All Things New

We are made for community. I knew this from my earliest days. I remember trying to be bigger than I was to tag along with my older siblings. I never wanted to be left behind or told I was too small or young to join in the fun. Sometimes I still feel that familiar pang of pain at the injustice of not being included. My friend John says, “being invited and being welcomed are two different things. Whether invited or not, you are always welcome around here.” This is how I think the body of Christ should be, but sometimes it feels like some exclusive club that I don’t have the members only card needed to get past the door guard.

We celebrated the sacrament of Eucharist yesterday, which happens about once a month at our church. One talented artist told a story about running away in his youth and how his family welcomed him back to the table with love. This was an excellent segue to the story of the prodigal son and a great reminder that our heavenly father is just like the father in this story. That he has prepared a place for us at the table and he delights in our return to him. Although I feel the nearness of his presence in my breath and in nature, in my relationships, and in my work and ministry, I am feeling disconnected from his presence in the church. This breaks my heart because I know the church is the bride of Christ and the hope of the world.

I am trying to figure out when it happened and how to repair what feels like a tiny hairline fracture that is quickly spreading and dividing me from the place that I call home. While on a walk with a dear friend, she asked good questions and let me rant about the church that we both love dearly. She said, “the church is just broken people like you and me, but they have liability issues.” They have to present well and pretend that everything is perfect from up there, so they don’t get sued. To me, that seems inauthentic and feels like a breach of trust. I want to believe that my church is special. It was in this church that I first tasted real Christian community, and that I fell hook line and sinker for the Acts 2 community that they were selling; where people take off their masks and bring their whole selves to the table. I feel confused by the mixed messages I am receiving. I realize that the pain that this stirs causes me to want to run far and fast in the other direction, but I know wherever I go, there I am. I want to be a part of the solution.

I signed up to lead a Journey Group which helps provide care for those who have experienced trauma and abuse. Unfortunately, I was not chosen to lead which reinforced a lie, that my church doesn’t want to use my gifts. I showed up anyway. I love my church and I want to care for its people, but after one session, we were told that we needed to go through a 12 step recovery program if we wanted to lead, and since that time, our church stopped offering Journey Groups. In a church this size it is near impossible to meet all the needs of the people, so instead of pastoral care, they changed their name to pastoral response. As much as I want to be invited in and be used in my church, I know that my work in the world is to care deeply for those who are broken. So, instead of begging to be welcomed in and used within the walls of the church, I will follow Jesus out into the world and go where he leads me. I will enter the walls of my church with gratitude for the gift that I receive there, imperfect as it may seem through my eyes that were made for heaven. I will practice gratitude and worship God in the walls of my church as best as I am able. I will release the pain I feel and surrender my desire at the foot of the cross. I will trust in God’s promise:

“He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making all things new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” – Revelation 21:5

The Path to Purpose

I love the Wizard of Oz.  When I was a little girl, I would eagerly anticipate the one time a year it was played on the television.  We all crammed into the living room and gathered around the 18-inch screen.  Though times have changed, there are a few universal themes that the movie ushered in to my young and developing mind.  I remember being enamored by the contrast between the black and white of the daily grind and the vibrant colors of Oz.  Are you living a black and white, going through the motions kind of life?  Do you long to live in full color with sparkling ruby slippers and all?  The journey toward purpose is a journey inward, back to the truth of who you are.  But how do you get there?  Where do you begin? Simply take a step for a change and just follow the yellow brick road…

Another part of the movie that struck me was young Dorothy’s courage to step into the great unknown all alone. Once she stepped onto the path, everything she needed appeared. She found her community by stepping out in faith. She reached out to help a scarecrow who was up in a lurch, pausing along the way to oil up a rusty tin man, and looking beyond a cowardly lion’s roar to see the sweet and tender interior. Maybe our tribe, the people we need to help fulfill our life’s purpose, are right outside of our door. We only need courage enough to take a step for a change, reach out and help someone, and just follow the yellow brick road…

Finally, the most profound truth of the movie, is that everything that is really needed has been there all along. We travel great distances in search or something; striving and reaching, when the best thing is always to cultivate a pause, and turn in to notice.  There is so much magnificence within… Celebrate it!  Let your heart say thank you for the mind, heart, courage and pathway home to the center that has been within you all along.  Be brave like Dorothy Gale and show up for yourself for a change. 

