A Space of Belonging

Saturday evening we held a gathering at our home for an Evening Fireside Conversation. This experience had been an auction item at a fundraising event for Mt. Adams Resource Stewards, an incredible non-profit organization committed to promoting sustainable connections between the land, local economies, and rural communities in the Mt. Adams Region. In slightly more soulful language, MARS works diligently to preserve, honor, nurture, and celebrate its glorious corner of the world. Which, come to think about it, is not a bad way to go through life. Every nook and cranny of this spinning planet, and of each and every human heart, longs to be preserved, honored, nurtured, and celebrated.

My dear friend Caley, a licensed mental health therapist with deep roots in the academic community, came up with the idea for the evening, and invited me to join her in envisioning, creating, and leading the event. As we saw it, the evening would be a gathering together to enjoy good food, good wine, a gorgeous view, good connection, and some thoughtful conversation. Inspired by MARS, we imagined a time to consider how each of us could serve as stewards to care for and nurture our own little necks of the woods.

The group consisted of what we imagined to be kindred spirits in such an endeavor, as admittedly, this kind of evening is not everyone’s cup of tea, or in this case, glass of really, really good wine.To plan the evening, Caley and I approached it in a way that we both consider important for an event like this or for almost any aspect of life. We began with the end in mind. At the end of that evening, what did we want to be true? How did we want people to feel? What did we want them to have experienced? Well, we wanted them to have had a chance to reflect on and share what they might be feeling called to do in order to care for themselves, others, and the world within their reach. We hoped that they would feel seen and heard. And, the one word that continued to emerge was belonging. We wanted people to be filled with a sense of belonging as a result of our time together.

If that is what we wanted to have happen, what did we need to do to bring that about? We would need good questions that would invite good reflection that would result in good conversation. To that end, we identified multiple questions to guide our evening. However, as any good facilitator knows, you gotta start with finding out who’s in the room. To that end, we came up with four questions. Who are you? Where do you call home? What is a word that you would use to describe you, and why? Why did you want to be here tonight?

As we saw it, going around the room with some quick-ish introductions would get the evening started so that we could dive into deeper conversational waters.

Boy, did we get it wrong. Except not really.

Simply introducing ourselves took about an hour and a half. At times you could have heard a pin drop as we hung on one another’s words. There was laughter, a few tears, moments of silence, and lots and lots and lots of gratitude for being together in that space. It was, as we had hoped, a space where each person was filled with a sense of belonging.

We never got around to those other questions. You know, the ones that were supposed to take us deeper. That must be because to show up, introduce ourselves to one another, and to then feel like we belong, is about as deep as it gets.

Written with gratitude to Caley M, Jay McLaughlin, Mt. Adams Resource Stewards, and everyone present in that collective space of belonging.



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.)

Here's My Card

On a whim I decided to create new business cards. It was an exercise to clarify and communicate who I am and what I’m about. In business, and in life. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

I asked my husband to snap a few photos. The camera is rarely my friend, so I wasn’t overly optimistic that he’d capture an image that would capture me in an authentic and real way. But I’ll be go to hell, he did.

The photo became the front of the card. It makes a statement. Here I am. What you see here is what you’ll get there.

Underneath the card, my name. Because with all due respect to The Bard, our name matters. It contains our whole life story. Given to us when we’re born, we’ll be remembered by it after we’re gone.

Underneath my name, what I do. Because what we do matters too. Writing and speaking are two of the ways I connect life’s many dots, and share what I discover with others. My work is always about finding ways for us to more closely connect who we are with how we live. In business, and in life. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

The back of the card contains the usual contact information. Because connection matters too. As human beings we are hard wired for connection. But it’s hard to connect with someone if you don’t know how to get ahold of them.

There was still a lot of blank space on the back. Enough room for one statement that would sum it all up.

It all turned out to be a great exercise. It forced me to distill it all down to what would fit on a business card. Or maybe it’s a life card. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

What would your card say?

Rural Lessons

There’s so much to learn from our rural neighbors.

