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About Unexpected Generosity

Nov 8, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement

Still no news on my stolen car. Frustrating, yes, but that emotion has been offset by the stunning and unexpected generosity of one of my dearest friends.

She GAVE me a car!

She called randomly that morning just to see how I was doing – the day I went outside and found nothing. I said, “Well, I’ve had better days.” Our conversation continued and after she expressed her rage and indignation she said, “OK…we have a car that I was about to donate to the church. We have two others and don’t need this one. It’s just been sitting in the garage for the last four months. I was planning to give it to a needy family. You can have it.”

Who knew I’d be the needy family?!?

Tomorrow I’ll go to the DMV and get the title switched, the tabs renewed, and the insurance instated on my policy. I’ll also take it to a repair shop to have it looked over – just to see what needs to be done.

I’ve been thinking: as much as I desire to be in control, even though I know I’m not, it might be that I don’t really want to trust that the Divine, the Sacred is actually in control. I’m not always certain that I can depend on such; that were I to let go of control (holding on the illustion that I have it in the first place) things might not go the way I want.

But here’s the thing: when my life is the most out of control is when the Divine chooses to show up, miracles occur, and I am reminded that I’m seen, heard, and cared for – in stunning ways…with unexpected generostiy.

I don’t want any more stolen cars, but I do want eyes that see, ears that hear, and a heart that anticipates the Divine-made-manifest, incarnated really, all around me, all the time.

My Car’s Been Stolen

Nov 2, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement

I know, deep down, that much if not all of life is out of my control. I also know of my proclivity to ignore that reality; to try and hold tightly to anything I can; to try and live with at least the illusion that I have some power to manage my destiny and determine most of what will happen from day-to-day.

This morning ripped that fantasy away and left me standing with my mouth agape and head spinning:

My car was stolen.

I live in a safe, lovely part of town, surrounded by excellent neighbors. A number of them are friends who recognize and care about my daughters and watch out for me in kind, intentional ways. This is just not what I expected to have happen here…or to me. Apparently, I’m not in control.

The police came. I’m waiting for my insurance company to call. I’m borrowing a van from my parents. Life goes on. But not the same as it was before.

Emma doesn’t know how to reconcile her belief in humankind with this kind of unethical behavior. She burst into tears this morning and said, “I’m so mad right now, Mom. How could anyone do this?!?” Abby wonders about what this means for the future. “Can we get a Hummer now, mom?”

I have spent the morning running the mental/emotional gamut and thinking through everything from how to make
sure the girls are OK and how in the world I’ll potentially afford another car to what it will feel like if I get the old one back now knowing that someone else has been rifling through it.

It’s true: I feel like life is out of my control today. I already knew that, but it’s experiences like these that take the knowledge out of my head and into my lived-reality. Give me the fantasy any day! It’s much easier.

About Buses and Gratitude

Oct 21, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement

A new season of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition has begun. The girls and I watched it faithfully last year and stepped back into that tradition again tonight. Despite the part of me that says, “I won’t get teary. I won’t get sucked into this.” I can’t help it. The gratitude of those who receive the new home AND the gratitude of those who have the opportunity to give it to them is contagious. When the next deserving family finally sees what has been created on their behalf, the past makes sense (at least for a few moments), the present is rich and beyond imagining, and the future looks bright and hopeful. Gratitude overwhelms, over flows, overlooks all else. It’s beautiful.

Ah, that it might be the same for us…

Meister Eckhart said, “If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, ‘thank you,’ that would suffice.”

Melody Beattie said, “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

And every week, Ty Pennington says, “Move that bus!”

I’m addicted: I admit it. And when I turn the TV off at 9:00 each Sunday night I feel compelled to be far more grateful for my home, my daughters, my family, my friends, my health, my job, my life. There is much for which to give thanks; bus, or no.

Remembering Madeleine L’Engle

Sep 18, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Writing

Just last week an amazing woman died. Madeleine L’Engle, the author of the well-loved A Wrinkle in Time and over 60 other books, lived well to the amazing age of 88.