Strength in Community

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor:  If either of them falls down, one can help the other up… A chord of three strands is not easily broken.” Ephesians 4:9-10, 12

I first experienced the tremendous healing power of a group when working with kids at the wellness center a few years ago.  There were 10 kids in the room ranging from 7 – 12.  They were all girls and the other thing they had in common was that cancer was affecting their life.  One day a 9-year-old girl was lying on her mat, too sick from her treatment to participate in the yoga.  Another girl made a comment that it wasn’t fair that she wasn’t doing it.  Her older sister shot up like a rocket and leaned way into the other girl’s space and said, “It’s because she’s got cancer!”  Another young girl in a quiet and sad voice said, “my dad just died from cancer,” and one more girl spoke up to say, “My dad died last year from cancer.”  I threw my plan out the window and used the next hour to bring to light the elephant in the room.  When I first began volunteering there, I was determined to provide a fun distraction from the cancer.  I tried not to mention the “C” word unless one of the kids brought it up, and they rarely did, because they were happy to get a break form it. 

We began to pretend our minds were televisions and we each held our remote and practiced pushing pause, we turned in to focus on the unchanging light within each one of our hearts.  We paused to breathe deeply and exhale away the tension and fear and sadness we shared.  The light inside of each of our hearts seemed to be connected to our loved ones and together it was stronger.  The children identified what was hard about cancer and suddenly they didn’t feel so alone in their pain and it loosened its grip, jut a bit.  I explained that every person in that room had the cancer channel on their T.V.  It is a hard place to wait.  It’s helpful to remember, but also important not to stay too long in the place of sadness.  We have the power to push pause or change the channel at any moment.  The children were invited to remember a precious memory from the past, a happy day or moment, before cancer showed up.  You could see the smiles on the kids’ faces as they remembered when life was “normal.”  The kids learned how important it is to remember our loved ones with gratitude, for this is how they live on in our hearts.  We can turn our remote controls to a place of happy remembering whenever we want, but be careful not to stay too long there either.  We have to live in the present moment and work in each moment to carry the light of those we have loved and lost out into the world.  Today, in the midst of being too close to cancer, I remember that group with profound gratitude because it helped me name my own grief and fear around the disease. 

The next time I found myself in a group that rocked my world was a “Listen to My Life” personal story mapping group.  Seven of us met weekly in a friend’s living room for over a year to unpack our stories and begin to recognize and reflect back to one another the work that God has been doing in our lives from the beginning.  Sometimes we miss the forest through the trees and we need caring eyes and loving gazes in the dark places of confusion and shame.  It is so transformative to have love in the valleys and company all along the journey.  As we entered into the intimate places of our stories together our compassion and love grew beyond what we could have hoped for or imagined.  We began to recognize universal themes of humanity that felt so personal until we noticed them threaded through the fibers of other stories at the table.  Dan Allender said, “We can’t see our face unless it’s reflected back in the face of another.”  The mirroring and attunement that happened at that table changed my brain and my life.  I healed in deep places that I didn’t even realize I was broken in.  To offer this gift of sacred community and hold safe containers of care is one of the primary missions of SOW that…

I also sat in a circle with 86 others at a woman’s retreat this week.  It was a beautiful space filled with courageous and blessed women.  After spending an hour moving and breathing and praying with our mind, body and Spirit, you could feel a lightness and beauty and ease floating through that space.  The women did a guided meditation in which they scanned their bodies for the clenched fist and places they were still clinging tightly and were invited to let go and breathe life and blessing into every fiber of their beings.  They turned to face another person in the circle and for just 3 minutes were asked to share their hearts and then practice listening from the heart.  After that exercise each woman checked out with a word, the harvest of blessing that they would take back into their daily walk.  It was holy and beautiful and affirmed the profound need and value of community.  We spend our lives serving and giving and doing, but the time has come for us to cultivate a pause, to be still and allow loving eyes to rest upon us.  We must show up for ourselves and come to the table of blessing, to be seen, known and loved.  If this is what your heart needs, please click the link to sign up for our “Lighten UP – wellness group” starting this month.

