I couldn’t have said it better | 2

Our friend Hal showed us how to live an exquisite life in the early years of marriage, when the concept of adulting was still the wild frontier. Just a few years older, his "worldly wisdom" was already cultured, urbane, polished and suave well beyond his years. We weren't exactly country bumpkins, but we studied and absorbed his ways like Cello sponges when we weren’t rolling our eyes behind his back. Sometimes he was a little much and that was also part of his charm. We learned how to buy our clothes: "Target cheap is for trendy. Spend as much as you can afford on basics that will last a long time." Hal was the first person we knew who ate sushi. It would be years before we crossed that bridge, but because of him we named our first Siamese kitten Sushi. (Baby steps.) And we felt ever so slightly more sophisticated having a cat with such a worldly moniker begging at our feet while we feasted on our Mrs. Paul's. Hal was also the first person we knew who collected original art from galleries in exotic places like Santa Fe while the rest of us were still snapping up Kirkland’s clearance or, better yet, creating our own framed cross stitched geese in embroidery hoops trimmed with fabric ruffles. (Worst. Idea. Ever.) And, he was also the first person we knew who painted the walls of adjoining areas of his house in slightly different shades of the same color, almost undetectable to the human eye unless they were Hal’s discriminating peepers. We sensed something was up but when revealed his secret, we gasped and gazed with wonder on the glory of it all. Sigh. Trés chic. When Gayle came onto the scene, she brought her own gifts (there were many), including a keen sensibility for choosing which reigns to release. This has served her well. When she relinquished the Christmas decorating to Hal because she knew no matter what she did he’d have an opinion and it probably wouldn’t match hers, we knew he’d found the yin to his yang. This remains true today, more than 3 decades later. Hal helped us understand this critical principle: A beautiful life engages all the senses. On the night he and Gayle said their I do's he handed the ushers each a can of gardenia scented room fragrance 10 minutes before the first guests arrived and sent them spritzing through the sanctuary. I still carry that sensory memory with me and, to this day, it informs some of my choices. I love flowers and, largely because of Hal, gardenias are one of my favorites. And though we’ve never had our own, I have relied on the generosity of friends and neighbors who kindly share out of their own abundance, allowing me to raid their yard and cut as many as I want so my home smells like a little corner of heaven for several precious weeks. Scripture tells us that we carry the sweet aroma of Christ with us. And science confirms that scent builds into a powerful story that can affect our emotions. Hal illustrated this in the literal sense but also by many, many years of enduring and deep friendship marked by generosity and wisdom and so much more than I can tell you about here. The takeaway: How can you delight someone with your fragrance today?

