, like the holiday season, moving to a new home, or a big project at work. But others happen in the blink of an eye when an unexpected diagnosis comes back, we are hit with a tidal wave of grief, or life as we know it suddenly falls apart. Regardless of the cause of the outage, our backup generators need to be in place and in good working order, and of course, we need to know how to power them up.

People and practices make up my backup generator, and perhaps they do for you as well. For me that means tending to those relationships that matter, addressing issues as they arise, making sure that there is a balance of give and take, and always working to deepen trust and respect. It means nourishing myself well — body and soul, learning to say no to what is not mine to do, asking for help, and staying connected to the Power Source behind everything. 

To all of you who keep me going when my power goes out. Thank you. 

To all of you who rely on me to keep you going when your power goes out. Thank you.  

Oh, and note to self: If you’re going to dress like you know your way around a generator, you damn well better! 

Grounded

“Ground is what lies beneath our feet. It is the place where we already stand; a state of recognition, the place or the circumstances to which we belong whether we wish to or not. It is what holds and supports us, but also what we do not want to be true; it is what challenges us, physically or psychologically, irrespective of our hoped for needs. It is the living, underlying foundation that tells us what we are, where we are, what season we are in and what, no matter what we wish in the abstract, is about to happen in our body, in the world or in the conversation between the two.

To come to ground is to find a home in circumstances and in the very physical body we inhabit in the midst of those circumstances and above all to face the truth, no matter how difficult that truth may be; to come to ground is to begin the courageous conversation, to step into difficulty and by taking that first step, begin the movement through all difficulties, to find the support and foundation that has been beneath our feet all along; a place to step onto, a place on which to stand, and a place from which to step.”

- from Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words by David Whyte

The Dog Days Of Christmas

Blue and Ruthie are GSP/Labradors. Young, energetic, and both in training, they belong to our daughter and her husband. This current training requires that they interact with their owners, and no one else, to establish engagement and connection. They came for Christmas to our rural mountain home, and when not outside exercising on a long line, they were in the house, tethered to one of their owners, and smack dab in the middle of the crazy, wonderful family chaos that is Christmas. All of us had agreed to support them in their training efforts, and so basically ignored the dogs the entire time they were here. As counterintuitive as it seems, it was exactly what Blue and Ruthie needed to continue their growth as happy, fun, and loyal family members. It was a challenge to stick with the program, and, as it turned out, everyone was up to the task.

Gracie is our 12 week old chocolate labradoodle. She too is in training, which currently means that her world is pretty small. When not outside with one of us, she lives happily In the laundry room that allows her to see life beyond her world through the mesh of the baby gate across the doorway. Too much stimulation, and her world is turned upside down. Kind of like a kid who has too much screen time, she doesn’t know why she’s a wreck. She just is. We asked people to support us in our training efforts by interacting with her in short visits, with calm, quiet energy, and to basically ignore her the rest of the time. As counterintuitive as it seemed, it was exactly what Gracie needed to continue her growth as a happy, fun, and loyal family member. It was a challenge to stick with the program, and, it turned out, everyone was up to the task.

Christmas was definitely different because of the dogs. Wagging tails threatened wine glasses on low tables, we almost lost the leg of lamb on the kitchen counter to Blue when no one was looking, little Gracie had a couple of accidents when we lost track of time and forgot to take her out, and sleeping arrangements had to change to accommodate the canines.

The dog days of Christmas required that we all adjust, trust one another, and let go of expectations of how things should be, and get on with enjoying them exactly as they were. Which is kind of how life is supposed to be, don’t you think?

Not My Shoes

When someone we know goes through something difficult, it can be tempting to assume that how they feel in the midst of it is the same as what we would feel were we in their shoes. But we’re not.

Because we think we know how they are feeling, we assume we know what they need to do. But we don’t.

Years ago when I made the decision to leave my marriage I met with one of the pastors of our church. It was hands-down the hardest decision I’d ever made for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which was the poor light in which the church cast divorce. That being said, I felt certain of my decision, and hopeful for a different future. But sittting in his office I braced myself for  his words, expecting to hear that while he might understand how I was feeling, he needed to help me see the error of my ways  and how I could remedy them. However, after a few quiet moments, he simply said, I know what I am supposed to say, but I haven’t walked in your shoes. How are you feeling today? How can I best help you?

I’ve never forgotten that experience. Rather than burdening me with his expectations, he lightened the load of my experience. When someone is in the midst of the inevitable pain that comes with life, they are most in need of our quiet presence and a few simple words.

 I know what I am supposed to say, but I haven’t walked in your shoes. How are you feeling today? How can I best help you?

With gratitude to DR for knowing that we wore different shoes.

What Love Does

“That’s because love is never stationary. In the end, love doesn’t just keep thinking about it or keep planning for it. Simply put: love does.” 

~ Bob Goff Author of Love Does, and Everybody Always

A friend and I spent one weekend in front of the fire reading, crying, and laughing our way through Love Does by Bob Goff.

When it comes to love, his book title says it all…

Love Does.

Based just on what I’ve seen today, here are a few of the things love does:

Love picks up the phone and asks for help.

Love answers the phone and listens.

Love calls to see how you are doing.

Love checks the oil in your car.

Love comes to your home to grieve, and to heal.

Love opens the door to someone in need.

Love helps you mail a package at the post office.

Love sends you a text.

Love gives you room to roam.

Love yells “Shotgun!” when you try and run away.

Love stays home with the babies so you can prepare for your next lecture.

Love does what it takes to keep a sacred monthly phone date.

Love laughs with you at the most inopportune times.

Love lets you push its hands off your shoulders because that feels too claustrophobic, but continues to stand behind you in quiet support.

Love kisses you in the middle of the day.

Love asks “How’s your heart today?”

Love encourages you in your writing.

Love stands behind you.

Love stands beside you.

Love goes before you.

Love

Does

What did you see love do today?