The Dark Night

“The first fingers of light appear on the horizon, and ever so deftly and gradually, they pull the mantle of darkness away from the world.”

John O’Donohue - Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom

There are times when life so overwhelms us with grief, pain, fear, and loss that we don’t think we will survive. Some do not, and there is no room for judgement or criticism, only mercy and compassion. I have not inhabited their hearts, only my own, and the only reference I have is my own experience of being plunged into darkness, not knowing when even the faintest glimmer of light will appear.

In those dark nights, we are alone with our own hearts. No matter how much love and support we have surrounding us, no one can make our way for us as we wait for the light to appear. Others may walk with us, but they cannot walk for us. Others may help us bear our burden, but ultimately it is ours to carry. But the treasures of our darkness belong to us. Whatever we discover in the blackness of our night has the capacity to transform us in ways only possible when we have found our way to the dawn of our new day.

In the darkness, while we find ourselves alone, we would do well to remember that we bring with us all of our hard earned resources. Any strength, wisdom, faith, grace, and love that we have accumulated thus far will be our faithful companions, and will sustain us through the night. In her book, Learning To Walk in the Dark, Barbara Brown Taylor says, “…I have learned things in the dark that I could never have learned in the light, things that have saved my life over and over again, so that there is really on one logical conclusion. I need darkness as much as I need light.”

I’ve often wondered if the power that brought the world into being knew that we would need to find hope for a return of the light on a daily basis. That there is a deeper meaning behind the daily cloaking of the world in darkness, so that once again, we can be reminded of the illuminating light that is sure to follow.

Hope Is A Team Sport

I’m not sure when it started.

Maybe it was the year that we bought a piece of property, sold our house, and put everything we owned in storage, as we planned and began building our mountain home. While construction continued we split our time between the old airstream parked on our property, and a string of house-sitting gigs we cobbled together. Needless to say, we’d taken on a lot, let go of even more, life felt untethered, and I often needed reassurance that everything would be ok. As I often do when I am in need of hope that all is well, or at least will be, I would turn to my husband Tom, and after hearing my concerns, he would put his hands on my shoulders, lock eyes with me, and say…

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I would believe him.

I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s said those same words to me.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I believe him.

Anymore, I don’t even have to explain what I’m anxious about. I just tell him that I need him to say it to me. And he does.

“It’s gonna be ok.”

And I believe him.

What I love about this little routine we have together, is that his words are always true. It doesn’t mean that things are always going to work out the way I want, or that there haven’t been and won’t continue to be challenges, heartaches, and difficulties. For me, it means that come what may, we will find our way through. That there is a deep and abiding love that supports and surrounds us, not to save us from trouble, but to travel with us in the midst of it. That in the long run, love and goodness always win.

When it boils down to it, hope is a team sport, and everyone can play. We offer hope to one another, taking turns putting our hands on one another’s shoulders, locking eyes and saying…

“It’s gonna be ok.”

ATG Photography

Ho-Ho-Hoping

When I was growing up, getting into the Christmas spirit happened via family traditions, of which there were many. The Nativity Scene appeared on the marble-topped dresser, illuminated by two flickering votives in their red antique hobnail candle holders. My dad made his famous eggnog, I sat in the window seat beside the Christmas tree listening to A Christmas Carol on the record player, captivated by Basil Rathbone’s voice, and the stockings were hung by the chimney with care.

And then there was Santa Doll.

He was dressed in a worn red and white fleece onesie, had  a kewpie doll baby face to which had been added white hair, handlebar mustache, and a full beard. He had a tiny music box inside that played Here Comes Santa Clause, and truth be told, he was a sad little rendition of old St. Nick. But it was his  appearance every year that said in no uncertain terms, that Christmas was a comin’. It was never a question of if he would show up, but when.

Traditions inspire us to hope. They remind us that regardless of our circumstances, there is a thread we can count on to carry us through the good times and the bad. Traditions are a calm place in the midst of our storms, and a beacon of light when times are dark.