"Knowledge is power.  Community is strength & positive attitude is everything.”

-Lance Armstrong

Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room

I’m in a season of learning to let go and relinquish what I cannot control.  As I loosen my grip of my adult son so that he can step fully onto his journey, I simultaneously practice lifting him to the Light.  Holding on and letting go is the sacred dance and rhythm of life.  This season of life is harder than I anticipated.  I want to hold hope in my heart as well as space to listen and respond in love, but often I find my heart overflowing with desire for connection and intimacy, as well as expectations and demands.  I want to go deep quickly because our time together is always too short and divided too many ways.  My heart holds hurt and disappointment at the fact that he doesn’t want to hunker down at home with his family.  I want to see him and know the depths of his heart while he wants to hide and flee.  As my heart breaks, I go into self preservation mode, get angry, and want to make him pay.  My heart wants justice and tries to power up and put him back in line.  Then there’s shame that follows… too much truth not enough grace.  I understand why he doesn’t want to be around me.

I had an opportunity to practice the ministry of presence while driving my son back to college after Thanksgiving break.  I wasn’t looking forward to spending 10 hours in the car, but I knew it would be a good time to sit side by side and serve him.  It was a challenging week in which our connection and communication left much to be desired.  As I got in the car, I set the intention of lowering my expectations and doing my best to just love him where he is at.  I practiced holding my tongue and releasing him from the pressure of responding to my questions.  As we sat together in the stillness, I focused my awareness on the light in me.  Every time I wanted to change the radio station or ask a critical question, I paused and practiced only kindness.  Something inside me softened and he sensed it. It was a sweet ride and we went our separate ways feeling loved and connected.

In the story of the first Christmas, there was no room in the inn for the newborn king.  The savior of the world had to enter into a filthy barn with animals as roommates and straw for bedding.  This gift of Joy for our world is still and always will be available.  Too often, my heart is cluttered with noise and confusion, fear and busyness that I miss the sweet gift of Christmas.  This year I am committed to receive the gift of peace and joy that is available every moment of the day.   This is a powerful spiritual discipline called practicing Presence. 

At the beginning of each yoga class, I invite students to arrive.  As you sink your sitting bones into the earth and allow the roots to settle deeply into this time and space, you get the feeling of returning home.  From this place of stability, you can finally start to expand in all directions.  As you lengthen your spine and broaden your collarbones, your heart opens and you can begin to breathe fully.  As you connect to your breath mindfully, you are choosing to be fully present in this sacred union of body, mind and the Holy Spirit which rides on the medium of the breath.  This practice is centering.  You can do it any place any time.  It only requires that you choose to be fully present here and now.  This practice changes everything!

We live in a world where life is moving at lightening speed.  From the moment our feet hit the floor in the morning til we fall to our beds at night, we are on the go.  We are always connected through the world wide web and yet have a sinking feeling of being dis-jointed or separated in some way.  The cultural demands and speed are causing such great stress, that many people are suffering from adrenal fatigue and can’t stop their precious minds from spinning.  Many people do not know how to get off of the hamster wheel of life.  In John Ortberg’s book The Me I Want to Be, he talked about driving through the woods and reading a sign that stopped him in his tracks.  It read:  Caution! Speed Kills.  Driving through winding roads at neck-breaking speed is very dangerous, but so is speeding through your day to day. 