Before I start: If my little play on words has already offended you, this post may not be for you. But that would be sad because I think I have something good to say here so maybe it would be beneficial for you to practice loosening up a bit. Just a thought…. My recent conversation with a friend about potty training her kiddos probably planted the seed for my thoughts here. That’s how my twisted brain works but I’m good with that because it also reminds me that God can use ordinary conversations to show us extraordinary things. Or, maybe it’s just my affection for that 4-letter word I’m referring to in the title that drives me to to work it in wherever I can for a cheap laugh. I don’t know. It has been said that energy follows attention and, if I were to quantify my thoughts on any given day, I’d find an overwhelming percentage of my time is unconsciously fixated on either the past or the future. My ongoing reorientation to presence is giving me a new understanding of my relationship to the past. While it’s virtually impossible and, IMHO, not necessary or beneficial to completely forget the past, I’m convinced that many of us tend to either become over identified with it’s affect on us or blind to the realities that we HAVE been (mis)shaped by it. Here, I want to address the first possibility. This over-identification keeps us stuck in a false narrative. How may times do we beat ourselves up with “I should’ve done or said this or that" after a difficult encounter where either we’ve been hurt or we’ve hurt others. We rehearse in our minds a different version of it, where we actually stood up for something or someone (including ourselves). Or maybe we made a horrible decision that led to painful consequences we are still living out. Perhaps we suffered great harm at the hands of someone else and it totally changed the trajectory of our lives. We can’t stop reliving the scenario, searching for something we might have done or said to prevent putting ourselves in harm’s way. Maybe we “wasted precious time” or money in pursuit of something that came to a dead end. The possibilities are endless and we all have lived at least some of them. And, in the process we have allowed this fixation to steal precious energy from our lives in THIS MOMENT. And THIS MOMENT is all we have. I believe self-examination (which involves revisiting the past) is critical to transformation, for without it we often stay asleep to habitual patterns of negative behaviors, addictions, coping and defense mechanisms, victim mentality, etc. But after that it serves no good purpose and it’s time to move on to the NOW, which is where we can choose to change. Have I lived this out perfectly? Well, I guess I should have (#seewhatididthere) but all I can claim is I am on the journey. It’s not simple but it does happen over time by putting some (ok, many) simple practices into place today. Try this, for example: Revisit some painful circumstances, interactions or situations and, even when you believe you were the one who was harmed, and look for something in your response to it or in your motivations and actions leading up to it that may not have served you well. It’s possible a pattern may emerge, as it did for me. Start looking for places this pattern is continuing in your life today and, with lots of self-compassion and God’s help, look for a better way. It may or may not prevent the same kind of pain in the future, but you’ll likely find your response to them is different and that changes YOU. In some cases, you may look back on an interaction with a fuller view of reality that wasn’t evident to you at the time (occasionally hindsight IS 20/20), and you might find that you actually owe someone an apology because you took offense where none was intended. I have done some “making amends” work in recent years, realizing now that I mis-interpreted something and, while it can be humbling and hard, it is incredibly freeing. I highly recommend it. And finally, for those of us who call ourselves Christ followers, this wisdom from Fr. Richard Rohr in his book, Immortal Diamond , reminds me to accept ALL of my past, for it is not wasted. “The risen Christ is a great big yes to everything (2 Corinthians 1:19), even its own earlier imperfect stages. The final stupendous gift is that your False Self has now become your True Self. That is precisely the metamorphosis that we call Resurrection. The risen Christ is still and forever the wounded Jesus—and yet so much more now. The raw material of every aspect of his life, of our life too, is not ended but merely changed. ‘This perishable nature will put on imperishability, and this mortal body will put on immortality’ (1 Corinthians 15:52-54)—one including the other, not one in place of the other .” May this be so for you today.

It’s the dawn of a new decade and I am up early, literally watching the sun rise on day one of 2020. My mind goes to these words straight out of the “love chapter,” a passage in the Bible familiar to most if you’ve ever been to a wedding in a church. Right after the famous parts about clanging cymbals and mountains being moved, (read by that person who didn’t quite make the cut for the 30-person wedding party), there is this: “We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!” (I Corinthians 13:12 MSG) David Benner says in his book, The Gift of Being Yourself , that Christian spirituality occurs only when God AND self are both deeply known. There’s an interdependence in play and neither can proceed very far without the other. “Paradoxically, we come to know God best not by looking at God exclusively, but by looking at God and then looking at ourselves —then looking at God and then again looking at ourselves. This is also the way we best come to know our selves. Both God and self are mostly fully known in relationship to each other.” To accept this invitation into clarity (not to be confused with certainty), you must slow down, as it is ONLY in this here and now that God reveals Himself to us. Sure, the past has provided us with some pleasant memories and (hopefully) some life lessons learned but, other than that, looking back has little value and mostly just keeps us stuck in the wrong (small) story of trauma, victim mentality, regret, remorse, coping mechanisms…and more. And the future? Well, it’s mostly a mystery and it’s not guaranteed anyway. Planning ahead is necessary and good on some levels but, again, we easily drift over that line into worry and anxiety over what is mostly out of our control anyway. So, may you seek with an abundance of faith and hope. May you accept and, even welcome, what IS, trusting that God is working in and through all of it for His glory and for your good. And may you see more clearly in 20/20, the love that is continuously and extravagantly pouring out from the One true source onto YOU, the beloved. And may those around you experience the overflow.