Santa Doll still appears every year, as he has for as long as I can remember. Come what may, this small, ragged doll continues to herald the coming of Christmas.

#dailydoseofhope

To HOPE is to be in a confident state of anticipation and expectation.

Hope can mean different things to different people. For me, it is to set an intention to look for good things to occur, to believe that goodness is always an option, and that in the long run, goodness will prevail, despite evidence to the contrary.

Hope is both a choice and a practice, and In order to keep hope alive, we need to look for it, foster it, and participate in it.

Every day.

For example:

Gracie, our 8 week old chocolate labradoodle, has accepted us as her family. After only four days here, she feels safe and secure in her new home, invites us to play with abandon, and is sleeping peacefully in her crate, which means we are sleeping too. Because of Gracie, I am filled with hope for what family, trust, play, and a good night of sleep can do

This morning my good friend David Berry gave me a shout out in his daily blog. He included a link to a piece I’d written, referred to me as his friend and thought partner, and then, using my words as a jumping off place, offered his own piece that is both beautiful and profoundly practical. Because of David, I am filled with hope for what collaboration, friendship, a passion for doing good work, and offering our gifts to the world can do.

I heard James Doty, neurosurgeon, tell Krista Tippet (On Being) that he believes we are at the beginning of the Age of Compassion. If that possibility isn’t a dose of hope, I don’t know what is. His book, Into the Magic Shop: A Neurosurgeon’s Quest to Discover the Mysteries of the Brain and the Secrets of the Heart arrived today, and I can’t wait to dive in. Because of Dr. Doty, I am filled with hope for what compassion, new discoveries in neurosurgery, and the magic that happens when head and heart are connected can do

My husband turned 71 today, and he can run circles around men many years younger. After 25 years together, there isn’t a person on the planet that I’d rather spend my time with. He chooses to show up for life and our marriage every day every day. Because of Tom, I am filled with hope for what commitment, love, and an exuberance for life can do.

And, then of course, there’s Nate Burleson. An American football commentator and former WR in the NFL, he talks in this clip about why he believes the Seattle Seahawks are going to make it into the playoffs. My team had an especially slow start this season, but they are on a roll now. Because of Nate’s confidence in the Hawks, I am filled with hope for what determination, grit, brotherhood, and a unique coaching philosophy can do. Go Hawks!

Like exercise and taking your vitamins, make sure and get your #dailydoseofhope

The Holy Ground of Hope

Sitting down to write about Hope, the Advent theme this week, I found myself wondering what hope feels like. Unexpectedly, a memory of a shared outdoor church service this past summer came to mind. Gathering with another church at a waterfront park, we were assembled under the blue sky ceiling of the sanctuary that is the Columbia River Gorge, a space as sacred as any church, mosque, or cathedral.

We came together to lift our voices, hearts, and minds in praise, thanksgiving, and reflection. At the beginning of the service, we were led in a time of honoring the history of this part of the world that we call home. Native peoples inhabited the Gorge long before white people came to dwell and dominate, and the pastor led us through a series of prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving for these people who came before us, their care of the land, and for the shared earth upon which we stand. With eyes closed, as her words poured over me, I had a sense unlike any before, of the ground actually holding me up. It was not my feet pressing down, but the earth rising up. There wasn’t anything required of me to engage this support except to recognize that it had always been there, was there in that moment, and would be there in the future.

That sense of the solid ground upon which to stand is the place from which we can dare to hope. And we can dare to hope because it isn’t our feet firmly planted that hold us up, but the holy ground upon when we stand.

Sometimes hope feels like the firm foundation found squarely beneath our feet.

Ushering In Hope

Advent begins today, and each Sunday ushers in a different theme. As it is an especially meaningful season in my spiritual tradition, I decided to write through each one over the course of the next four weeks.

Today ushers in the week of Hope.

Let’s start with the basics. What is hope?

The dictionary defines it as a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen. We set our sights on an aspiration. We look to the fulfillment of a wish or desire. We focus on what we do want to happen, rather that what we don’t. We allow ourselves to take in the feeling of expectancy, stay close to it, and take steps to bring it into being.

