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Treasuring All that is Precious

Mar 23, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, My sort-of Sermons

As I write this (early January, 2023), I am in Toronto at the home of my dear friend, Tanya Geisler. I was scheduled to fly there nearly three years ago, but had to cancel at the last minute because of my dad’s sudden and unexpected illness, days thereafter, his death. Then Covid. And border restrictions. And leaving my job. And moving across the country. And life. Now, at last, as of this past Thursday, I am here.

Tanya and I met online more than a decade ago. 2010, if I were to take a guess. I knew of her and somehow, shockingly, she knew of me. I decided to invite a small group of women to an in-person event, certain every one of them would say no. Three days together with no agenda—just time and space. All of them said yes, instead. Tanya was one of them.

She flew out of Toronto. Changed planes somewhere in the U.S. Landed in Seattle. Took a shuttle to the ferry dock. Took a ferry to Whidbey Island. Took another shuttle to where I picked her up. Then, having never seen me in person and after travelling for far too many hours and feeling a three-hour time difference, she jumped out of the van and literally ran to me, arms wide open. That embrace? Words fail me.

When I got here three nights ago, I felt that same embrace.

I leave tomorrow. She’ll embrace me one more time. It seems too soon. I cannot, would not trade these precious days for anything in the world.

*****

My mom, knowing how much I love the writing of Ann Patchett, recently told me about her latest book, a collection of essays entitled, These Precious Days. My library loan expired before I got all the way through it, but I’m back on the waiting list. Before it was out of my grasp, I highlighted these words:

I’d been afraid I’d somehow been given a life I hadn’t deserved, but that’s ridiculous. We don’t deserve anything – not the suffering and not the golden light. It just comes.

This is how I often feel when I reflect on my relationship with Tanya. I don’t deserve it. Maybe better stated, I’ve not done anything to deserve it. It just came to me, and to us. It’s precious, sacred even. It’s a gift of grace.

In truth, there are countless, countless people and stories and memories and experiences in my life that are just like this. They have “just come”—in both suffering and in light. They have changed me, strengthened me, shaped me, and ushered me more deeply into a sense of awareness and acceptance and gratitude.

Precious, to be sure.

Why would we turn “precious” into something that is, well, less so?

I don’t have definitive answers, but I am reminded of a story . . .

*****

I got married when I was 31 years old; my husband was almost 48. Given our ages, we were determined to get pregnant as soon as absolutely possible. After five years of infertility (and unsuccessful treatments), I was convinced it would never happen.

You already know how this story played out. I have two amazing daughters. Emma Joy is 26 and Abby is 24. I remain stunned and humbled by their presence in my life. Miracles, both. Precious, to be sure.

But let’s go back to those five years. I did NOT, in any way, see my suffering as precious. In point of fact, I didn’t even allow myself to suffer. At least not visibly, consciously, wisely. Every twenty-eight days I’d give myself a good talking to: “buck up, accept your lot, get it together, trust God’s plan!” If you hear a ridiculous degree of harshness, you’d be right. Even typing it now, I feel a lump in my throat. In many ways, what I told myself (without realizing it until this very moment) was to NOT be precious; to not consider myself more highly than I ought, to not see myself as “entitled” to that which I held most dear and of great worth and price.

Isn’t this sad?

My longing deserved to be precious and dear. My suffering and grief deserved to be precious and inestimable. My hope deserved to be precious and prized. Instead, I told myself that I was being affected, fragile, and pretentious.

We can be so quick to dismiss that which is rich and tender and vulnerable in our lives. To Ann Patchett’s point, we can, all-too-often, see ourselves as undeserving and so, not notice what “just comes.” When what’s precious comes to us through suffering more than light, it’s that much harder to see it as such.