Befriending winter is a continuing quest. And while I understand it’s still technically autumn and here in the South temperatures are mostly just brisk and not yet frigid, it’s the darkness leading up to winter solstice that does me in. I’m taking my cue from the Norwegians, who say “there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.” And today calls for lots of color to combat the gray backdrop of the sky. My H O L L Y W O O D sweatshirt and bright faux fur scarf, both gifts from a friend, feels like the perfect pairing, IMHO. I think this combo will make her proud and I know it makes me happy. “Learning to walk in the dark” takes lots of practice and many days I’m able to find beauty and purpose in the gifts that come with this season. However, on this rainy day Monday, I can already feel the slide into sadness beginning to settle over me. I also know I have a toolbox at the ready, just for days like this. And really, just for every day. But it’s up to ME to pull them out. Here are several that I’m putting to work: 1. Gratitude: Keep that list going EVERY day. I don’t have to look far to find something I appreciate and writing a few of them down puts it right there in front of my face. 2. Get outside: Today, before the afternoon rain makes its way here, I will go for a run. 3. Human contact: I may not see anyone but my husband today, but I will text/call/VOX/Marco Polo with various friends and I already have several plans set for face-to-face meetings this week with friends who feed my soul. 4. Prayer and meditation: Various daily spiritual practices help me to shift away from the ruminations of my mind and into a more expansive space of presence, here and now, where God is always with me. 5. Breathe deeply. I’ve recently come into the awareness that my breathing is often shallow and I tend to hold my breath when I’m concentrating. Neither of these habits are good for me, so intentional belly breathing are part of my routine throughout the day. How about you? What tools are working for you today? Maybe it’s the darkness or maybe it’s the mad frenetic hustle of this holiday season that takes you away from the gift of quiet stillness and wonder of the Advent season. Whatever it is, don’t let it rob the beauty that is waiting for you right here, right now.

Sometimes redemption arrives in the form of a sunset. I stepped outside to grab the mail at 5:00pm, still in my pajamas, and glanced down the street toward the western sky. This time of year, it’s almost sunset already and several early cold snaps followed by recent wind and rain have stripped the trees of their leaves weeks ahead of what is generally considered normal here in the south. A few pale pinkish streaks were beginning to make their appearance and I heard a nearly audible voice softly prompt me with these words: “Do not miss this.” It came as an invitation to participate, and not merely observe. Pajamas at dinnertime usually means one of two things: I’m sick or I’m treating myself to a decadent day of Netflix binging (#neverhaveiever). But it wasn’t my body that was ailing. The day began with a difficult interaction and went downhill from there. As I slogged my way through hours of administrivia, with passwords that refused to reset, bills that demanded I pay them NOW, email inboxes that WAY exceeded my 2019 “keep it under 40” resolution and more, I felt myself sinking into slimy quicksand. I was in a mood to begin with and the daily to-do’s were filled with the kinds of tasks that are a necessary part of our 21st century first world life, but the ones I sometimes wish did not have MY initials next to them. I half-heartedly grasped for gratitude but she was a slippery little devil today and I could never get a firm grip. Enter fear, anger, frustration, disappointment, regret, sorrow, remorse, sadness, anxiety and bitterness. They latched on to me like leeches, slowly sucked away at my already-dwindling joy reserves, signaling to the inner chorus who gladly broke into song, reminding me that my life was a waste and tomorrow nothing would be different or better. But at 5:00, I chose to follow that other invitation and quickly threw on some (questionable) street clothes. I headed west to the little city park a mere 1/4-mile away at the end of our street where I knew I would get a better view of sunset show. In this part of the country, “wide open spaces” are not a commodity so those of us who NEED to see it figure out how to access a glimpse wherever we can get it. I was not disappointed. The park was empty of the loiterers that sometimes make me nervous. I wandered freely, drinking in the pink and orange florescent streaks dancing across the sky as they became ever brighter and deeper. I watched for awhile and then took the long way home, literally skipping as i did when i was a little girl, stopping along the way to glance back and see what had changed since the last look. As I wandered and pondered, I was reminded of my own motto, “all creation sings,” and found myself silently singing the line from a favorite song. “If creation sings your praises, so will I.” I let go and finally allowed gratitude to enter. She thanked me (it’s who she is, after all) and then she slowly and gently went to work, smoothing out those potholes of emotion that had swallowed me up. It may take awhile to repair them all, but tonight I feel like we got a good start. Again. God is so good.