Driving through our beautiful valley at the base of Mt. Adams, when passing another car heading the opposite direction, you wave. Not a big wave. Not a royal wave. Not a political candidate wave. Not a red carpet wave. Just a subtle wave. Hands on the steering wheel, one or two fingers lift in greeting in a small gesture that says whether I know you or not, I see you, and you see me.

We need more of that in this country.

The snow is here. There’s a least three feet on the ground and it’s not showing any signs of letting up soon. Because we live on a private road the county doesn’t plow us out. Nor should they. They have more than enough work on too small a budget just keeping the roads we all depend on clear so that people can get to work, kids can get to school, and life can keep going. That means that we are dependent on the help of others to take care of our road. And they do. Whenever it snows we can count on our neighbor George. He just shows up and plows for as long as the snow lasts, and then we settle up at the end of the season. But today, after giving it a valiant effort, he told us that the snow was just too much for his equipment. As it turns out, shortly thereafter he was at our little General Store to warm up with a cup of coffee where he ran into Casey, another neighbor. George asked Casey if he could take care of our road today. Fifteen minutes later Casey showed up on his commercial grader and got er done.

We need more of that in this country.

Driving into town the other day we passed Keith. A local rancher, he and his family raise cattle, grow alfalfa and sell timber. On this particular day as we drove through their ranch, the sun hadn’t come up yet. It was cold and dark and the cattle needed feeding. And there he was, unloading bales of hay onto the ground for the waiting cattle, steam rising from their breath in the cold morning air. Staying inside for another cup of coffee or waiting till tomorrow when the weather might be a little better wasn’t an option. When you’re a rancher, it’s up to you. And because it’s up to you, you just do it, and then get up the next day, and do it again.

We need more of that in this country.

We moved here from the big city fifteen years ago, and it’s safe to say that we cast our votes differently than the majority of our rural neighbors. The lens we look through is probably quite different than theirs. After the 2016 presidential election we were heartbroken and scared for reasons that made sense to us. After the 2020 one, my guess is that many of our neighbors experienced those same feelings for reasons that made sense to them. And yet. We all find ways to come together. We help each other out, cheer for our high school basketball team, lay side-by-side on cots in the school auditorium as we give blood at the annual Red Cross blood drive, show up with our families at the annual Father’s Day Rodeo, and fly our flags for a country we all love, and are all worried about.

We need more of that in this country.





On The Docket

What’s on your docket today?

We were sitting outside finishing breakfast the other day when my husband asked me that question.

Docket commonly refers to the calendar or schedule for pending cases in a court of law. Since I’m neither a judge nor an attorney, what he was really asking me was, “What is on your agenda for the day?”

Something about the question didn’t sit right with me.

We often tell each other the anticipated goings on of our days, share our to-do lists, and look at our calendars together. I’m good with that. There is an administrative element to sharing life with someone that helps things run more smoothly, and keeps life on track.

Knowing him as I do, his question wasn’t a way to dodge a deeper dive into matters of the heart. He’s more than willing to swim in the emotional waters that are part of any relationship. However, lately it felt like the question most often asked. It was transactional, not relational, an exchange of information rather than an expression of connection.

We talked about it the next day. His question was a wakeup call. A reminder of how easily we can slide into a pattern of simply making it through our days and checking things off of our lists. Whatever else might be on our docket, checking in on how we are doing on any given day matters a whole lot more than what we are going to get done.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

Too Good Not To Share

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having an obligation to do something, or care for someone, as part of one's job or role

Especially during COVID, staying connected matters more than ever. Thanks to technology we can still meet, gather, collaborate, celebrate, learn, remember, worship, and share a meal or bottle of wine together. We can work with a therapist, doctor, coach, personal trainer, or spiritual director, all from the comfort of our home office, closet, car, or tree fort.

As good as all that connecting is, sometimes it’s just too much.

Our devices ring and ding and vibrate, alerting us that someone somewhere is reaching our way, and we, or at least I, feel responsible to answer right there and then. It’s as if not picking up the phone, responding to the text, joining the video call, or answering the email immediately communicates that I don’t care. That that person isn’t a priority, and as someone who values connection and relationships above all else, I never want to convey that. Ever. And yet I have this fear that I do.