Before I turn this around (which I promise I will do), I’m wondering where all of this lands for you. I’m wondering if, like me, you have stories of suffering that you didn’t allow, experiences you couldn’t let yourself grieve, hopes you couldn’t dare hold onto. I’m wondering if, like me, you have been far more inclined to see yourself as undeserving and so, in light of such, have not given yourself permission to take in, revel in, and honor all that is precious in your life . . . and in you.

I cannot be talked out of this truth: The definition of “precious” defines you—valuable, of great worth or price, honorable. The synonyms for “precious” describe you—adored, cherished, dear, inestimable, loved, prized, treasured.

You are precious, to be sure.

*****

Tomorrow I will fly back to Charlotte NC. I’ll go through customs, take the shuttle to my car, and then make the 3.5 hour drive back to Hampstead. I’ll feel tons of gratitude for the days Tanya and I have shared. I’ll be lost in thought about all we talked of together. I’ll be happy the weather is at least 20-30 degrees warmer. I’ll wish I weren’t driving back in the dark. I’ll listen to an audio book. I’ll stop for gas and probably drive-through dinner. I’ll pull into the driveway, see the porch light left on for me, and say a prayer of “thanks” that I’m safe, that I’m home, that this is my life. All of it is precious—when I choose to see it as such.

I’m certain the same is true for you.

May it be so.

My Struggle with Envy

Feb 17, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement

A few weeks back, in the midst of my morning writing/journaling, I reflected on a snippet of my behavior. Something about it caught me, like a snag in a sweater. So I typed lots (and lots) of words and sentences and paragraphs to try and identify what I was feeling.

I’m not proud of it, but “jealousy” is what I had to admit. Later, upon referring to Brené Brown’s lexicon in Atlas of the Heart, I realized it was actually “envy.” She says this:

Jealousy is when we fear losing a relationship or a valued part of a relationship that we already have. Envy occurs when we want something that another person has.

Definitely envy.

We live in a world that thrives on envy.

Capitalism and commercialism do everything in their power to create and sustain this emotional state. These systems flourish because they have us endlessly wanting something that another person has.

It’s reinforced through endless messages (inside and out) that cajole us to believe we will only be whole, complete, happy, and fulfilled when and if we are successful, wealthy, loved, admired, thin, and/or ______________ (fill in the blank).

If this weren’t enough, the slightest scroll through Instagram floods us with images of those who DO have all this, who at least appear to have what we have been persuaded and convinced to want, desire, (and purchase) at almost any cost.

It requires a tremendous amount of self-awareness and discipline to NOT feel envy! Brené Brown names that psychologically (and culturally) it is almost impossible for us to avoid it. But then she says this:

Even if we do not choose whether or not to make a comparison, we can choose whether or not to let that comparison affect our mood or self-perceptions.

Exactly.

This is what I’ve been thinking about since tripping over my own comparison and envy. It has definitely affected my mood and self-perceptions. I need and want to make a different choice. And I’m wondering if maybe, just maybe, you can relate.

We nearly buckle under unrelenting pressure to have perfect clothes, homes, jobs, bodies, faces, hair, shoes, relationships, and a practically perfect attitude at all times.

Since comparison is a given and the lure toward envy is rife, how can we make a different choice or at least have another way to look at this?

No surprise: I have some thoughts.

I once had the privilege of spending a day in the presence of Gertrude Mueller Nelson, author of Here All Dwell Free (which if you haven’t read you must.) I remember taking furious notes as she said that instead of feeling self-contempt or shame for our envy, we should understand it to be a reflection of our desire; a mirror of what we hold to be of value for ourselves.

Our envy offers us evidence of what we desire; that we desire, period!

When we want something another person has or wish that another person’s reality were our own, we are gaining profound insight into our very selves. This is not a bad thing. It’s a powerful naming and knowing!

Iwantto be aware of what I want. It’s the only way I can discern what is worth pursuing and what is most-definitely not!

When we identify and name what we want, we can distinguish between what we actually desire and what our culture tells us to want (and want and want some more). 

