Hidden Blessings

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:1

The last thing on her list was a patio off the back of her home. Hers is an old house from which she is writing a new chapter, and reflecting on her past and imagining her future would happen best in an outdoor sanctuary in her own back yard. It wouldn’t have to be big. Just enough room for outdoor furniture, some pots, a place to sip morning coffee and gather with friends for a glass of wine in the evening.

But the to-do list is long, the days for sitting out on a patio are growing shorter, and building one from the ground up would call upon already stretched resources of time, energy, and the help of others. As much as she yearned for a sacred outdoor space to call her own, looking out on her back yard she quietly let go and decided to be content with what she had, while never losing sight of what might be. If that isn’t faith, I don’t know what is.

Heading out into the back yard the next morning to dig up some weeds, her shovel hit something hard. A few shovels full of dirt later she discovered an old brick. Digging further, another one. And then another, and another, and another, until an old brick patio, buried under half a foot of sod, appeared. It had been there all along. Exactly what she had imagined and even better than what she’d hoped for, had she pushed to make a new patio happen she would have missed the blessing hidden right beneath her feet.

“Faith is a place of mystery, where we find the courage to believe in what we cannot see and the strength to let go of our fear of uncertainty.” – Brene Brown

The Muk

A space is just a space, until you make it something more.

When my sister and brother-in-law bought their last home, they bought it not because it was the place of their dreams, but because it was the only one they could agree on. Determined to make a decision, they invited me to go along as they drove from listing to listing to listing. It was a long day.

At the time, they were moving from the home where they had raised their daughters, and they weren’t exactly sure what the next chapter would bring. He however was sure he wanted a shop, and she was certain she wanted a home with some charm and a garden. Sometimes I rode with him, and sometimes with her. Like I said. It was a long day.

By the end of the afternoon, he had his eye on a so-so house with a shop on a very busy street, and she was starry-eyed about the adorable cottage with a secret garden that overlooked the lanes to the ferry. We’d also looked at a townhome in Mukilteo. It overlooked the Puget Sound, and while it had a killer view of Whidbey Island, It didn’t have a shop, and it didn’t have a secret garden. With no decision in sight and all in need of caffeine, we headed to Starbucks. Breaking the silence, I asked each of them a question. Could she live in the so-so house on the busy street with the shop? No, she could not. Could he live in the adorable cottage with the secret garden that overlooked the ferry lanes? No, he could not. Well then, I asked, could they live in the townhome overlooking the Puget Sound with the killer view of Whidbey Island, but without a shop or a secret garden?

They could, and, as it turned out, they did.

After fourteen years, they are moving out of the The Muk. Even though it wasn’t what they’d imagined, or even hoped for, they moved in and made it work. They made it into a lovely space with lovely furnishings.

As it turns out, it was so much more than that.

A few nights ago their daughters, sons-in-law, and a passel of grandkids showed up to say goodbye to the The Muk. Apparently it wasn’t a place one could simply leave without a proper farewell. Crowded onto a small balcony, stories of times at the Muk began to unfold, painting a picture of a shelter from storms, a place where all who came felt safe, seen, heard, and loved. The Muk was a refuge of healing, hope, and a place where the truth, no matter how hard, was spoken and heard, and freedom was found.

When they moved in it was just a space with a view.

When they moved in they made it into a lovely space with lovely furnishings.

But a space with a view, no matter how beautiful, and a carefully furnished place no matter how lovely, do not a refuge make. Only love and grace and faith and truth and laughter and family and friendship and courage and compassion and tradition and extravagant welcome can do that.

Farewell to the Muk. We are all better for having known you.

On A Dime

All we have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given us.

~ GandalfJ.R.R Tolkien: The Fellowship of the Ring

It is good to remember that our days are numbered. It is hard to be reminded of how quickly our number can be up. Let’s make our lives count.

It is good to remember that life is the currency given to us to spend as we choose. It is hard to be reminded that life can turn on a dime. Let’s spend our lives well.

Making Friends With It

Without trying to ruin your day, we’re all going die. From the moment we enter the world we are already on our way out, so the sooner we make friends with our own death, the sooner we can befriend the life that is ours to live.

Death is not the enemy. It is the unlived life that is.

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.

Off The Grid

We turned our phones off on Friday night. On Saturday we headed out on horseback for five days into the Eagle Cap Wilderness in the Wallowa Mountains. Today, we turned them back on.

For five days we never heard a ding, ring, or ping alerting us to an incoming message, email, phone call, news update, or calendar alert.

For five days we heard the sound of the steady steps of our horses on rocky trails, the wind in the trees, the crackle of an early morning fire, and the deep quiet that can only be found in nature.

For five days the inner chatter retreated, making room for new thoughts to emerge.

For five days the outside world faded away, opening the door to the one within.

For five days the rush to get somewhere ebbed, making room for the present moment to flow.

For five days stress, distraction, and information gave way to space, discovery, and insight.

Driving down the road, returning to our lives, how do we use what we’ve experienced over the last five days now that we are back on the grid?

Summer School: Day Five

I don’t have to go there.

Old habits and patterns die hard. In order to let go of them requires intention, awareness, and willingness. As I learn to step back and observe myself, I am able to recognize when I am about to fall into the same old ruts. And once I see them, I have a responsibility to change them. Just because I’ve gone there before doesn’t mean I have to go there now.

What is one habit or pattern that you would like to leave behind? Where do you typically go when triggered, and where might you go instead?

Summer School: Day Four

The one pattern that changes everything again and again and again.

There is only one pattern that remains constant. Order. Disorder. Reorder. While we long for order, it never lasts, and when change comes, big or small, like it or not we find ourselves once again in the mess of disorder. While messy it may be, disorder is always, always, always an invitation to put our life and ourselves back together differently in ways that better connect who we are with how we live.

Where is life inviting you to brave the mess of disorder? What might it look like to put yourself and your life together in order to better connect who you are with how you live?

(With thanks to Fr. Richard Rohr for his teaching on Order, Disorder, Reorder)

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Summer School: Day Three

There’s beauty on the battlefield.

Life is hard. Always has been. Always will be. And sometimes, it feels like we are battling for our lives. That’s because we are. Everything that comes our way is a chance to fight tooth and nail to bring the best of what we have to even the worst of circumstances. When we do that, it is a beautiful thing no matter what the battle.

What have you had to fight for and how are you better for it?

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Summer School:Day Two

Margins matter.

In order to show up fully for what life brings my way, building in margins, no matter how small, make a big difference. Just because I know that doesn’t mean I always remember that. Without a bit of margin I quickly devolve into my less healthy self and become reactive rather than responsive. It’s not pretty.

What do you know about yourself when it comes to margins, and how do you build them in?

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