Elder + Connector + Writer
Life is best written in pencil. When we are too quick to ink in our days we become attached to our plans rather than open to possibilities, and focused on completing projects rather than connecting with people.
Life as rough draft, not finished manuscript, because the story is always unfolding.
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
C.S. Lewis
At the end of the day, at the end of it all, I want to be able to say that I knew love, that I had the courage to be vulnerable.
With gratitude to Kyle for sharing this quote.
Last week someone left too soon, and another lingered too long. Both are gone now, and regardless of the timing, death has a way of giving one pause. Of inviting us to linger at the edge between death and life and be transformed by what we find there. Of encouraging us to begin to live ever more fully even as we move surely toward our own ending. There is no good, perfect, or right time for a life to end, but when it has, we who remain are offered another chance to consider what to do with the time we have.
When Tom and I first got married we started walking in the early morning. At first it was a slow stroll with umbrellas when it rained, but it wasn’t long before we ditched the umbrellas and speeded up our pace. Side-by-side we began to navigate our way to the marriage we have today. It was on those walks that we started learning who we were and who we wanted to become, where we’d been and where we wanted to go. We laughed, cried, argued, made-up, and sometimes we just talked, but step by step we learned how to live in step with ourselves and one another. A lot can happen on a walk.
A walk is a powerful practice that can be implemented almost anywhere at almost anytime and for almost any purpose.
A Walk In The Valley
When my one and only sister and I found ourselves at odds and unable to connect, we found our way back to one another by walking in the valley below her home. There were hard truths to be named, questions to be answered, forgiveness to be sought and extended, and because of our Walk In The Valley, we’ve never lost each other again. A lot can happen on a walk.
Take A Walk With The Captain
One of my dear friends is a retired US Navy captain, and in her years as a powerful and influential leader, she instigated a practice she called Take A Walk With The Captain. It was an open invitation for anyone on her team to sign up for a 20 minute walk with her. No agenda other than the one created by the person walking by her side. On those walks trust was gained, stories were shared, and questions were answered. A lot can happen on a walk.
Walk The Problem
An organization I worked with encouraged employees to Walk The Problem. Rather than try to resolve the conflict, have the hard conversation, or clear up a misunderstanding in an office behind closed doors, people took the problem outside and onto the track that surrounded the building. Walking together had a way of clearing the air and leaving whatever it was in the dust. A lot can happen on a walk.
After 25 years together we value our walks more than ever. The exercise is great, but even better is the development of the practice of squaring our shoulders in the same direction, and stepping out together.
A lot can happen on a walk.
Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.
Albert Einstein
Today on a hike through a lush and fertile forest on the coast of Washington, I remembered a few things best not forgotten.
Everything and everyone are connected.
While we often live as if we are separate from one another, in the end, whether we flourish or perish, we will do so together.
Life springs from death.
When we are gone, what we have left behind will be the ground from which new life takes root.
The future will always be uncertain.
While we can’t see into the future, walking the path that is ours is the only way to create the one we envision.
Nothing informs better than a walk on the wild side.
It’s been in the works for awhile now. It all started with a phone call from a friend. We have a monthly video call where three of us connect to check in, go deep, and help one another become more of who we are called to be. He had booked a house on a beach overlooking the water for another gathering, but had the house for a full week, and wondered what it might be like to join him there, and for good measure, to bring our partners as well. Instantly we were all in. The dates went on our calendars, funds were contributed, and we all agreed to bring plenty of good food, good wine, and something meaningful to share with each other.
On our last phone call we talked about what we wanted the time to look like.
Did we have an agenda?
Were there topics to be covered?
Well. Yes and no.
The agenda? To show up as ourselves.
The topics to be covered? Whatever felt real, relevant, and revelatory.
It’s as simple as that and as hard as it gets. Kind of like life.
Until we brought Gracie-the-chocolate-labradoodle into our home, I thought a prong collar was a cruel device used to torture dogs. That was then. This is now. As it turns out, this scary looking metal collar, when fitted properly and used correctly, is both extremely effective and very humane.
Our vision for this joyful creature who now shares our home and fills our hearts is to be the happiest four-legged, curly-haired girl she can be, to know how to keep herself out of harms way, and to ultimately have the maximum amount of freedom possible. Such freedom has to be earned, and with the help of her prong collar, she is banking her freedom chips faster than you can say Fetch!
Ii isn’t punishment, it’s information. Do this, not that.
It’s like a tap on the shoulder, not a slap in the face. This is okay, that’s not.
It increases self-restraint. Stop now, not later.
It provides awareness. This is safe, that’s not.
It builds connection. I’m ok if you’re ok.
To put it simply—the prong collar is nothing more than a useful feedback mechanism that helps Gracie learn what’s okay, and what’s not. Which, come to think about it, is something we human types need too.
PS: Gracie wanted us to tell you, Never use a prong collar without proper instruction first.
With gratitude for Matt Luchsinger and the team at NWB Dogs for helping us be better humans for Gracie.
You know those people who always find a parking space right when and where they need it?? I know. Right?!
I’m one of them.
When we first got married I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why Tom always took the first parking spot he found, even if it was in the last space in the last row in the last outskirts of the parking lot. Not that this approach is all bad. It assures us of a spot, gives us a little more exercise, and is usually closer to the exit when it’s time to leave.
However.