The morning I’d been journaling, I was writing about a webinar I’d attended the day before, taught by a relatively well-known woman: what I liked and didn’t, what I agreed with and didn’t. Instead of reflecting more on my own thoughts, I left the journaling document entirely, opened a new tab, pulled up her website, and fell down a too-deep rabbit hole that had me literally calculating (with a calculator) how much she must be making every year. Envy. Envy. Envy!

(Did I mention I’m not proud of this?)

When I finally returned to my words on the screen, my envy offered me a clue — evidence of what I actually desire. On the surface, it’s money. BUT (and this is important) once I saw and named this, I very quickly knew it to be something culture tells me to want, NOT what I really want. It’s not that I don’t want money. I am just very, very clear that I do NOT want to be sucked into any vortex that tells me having more of it will make me whole, complete, happy, fulfilled, blah, blah, blah.

What do I really want? What’s underneath? Mmmmm. Assuredness. Security. Groundedness. A sense of being “at home” and “at rest” with my work and very sense of self.

No matter what we think we want, no matter what we have been conditioned to want — money, beauty, success, fame, power, even a perfect holiday — all are mist and shadow, myth and false promise.

What lies underneath is ours to know, honor, and value. These deeper desires are worthy of us; they are good, deserved, beautiful and true! WE are worthy!

“. . . Esther Perel says desire is owning the wanting, and in order to own the wanting, there needs to be a self that feels deserving of the wanting.(Reclaiming Body Trust)

When we name what we truly desire, we have agency. We are not at the whim of anything Instagram or Facebook tells/sells us, others’ opinions or expectations, past beliefs, even our circumstances. And we can bravely name (even grieve), where these things have NOT been true, present, known, or felt.

To acknowledge what we truly desire allows us to step away from envy and instead, move toward ourselves. Our truest, deepest desire becomes our North Star!

That was a lot of words to ultimately say just this:

Let yourself want what you want. It invites you into the truth of what you most truly desire and deserve.

I wish I could tell you that I quickly identified envy that morning, walked through all of these insights, and closed the document on my laptop feeling so much better about myself. That would not be true. What I can tell you is that giving myself permission to name what I was truly feeling, albeit slightly painful, enabled me to eventually see and understand so much more. Isn’t that always the way of it? The things we’d prefer to avoid are the very things that invite our healing, growth, and wisdom.

I hope envy is not a constant, even occasional visitor in your day-to-day reality. But on the off-chance that it is, may its presence remind you of just how beautiful your desire truly is; of how beautiful your heart is when it wants what it truly wants.

May it be so.

*****

Every week I write A Sunday Letter. It’s from my heart to yours . . . via email. I’d be honored if you’d subscribe.

About South Stars

Feb 10, 2023 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

I was talking with a client a few weeks back who can honestly and confidently state that she is strong and powerful and capable and competent. She’s 100% right about this!

Still, she is dealing with some things that have her feeling weak and wobbly and incapable and incompetent. She knows better AND she feels what she feels. It’s a conundrum, a paradox, a truth, a lie. And much like me, this has her spiraling a bit, feeling bad, berating herself, acknowledging her own ridiculous shame spiral.

I could attempt to talk her out of what she’s feeling. I could tell her what we’ve all heard a gazillion times: talk to yourself like you would someone you love. I could encourage her to see that she’s being overly critical, that self-compassion is deserved. (And of course, I could do all of this with and for myself, as well.)

Here’s the thing:

Our doubts and insecurities, our wounds and seen-patterns, even the negative thoughts that are completely contradictory to who we KNOW ourselves to be, are very, VERY good news! They point us to what matters, to what we care about most, to what we know-that-we-know-that-we-know.

IT’S OUR VERY FRUSTRATION THAT SERVES AS A COMPASS, A FORM OF DISCERNMENT, A MARKER OF TRUTH.

When my client tells me she feels weak and wobbly and incapable and incompetent, these very pains and irritants serve as irrefutable evidence of what matters to her, what she cares about most, and what she most definitely knows is true about her.