How do we find serenity in the hard places?

It’s official. Summer is gone and autumn’s coming on. In my neck of the woods, the shift is barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. The heat just won’t let go this year but the “actual” temp is now running closer to the “feels like” temp, which means better hair days and crisp cooler nights have arrived. The sun is rising a little later and setting a bit earlier. The sometimes-deafening song of our summer cicadas has all but ceased. Acorns are beginning to fall from our many mighty oaks and we hear them "crunch crunch crunch" as we drive over them in the street. Other “in your face” early signs of autumn, like pumpkin spice flavored EVERYTHING and craft and hobby stores vomiting all forms of fake decor and Halloween yard crap you could think of and never want, just make me mad. To each his own I suppose. But business is booming and I’m clearly in the minority, so maybe I’m actually the problem here. I say we just agree to disagree on these silly matters. I won’t judge you over your pumpkin spice latte and I’ll ask in return for your mercy toward my bad attitude. As I rise each morning to greet my day outside still in shorts and bare feet, but now with a light layer of soft cashmere to take the edge off the morning chill, I think to myself, “What can possibly be wrong with this picture?” The answer is obvious (duh, NOTHING) but it’s the wandering of my mind from present to future that gets me into trouble. Autumn is not the real problem. It’s what comes next. For me, the advent of this glorious fall season comes with a "DANGER AHEAD” warning sign that keeps me focused more on the “what’s to follow" than the gift of beauty firmly planted in my today. I hear the voice of winter doom whispering “I’m coming for you” as she sneaks away holding 60 more seconds of my precious daylight and 2 degrees of the warmth I crave behind her back. The antidote is elusive, yet simple. Gratitude for what IS has the potential to turn every moment from “yeah, but…..” to simply “yes.” I know this and I believe it but habituated ways of thinking, feeling and behaving were planted so long ago and these roots are deep and entangled around virtually every aspect of my very being. The type of shift I seek takes place over years. It’s a “slow work of God” in which I must choose again and again to participate in with Him because the gravitational pull into the familiar is strong and it doesn’t give up easily. I’ve made good strides in the direction of embracing autumn over the last few years and, though the war is still on, I’ve got some battle wins under my belt by now so this time I don’t feel like I’m starting from scratch. I’m simply choosing to continue the construction on this new firmer foundation and, who knows, perhaps one year I’ll greet September 23rd with the keys to my heirloom-pumpkin-enhanced mansion of joyful acceptance and delight for what many of you already consider to be the most glorious season of all. There’s a lot of sawing and hammering left for me to do, but I’m beginning to see the vision. I’m planning to post my own list of fall favorites soon because I do have a few, actually! In the meantime, what are some of yours? And if your list includes Trader Joe’s Pumpkin Joe-Joe’s or fake cobwebs to drape across your front shrubs, I’ll pray for you. Which, in this case, is the equivalent to “bless your heart.” Which, in the south, can be equivalent to “you’re so stupid.” Which means I’M the one who needs actual prayer for my self-righteous attitude. Remember, I'm under construction over here and all prayer donations are gratefully accepted. Oh, bless my heart. Sigh.....