This was the quandary I brought to a monthly video conversation with my spiritual director. One of his many gifts is his practice of parsing words. He will take a word apart, maybe switch a letter of two, all in the service of looking at it in a new and more helpful way. In this case, rather than feel responsible to answer the phone or respond to the text, decide if, in that moment, I am response-able to do so.

Do I have the emotional capacity, at the time, to respond with the best of myself? Is my tank, at the time, empty, full, or somewhere in between? Do I have what it takes, at the time, to be fully present? In that moment, am I responsible or response-able to answer? It isn’t about not responding. It’s about responding well.

Some things are simply too good not to share.

(Once again, a grateful shout out to Dane Anthony.)

Photo by Wendy Wei from Pexels

Photo by Wendy Wei from Pexels

A Better Drift

None of us sees the world in exactly the same way, and the needs that we each have are as different as we are from one another. Understanding this, and knowing what to do about it, is the good, and hard work of human relationships. Especially with those we care about the most.

It seems to be in our nature to give love and respect to others in the ways in which we want to receive them ourselves. To express our needs and wants in the language and timing that works for us. And here’s the clincher—we expect others to know what we want and need from them without having to tell them. None of these are good ideas. I know this because I’ve tried them for years with the same results. Hurt feelings, disappointment, resentment, loneliness, frustration, anger…I could keep going but you probably catch my drift. Maybe you share some version of the same drift too.

If we don’t want the same old same old., we have to try something new.

Rather than expecting others to know what we need and how to love us well, let’s tell them Specifically.

Rather than guessing what others need and how to love them well, let’s ask them. Specifically.

With practice we just might find ourselves catching a new and better drift.

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Word Of The Day: CONNECTED

Over the next few weeks I will be focusing on a word of the day drawn from a list created at the beginning of January. Each word was chosen to serve as a guide to inspire and inform my steps through 2020. If you are just joining me now and want to look in on earlier posts on this topic, you will find links to each at the end.

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According to the New Oxford English Dictionary, a connection is the action of linking one thing to another. If that is so, then it seems first and foremost that it is important to know what to attach to what. Especially when it comes to crafting a meaningful life.

When launching my business, it took me awhile to come up with a concise statement that would capture both the philosophy behind, as well as the purpose of, my work as a writer, speaker, and coach. It also needed to be the guiding philosophy behind how I endeavor to live my own life. See if what I came up with connects for you like it did for me.

Connect who you are with how you live.

Now & Then

That was then, this is now.

What worked last week doesn’t necessarily work this week.

What was true yesterday, may no longer be the reality today.

What support looked like earlier may look different now.

What we needed to hear in a previous stage may need a new message in the new one.

What shape love took in the past may no longer fit.

The only way to know if whatever it is is still working is to find out. Ask the question, have the conversation, be observant, and stay open.

Family

Sometimes there’s just nothing like family.

I’m spending a few days with one of our daughters and her family. Which turned out to mean that I have the chance to play with the grandboys, fold laundry, drink coffee, talk about life, and get ready for a birthday party on Saturday, complete with a homemade smash cake for the one year old to, well, smash his face into. Earlier this week, my brother drove a couple of hours to spend the day with us up at our cabin. Which turned out to mean that we had the chance to sit on the porch, drink coffee, talk about life, and of the cross country trip he and his wife will be making next month for their move into their new home. Which turned out to mean that we had the chance to talk about how sweet it is that they are moving closer to their son and his wife, and the bitterness of that sweet in moving away from lifelong friends and family. He had a little surgery yesterday to clean up a knee, and while his knee did fine, his heart acted up a bit and he had to stay overnight in the hospital. Which turned out to mean his son decided to change his travel plans at the last minute and fly into town for a couple of days. Which turned out to mean that my wonderful nephew showed up at my daughter’s house this afternoon. Which turned out to mean that over dinner those two cousins had the chance to reminisce about the weekly dinners they used to have together when they were both single and living in the same city. She would plan the menu, he’d show up with the groceries, and she would cook. Which turned out to mean that they learned their way around the kitchen together. Which turned out to mean that tonight, while she and her husband put little boys to bed, he  cleaned up the kitchen before heading out. Which turned out to mean that at the end of the day, sometimes there’s just nothing like family.

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