It’s uncomfortable to feel and name the contradiction, but it serves as a generous reminder of what is more true.

  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we feel heartbroken and hopeless, we won’t see that compassion and hope are, in fact, qualities and characteristics that we hold dear and do, in fact, have…in spades.
  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we feel lonely, we won’t recognize just how much we value relationship…and that we are more-than worthy of such, no compromising or compliance allowed.
  • If we don’t allow for the fact that we care about how we are perceived by our co-workers, our boss, our kids, our significant other, then we won’t see (sometimes with excruciating clarity) that we must speak our mind, stand up for ourselves, and unswervingly value all that we offer and bring.

Our most uncomfortable feelings are often profound gift and grace.

*****

I once heard someone explain the idea of a “south star.”

We know what a north star is: a concept, belief, or inherent truth by which we set our course, that keeps us focused, that points us in the right direction. A south star is just as powerful. It shows us where NOT to go and what is NOT true.

  1. What are your south stars?
  2. Think about some recent situation in which your internal response was almost immediate self-contempt or irritation.
  3. Write out what you felt, the self-talk that poured forth.
  4. Now, for each of those things you just wrote down, name their exact opposite. An example: I am so lazy. It’s opposite: Intentional. Contributing. Present.
  5. So, “lazy” is the south star that points you toward and reminds you that, in fact, what matters to you is being intentional, making a contribution, being fully present. And I’d be willing to bet that you already ARE all these things!

Worth stating again:

Our doubts and insecurities, our wounds and seen-patterns, even the negative thoughts that are completely contradictory to who we KNOW ourselves to be, are actually very, VERY good news!

They point us to what matters, to what we care about most, to what we know-that-we-know-that-we-know.

*****

As my client talked to me about feeling the opposite of who she knows herself to be, she was able to use those emotions to name the exact conditions that often lead her down that path. She could see how those circumstances a) almost always bring about the same result, and b) are actually possible to avoid and eliminate. Honestly naming what she felt (her south star), even though hard, guided her back to remembering who she truly is.

I hope the same for you!

As caveat, let me say that not every painful or frustrating emotion can be *simply* converted into a south star that leaves us feeling better about ourselves. I do not mean to paint some kind of patina over the hard and excruciating things that happen in our lives. And believe me, though I am a profoundly hopeful person, I am not one who looks for the bright side or seeks out silver linings.

I am, however, a woman who believes deeply in the wisdom inherent in every emotion we have — admitted, expressed, or held tenderly within. Sometimes they are south stars. And sometimes they are veritable craters into which we fall. Either way (and everything in between), I am committed to allowing them in myself and others, to giving them ample and generous spaciousness and grace, to trusting that they will not overwhelm, but will, eventually and at last, walk us home to ourselves.

May it be so.

*****

If my writing resonates, I’d be honored if you’d subscribe to A Sunday Letter. It’s from my heart to yours, via email, once a week. Learn more.

Rebellion as a Spiritual Practice

Dec 23, 2022 | Spirituality, Women's Voice & Power

Most if not all of us battle with the tension between our own desires, our deep sense of what’s most true, our certain knowing of what is best-right-wise and how that will impact the people around us. It is rebellious to choose ourselves in the midst of so much pressure to conform, to comply, to be perfect, to put others first.

A woman’s rebellion is disruptive, radical, uncomfortable, counter-cultural, even counter-intuitive. Ironically (even gratefully), a woman’s rebellion is the very thing that invites her into a life that is authentic, integrous, sovereign, and whole; a life that is sacred.

For us to be ourselves (in a world that demands we be so much less) means we will inevitably feel the pain of disruption and discomfort both within and without. This tension, this bind, is untenable and frustrating and heart-breaking.

To step fully into who we are — unrestrained, unhindered, unleashed — should NOT be so hard! It should NOT require our rebellion.

But it does. Not just once, but over and over and over again.

*sigh*

And so . . .

