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Happy 22nd Birthday, Abby!

Oct 7, 2020 | Mothers and Daughters

For many years I have written you a blog post on this day – commemorating the year that has passed and all I have witnessed and marveling at in you, your life, and who you are ever becoming. I’m not writing that post today – at least not as I have before.

Instead, I want to say “thank you.”

I know – being born wasn’t up to you; nor were so many of the memories you have created for me during these two-plus decades. Still, it’s the best way for me to capture what I feel when I look back, when I look ahead, when I look within, when I look at you.

Thank you.

Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for pushing me. Thank you for arguing with me. Thank you for laughing with me. Thank you for crying with me. And thank you for letting me do all of this with you. Thank you for being who you are: compassionate, intuitive, empathic, sensitive, beautiful, brave, brilliant, full of longing, driven, committed, passionate, funny, quirky, heart-centered, and so much more. Thank you for all that makes you you: your love for the Enneagram, great music, your amazing puppy, Jasper, sinfully delicious confections, hot Cheetos with queso, and the same kind of sushi as me. (Admittedly, I’ve left a few things out, but these come to mind as more recent iterations.) Thank you for modeling love: for your friends, your family, your amazing puppy, Jasper, your new home in Montana, and so much more. Thank you for being willing and able to name what you want, what you hope for, what disappoints you, what causes you pain, when you hurt, when you’re sad, what matters, what you can let go of and what you cling to with ferocious tenacity. Thank you for being honest and straightforward and endlessly committed to growing, developing, being the best you can be for yourself and others – even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard. Thank you for modeling for me what 22 can look like – grounded, clear, wise, boundaried, and strong (all of which evaded me far beyond my 22nd birthday). Thank you for extending me the grace to change and transform and fail and fall and hope and hurt as a mom, a sister, a daughter, a friend, a leader, a woman. Thank you for loving me. And thank you for the gift, the miracle, really, of being privileged to love you.

Those who are yet to love you have no idea what they’re in for, all that they are yet to receive, all the change they will undergo, all the memories and experiences they will cherish – all because of you. 22 years ago I couldn’t possibly have had any idea what I was in for either. That’s probably just as well. My heart would not have been able to hold it all at once: holding you was almost more than it could take, more than I could believe or imagine. And that sensation, that experience, that gift is just as true today as it was on October 7, 1998.

Thank you, sweet girl, for showing up on the planet, in my world, and ever in my heart.

I love you.

Happy Birthday.

I’m right about this…

Jun 25, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power

Chances are pretty high that if your desire is strong enough, acute enough, and impossible to dissuade, others will think you a bit crazy and probably way too much.

That’s the strongest indication that you’re on the right track.

Chances are pretty high that even if you get what you most desire, that more loss will yet come, that heartbreak will still occur, and that you will somehow yet endure.

That’s the strongest indication that you are amazing, strong, and more than enough.

Chances are pretty high that holding on to hope and letting go of control seem like complete contradictions and that you have the capacity to allow them both.

That’s the strongest indication that you are other-worldly and powerful beyond-compare.

Chances are pretty high that you will be called to stand your ground and defend that which you know-that-you-know-that-you-know is right and true and worthy.

That’s the strongest indication that you are oh-so-wise and most-definitely not to be triffled with.

Chances are pretty high that you need not listen to one voice / person / god / demon / cultural message / internal hiss that tells you anything other. And when you don’t?

That’s the strongest indication that you are listening to that know-that-you-know-that-you-know voice within; you believe you are worth being heard.

Chances are pretty high that I’m right about all of this. Not because I’m so amazing, but because you are.

No additional indication needed.

May it be so.

God on a Woman’s Terms

Jul 31, 2017 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Spirituality

For most of us, the word “sacred” conjures some thought of God.

Perhaps you associate this with a positive set of adjectives, ideas, beliefs, experiences, and memories.

Perhaps not.

  • Perhaps your experience or understanding of God is one you’ve worked hard to redefine and redeem (on your own terms).
  • Perhaps you’ve walked away from all you were taught and have chosen to not reconstruct anything in its place.
  • Perhaps you’ve never learned of God in any formal way, but have always known that some greater power or force or energy existed; you just knew, no one had to tell you.
  • Perhaps you’ve known God by another name, by many names.

Whichever “perhaps” is yours or combination thereof, we can agree that it’s a complicated word, a complicated concept, and highly diverse.

