Living With It

There are parts of myself that I wish I could resolve, put to rest, or leave behind. One of those is the feeling of anger that flashes, usually inwardly, but occasionally outwardly. It’s been with me for as long as I can remember, and yet I would love to think that I could unravel this thread that runs through my life, and leave it behind me for good and all. But the more likely truth is that I can’t, and I won’t, so rather than angst about it, I am learning to accept that it, like all the other parts of me, are probably going to stick around until I leave the planet.

It is an important emotion, and I probably couldn’t survive without it. Anger lets me know when something is out of whack, out of balance, or out of order, and conveys that there is something I need to say, do, or consider. However, sometimes it’s just a flash that gets triggered without a call to some sort of action on my part other than to sit with it until it dissipates. I’ve had therapy about it, processed it, prayed, written and talked about it, figured out where it comes from, who it comes from, and yet for better or for worse, it seems to be here to stay, and will be until I die.

I’ve decided that I can live with that.

A Question Worth Answering

Today in another rich conversation with my spiritual director, the topic of things I want to make happen, work I want to step into, but haven’t, came up. Again.

After a thoughtful pause, he quietly posed a question. What has kept you from stepping into it up until now? Now that is a question worth answering.

What is something you have really wanted to do? But haven’t.

What is something you have really wanted to make happen? But haven’t?

What is something you have really wanted to bring to life? But haven’t?

What is something you have really wanted to accomplish? But haven’t?

What has kept you from stepping into it up until now?

Now that is a question worth answering.

For all of us.

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Road Trip

A good friend who is no longer with us was fond of saying that when God wants to teach us something, He takes us on a trip. I love that idea. Kind of like She is riding “shotgun” next to us, and of all the possible trips we can take, the most insightful, instructive, and inspiring, a road trip wins out, hands down. Extra points for other people in the car.

A road trip requires us to pack for the trip to the best of our ability, and yet it teaches us that we can never be prepared for every contingency, and if we try, we will be burdened with too much stuff, and miss the opportunity to get creative, wing it, and work with what we’ve got.

A road trip taken with others gives us the chance to connect in new ways, hold new kinds of conversations, and, find new ways in which we drive each other crazy. Enclosed in the same vehicle, headed in the same direction, we might just discover new ways of being on the same page.

A road trip lets us get up close and personal with anything that grabs our interest along the way. If we build in enough time to allow for a few side trips, detours, and unexpected surprises, we return home more informed, inspired, and possibly inclined to learn more about something we encountered along our way.

A road trip always has a snafu, big or small. A flat tire, road work delays, the campground that is full, the trail that is closed for the season, or the unexpected snowstorm with our chains still in the box…back in our garage. It is the snafus that make the story interesting and worth telling again, and again, and again in the years ahead.

A road trip brings out the best in us, and, the worst in us, and when those two collide, well, that’s why God took us on the trip in the first place. Stuck in a car, with miles to go, we have a chance to bring out more of the best in us, and leave behind more of the worst in us.

Roadtrip!

The Chase

Chasing squirrels is high on Gracie’s to-do list any day of the week. Because she can’t safely be off-leash out in our neck of the woods, that makes actually chasing one a moot point. If she tries, as she did yesterday, forgetting that she is tethered to an old stump, she will get caught up short in very short order.

The thing is, the squirrels don’t know she is on a leash.

This morning a tree squirrel who calls our property home was afraid to make a run for the woods, never realizing that freedom was his for the taking. Flitting from branch to branch he chattered constantly, trying to scold and scare her away. She circled the tree, jumped up on the trunk of the tree, and sat by the tree, but no matter how much Gracie wanted to chase that squirrel down, her leash wouldn’t let her do it.

Sometimes I want to put my thoughts on a leash. You know the ones. The ones that chatter and scold and scare us and just won’t shut up. What if we put them on a leash and tethered them to an old stump? And when those thought show up chattering and scolding and scaring, we remember that no matter how much those thoughts want to chase us down, the leash on which we’ve put them won’t allow it.

Pick a thought, put it on a leash, tether it to a stump, and head out into the woods where freedom is ours for the taking.

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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Being Present

This morning three things occurred in quick succession:

I tripped over a rock that holds our screen door open because I wasn’t looking where I was going.

I ran into the door of the dog crate because I hadn’t closed it properly.

I was hit on the head when something fell off of a hook because I was moving too fast.

Life was trying to tell me something.

Be present. Instead of being where we are, we look ahead and miss what is right in front of us, or in this case, right under our feet.

Be present. Instead of tending well to what is called for now, we move ahead leaving a trail of unfinished business behind us.

Be present. Instead of running the race set before us like the long distance event that it is, we sprint ahead until life crashes down around us.

In all three instances in that short chain of events, the message was the same.

Be present.

Photo by Martin Damboldt from Pexels

Cleaning Up Our Mess

Any good dog owner knows that it is their responsibility to clean up after their pup, especially when in shared public spaces. Scoop up whatever gets deposited, take it back home, and throw it in the trash can.