Let’s make rebellion a spiritual practice.

The common definition of a spiritual practice is a specific activity one does to deepen their relationship with the sacred.

Contemplative and activist, Father Richard Rohr says, “Practice is an essential reset button that we must push many times before we can experience any genuine newness. Whether we’re aware of it or not, we are practicing all the time. When we operate by our habituated patterns, we strengthen certain neural pathways, which makes us, as the saying goes, ‘set in our ways.’ But when we stop using old neural grooves, these pathways actually die off! Practice can literally create new responses and allow rigid ones to show themselves.”

Most of us practice just the opposite of rebellion. Instead, as mentioned above, our “habituated patterns” are conformity, compliance, perfectionism, and putting others priorities-and-desires-and-perspectives above our own. The result is just the opposite, as well: instead of deepening our relationship with the sacred, we feel distanced from it.

Rebellion as a spiritual practice has the potential to undo every bit of this. It calls us to boldly name that which separates us from all that is sacred (which, quite frankly, is every message culture promulgates and demands via capitalism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and then some), and reconnects us to our very selves, our sacred selves.

Some examples:

  • When the world says I am not enough, rebellion as a spiritual practice says, “No! I AM enough — exactly as I am, nothing more required, fully divine, fully sovereign.”
  • When social media incessantly urges me to buy, to acquire, to continue scrolling (instead of creating or resting or any number of things that would actually restore instead of exhaust me), rebellion as a spiritual practice has me set down my phone, walk away, and distance myself from the lies.
  • When the person I am in relationship with passive-aggressively demands that I meet and exceed every expectation — even and especially when it is at odds with my own priorities and desires — rebellion as a spiritual practice says “No!” yet again. The dissonance and tension is the very evidence I need to stay the course.
  • When the god of whom I’ve learned deals more in shame than grace, rebellion as a spiritual practice, imagines a god who would never think of such a thing, who sees me as practically perfect in every way, who delights in who I am, exactly as I am, right now and always.
  • When I feel the pressure to do more, work harder, hustle faster, grind and grind and grind — no matter the cost to my mental, emotional, or physical well-being — rebellion as a spiritual practice is an intentional choice to step back, to step away, to take a bath or a nap or both, to be quiet, to stop running in order to feel productive, validated, or worthy.
  • When the voice inside my head tells me I’m being selfish to do any of the above, rebellion as a spiritual practice is the disciplined intention to listen to my heart instead, to choose myself, to see myself as worthy, to trust the know-that-I-know-that-I-know voice within.

“If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don’t worry, there is still time.”
~ Clarissa Pinkola Estés

“A rebel! How glorious the name sounds when applied to a woman. Oh, rebellious woman, to you the world looks in hope.”
~ Matlida Joslyn Gage (1826–1898)

Here is what I hope for you (and me):

When we rebel, when we bravely resist all that holds us back or down, when we are incorrigible and defiant, when we willingly step into the flames of disruption and discomfort — not to burn, but to blaze — we cannot possibly be closer to the sacred.

And that, it seems to me, is a practice worth . . . well, practicing!

May it be so.

*****

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I am NOT the Crazy One!

Dec 9, 2022 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom

No big surprise: I love books! A ton of them are on my Kindle and most of the time I’m good with reading the “virtual” version. But sometimes I order the physical book, too. It’s silly, I suppose. There’s no need to have more than one copy. But the books I am most moved by? I want the “actual” thing in my hands.

Last week I did exactly this. I was re-reading portions of a book that has me saying, “I wish I wrote this!!!” more times than I can count. And though I’ve highlighted my my way through it in electronic form, it was clear that I needed wanted it in my hands and on my shelf. If it’s not on your shelf (or your Kindle), I highly recommend it: Cassandra Speaks: When Women are the Storytellers, the Human Story Changes by Elizabeth Lesser. (‘Guessing by the title alone you can figure out why I’m so smitten!)