As I grew up, in the way that I grew up, a diversity of understanding or experience was suspect. There was only one God and only one way in which “He” was to be understood and all others were misguided, at best, dangerous, at worst. We could only hope and pray that any who followed anything (or anyone) other would someday find their way to the truth.

As I grew up, my understanding of God changed. It continues to – for which I am profoundly grateful. The sacred (on my terms) is hardly static, but ever-evolving, ever-shifting, ever-growing, ever-transforming itself…and me.

  • My grown-up understanding of God allows, welcomes, and encourages a diversity of experience, naming, theology, and expression.
  • My grown up understanding of God recognizes that any attempt to define the Divine is mere folly and in and of itself delimits the very God I might try to comprehend.
  • My grown-up understanding of God encourages any form and comprehension of such because it realizes that if God is real, if God exists, if God actually is, then God’s very self is quite capable of managing a myriad of forms, thank you very much, and hardly needs my opinion or dogmatic stance.
  • My grown up understanding of God has let go of a Deity that deals in judgment, retribution, or shame.
  • My grown-up understanding of God realizes increasingly that God cannot be understood at all, only experienced, trusted, believed in, doubted, denied, and sometimes all of the above simultaneously!
  • And my grown-up understanding of God doesn’t have to be anything like yours.

I ran a quick search on Amazon in the “books” category with the word God. 481,502 entries exist – which is just the tip of the iceberg, given that the number is merely reflective of those with “God” in the title. I point this out because what I have articulated above is hardly exhaustive, hardly conclusive, hardly anything at all in the context of the Divine. As it should be.

Defining God is a paradox.

Any God worth believing in far-exceeds definition. So I prefer to remain confused, lost in mystery, ever-asking questions, pushing boundaries, risking sacrilege (which I don’t actually worry about at all), being dangerous (which I am completely fine with), and leaning- leaning-leaning into my desire.

Because the God I want to believe in is the God who believes in me. And when I encounter that God, I have come full circle – back to the myself which, if you’ve been following along, is the sacred.

Believe me: your experience and expression of the sacred on your own terms will be profoundly enhanced and exponentially more expansive when you decide for you what, how, and even who the Divine is – and isn’t.

The decision is yours. The choice is yours. And you can change your mind as you wish. You have permission!

So…do exactly this!

Carve out some time to create a couple of lists. No pressure. Nothing taxing or difficult or even required. Again, just curiosity and grace and kindness. On the first list write out everything that comes to mind when you hear the word God. No editing. No censoring. No holding back. On the second list write out every good quality, characteristic, and/or experience that you most deeply respect, even desire. Again, no holding back. Where do the two lists overlap? (It’s possible that your answer is “nowhere!”) Where do they diverge?

Now, consider a God who looks and feels far more like the second list than the first. If that list described God, what would your belief look like? What would your faith feel like? How would your trust be strengthened and made manifest? What would the sacred now mean? Who would you now be? Mmmmm. Exactly.

May you always remember the Beloved is your divine and sacred self. ~ Earthschool Harmony

My invitation and endless desire on your behalf:

Reclaim the sacred for yourself – on your own terms, in your own ways, through your own lens, on behalf of your own experience. Because you can. Because you must. Because the sacred is you, you know. The real, holy you. And you matter. A lot.

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

May 14, 2014 | Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

If all your power, compassion, love, and strength roared into any room, any conversation, any relationship? If you glided through earth and sky and sea, nothing able to hold you down, hold you under, hold you captive? If you rode upon the back of a lion, blazing across the surface of the sun? If you danced in the light of the fire with abandon; no hint of restraint? If you spoke at a nearly guttural level, bringing words, ideas, and emotions to the surface that surprised even you? If you conjured up the most powerful and potent wisdom then dispersed it into the darkest of spaces, the hardest of hearts, the saddest of souls, the hopeless, the helpless?

Who would you be? Let me tell you: You would be you.

The woman who is set-loose, impossible to contain, and a carrier of the Divine. The woman you see in your dreams and get glimpses of when you’re angry, ecstatic, passionate, heartbroken. The woman who knows what to do and what to say. The woman who would eradicate all injustice with a single flick of her wrist. The woman who would heal all hurts in one huge embrace. The woman who would sing her kin into strength like a Pied Piper-ess. The woman who, with one inhale, would gather the galaxy into her very soul and with one exhale, restore our wounded planet to wholeness once again. The woman who dances and dances and dances the world into joy and fullness and passion and truth.