As I rushed into work today, through the library, and on my way to the stairwell, I stopped and then backed up. A book was displayed in the “new releases” section that caught my eye: The Ordering of Love: The New and Collected Poems of Madeleine L’Engle. It’s beautiful: the cover, the photo of her, the pages…and the poems. Just one shared here:

The Bethlehem Explosion
The chemistry lab at school
was in an old greenhouse
surrounded by ancient live oaks
garnished with Spanish moss.
The experiment I remember best
was pouring a quart of clear fluid
into a glass jar, and dropping into it
grain by grain, salt-sized crystals,
until they layered
like white sand on the
floor of the jar.
One more grain – and suddenly –
water and crystal burst
into a living, moving pattern,
a silent, quietly violent explosion.
The teacher told us that only when
we supersaturated the solution,
would come the precipitation.
The little town
was like the glass jar in our lab.
One by one they came, grain by grain,
all those of the house of David,
like grains of sand to be counted.
The inn was full. When Joseph knocked,
his wife was already in labour;
there was no room even for compassion.
Until the barn was offered.
That was the precipitating factor.
A child was born,
and the pattern changed forever,
the cosmos shaken with that silent explosion.

…a living, moving pattern / a silent, quietly violent explosion. Isn’t that beautiful?

What might that look like today, for me? Madeleine L’Engle embodied that reality – offering exploding life in every word, every thought, every poem, every book. Oh, that we might all have her courage, her beauty, her language, her heart. May we be willing to be those precipitating factors…in memory of one who was herself.

White-Knuckling Clarity

Sep 4, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Voice & Power

I got an email from a woman today. In an attempt to describe her life these days, she said, “I am white-knuckling clarity.”  I love that! So descriptive. So palpable. So familiar.

I wrote her back and told her I may blog on that three-word phrase, one that feels so indicative of what is true about women: our innate ability to persevere while bearing so much.

It would be one thing to just stay on the side of perseverance: grinning and bearing it, bucking up, holding our own. Any of those sound at all familiar? It’s another to just bear incredible weight: being a martyr, suffering in silence, keeping our truest feelings safely tucked inside. Sounds familiar too, doesn’t it?

But what does it mean to find clarity in the midst? And what about white-knuckling clarity? This woman is choosing to hang on, but not just for the sake of such. She is hanging on so that she can discern where she is, who she is, how she is to be. She is choosing to stay in the tension between persevering and bearing weight. She is holding on tight and keeping focus. She can acknowledge the high-stakes reality of life and the need to see and act with discernment and wisdom.

I could go on and on about this tension, this dualism, this so-very-familiar reality. But where I go for the sake of my own clarity is to the metaphor (and experience) of birthing. A natural miracle that is inherent only and powerfully to women – and not just those who physically give birth. All women instinctually bring forth life. To do so requires much perseverance and the bearing of much pain. To push new life into this world a woman must hold tension. She acknowledges the high stakes and acts with innate focus. She will persevere. She will bear much. She has white-knuckled clarity. Life is the result: hers and that of what she alone can bring forth into this world.

So, for those of you who are living in this tension – the temptation to just persevere or that of hunkering down and enduring endless labor – hang on! White-knuckled clarity is what you know best (whether you can believe it right now, or not). Hang on, stay focused, breathe, and trust in life! It cannot not arrive. Birth is inevitable. New life will come in and through you.

So I say, bring it on! I’m willing to keep pushing – white knuckles and all – even without an epidural! Life’s the result and that’s worth everything!

What Blinds Us?

Aug 26, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Women's Wisdom

Sometimes we have it in our heads that we are limited, that there are certain things we just can’t (or wouldn’t) do, that we need help. It’s not that these things aren’t true, but I’m aware – in a new way today – how often I’ve talked myself into levels of belief about my own capacity (or lack thereof) that just aren’t true.

In reality, I walk around blind to what is true about me – and keep others blind to who I truly am.

OK…maybe I’m pushing the metaphor a bit, but today I did something I’ve never done before: I hung mini blinds. I’m on a rampage to get rid of all those white 1-inch metal things and replace them with anything else. I decided to head to Lowe’s and see if there were pre-cut, semi-decent
oak blinds that I could install myself in my kitchen. Well, the oak cost a lot more money than I wanted to spend and so I settled for some woven bamboo that’s fabulous!

I came back home and dove into figuring out how to get the old blinds down. That done in relatively short order, I headed into the re-install process with a confidence that could not be daunted. A couple of crooked screws and one screw head actually broken off were the only fatalities.

I now have two new blinds hung – on the kitchen door and on the large window. They are a perfect match for the oak floors and cabinetry, and best of all: I did it myself!

It’s a small thing, I know, but it speaks loud to me: I don’t need to be blinded by what I think I cannot do. I need to open up the blinds (or hang them) and see myself for who I truly am.

‘Any home-improvement projects you need me to take on?