What A Trip

trip n. an act of going to a place, and returning.

A wise friend often said, “When God wants to teach you something, God takes you on a trip.”

Having just returned from a 6 week trip across the pond, his words ring as true as ever.

It’s not like God is a travel agent making all the arrangements, a tour guide explaining all about the sights out the bus window, or the flight attendant making sure we can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight. No, I think God just loves to travel, and knows that anytime we go from here to there and back again, there is the possibility for transformation. That we will come back changed by our experience. That we will see through new eyes in some small or big ways. That our hearts will open a bit more to the wonder and mystery that is always ours for the noticing.

Iceland was stunningly beautiful. Wild, dramatic, and mystical, one has to be made of sturdy stuff to live there. Sometimes called the land of fire and ice, life seems to hang a bit more precariously in the balance in Iceland. It was there that we learned that my husband’s brother had just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma. Close to complete kidney failure, it was nip and tuck as to his future. Thanks to excellent medical care, groundbreaking research, and lots, and lots, and lots of prayer, the future is brighter. But what is true is that in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Yesterday life looked one way, the next, completely different. Except for one small but mighty truth. There has never been a guarantee of anything beyond the present moment, which means that the present moment is everything. It means that we need to be exactly where our feet are, without knowing if that footing will hold.

England was the location of the “Farewell Tour” for my right knee. I’m giving myself a new one for my birthday this fall, and wanted to give the old girl one final adventure by hiking 100 miles around the Lake District. Green, vast, and pastoral, every day was different as we walked along roads dating back to the Bronze Age, wandered past Beatrix Potter’s farm, and hiked across fields with stone walls built by the Romans. As one friend put it, old paths made new again by our footsteps. Every day there were multiple trails to reach our next destination, and the guidebook was less than clear. Ours (well, Tom’s) was the job of finding the right route for us. Given my knee, the number of trips we’ve both taken around the sun, and the risk of getting lost, it was a somewhat daunting task that couldn’t be left to chance. One day in particular gave us the most pause. Lots of elevation gain, tricky descents, clouds that roll in on a moment’s notice, and the possibility of finding ourselves on the wrong ridge too late in the day. Because of his attention to all of the factors, his experience in the wilderness, his map reading and way-finding skills, and his ridiculous love for me, the day that was the most daunting turned out to be the most dazzling. Our bodies were up to the task, the views spectacular, and the satisfaction that comes when we accomplish something challenging together was worth every one of those 24,199 steps.

It’s not that going off trail is a bad idea. In fact, some of the most magical things happen when we head out on the way less traveled. This just wasn’t one of those times. The consequences and risks were too big. Good to know when to do which.

Scotland was our final and most important destination. It was our chance to once again jump into life with our daughter and her family as she completes her Ph.D program. Her husband (who loves all things golf) works on a golf course in St. Andrews, the birthplace of golf, and their three wee-ish boys ages 8,6, and 4 are getting an education that goes far beyond the classroom. For two and a half weeks we did life together in all its messy wonderment. Forest walks, endless stories, family meals, bath times, bed times, snuggles, home improvement projects, and all the big feelings that life elicits inside the walls of a home.

It’s a long way from home and family. 4,536 miles to be exact. Family matters. Home matters. Their family is there. Their family is here. Their home is there. Their home is here. If they didn’t feel so certain that they are smack dab in the middle of where life is calling them, it would be almost unbearable. But they are certain, and so are we, which not only makes it bearable, but beautiful. This chapter is writing the story that is, and will be, their life. On an afternoon walk, my daughter and I talked about the pain of distance, the passing of time, and the promise of loss and grief that are sure to come. Great love and great pain go together. There is no other way. It is the price of admission to a rich and full-hearted life, and costly as that may be, we will all gladly pay the price.

When God wants to teach you something, God takes you on a trip.

Love Changes Us

“…love is an invitation to growth, a call to responsibility, and a hope for all that could be.”

(From the Opening Prayer, February 14th, 2021, Zoom Church, Bethel UCC, White Salmon)

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It was May 28th, 1994.

“I have a question for you.” he said.

On a snowy hike into the Indian Heaven Wilderness, and we had just stopped for lunch. I was pretty sure his question wasn’t whether I wanted the turkey or the ham sandwich.

“Will you marry me?” he asked.

“Yes!” I answered.

Hiking back out it hit me. On the trail going in, life had looked one way. Walking back out, life as we had known it had changed.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

Whenever we say yes to love of any kind, we are committing ourselves to something bigger without knowing how it will all turn out. Love isn’t about certainty, but a commitment to continue to show up and say yes even when it’s hard. Especially when it is hard.

Before we say yes to love, our life looks one way. After we say yes, life as we have known it, will change.

Because that’s what love does.

It changes us.

27 years of continuing to show up and saying yes. Here’s to the next 27!

The Whole Picture

I’ve worn bifocals for years. They allow me to see both near and far, read, and safely drive a car. Without my dual lenses life would become a bit one-dimensional.

The state in which we find ourselves today, where the racism upon which this country was built and continues to be sustained, has been laid bare. The needs that must be addressed have been brought into sharp focus, and we must not look away. It is difficult to view life through any other lens.

The danger in only seeing the world through a single lens is that we become one-dimensional people.

Lately, whenever I turn my attention elsewhere, away from the shame of our racist past and my part in it, the pain of our racist present, and the threat of a continuing racist future, I feel a little guilty. Like I am being shallow or selfish for finding moments of hilarity, causes for joy, or the simple pleasures found in a good novel, good food, good wine, or a hike in the woods. How can I allow myself to feel good when there is so much bad to be reckoned with?

I let myself feel good because I must.

We all must.

We must stay connected to our innate goodness in order to oppose that which is bad.