The Maiden. The Princess. The Queen. The Crone. The Goddess. The Mother. The Muse. The Witch. Lilith. Eve. The Madonna. The Magdalene. And the entire Angelic Host. This is you, woman. This is you!

Within you dwell all the women who have gone before – your direct lineage, to be sure, and that of every woman whose story was ever told and especially those that weren’t. Within you sing the voices of thousands who have lain silent for generations but who are, even now, gathering their strength, their force, their shared wisdom to cry out, to proclaim, to weep, to laugh, to transform. Within you flows royal, sacred blood that is yours to own, yours to take nourishment from, yours to transfuse into all and everything you love.

You know that this is true; that this is you. You’ve been feeling it more and more. And truth-be-told, it scares you a bit (though not all that much). This you is powerful. And this power, your power is dark and swirling and uncontrollable (which is exactly as it should be). This power, your power has no time for playing nice or mincing words. This power, your power is not even remotely interested in being restrained, in playing small. This power, this you is leaving any and all boundaried, imprisoned existence for the expanse of the heavens, the grit of the dirt, the moon-pulsing tides of the sea, the song of the trees, the light of the flame, the call of the crow.

Who would you be if you didn’t hold back?

You already know her.

You already know.

I Am This Woman

Oct 1, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality, Women's Wisdom

I wrote what follows for the women’s event, Conversations (mentioned in my last post). As the days have progressed I’ve marinated in these two realities and wondered – even more than when I wrote them – how they might be true for me. 

In the first chapter of Proverbs, a series of verses appear that speak about wisdom – wisdom described as feminine. 

Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. At the busiest corner she cries out; at the entrance of the city gates she speaks…Proverbs 1:20-21 

What if “wisdom” at the city gates is not just the use of the feminine pronoun, a descriptive metaphor, but really me?

As a woman in leadership, this image feels more than familiar. I often feel on the outside. I’m near the city and can even see what’s inside, but I’m not ever let completely in. I often speak, raise my voice, and yes, even cry out; but am not heard.

And I know that I am wise – not in metaphor, but in reality. From my on-the-edges viewpoint I see different things than those inside. From where I sit, and sometimes stand, I hear different things than those inside. From where I live, work, and love I experience different things (personally, institutionally, relationally) than those inside. These sights, sounds, and experiences gift me with wisdom.

It’s a painful reality: growth and beauty coming from misunderstanding, exclusion, and pain. Will I continue to cry out? Will I continue to speak, hear, and act in (and as) wisdom? Will I continue to raise my voice in ways that call others to see beyond their walls, their perspectives, their normative realities, their privilege and power?

These verses are more than a metaphorical use of the feminine pronoun for me. I know this woman. I am this woman. 

In the last chapter of Proverbs, a series of verses appear that have been understood as a prescriptive text for the perfect woman/wife. She is clothed in strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come. Proverbs 31:25 

What if this woman is not just the perfect wife, but a metaphor for God’s hope on my behalf; imagery of how God invites me to live?

In these words I simultaneously see a glorious woman and a captivating little girl. The woman stands tall. She walks with condence. She is unafraid. She has seen much, heard much, experienced much and survived. She does not compromise herself and she can be gentle, graceful, and kind because she has known much pain and harm.

The young girl holds her hand over her mouth as she suppresses peals of giggling. She has been given a secret to hold and it’s all she can do to keep it to herself. She runs and leaps and dances through her days because she is filled with the joy of what this secret means – for herself and for others. She is unafraid. She is spontaneous, playful, and even mischievous. She knows no pain or harm.

These two, combined, speak to me of what I most desire for myself. All that has gone before and all that is yet to come enables me to be clothed in strength and honor. And what I know and hold deeply in my heart of God’s love and care for me and others is what enables me to laugh, even if only to myself.

Will I stand tall? Will I wear the strength and dignity that are uniquely mine because of the pain and harm I have known? Will I laugh because of the God who shares a secret with me that no one and nothing can destroy? These verses are more than just a description of the perfect wife. I know this woman. I am this woman. 

These women – metaphorical and real – are who I want to be: wise, listening to and living with those on the margins, gaining strength through perseverance and struggle, dignied and fearless, forever laughing with the abandon of a child. God knows and loves this woman. I am becoming this woman.