It didn’t occur to him that a better spot would show up, and being the easy, laidback guy that I love, he was good with that. I wasn’t. It didn’t occur to me that a better spot wouldn’t show up. Case in point. Last Saturday we had to head in to Hood River to pick up food from the caterer for an event later that day. Weekends in our bustling little tourist mecca start to heat up this time of year, and parking spaces can be hard to come by. Unless you’re me. About a half an hour before it was time to pick up the food, we were sitting in a shady spot having a little lunch and Tom mentioned that it might be virtually impossible to find a parking spot near, much less in front of Boda’s Kitchen on a busy Saturday, especially since they are located in the heart of downtown. He would drop me off and then drive around the block while I ran in to pick things up.
First of all, this would make things challenging as there were going to be multiple large trays to bring out. And second of all, after 25 years together, let’s have a little more faith here.
Heading up the hill we could see Boda’s, and the parking spaces in front were taken. He looked a tiny bit smug.
Oh ye of little faith.
Just as we drove over the cross street before Boda’s, the car smack-dab in front of the entrance pulled out, and just like that, we slid in, I retrieved our order, and in short order, we were on our way.
This kind of thing has happened more times than I can count, and I’m not quite sure what it means, except maybe the faith that we will have what we need when and where we need it.
As we pulled out of the parking space I tried not to act too smug, because we all know what cometh before a fall.
“Life is hard, and God is good.”
Denny
When I made the decision to leave my first marriage many years ago, I needed to talk to my pastor. Thankfully my pastor was Denny. While staying in a marriage that had become dangerous was not an option, my faith made an already difficult choice even more complicated. Walking into his office at the church, he pulled a chair up for me so that we were facing each other, took a deep breath, looked into my eyes and said, As your pastor I know what I’m supposed to say, but I haven’t walked in your shoes. What do you need and how can I help? What I needed was the grace of God, prayers for the road ahead, and, as an about-to-become-single-stay-at-home mom, I needed a job.
As we sat there he listened to me without judgement, handed me a Kleenex as the tears fell, prayed with me, and then, he gave me a job..
It had taken me a long time to come to my decision, and when I finally found the courage to leave, my biggest fear was that God would stay behind at church and close the door, leaving me to fend for myself. My greatest surprise was finding that God came with me, helped me pack my bags, carry them from my old life and load them into the new, and with the help of His good and faithful servant Denny, gave me a job cleaning classrooms inside the walls of the church in which I would always be welcome .
Death is never easy on those left behind. Yet somehow the earth trembles a bit more when some souls leave the planet. Today, the earth shook as Denny left the planet far sooner than any of us could have imagined. Denny, I am so grateful you were right. Life is hard, and God is good.
Last night we gathered to celebrate the life of my dearest friend’s father who passed a month ago at the age of 95. We told stories, ate her lasagna (his favorite) and drank Manhattans (also his favorite), and at the end of the evening I read a piece I wrote a few years ago about a beautiful wooden bowl we received as a wedding present. Life looks different now than when I wrote these words, but they still have a ring of truth to them, and probably always will.
We have a God Jar in our home. It is a beautiful, hand-turned wooden bowl created by my best friend’s dad. It was a wedding present and I’ve never quite known what to do with it. Until now. It sits on a little round metal table that I found at a junk store somewhere, and I guess it’s kind of like an altar. I like the idea of an altar coming from the Goodwill or a dumpster. It isn’t all churchy and shiny and serious. It is uneven, rusty and beyond imperfect. Like life.
The God Jar sits on the junk store altar next to a little pot that one of my daughters threw in a pottery class. It isn’t perfect either, so it fits perfectly, and is filled with blank, torn up pieces of paper and a pen. Whenever anyone has something that they need help with, something that is bigger than they are, they write it on a piece of that paper and tuck it in the God Jar. Every day I stop at least once if not a hundred times, put my hand on the God Jar and ask for help with whatever is in there.
Now, God is not in the jar. It’s not a magic jar. It is just a simple way of remembering to have faith and trust that life will work out.
God’s Jar has brought faith to our home in a new way. My girls ask me to put things in the God Jar, and their friends slip notes in there when I’m not looking. I am always putting things in there too, and no matter how many things go into that jar, there is always room for more. Stuff happens when something goes in the jar. Things in the jar have resolved, grown or gone away. Opportunities have come knocking, solutions have arisen, and cups have runneth over. Jobs have been found and bad relationships left behind. Forgiveness has been extended and health has returned. Strength for one more day has been mustered and next steps have become clear.
But lately my faith has been sort of shaky. We are facing all kinds of changes and transitions, the future seems sort of rocky, and I can’t see as far down the road as I would like. Rather than walk in faith, I creep in fear. I write down my concerns, fears, hopes and dreams, put them in the jar, and then walk away, but I can still feel the weight of them on my shoulders..
Then one day it dawned on me that I might just need to climb in the jar too. Put my whole self in, just like the hokey-pokey. So I did. I just took one of those little torn up pieces of paper, wrote my name, and dropped it in. I have to be honest though, ever since I got in the jar with all the other things, life still feels shaky. As if God is shaking me and the stuff in the jar all around. I don’t like the feeling. I feel out of control. And then I remember the hokey-pokey. You put your whole self in and you shake it all around. That’s what it’s all about.
MOLLY DAVIS is the founder of Trailhead Coaching & Consulting. She writes about lessons and adventures from the trail, and knows from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to discover where you want to be, is to get lost where you don't. If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to pass it along.
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