We must laugh every chance we get because a merry heart does good like a medicine. And when it comes to the virus of racism, we are all called to be healers. Especially if we are white.

We must find causes for joy so that we can address the issues that are causing such deep sorrow.

We must delight in simple pleasures lest we give up because it is simply too hard.

We must never lose sight of the whole picture.

Starting Today

“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

~ Mahatma Gandhi

What if we took these as our marching orders, starting today?

Photo by Daria Shevtsova from Pexels

Is This The ______________ That I Want?

Tom and I had been married about eight years when he spent a couple of weeks teaching at a remote retreat center in the North Cascades, while I stayed home minding the fort. During those two weeks it became clear to me that there was no question that I wanted to be married to Tom. However, that wasn’t the real question. The real question was—Is the marriage we have the one that I want?

It wasn’t.

Those aren’t thoughts one can keep to oneself if one wants things to change.

After he returned we were out running errands one day, and stopped at a Starbucks. I can still see the table where we were sitting out on the sidewalk. I’m sure he was expecting just a nice catch-up visit, so when I quietly told him I wanted to talk about our marriage, a deer in the headlights about sums up his initial reaction. Thankfully, unlike a deer he didn’t disappear into the woods, but leaned forward, and leaned in. That conversation, over lattes, on a sidewalk outside of Starbucks is the conversation that changed the trajectory of our marriage.

Together we began to give voice to what was working, and what was not. We needed plenty of help along the way from therapists who could help us navigate all of the issues that could derail us if we let them. After 25 years together, we still hit brick walls and have to talk about scary things. On any given day, we work hard to bring the best of what we have to each other, with varying degrees of success, but always with the commitment of building the kind of relationship and life we want. Our conversation over coffee that started all those years ago is one that we will probably be having for the rest of our lives. At least it should be if we want to keep building the marriage we want.

The changes in our marriage all started with a hard question, as most hard changes do, and, it is a hard question that can help any of us get to the heart of any matter that matters to us.

Is this the…relationship, parenting approach, community, fitness level, body, friendship, career path, communication pattern, story emotional health, financial reality, team culture, family dynamic, belief system, outcome, home-life, fill-in-your-own-blank…that I want?

If the answer is yes, then we keep on keeping on.

If the answer is no, maybe today is the day to figure out what it is we do want and how to go about getting it.

Photo by James Wheeler from Pexels

Checking The Emotional Box

I am wondering how often we do something just so that we can check off an emotional box.

The box that when checked says, if you do this, you won’t have to endure the discomfort that comes from doing things differently.

The box that when left unchecked, might result in another’s disappointment in us.

The box that when checked, relieves us of the fear of having to practice a healthier way of being in the world.

The box that when left unchecked, requires more of us.

No one, including me, looks forward to sitting with hard emotions. But then again, when was thinking, or acting, outside the box ever easy?

Autumn's Invitation

Fall is my favorite time of the year. I love the quality of the light, the chill in the air, and the gradual shortening of the days. It is also a gentle reminder that we are not here forever. That our time on earth is limited, and that it is up to us to decide what we will sow in the service of what we hope to harvest.

While autumn doesn't officially begin until September 23rd, it feels like summer is over. School is back in session, summer vacations are a memory, and there are four months left before a new year begins. It seems to be a time of invitation to bring a little more structure to our days, and to consider what we hope to create and bring to life in what remains of the year. To reflect once again on what matters, and channel our energies in that direction.

As Annie Dillard says, How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. As summer once again gives way to autumn, let’s take time to consider how we want to spend our days.

Photo by Lisa Fotios from Pexels

It Takes Practice

The more we commit to doing the work of becoming more authentic and whole-hearted, the more we discover about ourselves. The more we discover about ourselves, the more things we find that we love and appreciate about ourselves, and the more things that, well, we don’t. So just what do we do with those things that aren’t what we might call our most endearing qualities?

First we notice them - There it is again.

Then we name them - Hello impatience, anger, defensiveness, fill-in-your-own-blanks.

Then we practice navigating them in better ways when they show up. Take a breath and choose a better response than the knee-jerk one we’ve been perfecting for all these years.

Notice.

Name.

Navigate.

Repeat.

If you’re like me, you’ll get plenty of opportunities to practice.

Pexels - Phtographer: Snapwire

Transition

Transition is different from change, and while any change can be challenging, it’s the transition that can do us in.

Change is moving from one home to another. Transition is the process of packing up one house and moving in to another.

Change is taking a new job. Transition is letting go of previous expectations, processes, and dynamics, and getting a grip on the new ones.

Change is retiring from a meaningful career. Transition is finding meaning in new places.

Change is getting your first bike. Transition is learning how to ride it.

Change is getting married. Transition is learning how to build a life together.

Change is losing a loved one. Transition is learning to live without them.

Change is having a baby. Transition is bringing a new little human home from the hospital.

Change is going on vacation. Transition is stepping back into everyday life.

Anyway you cut it, transitions of any kind, even small ones, can be challenging, and are best navigated with as much ease, space, and grace as we can infuse into the process. For for ourselves, and those around us.

Ease.

Enter in to times of transition with care. Know that you will regain your rhythm, or discover a new one.

Space.

Allow yourself margins. Build in time to acclimate to the situation.

Grace.

Take it easy on yourself and others. Period.

Change is one thing. Transition is the bridge from here to there.

Something’s Gotta Give

Only you know what it is. Nobody else can tell you what it is. If you don’t know what it is now, you will. Or you can, if you want to. It may take a little time, more than a little courage, and a splash of grace, but if you want to know what has to give in order for something else to show up, you will. Trust me on that.

What takes up space leaving no room for what wants to expand? What consumes your thoughts leaving no room for new ones to emerge? What takes up your day leaving no room for what brings you energy?

Something’s gotta give? What is it?

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