Why are we in such a hurry?  What are we running toward or away from?  What happens when you choose to stop?  When I first began meditating, it felt like slamming on the breaks of the car.  Although my body was still, everything inside kept moving.  It is hard to sit with the discomfort of pain and uncertainty that fear brings.  It feels like a waste of time to just sit there when there is so much to do.  “What’s the point?  I’m not even good at this!” I remember crying out to no one in particular.  What I have learned is that if you can’t be present within your own self, there is no way that you will be able to sit with another in their discomfort.

We practice stillness so that we can experience our true and divine nature.  “God is at home (within us) and we have gone out for a walk.” Meister Eckhart wrote.  It is time to return home to Christ in ME – that still small voice that knows the way to profound peace and real and authentic connection.  When we begin to bask in our true and divine nature we become lighthouses in dark spaces and our job is simply to sit and shine; reflecting the love and light of Christ to a dark and weary world.

 This advent season, why don’t you try to DO less so you can BE more present, aware, kind and bright?  It is a simple practice that we can return to moment by moment, breath by breath.  Try this: Breathe in and invite the light to fill you.  Pause and abide in this luminous light. Breathe out to release whatever stress or tension you are holding.  Pause… and begin again!

Dear Cancer

Dear Cancer,

I wanted to write a letter cursing you and erasing you from this world and from the lives of all those I love who are battling, beaten, or dead because of you. I want to shrink wrap you in mercury and let you sink to the ocean floor, never to surface again, but I can’t.  Instead, I will thank you for the gifts that you have given me since you first rocked my world 32 years ago.

Thank you for teaching me to remain curious and open in the face of fear and confusion.  When I first heard the “C –word,” I thought cancer = death.  I now know that you are an invitation to pay attention, to ask good questions, and to fight with all of our strength.  You are like a scarlet letter that beckons the world to stand up and live fully beyond a label.  When my dad first got you, the fear caused me to shrink and disappear without a sound, but since that time I have learned to look you in the eye and to accept you.  To love and engage fiercely because of you.  To challenge information with curiosity and never stop believing in the light and strength that is so much bigger than you.

Thank you for helping me to shift perspective and focus on the gift of life that we have each day that we wake up.  Thank you for teaching me about gratitude and learning to see the blessing in the trial that you invite us into.  There is something about the threat that you bring into the room that makes us notice what is most important now and what really matters so that we can let go of all of the debris and distractions that muddy up our days and cause us to suffer.  When I step into the room with someone I love who has been infected or affected by you, I take off my shoes because I know I am stepping on holy ground.  Your nasty presence helps us to cut through the BS and go straight to matters of the heart.

Thank you for giving me an opportunity to learn courage to engage the mess that you bring and move toward you with all of my heart.  To open up and be real and invite others to do the same.  Though I tremble when I hear your name, there is a voice louder than you that leads me and carries me through your pain and to a place of strength and wonder, humble beauty, and outrageous love.

Thank you for strengthening my faith muscles and helping me to fix my eyes not on what is seen and temporary, but on what is unseen and eternal.

Through my wrestling with you, I have found my story of hope and redemption.  You have shown me that heaven and earth are closer than I ever knew.

One day at the Wellness place after being face to face with 3 siblings, age 6,5, & 4 who lost their mom just 5 days prior to you, I fell to the floor and wept.  I begged for insight and I saw a rainbow bridge and heard the first line to my book: “I’m building a bridge to heaven, one little brick at a time…” I began to understand that you are actually a gift in the way you cause the people who are suffering to look up in hope that one day they will be with their loved one that you took away.  I began to understand that our friends who had to leave this world too soon, because of you, are actually reaching down to greet us through this rainbow bridge, offering light and color, beauty and delight if only we could shift our eyes to see.

Thank you for helping me learn to let go and trust that there is so much more than meets the eye.  Though you slay me, Cancer, it is very clear that you are not going away. I receive you and trust that you don’t have the final say, but you are here to make heaven and earth one and so I thank you for the painful gift and I see the light in you.

“The wound is where the Light enters.” – Rumi