It’s pretty straightforward.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

Today, returning from a morning walk with a friend and her dog, toting a poop bag, we came across an obviously filled bag that someone had decided to leave near the sidewalk, assuming I guess, that someone else would take care of it. They assumed right. We did.

However.

That’s not how it works.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

We clean up after our dogs, and ourselves for that matter, we don’t leave it for someone else to take care of.

If it’s our fault, we clean it.

If we hurt someone, we clean it up.

If we get it wrong, we clean it up.

If we make a poor choice, we clean it up.

If we avoid what is ours to do, we clean it up.

If it’s our mess, we clean it up.

Life can be messy enough without having to pick up after someone else.

Care-Full

So often what we never seem to get around to, is taking care of ourselves. I’m going to go out on a pretty sturdy limb here, and say that this is especially true of women. Our days are so easily filled with tending to the often very necessary and important needs of others, that we easily find ourselves, at the end of the day, resolving to do something about our own lack of attention to our own.

What is one act of care that you can offer to yourself today? This week? This month?

The Residual Effect

re·sid·u·al/riˈzijo͞oəl/

adjective - remaining after the greater part or quantity has gone

 Recently I had the experience of spending several days with very good friends. Three of us are colleagues and meet together on a monthly basis for a video visit. Our intent is always to show up authentically, speak truthfully, listen deeply, and help each other become more of the people we are meant to be. One of our trio had the idea of finding time for a longer connection. One that was more  up close and personal than can transpire in a couple of hours every month. A time to step aside from the goings on of our everyday lives, and for good measure, to bring our partners with us. I wrote about this experience in an earlier post at the beginning of our time in the house overlooking the water that we rented for our getaway...

Our agenda? To show up as ourselves.

The topics for our time together? Whatever felt real, relevant, and revelatory. 

Looking back a week later, it is clear to me that when it came to showing up authentically and sharing the real, the relevant, and the revelatory, everyone knocked it out of the park. Not because of a need to perform or succeed, but rather out of a desire to be known and seen.  Riding the ferry back to the lives that awaited each of us, I think we all felt enlivened, enriched, and challenged by our conversations and the connections forged over morning coffee, long meandering hikes in the woods, shared meals, and time spent lingering over another glass of wine. We shared stories both fragile and funny, read poetry aloud to one another, dug deeper into what makes us tick and the forces that have shaped us into the people we are today. We posed questions and gave our best answers, cooked for one another and cleaned up after each other, and when we left it is safe to say we all knew ourselves, and one another, better than when we arrived, and we can’t wait to do it again. The cool thing is, we don’t have to wait for a next time to experience more of the goodness that happened, because there seems to be a residual effect that is keeping the experience alive. Whether that means a sense of being more present and engaged, experiencing the light of clarity, or a renewed sense of purpose and vocation, our time together changed us.

What we experience has a residual effect that can linger and endure for good or for ill, which suggests that we are wise to be mindful of how we spend our time and with whom. 

Written with gratitude for Tom, David, Theresa, Alia, and Kyle.  

Feedback Anyone?

How often do you wake up in the morning and hope someone asks Do you mind if I give you some feedback? For most of us, those words rarely lead us to think that someone has something awesome to share with us. We generally prepare ourselves to hear something that shines a light on our shortcomings, failures, or mis-steps, and the truth is, sometimes, ok, many times, it does highlight something that we didn’t see ourselves, but wish we had.

This morning, after reading my latest blog post (Sunday School) which talked about the biblical story of creation and what it might tell us about ourselves, my husband Tom asked if he could share his perspective with me.

Umm. Sure.

“If someone didn’t know your theology, they might think that you believe that the world was literally created in six days. They might not understand that you were saying that the story is meant to point us to a much deeper truth.” My first response was that he hadn’t read it carefully enough, and then I remembered who it was that was offering me the gift of his feedback. As a scientist and a writer himself, he is a careful reader, and, he is also one of my most trusted voices. When he speaks, I (generally) try and listen, so took a deep breath and asked him to tell me more.

In my mind I had specifically written that piece to point to a deeper truth, not as theological commentary on anyone’s understanding of a powerful story of creation. I wrote it to encourage each of us to take seriously the unique errand upon we have been sent. To remind us that when we do the work we are called to do, and share the gifts that are ours to share, we can look upon all that we have done, and see that it is good. Just as the Creator does in the story. That was my point. Tom’s point was that readers might get wrapped up in a theological debate and miss the point altogether. It would have only taken a little more effort on my part to provide some context for my readers. To set the table a bit better before inviting them to partake of the offering.

It’s never fun to feel like we’ve missed the mark, and yet missing it is the only way we can improve our marksmanship. Whether as a writer, speaker, teacher, or coach, the only way I can get better is through honest feedback from trusted sources. The same holds true for all of us. In order to become more of who we are meant to be, to live into our fullness, and yes, to reflect the image of the creative power behind everything, we need to hear from others what they see in us that we cannot see in ourselves. Feedback is always a gift, not because it is always accurate or right or deserved, but because it provides a perspective other than our own, and helps us better understand how we are showing up in the world.

Whether that world took 6 days to create, or 4.6 billion years.

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