Timing is everything when it comes to summer workouts in the South if your gym is your yard and your neighborhood. My body doesn’t love early morning exercise so those 5:30 runs before work are way back there in my rear view mirror. And my aging self says "nope" to that kind of movement in the first 3 hours after I rise. So there are lots of days when I miss that earlier window and find myself heading out the door when the sun is high. Our backyard gym is covered and shaded but when I opt for running, it gets a little more complicated. Lucky for me, though, in my part of the country and in my 1950’s neighborhood trees are abundant and tall, providing me with a natural canopy that serves to protect and cool. That’s more important to me now than ever since my journey with vitiligo began about 8 years ago. This autoimmune skin condition leaves the affected areas with no natural protection from it's harsh UV rays. So when I noticed one day how I was darting from side to side of the street subconsciously seeking respite from the sun, it got me thinking. That’s how it is with God. One writer describes it like this: "His huge outstretched arms protect you—under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm." And then it goes on to say, "Fear nothing..." Hmmmmm. Fear is my thing, y'all. It's in the background, often just outside of my awareness secretly running the show. Too often I let it take center stage and give it top billing. It influences what I say, what I think and how I act. It keeps me trapped in "what if" mode and blind to "what is possible?" most of the time. Because in my pragmatic, Enneagram 6 way of thinking and being, I KNOW that bad things happen. I'm not stupid. They've happened and they continue to happen, to me and the people I love. And, while I have more to say about that and why the world actually NEEDS people like me who specialize in "crisis aversion," that is not my message in this moment. THIS is today's takeaway: No matter what comes across my path, my truest self cannot and will not be harmed. Period. If I seek shelter under God's strong arm of protection, the true essence of who I was created to be even before my body was plopped onto the planet and who I will be when my life in it's present form ceases, will be securely intact. I'm forever safe and forever free. And in Christ's freedom, I can freely and joyfully "live and move and have my being." So come on! I'm going for that sunny day run and I'd love it if you'd go with me... You who sit down in the High God’s presence, spend the night in Shaddai’s shadow, Say this: “God, you’re my refuge. I trust in you and I’m safe!” That’s right—he rescues you from hidden traps, shields you from deadly hazards. His huge outstretched arms protect you— under them you’re perfectly safe; his arms fend off all harm. Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night, not flying arrows in the day, Not disease that prowls through the darkness, not disaster that erupts at high noon. Even though others succumb all around, drop like flies right and left, no harm will even graze you. You’ll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance, watch the wicked turn into corpses. Yes, because God’s your refuge, the High God your very own home, Evil can’t get close to you, harm can’t get through the door. He ordered his angels to guard you wherever you go. If you stumble, they’ll catch you; their job is to keep you from falling. You’ll walk unharmed among lions and snakes, and kick young lions and serpents from the path. — Psalm 91: 1-13

"I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet." - Persian proverb Years ago, I remember having a conversation with a friend at work about gratitude. We talked about this whole idea of "comparative thankfulness." We all do it, right? I may hate my job but at least I HAVE a job. I may be divorced but at least I have my children. You get the point. Comparing ourselves to others eventually breaks down if you play it out to the end. There's everything right about being thankful for the many things we take for granted each day, especially in a world where we gaze with envy at the guy on our right who seems to have all those things we know should be ours, if life was really fair. But back to that poor guy who has no feet. What about HIM? Picture, if you will, a long line of people standing shoulder to shoulder with each person voicing gratitude for something the person next to them is lacking. What happens, when we reach the end of that line, to the guy who's living out all of our worst case scenarios? "I got nothin'" is all that's left to say as he turns to the empty space on the left. I doubt we often think of it this way. But I do. I've been privileged to know a few of those so-called "end-of-the liners." I've wondered how it must feel to know it's YOUR name inserted into someone's "at least I'm not ____" declaration of gratitude. I realize I can't solve the mystery of human suffering in one blog post. And truth be told, I desire a life of health, wealth and happiness just as much as the next guy. I want to die peacefully in my sleep at the ripe old age of 95 (still having all my faculties intact and looking like I'm 55), with my loving husband and many adoring friends at my side. Seriously. Who, in their right mind, would ASK to suffer? But here is what I have observed: In my own times of hardship and in the lives of many I know who have experienced much greater suffering than I could even imagine, I am driven to a keen awareness of need and a complete dependence on the One who is much greater than I am. I HAVE no bootstraps. All I have is need. And all I need, is need. And in the midst of that, it is He who gives us a most special and mysterious promised measure of grace that we cannot otherwise know. Even in the presence of tremendous pain and suffering, there is a type of joy that is clearly not of this world and cannot be mustered up in our own strength because, remember, there IS no strength when you have nothing. So it leaves me to wonder if the "end-of-the-liners" may at some level be pointing back at the people to the right with the same sadness and pity that was directed at them, wondering if they will ever know how it feels to have the one thing that may, indeed, be the key to the truest type of joy which comes wrapped as the gift of suffering. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. - Isaiah 55:8-10