It is hard to pick from so much amazing content, but there are two quotes, separated only by a page of so, that I’m offering and reflecting on today. No question, they are on my behalf; I’m hoping yours, as well.

. . . we know the truth of our own experiences, yet we are told we are lying or overreacting; we can see consequences on the horizon, but it’s still “common knowledge” that women’s emotions cloud their vision, that we tend toward hysteria — even madness — and therefore are not to be believed. . . Far from women as a species being irrational, overemotional, hysterical, lunatic or morally weak,” writes the Australian author Jane Caro, “what strikes me about women and their history is just how damn sane we have managed to stay.

Even without knowing your story, I am completely certain that you have one or more experiences of being told that you are lying or overreacting. I am also completely certain that it’s amazing just how damn sane you’ve managed to stay.

Which also makes me completely certain that there have been (and are) plenty of times in which you feel crazy! And if not that, exhausted by all the mental gymnastics required to filter others’ version of your story and hang on to your own. *sigh*

It’s a lot of work: taking in so many messages, sifting and sorting through them to discern which ones are true, which ones are not, which ones need to be paid attention to, which ones need to be completely ignored, which ones need to be addressed, which ones need to be adamantly refused. . . And it’s not like we can flip a switch and enter into complete peace and calm just because we want to. It takes effort and discipline and determination and patience and so. much. grace.

Almost twenty years ago I held a leadership position at the seminary where I received my M.Div. degree. After a few months in the job I began to notice that female employees and students would come into my office, ask if they could close the door and sit down, and then say something like this:

“I don’t know how to explain exactly what I’m feeling or exactly what’s going on, but I feel kinda crazy. It’s probably nothing . . . It’s probably me, but…”

It ALWAYS had to do with a conversation or interaction they’d had with a man on staff. Time and again it was as if their words didn’t land, they felt slightly dismissed (but not enough to be sure), they were left out of the loop somehow, things just felt “off.”

Once I recognized the pattern and the more I heard the words “I feel kinda crazy,” I learned to say, “You are not the crazy one!” I’d explain what I meant, listen more, affirm their experiences as real and true (and sane), and then before they left, have them repeat out loud (with as much defiance as they could muster): “I am not the crazy one. I am not the crazy one. I am NOT the crazy one!”

The very fact that we feel crazy is EXACTLY the evidence that tells us we’re not!

Other people and the systems within which we live and work reinforce the internal messages that convince us we’re to blame, we’re the one with the problem, we’re being “irrational, overemotional, hysterical, lunatic, or morally weak.” Exactly the opposite is true!

It’s a form of gaslighting, of course. “Gaslighting at its core is always about self-preservation and the maintenance of power/control — namely, the power/control to construct a narrative that keeps the gaslighter in the ‘right’ and [the other person] in the ‘wrong.’” (Aki Rosenberg, LMFT)

It’s not enough, of course: repeating the mantra, “I am not the crazy one. I am not the crazy one. I am NOT the crazy one.” It doesn’t magically change reality. But it can actually help. It reminds you that you are not wrong. It gives you back the power that was always yours in the first place. And it is a way of offering yourself so. much. grace.

Again from Cassandra Speaks, Elizabeth Lesser says this:

I see changes afoot. I see bold women everywhere taking what used to be called a tendency to cause trouble and rebranding it as a tendency to speak up, to confront the gaslighting, and to make our culture more caring, communicative, and emotionally intelligent.

This feels like grace, too.

Not soft grace, tender grace, grace as traditionally “feminine” in quality and characteristic (like balancing books on your head while pouring tea in the most practically perfect way).

Bold grace, brave grace, fierce grace is what you deserve. Speaking up. Confronting the harm. Being caring and communicative and emotionally intelligent. So much more. And it’s what you model for the rest of us when you “know the truth of your own experiences,” when you celebrate the fact that you have somehow managed to stay sane, when you hold onto your version of your own story, your very life, no matter what.

May it be so.