Several months ago, Tom and I decided that it might be time to bring a dog into our home. Knowing that it is a big commitment, and a bit of a game-changer, we began to set our hopes on the right dog appearing at the right time.

Well, she did.

Meet Gracie.

A Season of Waiting

“No man reaches where the moon touches a woman.
Even the moon leaves her when she opens 
Deeper into the ripple in her womb
That encircles dark, to become flesh and bone.

Someone is coming ashore inside her,
A face deciphers itself from water,
And she curves around the gathering wave,
Opening to offer the life it craves.

In a corner stall of pilgrim strangers,
She falls and heaves, holding a tide of tears.
A red wire of pain feeds through every vein,
Until night unweaves and the child reaches dawn.

Outside each other now, she sees him first,
Flesh of her flesh, her dreamt son safe on earth.”

The Nativity by John O’Donahue

Tomorrow is the first Sunday in Advent, a time which in my tradition is a season of waiting, expectancy, and anticipation. In our church, on each of the four Sundays leading up to Christmas, we will light a candle to symbolize one of the themes specific to Advent:

Hope.

Peace.

Joy.

Love.

Every year before the first Sunday in Advent a nativity display appears in front of the Glenwood General Store in our little rural town. This year, however, the display moved a few feet west of the store, landing the holy family in front of the Burger Shed. A gas station in days gone by, which one can imagine in ancient times might have been about the size of a small stable in which to take shelter. But not all the holy family is visible. The mother and father, on either side of a small empty manger, await the arrival of a new life on the way. These are their days of waiting, expectancy, and anticipation, as they are ours.

Come Christmas morning, anyone driving by the Burger Shed will find the babe in the manger, a symbol of hope, peace, joy, and love. No matter our beliefs, religious or not, each of those is a fundamental longing of the human heart, And as the days grow shorter, and the darkness arrives earlier, it seems a season primed for us to eagerly wait for hope, peace, joy, and love to rise up. But let’s not just to wait for them, let’s watch for them.

Let’s claim them wherever we find them.

Let’s proclaim them whenever we see them.

Let’s call them forth.

Let’s carry them forward.

Let’s offer them up.

Let’s embody them.

Let’s embrace them.

Let’s give birth to them.

Causes For Hope

 “Hope, like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a practice that becomes spiritual muscle memory. It’s a renewable resource for moving through life as it is, not as we wish it to be.” —Krista Tippett

At the end of her interviews, Krista Tippett, host of the On Being podcast, has taken to asking her guests some form of the following question:

What is giving you cause for hope right now?

With dire warnings from U.N. Scientists that we have little more than a decade to get climate change under control, the deadly California wildfires, widening political divides, and toxic tweets meant to fuel fear and incite anger, it seems a question especially relevant to our times. When we train our attention on all of the individual and collective problems around us, it is far too easy to lose hope. Since hope deferred makes the heart sick (Proverbs 13:6), and if, as Ms. Tippett suggests, hope can become a practice that becomes a resource for living with the life we have, I’ve decided hers is a question worth answering on a daily basis. Maybe you would like to join me.

As I have embarked on this new spiritual practice, my eyes are beginning to glimpse causes for hope everywhere, and in unexpected places. 

The Lyft driver who fled Vietnam decades ago, who has a business that exports old plastic fishing nets used on commercial fishing boats back to his home country where they are put to use by fishermen there. When no longer useable, they are melted down and reused to manufacture other goods. Prior to his business, many of those nets were simply discarded into the ocean. 

The new wave of young women elected to political offices around the country. 

Young parents in our family raising their little boys to give words to their feelings, and their little girls to speak up for themselves.

A school educating girls to think critically, lead confidently, and live honorably. 

Girls who code. 

Climbing hills pain free after almost a year of slow but steady rehab. 

And, true confession, the Seattle Seahawks beating the Green Bay Packers. 

What is giving you cause of hope right now?